#I'd say physics for neil

[unwillingtoreachout]

What are you guys' headcanons for what the foxes' majors would be? (as in alternative majors that you think they would take, not their canon ones)

[winter-seance]

Many screenwriters assemble a fantasy cast as they write the script. It can help to bring characters alive, and Neil is no exception. In the case of Good Omens, pursuing a vision in memory of the novel's co-writer, he set out to turn the dream into a reality.

'I had Michael Sheen and David Tennant in mind when I was writing,' he says. 'I was half way through Episode Three, scripting the scene in the church, and I suddenly decided that I wanted David. And I wrote it as if I was going to get David. It was a combination of the physicality of the character and knowing he could land every line. You write different kinds of dialogue for different kinds of actors,' he continues, 'and there's a specific kind of dialogue that you write when you know they're going to land it. You can be more playful, for example. So I hoped I'd get David when I wrote Crowley going, "Ow ow ow!" as he walked down the church aisle, and then delivering this entire speech wile having to hop from foot to foot. That's not the kind of thing you'd give most actors unless you know they were good enough to do it. - Neil Gaiman, as quoted in The Nice and Accurate Good Omens TV Companion

[welcometohellfilm]

Congrats to everyone who has been working on W2H2! 🎉 If it's alright, I'd like to ask to ask 2 questions:

Is there by chance an official ref of colors for Debbie, or is it still up to interpretation at the moment?

Would you say that your personal, real life experiences within the 10 years moving from W2H to W2H2 shifted the tone/story of the series in some way? Something that I've always been fascinated with when I started looking more into W2H was the shift in Sock's character from the original comic -> first film -> second film, and Jonathan's character from the first film -> second film.

Thank you! ✨

I actually just made some 'official'-ish colors for Debbie! Her voice actor Kaitlyn wanted something to use on a banner for conventions haha... so here you go!

2. I'm not really sure how to answer this one, haha. I mean I've definitely changed as a person over the course of making each iteration of W2H. I started the comic while I was at community college, before I went to art school. I adapted it into an animation for my graduation project. And I started W2H2 a couple years after I graduated college. So there's a good 2-3 years between each attempt at W2H I've done, haha. I think a lot of my original ideas from the comic had to change because it needed to be condensed into a short film. I didn't even GET to Jonathan yet in the comic! Some things just didn't make sense to me anymore, like the idea of Sock already having a human body count. It'd just be absurd for him to be able to hide it for so long! Plus, if I made it so that Sock has only ever entertained the idea of murder, it makes his new job that much more appealing-- it's a chance for him to really lean in to this thing he's always had to hide. Between the first and second films though, I mean... I think there's been some tonal shift, for sure (I don't know about a character shift? We'll get to that haha) But basically, when I was first thinking about W2H2, my idea was "Sock and Jonathan hang out and attempt to figure out touch physics, also there's some drama about a journal Jonathan keeps." All of the hell stuff is something that came from bouncing ideas around with my friends, Michael and Neil. I was worried that sending Jonathan to hell would be too bonkers for a "2nd episode", but we all kinda agreed that enough time had passed that the fans would probably enjoy something higher stakes, so it would be fine. (I'll give everyone a moment to realize this conversation would've been happening in 2015-16... ha.)

We also kind of thought, y'know... I have no idea how many more of these there's even gonna' be, so why not go a little bigger with this one? W2H2 is a higher stakes story than what I set out to make in the beginning, that's for sure. It is interesting to compare all of them.. the employee handbook was actually from the comic and I cut that because it wasn't helpful for W2H... but then it became helpful for W2H2, so it came back! Haha. I'm curious to know in what ways people think the characters have changed though. (And is that a good thing or a bad thing?) Especially a character like Jonathan, no one's really even seen that much of him yet, I think most of the characterization comes from fandom, or like... art I've drawn, I guess? Haha... I'm not sure! I guess Sock's a little more confident and antagonistic in this one (though he'll have his moments of hesitation... we're only at Part 1 right now!), and Jonathan has had to become a more vocal/active character, just by nature of the kind of story it is, I suppose. But yeah, I'm not sure! Happy to hear your guys' thoughts though!

[bi-bard]

If I Could Hold You for a Minute, I'd Go Through It Again - Charles Rowland Imagine [Dead Boy Detectives]

Title: If I Could Hold You for a Minute, I'd Go Through It Again

Pairing: Charles Rowland X Witch!Reader

Based On: Francesca

Word Count: 3,361 words

Warning(s): physical attack, mentions of family trauma/death/injury

Summary: Whoever claimed that risking your life was only for the living had never seen the true devotion of a ghost before.

Author's Note: Wow, Kyli liked another project that was inspired by Neil Gaiman's work... what a surprise. If you have any characters that you want to see, let me know.

Also, I'M HOME! I MADE IT BACK TO YOU GUYS!

**written in third person p.o.v for sake of storytelling**

UNREAL UNEARTH - HOZIER WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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If there was one word that was always used in tandem with (Y/n)'s name, it was chaos.

Or messy.

Or clumsy.

Or wild.

Or any other word that could possibly mean the same thing.

Early on, (Y/n) could excuse it as inexperience. Maybe age would tame whatever beast seemed to be roaring in their brain and their chest. Maybe someone would explain the best way to leash an animal that was so much larger than you.

No one ever did.

Instead, (Y/n) ended up alone. Alone, terrified, and as out of control as ever. A cruel hand had been dealt to them when they were far too young. And now, the teenager was left coping with things that most adults could not handle.

Meeting Edwin and Charles had been the first good thing to happen to (Y/n) ever.

(Y/n)'s isolated life was interrupted quite abruptly by the ghosts. A case had brought the detectives to (Y/n)'s doorstep. They had been wearing disguises at the time, but those were quickly put away when they learned that (Y/n) was a witch.

A partnership of sorts formed between the three of them. With Edwin, it was more sternly a working relationship. He rarely found himself in (Y/n)'s home, especially when there was no case that required their assistance.

With Charles, it was very different. Charles would visit whenever he wanted to. He would usually be the first to ask for help, popping in through a mirror in the main room. He'd take the time to look around the small living space. And when there wasn't a case, he would pop in whenever. It was commonly just as (Y/n) was sitting down to eat or read or do anything.

Charles and (Y/n) developed an interesting friendship. A friendship that was resting precariously on held tongues. Anyone could see how close the two had gotten to crossing the line between friendship and whatever was on the other side. Anyone other than the pair. They were both trapped in a state of denial. Maybe that was for the best for a time.

(Y/n)'s chaos had been largely hidden away from the detectives. Some would call it careful. (Y/n) called it lucky. Incredibly lucky.

And then there was the case of Rory.

Rory was a young spirit. A young but troubled spirit. The boys had been contacted by a friend saying that Rory was becoming violent. The goal was to find what was tying the spirit to this plane and to send them to the other side.

It had all been going well. All things considered, anyway.

The only problem was time. There was this terrifying ticking clock between the trio knowing about the case and the risk of Rory attempting to hurt someone.

(Y/n) had only been there to help find what had been keeping Rory tied to this plane.

It had been going fine. Absolutely fine.

And then, (Y/n) lost control.

There was an intense moment where Edwin and Charles ended up being thrown in different directions. (Y/n) had tried to help. To get the spirit to stop for just long enough for the detectives to recover.

It didn't work.

Something else had overwhelmed (Y/n)'s efforts.

Whatever it had been had hit the spirit straight on. It had angered it... a lot. It ran at a terrified and confused (Y/n), causing the young witch to hit the ground, the scrape of the road below them causing a hiss to escape.

"(Y/n)!" Charles ran over first. "You alright?"

(Y/n) nodded as they pushed themselves up.

"What was that," Edwin asked as he walked over. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I... I don't know," (Y/n) said quietly. "It just... It just happened."

"It was reckless! You could have gotten yourself hurt and now we have to worry about the spirit being angry enough to hurt someone else!"

"Edwin-" Charles tried to get his friend to relax.

"What is wrong with you?" Edwin snapped before Charles could even try to stop him from asking.

"I... I don't know," (Y/n) murmured. "I don't know."

"Maybe it's best if you removed yourself from this case."

"Edwin!" Charles scolded.

"They're a risk!" Edwin insisted.

"He's right," (Y/n) turned to Charles. "I'll go home. Good luck."

Charles followed (Y/n) down the street. (Y/n)'s car sat alone on the street. Not much in terms of subtlety, but (Y/n) also hadn't been graced with the ability of travelling by mirror.

"(Y/n)," Charles said as he jogged to keep up with their quick steps. "Will you wait for a second?"

"Go back to the case, Charles," (Y/n) replied, not even looking at him.

"No," he stepped in front of them, attempting to block the path to the car. "Not until I know you're alright."

"I'm fine," (Y/n) insisted. "Edwin's right."

"No, he's not," he shook his head.

"Yes, he is. I am a risk. I always have been. I've hidden it well, but this was bound to happen at some point."

"What," he asked.

"A long time ago, when I was still with my family, I had issues like that happen all the time," (Y/n) explained. "I would... Something would overwhelm me, and I'd end up doing something dangerous or destructive. No one ever helped me with it. They expected me to sort it out on my own. And then... I hurt someone. Someone I cared about. I... I ended up being forced to leave. I still never truly learned to control anything. Tonight was proof of that!"

"We can help you-"

"That's not your job!" (Y/n) ran their hands over their face. "It's not worth the risk. I could get someone hurt, I could get myself, I could put you both in danger- none of it is worth it!"

"That's not your choice to make," Charles replied. "Any risk or danger is fine with me. I'm not leaving you alone, (Y/n)."

"You should."

(Y/n) moved around him and got in the car. Charles stepped back and watched the car drive off. He turned to see that Edwin had watched the interaction. Charles glared at him.

"It's for the best-"

"Let's just finish the case," Charles muttered, cutting Edwin off.

The case went by slowly and tensely. Charles was gruffer than Edwin had ever seen him. And Edwin had no right to question him about it. It was his comment that had caused this tension and anger. How was he meant to poke at it as if he had no idea what was going on inside the head of his best friend?

Charles didn't stick around the office once the case was done. Instead, he immediately went to the mirror, climbing through to try and see (Y/n) as soon as possible.

He ended up walking into (Y/n)'s room. He was somewhat expecting them to be there.

"(Y/n)!" Charles called out as he walked through the doorway. He stopped for a moment at the chaos that had taken over the living room.

It had been clear that some kind of fight had broken out. Between whom or what, Charles had no real idea. There were smaller objects thrown, furniture shifted, garbage scattered.

"(Y/n)," Charles called again as he walked around some of the mess. And then, he saw (Y/n) lying on the floor on the far side of the sofa. "(Y/n)!"

He ran over, rolling them on their back. They seemed to be breathing, but they were completely non-responsive.

"Shit!"

He shifted and carried (Y/n) to their room, leaving them on top of the bed's covers before he ran back through the mirror.

"Edwin!" Charles shouted even though Edwin was in the same room as him. "Something's wrong with (Y/n). I... I went to check on them and they were unconscious, and their living room was just destroyed. I don't know what happened."

"They're alive?"

"For now!"

"Come on," Edwin pushed Charles toward the mirror again.

Edwin let out a sigh as he walked over to (Y/n). He carefully lifted their eyelid to see if their eyes were responsive. However, all that was there was complete redness that had taken over. As if the eye had been filled with blood, but none of it was running out or swelling.

"Witchcraft," Edwin muttered. "I think I've read about this. Give me a moment to find the book in the office."

"(Y/n) was attacked by a witch?" Charles asked. Edwin was already through the mirror.

It was a suffocating matter of minutes before Edwin made it back to (Y/n)'s place.

"What is it?"

"If I am correct, then (Y/n) is currently trapped in a dream-like state," Edwin explained. "This dream-like state is keeping (Y/n) in a state of calmness while their brain slowly swells and presses against the skull. If we do not cure it fast enough, the swelling will kill them."

"How do we cure it?"

"We have to find a way to delicately wake (Y/n) from their dream-state. There is a cure that we can make, but it will take time."

"Is there another way? Something faster?"

"In theory," Edwin relented. "One of us could possess them and find a way to manually ease them out of the dream. The cure is our best option. Less risk."

"We don't have the time! We don't know how long (Y/n)'s been like this!"

"Charles, if either one of us chooses to possess them, then we set off alarms in the afterlife. We cannot take this risk."

Charles clenched his jaw.

"I will go get the cure started. Keep an eye on (Y/n)."

Charles did try to listen. He stood by and made sure that (Y/n) was breathing. He made sure that they were comfortable and that they were not suffering too immensely.

But then, he panicked.

He saw (Y/n)'s breaths becoming shallower and shallower. He heard nothing from Edwin. He was too worried to think of the consequences of his actions critically in any capacity.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was in a field.

He did a circle, trying to find some sign of something or someone. This was (Y/n)'s dream after all. They had to be there somewhere.

He saw something in the distance.

Approaching it, Charles could see a clearly outlined garden with a wooden fence around it. On one end was a gate, on the other end a cabin. A small cabin. The garden was beautiful. Full of flowers in full bloom with a swinging bench seat.

Charles almost chuckled at the vision. Something felt so fitting about something so peaceful being what (Y/n) pictured in a dream. Almost as far from their current life as they could get.

(Y/n) walked out of the cabin a moment later. Their clothes matched the garden. Soft, almost pastel colors. Very perfect, very organized.

He stepped forward, going to get their attention but stopped when he saw himself walking out of the cabin soon after. Well, some dream version of him. The other version of him was dressed exactly the same as he was, but it wasn't him. It couldn't have been him.

He watched as this alternate version of him pulled (Y/n) closer and kissed their head. The pair walked to the swinging bench seat, sitting together. (Y/n) relaxed into the fake Charles's side.

The view made the real Charles freeze where he was.

It felt wrong. Invasive.

He had kept his feelings private for as long as he had known (Y/n). He had been convinced that whatever connection the pair of them had was going to stay stuck in whatever form it was already in. Seeing this was a sign of something different. And he didn't know how to feel about that.

"(Y/n)!" he called from where he stood.

(Y/n) seemed to hear something. They paused and looked around but didn't seem to notice Charles. He could've sworn that they looked directly at him, but their eyes seemed to go right through him. As if he was never there.

(Y/n) leaned back into the seat, smiling as the fake Charles laid a kiss on their cheek as they did so.

The real Charles continued walking forward. He tried to think of a way to "delicately" get (Y/n) out of the dream.

"(Y/n)," he repeated, now standing just outside the gate.

Again, (Y/n) looked around but couldn't seem to spot him and was pulled back into the fake Charles's side.

He opened the gate and walked inside.

Neither (Y/n) nor the fake Charles seemed to acknowledge him in the slightest.

"(Y/n)," he said yet again.

(Y/n) again seemed surprised to hear anything, sitting up straight and going to look around until their eyes landed on Charles. They froze, eyes going wide at the sight of him.

"Hi," he grinned.

(Y/n) looked between him and the fake Charles, who was only looking at (Y/n).

"I'm sorry but I need you to come with me," Charles pressed, holding out his hand.

"What," they asked. "Sorry, but there are two of you. What's going on?"

"That's not me," he explained. "I... I don't know what he is, but he's not me."

(Y/n) stood up, stepping away from the bench. Once they were a few steps away from the real and fake Charles, they turned to look at them. The fake Charles didn't move, as if he were simply a mannequin that had to be moved around. He was staring at the space beside him as if (Y/n) was still there.

"You're in a dream," the real Charles explained. "This whole thing is fake."

(Y/n) ran their hands over their face.

"Do you remember how you got here at all," he asked.

"Yeah, I... I...," they trailed off, finding a blank space where some kind of memory definitely should have been.

"You were attacked," he continued. "Another witch found you and attacked you. You aren't standing outside some cabin in a field. You're lying in bed, unconscious."

There was a long pause before (Y/n) spoke up again, "I remember... I remember getting home. I remember someone being in my living room. It was an old friend..."

"You don't have to explain," Charles stopped them. He drew enough of a conclusion from those few sentences. It was some connection to whoever (Y/n) had hurt. Frankly, he didn't care about that. "We need to go."

He held his hand out to them. They finally took it.

He led them back to the gate to the garden. He didn't have any proof that this plan would work, but he didn't have anything else to go on. He just wanted to make sure (Y/n) had a chance at being okay.

Once (Y/n) stepped through the gate, it felt as if Charles was thrown out of (Y/n)'s mind. Like some explosion had happened.

Charles blinked a few times and spun around as he found himself back in (Y/n)'s room.

He heard (Y/n) grumbling. He grinned.

"Hey," he said quietly, going to sit next to them. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess," (Y/n) muttered. "My head hurts."

"I'll grab some water-"

"Wait, wait," (Y/n) reached for him as he stood up. He somehow managed to get halfway to the door by the time (Y/n) said anything. "I was... I was stuck in my head."

"And now, you're out."

"You... You popped up. You showed up there. You helped me."

"Yup."

"How?"

He paused for a moment.

"Charles..."

"I... possessed you."

(Y/n) sighed, standing up and placing their head in their hands. "Charles."

"It was to save you-"

"Oh my god!"

"I was trying to help-"

"You possessed me!"

"You need to relax-"

"No!" (Y/n) slapped Charles's hands away as he tried to guide them back to bed. "You possessed me!"

"I know that it's an invasion and it probably feels like you had some privacy violated-"

"My privacy isn't my concern," (Y/n) cut him off. "My concern is that you and Edwin have told me over and over again that possessing people sets off alarms in the afterlife. I don't care how close to death I am; you don't get to take that kind of risk for me."

"That's not just your choice," Charles replied. "I told you before, any risk that I take is my choice. I just saved your life!"

(Y/n) ran their hands over their face as they walked to the window. It was dark out. The moon perched itself perfectly to shine into (Y/n)'s room. There had been countless nights where (Y/n) spent ages just staring up at the sky, somehow feeling less alone when it was in sight.

(Y/n) could hear Charles walking to the window. They saw him out of the corner of their eye.

"I would do it again," he admitted. "No matter how much danger I put myself in. I'll do what I have to in order to save you."

"Why?"

"Because if you died, you wouldn't know how to get away from Death. I'd never see you again," Charles turned to (Y/n), who was still staring out the window. "I can run for eternity. I can escape anything and anyone. And I would do that as long as I knew you were at the end of whatever path I was running. I can't risk not seeing you again. You... You mean too much to me."

Finally, (Y/n) looked over at him.

"I... I love you, (Y/n)," he murmured.

(Y/n) loved him back. They knew that. They had for a long time now. But they couldn't bring themself to say it out loud. It was strange. Charles had seen the dream that (Y/n) had been stuck in. Surely, he knew how (Y/n) felt. So why could they still not admit it to him? Maybe it was they were merely scared of confessing it to themself.

"I'm sorry," Charles said after a few moments of silence. "I shouldn't have said that-"

Charles was cut off when (Y/n) stepped over and kissed him. It was as awkward as one would assume that it would be. It wasn't some perfect, fairytale-like kiss. It was an awkward kiss shared between a person who hadn't been kissed in decades and another who had never been kissed before. And it was short. It lasted a matter of moments before (Y/n) pulled back again. They stared at Charles with wide eyes, as if they had been just as surprised by their actions as he was.

He slowly grinned at them.

(Y/n) looked down for a moment, face becoming warm. "We should... We should get Edwin-"

"In a minute," he muttered.

"Charles-"

He leaned over and kissed them again. When he pulled back, there was a smug smile on his face. "You haven't said it back yet."

"What- oh," (Y/n) felt their face get even warmer as they realized what he meant. "I love you too."

It was quiet. As if it was still some kind of secret that no one other than Charles was allowed to know. Maybe (Y/n) meant for it to be that way.

It was then that Edwin climbed back through the mirror with some jars cradled in his arms.

"Alright, I found some things in the office that should be able to help- oh," Edwin muttered as he saw (Y/n) standing there. "You went through with the possession, I see... Even though I told you not to."

"I panicked," Charles explained.

"I already told him off for it," (Y/n) added.

"I think that (Y/n) should stay at the office for a while. Until we know there's not a threat."

Edwin looked between the pair. "Very well."

"I'll meet you guys there," (Y/n) promised.

(Y/n) felt a kiss get pressed to their head before Charles stepped away. They looked at Edwin, who gave them a shocked look in return.

"Well... I'll see you in a bit," (Y/n) said, trying to ignore the look that they had received.

The ghost boys went to the nearest mirror and climbed through. (Y/n) could hear the two of them muttering to each other. It was going to be a very long visit, (Y/n) could tell.

But (Y/n) couldn't find it in themself to mind much.

It was all worth it to be able to still hear them at all.

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[cillianhead]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a little smutty/angsty something for Neil Lewis. Maybe bestfriend!reader, who recently got with some other man, and Neil is incredibly jealous and maybe... possessive. 👀 Some angst heated argument finished with a smut would be lovely. 🤭

Thank you!

Of course, of course!

Thank you for your request!

You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive || Neil Lewis x Reader

warnings: Smut, angst, best friends to lovers, swearing, slight (?) drug use (marijuana), jealousy, unprotected P in V, Neil is quite obsessed with reader's boobs (because c'mon, NEIL IS A BOOB MAN!!!) like sort of switch!neil but not quite, adult content!

18+ Minors DNI

It was a slow Friday night at Gumshoe Video. You had closed by now, though. You sat between Lucien and Jonathan, a bit stoned, and watched some horrible Horror-Parody film called 'Bad Taste'. You had zoned out, drowning out Jonathan and Lucien's incessant bickering about the film and whether it was good or bad.

"-It's Peter Jackson, for Christ's sake. It's a masterpiece of its time or whatever," Lucien argued. Jonathan just scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's supposed to be ridiculous!" Lucien protested.

"Are we watching the same movie?" Jonathan grunted with a hint of amusement. "How the hell did someone see this and think... 'yeah, that's the guy we're getting for Lord of the fucking Rings'!"

Lucien quipped back something particularly witty and sarcastic, but it all turned into one big blur of words to you. You were incredibly bored and stoned that none of what was happening on the TV screen made sense. You looked like a zombie, lips parted and an expression of awe on your face.

"Not this stupid movie," You heard the sound of Neil's voice from behind you. Quickly sitting up and turning to look at him, like an expectant dog when its owner comes home. "I've got the snacks if you guys even care." Lucien and Jonathan grumble their words of appreciation while you just sat and smiled at your best friend.

You all had smoked together, but you hadn't really prepared for the munchies that would come along with it. So you flipped a coin, and poor little Neil was the one who had to go to the nearest convenience store and buy as much junk food as he could carry. Two seafoam green plastic grocery bags were hanging off of Neil's sturdy forearms that said 'Recycle Me!' on them while he stood, smiling back at you.

"What'd you get Neily-poo?" You hummed, standing up and approaching him.

"I hate it when you call me that," Neil grumbled before handing you one of the bags. "I just got all the classic snacks... Cheetos, Twizzlers, Lucien's favorite white chocolate... and of course, I got your favorite..."

You squealed out of delight, lunging on Neil and wrapping your arms around him. "Did you really?" You said, pulling away with your arms still around his neck. Neil hummed while pulling the familiar mouth-watering box of Swedish Fish out of the grocery bag.

You properly pulled away now and snatched it out of his hand greedily. "Hey...! Wait... where's my thanks?" He tilted his head, tapping his pointer finger on the apple of his cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully before placing a grateful peck on his cheek.

You two sat on the spare couch together. You leaned against Neil, as you always do, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. It had always been that way with you two, both very physically affectionate with each other. Though not when Neil was in a relationship, you knew how threatened his girlfriends felt by you, though you never understood why... Neil was always insistent on how you were just a friend, even going as far as to say you were like a sister to him.

When the movie ended and Neil had a bit more to smoke, you all sat around munching on your snacks, thinking of what to do next.

"Do you guys wanna come over to my place, and we can do this again tomorrow night?" Neil asked, scratching at his chin.

"Sure, I'd love that, dude," Jonathan nodded before popping a handful of peanut M&M's into his mouth. "Sounds great." He said with his mouth full.

"Gross!" You scolded, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. "Don't eat with your mouth full..."

"What did you just say?" Lucien laughed.

"I mean... don't talk with your mouth full!" You corrected, and everyone sat around giggling at that. "You knew what I meant!" Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment at your mistake.

"...and yeah, I'll come over tomorrow night." Lucien said to Neil. Neil gave him a thumbs up before turning his head over to you.

"How about you, Y/N?" Neil hummed, sighing as he leaned his head against the couch, cheek smushing a bit as he smiled softly down at you. He's so pretty, I just wanna kiss him, You thought."You wanna come over?" Yikes, you thought. You bit your lip and sucked in a breath. "Well... I... well... actually, I've got plans tomorrow, guys... I'm sorry." You shrugged apologetically.

"What?" Jonathan murmured, mouth still full, chewing obnoxiously loud.

"Since when do you have plans?" Lucien remarked. You gave him a dry smile.

"I'm going on a date... believe it or not," You snorted, looking down at your lap, embarrassed to admit. You never really talked about your love life with the guys, especially not Neil. Things always got awkward. Neil never discussed his with you either; you'd only briefly meet his girlfriends, and then that was it. You didn't understand why it had to be so awkward between you when discussing dating.

The room went silent at that. You looked towards Neil, his arm retracted away from you and tucked back into his side as you noticed the frown on his face. You could see the look on Jonathan and Lucien's faces, eyes flickering between the two of you, trying to gauge some sort of reaction.

"Oh..." Neil mumbled, sounding disappointed, popping a popcorn kernel into his mouth and chewing dryly. "Good for you... congratulations..."

"We're not getting married," You laughed uncomfortably. "Plus, I doubt it's gonna be anything that special... we're going to some downtown dive bar to have drinks and then probably go back to his place or something..." Neil had a visible expression of distaste, fiddling with his thumbs. You didn't get why he was so upset. "What's his name?" He said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Russell."

"Russell." He repeated coldly. Jonathan and Lucien were utterly silent. The tension was thick, and trying to waft through it felt suffocating.

"Why are you upset?" You blurted out. "Can't you at least be happy for me for once that I'm finally fucking going out with somebody?"

""Course I'm happy for you, Y/N, I just don't want you... to get hurt..." Neil muttered. "That's all."

"Right." You scoffed, scooting to the other side of the couch.

The tension was unbearable, and Jonathan shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Things always got weird when you brought up a guy you like or a guy you were seeing. You never got why. Why would Neil be upset that you were seeing somebody? How many girlfriends did you have to sit and watch him be with? How many painful breakups have you comforted him through? How many times had you encouraged him to go over and talk to a girl he thought was pretty? A countless amount of times, that's what. So the fact that the mood visibly shifted as soon as you said you were going on a date... it pissed you off. Neil was never encouraging when it came to putting yourself out there romantically. It was almost like he was jealous, but you knew he had no reason to be.

"How'd you meet?" Lucien cleared his throat, trying to lighten the air.

"Well when I was here alone the other day... he was in the shop-"

"He was in the shop?" Neil interrupted with a whine, eyebrows knitted together.

"Yeah, he was, so what?" You turned and looked at Neil, glaring at him.

"Can't believe you're going out with a customer," Neil muttered. "Thought you were better than that." "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It... no... nothing, just-" "God forbid I meet someone!" You were standing up now. Lucien and Jonathan had gotten up and wandered over to the other side of the shop, pretending they were browsing the shelves. "How many fucking bimbos have you asked out that had come in here, Neil?" "Y/N-" "I'm leaving." You barked, grabbing your things and rushing out, not before giving Lucien and Jonathan a gentle wave before slamming the door and walking home in the pouring rain.

The walk home was long and treacherous. Usually, Neil would drive you home. But you couldn't stand to be around him right now, not after his hypocritical words. When you got home, you collapsed in bed, still in your wet clothes, and cried your eyes out. Thunder cracked outside, and your windows rattled with the harsh wind. Your phone began to ring, the familiar ringtone you assigned to Neil's contact buzzing through your pocket. You just groaned.

"Go away, Neil." You grunted into your pillow, bickering to no one. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Curling up into a ball, the tears continued to fall. You hated the way you felt towards Neil; you hated that you wanted him to be more than just a friend. Your phone kept ringing, and it only made you cry harder.

You remembered freshman year of high school when you first met Neil; you instantly clicked and were in every class together. Everyone always thought you were dating, and you'd both share a round of 'Ew's and 'That's never gonna happen' and then silently look at each other thinking 'What if' (unbeknownst to each other). You always daydreamed about losing your virginity to Neil, the scrawny, awkward pimply boy who was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, though you ended up losing it to some guy called Lloyd over a dare. It wasn't very romantic, nor was it pleasurable. You just laid there and thought about Neil the whole time.

The sleep you got that night was terrible, but you tried to focus on the positives. You were going on a date! Yay! Not with Neil, though. You spent the day mostly picking out an outfit, mentally scolding yourself for not deciding on it sooner since most of your good clothes were dirty and you were feeling incredibly antsy. Your phone had been blowing up all day. Texts from Neil, Jonathan, and Lucien lit up your screen every other second. You didn't reply, you couldn't, you felt entirely too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Lucien lounged on the couch at Neil's house, and Jonathan watched Neil pace back and forth in his kitchen while making handmade whipped cream. They were going to make a cake.

"I just don't know what to do, man," Neil huffed, stirring the bowl even more aggressively. Jonathan watched, unsure of how to comfort his friend. "What the fuck do I do? What if this guy is like... her soulmate or something cliche like that?"

"Okay," Jonathan laughed, putting his hand in the air. "Russell is not her soulmate." "How do you know? Have you met him?" Neil hissed back.

"No, but... how do we even know this 'Russell' guy even exists? What if she's just trying to make you jealous?"

"That's a good point!" Lucien quipped in from the other room.

"Thanks, Lucien," Jonathan rolls his eyes before looking back at Neil, who has set the bowl aside, melting to the floor with tears. "Look... dude, I think you should go over there and tell her how you feel... the worst she can say is no..."

"The worst she can say is no," Neil mocked, tears streaming down his face. "Yeah fuckin' right! She's gonna..." Neil sobbed, hiding his hands in his face. "I'll go over there, and she'll... never want to speak to me again... she wouldn't feel the same way... it's impossible!"

Jonathan looked exasperated. It was painfully apparent to everyone but you and Neil that you two were soft for each other. You usually spend every day together. The idea of losing you to some other guy was heartbreaking for Neil. Neil cried like a baby, and Jonathan watched, awkwardly leaning against the counter, unsure what to say.

"Just fucking do it, you fucking idiot!" Jonathan blurted out. "I know she likes you... do you really think Y/N would've stuck around this long with us losers if she didn't feel something for you?"

"I don't know, Jonathan..." Neil whimpers, looking up at Jonathan with the most pitiful eyes anyone has ever seen. He looked straight out of a painting.

"And even if she doesn't feel the same for you..." Jonathan continues, crouching down to be at his height on the floor. "You guys have known each other way too damn long to just throw away a good friendship over you liking her. Y/N's a smart girl. She'll learn to accept it if she doesn't feel the same way."

Neil just buried his face further into his knees, continuing to cry. "Gee, you'd think he just got his period or something." Lucien said unhelpfully.

"Shut up, Lucien!" Neil and Jonathan yelled in unison.

"Listen, I think you should just tell her... she ain't responding to any of my texts... and I don't know how it's gonna go with this Russell guy tonight, so I reckon you should head on over there..." Jonathan rambled. Neil still stayed in the same place, with his head in his hands. "Like right now!" Jonathan yelped, and Neil jumped at the sudden shift in volume and tone.

Neil approached your house as you sat in some dive bar, waiting for your date. His key twisted your locked door. Unbeknownst to him, the house was completely empty. And as he walked in, Russell was yet to arrive, over twenty minutes late to your date. At this point, you'd accepted that you had been stood up and patted yourself down, ensuring you had everything you brought.

"Y/N!" Russell's voice greets you, clearly out of breath. "I'm so sorry for being late... traffic was awful." Yeah, right, you thought. But you gave him a small smile and sat back in your booth. "That's alright," You pressed down your skirt that rested uncomfortably high on your thighs, trying to calm your nerves. The leather of the seats stuck to your thighs as Russell began making small talk. How boring. You found yourself zoning out as you downed the drink Russell had bought you just to try and cope with the terribly grim situation you were dealing with. Russell was some sort of accountant. Just the idea of finance lulled your brain into a state of boredom and borderline sleepiness. Russell's voice was monotone, and the way he licked his cracked lips every time he spoke made you feel queasy.

Meanwhile, Neil sat on your couch, spread out and feeling hopeless. No other person could ever compare to you, never ever, ever, ever. The thought of you meeting this guy he didn't know anything about except for his god-awful name and possibly hitting it off... maybe starting a life with him... the jealousy was sickening. Genuinely sickening.

It was festering within him, after all these years of watching men come into the store and flirt with you, the jealousy... the possessiveness... that another man talking to his Y/N... brought on was just too much for poor little Neil to handle. The jealousy was now fuelling the reason he still stayed. As soon as you walked through that door, with Russell or not, he'd get on his hands and knees... and beg you to love him... beg you to love him the way he loves you.

An hour went by... and then another, by now, it was nearing 10:30 PM, and Neil wasn't even sure if you were coming home. He then remembered your words of 'going back to his place afterwards' and felt like the biggest idiot in the whole world. He felt like he had lost you... like he was mourning you. His heart broke silently, and the heavyweight in his chest grew to be too intense, too blue to even cry. So he stood up and sighed, looking around your apartment before saying his goodbyes. I won't be over much now that she has a boyfriend, Neil thought. But as he turned around, about to walk out the door, there you stood with your key still in the lock looking at him like you'd look at an angel.

"Neil?" You asked softly as if it could possibly be anyone else.

"Y/N," He gasped, rushing to you, hands reaching out to you. "Please listen to what-" "Who's this?" Russell asks with a scoff, leaning on the doorway. Neil backed away like he had just entered a cock-fight he knew he couldn't win.

"Russell..." You shifted to look at him. "I think it's better if you just go... we can... we can see each other another time." "Yeah, alright," Russell shrugged, playing it cool but Neil saw the flicker of annoyance flash through the man's eyes. Russell turned back around and left, leaving the two of you alone.

"What are you doing here, Neil?" You chided, closing the door and deadbolting it behind you before walking over to the couch with Neil.

"I... I need to talk to you..." Neil whispered. You sat right beside each other, staring into each other's eyes. A feeling grew in your chest like you knew what he was about to say. "Y/N..."

"Neil..."

"I..." He faltered, his eyes looking down at his lap as he reached out, holding both your hands in his. Your heart did a spin at this, lips parted as you breathed heavily. What is happening? "I.... fuck... I don't know how to do this," Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, clearly about to cry. "I've watched so many goddamn movies you'd think I... you'd think I'd have the right thing to say."

"Neil," You whispered, your voice coming out like a warning. "Just say it."

Neil looked up at you, speechless. The expression on his face was truly indescribable. Almost like a dramatic build-up, the room was silent, giving each other this look. This look you had never openly given to each other before.

"I don't want to kill my time with anybody else," Neil began, taking deep breaths. The sounds of cars passing by and trees swaying in the wind could be heard, along with the pounding of your heart. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive."

"Neil," You warned, looking away from him. "Why now?" You blurted out, quickly smacking your hand over your loose mouth.

"Wha...?" Neil asked, torn completely out of the moment by just those two words.

"Why are you telling me this now?" You questioned. Your hands ran down your face. "Why, Neil, Why?"

"What do you mean?" Neil shook his head, eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?!"

You were standing up now, you couldn't be close to him, you felt too dizzy. "After all these years... why are you only telling me this now?"

"I-I... I..." Neil stammered, utterly speechless this time. He wasn't expecting this reaction, he couldn't quite place what you were feeling. "I was afraid, Y/N."

"Of what?" You raised your voice and he flinched and suddenly the guilt hit you like a freight train. Tears fell down your face, ruining your makeup.

"Of losing you! Losing the only person in my life who actually matters!" Neil stood up as well, approaching you. Like a game of cat and mouse, you stepped away while he kept trying to round the coffee table to get to you. "I need you, Y/N. I need you to know how badly," He pleaded with you, but you couldn't find a way to let him further into your heart. He'd hit bone if he went any further into it.

"Neil, I don't know anymore! You're so confusing!" You screeched as he bumped into you, knocking you down onto the couch and he knelt in front of you, pleading eyes staring up at you. "I don't know what you want from me!" You cried.

"I want everything," He whispered, hands placed on both of your thighs. "I want to be yours... I want you to be mine. How do I make this any clearer?"

"I don't... I don't have you," You felt like you were being torn apart. "You don't want me. You just... you're just confused! You don't want me! You want..." You closed your eyes, thinking about the women Neil had dated. You felt like he wouldn't be satisfied with you... you felt like you weren't pretty enough or you were too boring or too familiar. "I don't have you... Neil... and I never will."

"You've always had me. Every second of every day... you've had me. I'm yours." Neil whispered, hands squeezing your thighs. "Please. I need to know."

"Need to know what?" "That you'll take me," His fingers travelled further up your goosebump-covered skin. "That you'll let me in, Y/N."

"How?" Your hands shook as you looked him in the eye again. This time... it felt like you were looking at a completely different man. It was no longer just your best friend you were looking at... but the man pleading with you to love him as if you hadn't been silently loving him from afar... all these years.

"Please let me show you."

Neil used his hands to balanced himself as he slowly and intimately leaned in, lips brushing yours every-so slightly. "Neil..." You whispered.

"Shh...." He hushed.

And your lips joined together. It felt like your body had let him in, like he was rewriting your DNA and letting every part of him consume you. He sat beside you now, cradling you in his arms as you kissed slowly. This was all so new to you, unlike any other kiss you had ever experienced. Every other kiss before this just felt like you were trying to negotiate something... but this... this kiss felt like your body had found its missing limb like it had found what it had been lacking all these years.

A string of spit connects the two of you as Neil softly pulls away, panting for breath. "Am I in yet?" He chuckled.

You tilted your head, squinting and stroking your chin, pretending you were struggling to decide. "Maybe... I don't know yet... think you'll have to try harder..." Your voice was still a bit shaky from crying. "Alright," He snorts before diving back in and kissing you rougher this time but still in that romantic, slow way. One hand placed on your hip and the other guiding the back of your head as you made out. Tongues pawing at each other like they were getting acquainted.

"Please touch me," Neil whimpered into your lips, and oh fuck, that was the most divine noise you had ever heard. "Please." "Only 'cause you asked so nicely..." You hummed, pushing him down and straddling him. You watched as he threw his head back, biting his lip and holding back the noises he so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of you sitting on him. Your fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, watching him writhe underneath you at only the slightest touch. You popped each button out individually and slowly until Neil was groaning with annoyance.

"Don't be such a tease, Y/N," Neil grunted from behind gritted teeth once you had his shirt off. "If you felt how hard my dick was right now-"

"Oh, I do!" You giggled cheekily, slowly rolling your pelvis in a slow circle right over the tent in his trousers that poked into your thigh.

"You fucker-" He groaned, reaching his arms up and grabbing your head roughly and pulling you into a soul-sucking kiss, tongue grappling at yours desperately.

You moaned through dancing lips as you had the most delicious friction going. Neil was being just as loud as you, whimpers vibrating through your sternum and into your soul. Neil bucks his hips up pathetically before he breaks the kiss abruptly.

"You've gotta stop or I'm... I'm gonna..." He buried his muzzle in your neck and moaned. "I'm gonna fuckin cum in my pants." "Oh yeah?" You grinned, grinding your hips even faster.

"That means stop!" He grabs ahold of your wrists and flips you around like you were in a wrestling competition. You gasped out as he had you down against your couch, panting heavily above you with that frustrated-and-horny look. "I knew you'd be a little brat." He spat menacingly before grinning like a puppy, leaning down and kissing you heavily.

You ran your hands up your shirt, trying to pull your shirt off which made Neil pull away slowly when he realized you were taking your top off. "Are you sure?" He said breathily, above you, mouth wide open and his eyes glued on every inch of skin that was slowly being revealed more and more. You just nodded your head and smiled. "Oh fuck, you're showing me your boobs." Neil's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. "Neil," You giggled as you got the top off and out came your tits, and there was Neil sitting there in disbelief at the sight of your boobs. "Neil!" You laughed, hitting him with a cushion; he smacked it away before looking back down at them with this look that almost resembled a look of horror. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Fucking hell, this is the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil chirped. "Fuck... please, Y/N... please let me squeeze them."

"Go ahead, Neil, touch me," You hummed, raising your arms above your head and leaning back with a Cheshire cat grin as his hands slowly and cautiously cusp your boobs. He let out a soft moan and let his eyes flutter shut as he slid his hands over your breasts, you could hear his breath hitch as his thumb slid over your hard nipples. "You're acting like you haven't touched a boob before," You snickered.

"Oh, believe me, I have..." Neil nodded, eyes open now and staring at your tits like he was high. "Just none as good as these..." He leaned in, hot breath fanning your left breast, lips parted but he doesn't go any further than that.

"Put it in your mouth, pretty boy," You demanded, and like the sub you always thought he was, he obeyed with a smile. "Fuck... that's it." The tops of his cheeks were flushed a gentle pink as he sucked and swirled his tongue around your nipple. "Mmm...." He hummed, eyes closed. His full body weight was resting on you while he sucked on your tits, switching between them. You laid there for quite a while and wondered how long he could do this. You braided your fingers through his hair before tugging it back roughly, and he unwillingly popped off your tit with a loud and whoreish whine.

"Hey!" He complained with eyebrows knitted together as his eyes looked between your eyes and spit-covered tits. He's so spoiled.

"I always knew you'd be a little brat." You said, repeating what he said to you earlier.

Neil drools on you helplessly, groaning as you pull on his hair more until you two are sitting up facing each other. You grin once more and lean in, giving him a sweet little kiss. His hands cupping your tits desperately.

"Carry me to the bedroom." You hummed dramatically, raising your arms in the air, and Neil shook his head and chuckled as he leaned down and wrapped you up in his arms.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend," Neil murmured into your warm shoulder as he padded you guys down to the bedroom he had been in countless times.

"Not just best friends, though," You remarked as he laid you down on the bed with your legs over his shoulders. He reached towards your bedside table.

"Condoms?" He hummed, searching through your drawers, but found nothing.

"Birth control... you should know this you idiot!" You giggled at Neil realizing what you just said.

"Can I...?"

"Yes!"

"Like... inside?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes!" You nodded your head, laughing wildly.

"Fuck you're gonna be the best girlfriend ever!" Neil grunted happily before leaning in and kissing you like you were his last meal.

Meanwhile, he slid your skirt down and unzipped his trousers. You caught a glimpse of his thick cock straining against his briefs and found yourself growing wetter.

"Let me make you mine, Y/N..." He whispered. "Let me finally make you mine."

"I've been yours," You caressed his face. You were both out of your underwear now. The tip of his prick nudging your clit as you looked up at him with so much love. "Please... Neil... please... I need you so bad."

Neil nodded silently, closing his eyes as he lined up his aching cock with your dripping cunt. The initial push in made your mind go blank and your spine arch even further into his touch, Neil moaned as he pushed himself into you fully.

"I can't believe this is happening..." Neil whispered. "This is so much better than I ever imagined it to be."

"You thought about me?" You grinned idiotically, high on the way he was stretching you out.

"Fuck," He groaned, hair falling over his pretty face. "Every fuckin' night."

"Me too."

His hands were placed firmly on your hips, and as he receded back until it was just the head of his cock in you, his fingers slid up to grope at your tits that his eyes had been practically glued on all night. Neil fucked you nice and slow, relishing in the way your pussy felt around him. Your hands were gripping the sheets, legs still thrown over his shoulders and mouth spewing incoherent words of pleasure.

"Neil... baby... oh my god," Your eyes so desperately wanted to shut but you wanted to enjoy how pretty he looked above you. "I love you."

Those words hung heavy in the air for a moment, Neil's hips never faltering as he leaned down and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N." Neil whispered against your hot mouth.

That was all you needed to hear. His cock slid in and out of you, both groaning and moaning as your bodies finally became one. Neil's mouth hung agape against yours, breathing in each other's air. Neil's face was flushed a bright red, pupils blown wide, and his hair messy from how you ran your fingers through it. Your noses brushed together as his pelvis rutted against your clit, dick still so deep inside you.

"I love you so much," Neil panted, thrusting into you desperately. "I always have..."

"Love you..." You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut and your arms slithering around his neck as the pleasure consumed you from the inside out. "So much... Neil..."

Neil pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling your face as he ground into you. "Fuck, please let me cum inside you."

"I'm so close, Neil..." You whispered. "Just hold on a little longer."

Neil grunted. A pyramid of pleasure building within you, ready to crash down and crumble inside of you. Your orgasm grew like a million tiny vines curling around each individual nerve until you saw colors you had never seen before.

"Squeezing me so tight," Neil whined. "I need to cum... please..."

"Cum," You commanded and he did.

Coming undone together felt like it was truly sealing your fate. You had never felt so close to him; you knew you could and would spend the rest of your life with him. He mewled into the crook of your neck, cum spilling into you as you convulsed, orgasm swallowing you whole and ridding you of all your senses. All you felt was him and the impending pleasure devouring you. Neil's whimpers only further pushed you over the edge.

"Y/N," He moaned like a whore. "Fuck... Y/N..." He whined right into your ear as his cock continued to fill you with his warm cum.

Your brain couldn't conceive a proper thought. You couldn't will yourself to speak as he collapsed on top of you. You smile as you lay there together, skin on skin, hearts pounding in sync. Neil pulled out of you with a quiet hiss, picking you up and curling up with you under the sheets.

You looked at each other silently, both still calming down. Your thumb drew infinity signs onto his cheekbone, slowly blinking at the boy you had always wanted- no, needed.

"That was the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil whispered, sleepy eyes looking at you full of adoration. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." Neil pecked you softly on the lips. "I can't believe it took me this long to tell you... I... I'm sorry." "Shh..." You hushed. "It's okay... we're together now... that's all that matters."

You lay in silence once more, hearts still pounding in your chests. You took in every detail of him, which you had memorized countless times before, but this time it was different. It felt much more intimate. Every crease, every freckle... every tiny minuscule detail of him was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"Does this mean we're boyfriend-girlfriend now?" Neil chuckled, rolling over onto his back, pulling you into his side.

"Shut up, Neil," You giggled. "You're such a dork."

"You love it." He quipped.

"I do," You agreed. "I love you."

"I love you," Neil smiled sweetly, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you were quickly interrupted by the sound of Neil's phone ringing. "Fuck me," He grunted, reaching down to grab at his jeans where his phone was. "Hello?" He said with a sour face. "Hi, Jonathan, everything is okay... yes, she's here with me..." Neil looked down at you with a smirk. "Yes, Lucien can borrow my goggles... I don't care... can we talk about this later?" Neil hung up and tossed his phone aside before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.

"What was that about?"

"Well... erm... Jonathan just asked if everything went well... between us..." Neil blushed.

"He knows you're here?"

"He's the reason I came over... he gave me the courage to... y'know... tell you how I feel."

You rolled your eyes and laughed before kissing him deeply. You felt like everything was okay. Now that you had Neil in your arms, you could handle anything that life threw at you. Neil was already planning your wedding in his head as you shared the love between you in a kiss. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else

-

I NEED NEIL LEWIS.... LIKE RIGHT NOW!!! Ugh, I love him so much. Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3

[emry-stars-art]

Question: how long does medusa neil takes to grow?

Like, taking the hands as Andrew's, is it more of a "whiplash because I was petting this baby a month ago and it's now Big" situation or "wait what you're telling this hot mer is that tiny cute thingy I'd found around as a teen?" one

Ok ok so I had just put out “Andrew finding baby jelly neil would be really cute” as like a fun little side thought but now I REALLY LIKE IT AND I WANT TO PUT IT IN THE TIMELINE

so to answer this question: physically? A Sea Nettle mer like Neil I’m going to say takes about 17-19 years to reach physical maturity/full size (which in jellies is pretty far removed from mental and emotional maturity, jelly brains take a good while to develop because they start with so little)

So this. This is what I’m deciding thank you so much @snazzy-jas-z-is-a-fan-of (which counts as your second option, dear galacticvampire)

And it looks like this:

@exy-is-sexy medusa admirer 🥰

So Andrew always comes back to the beach (fisherman’s son, they’re there a lot) and always gets distracted going to a specific tide pool housing this little thing he found. Aaron thinks it’s really cool too, their dad is too busy with work down the beach and is happy his kids are entertaining themselves while he gets ready for the day. Of course, yes, he tells them. Very good, finding such a mer in these waters. (He thinks it’s kids being kids. No one’s seen a jelly mer, they’re kind of believed to be extinct if not simply legends. But a little imagination is healthy.)

Then one day, Andrew checks the tide pool and finds it empty of the tiny jelly. It’s nowhere in sight, he looks all over the nearby waters and in any grass or rocks it could have gotten caught in. Nothing at all.

Maybe by the time he’s taken over his family’s fishing business, Andrew has convinced himself it really was in his imagination. His memory serves him well but if he’d convinced himself it was real back then, that would be what he remembered now.

Until he finds a monster washed up on his beach.

(A shot of the process under the cut)

IT DOESNT COME ACROSS IN THE PANEL. BUT I CANNOT PROPERLY EXPRESS TO YOU HOW TINY THAT SECOND NEIL IS. literally I think that is the single smallest thing I’ve ever drawn. Look at this

That’s me sharpening my 0.3 mechanical pencil to get it small enough to draw the eyes. I just need everyone to know this because I think it’s so stupid and funny. And we all love tiny baby jelly Neil and it doesn’t get ANY tinier than this folks

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Charlie Dalton, Neil Perry and Todd Anderson Taking Care of Their Sick S/O

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Charlie Dalton x sick!gn!reader (romantic), Neil Perry x sick!gn!reader , Todd Anderson x sick!gn!reader (romantic)

Warnings: The reader has a cold so... yeah. Also, since I'm sick myself, my brain isn't really working at it's normal level so apologies for any mistakes! (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: Unfortunately I'm still sick (it's only been a few days). Fortunately, I'm still motivated to write headcanons to get me through this relatively mild illness (and I'm starting to feel better)! I've got a Todd one-shot draft that I started a year ago and never got around to finishing, so here's my first offering to the Dead Poets Society fandom. I'd love to write more for it, both reader-insert and not. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing any more sick fics (I've already written hcs for Yellowjackets and Abed Nadir and Annie Edison from Community) since I should be better soon, but if you're still interested check out my fandom list and requesting info and feel free to send an ask!)

CHARLIE

Charlie will jokingly tell you that you’re disgusting.

If you’re not amused by that, he’ll awkwardly but sincerely apologise, his mortification thinly veiled.

He isn’t entirely sure what the hell to do to make you less sick.

(He'll have to consult his more medically knowledgeable friends for advice)

He will ask you if you want him to kiss it all better.

(And he will not hesitate to kiss you when you give him the go ahead)

Suffice it to say, he does not care all that much about getting sick himself.

(A small part of him hopes that he does get sick so you'll have to take care of him)

He will spend so much time with you, you’d think you were dying.

He will also get you anything you ask for (even if it has no clear use in making you physically better- he just wants to make you happy).

If his earlier attempt at joking doesn't work, he'll still persist in cracking jokes and making you laugh to make you feel better.

(If your laughter causes you to break out into a coughing fit, though, he will feel awful).

NEIL

Neil knows exactly what to do.

He may not like his dad's dream of him becoming a doctor, but damn he has such a knack for looking after you.

He makes sure you’re drinking enough fluids and taking any medicine you need to take.

No matter how disgusting you might get, Neil is completely unfazed the whole time.

If anything, he'll find it funny and try to keep you in as high spirits as possible.

If he does mind getting sick, he certainly doesn't show it.

For example, he doesn't hesitate when kissing you on the cheek or forehead.

He loves you so much that it really won’t matter to him if you can- or do- get him sick.

He’ll regularly ask you if there’s anything that you want or need, and if you’re comfortable, and if you’re too hot or cold.

It’s evident that he cares about you getting better.

He’ll sit at your bedside and try to take your mind off of how you’re feeling.

But, he will insist that you need to rest up, so when you’re asleep or trying to fall asleep he’ll be as quiet as humanly possible to make sure he doesn’t wake you up.

If he does end up waking you, he’ll feel terrible about it.

He’s so loving and caring anyway, but especially when you’re sick.

TODD

This guy is fucking terrified.

He assumes that anything he does will only make you sicker.

A small part of him is convinced you will die under his care.

So, he begs Neil for advice, and Neil humours him so that Todd doesn’t drive himself nuts.

Todd will regularly ask you if you need something, and he’ll repeatedly offer you whatever Neil advised him about.

He’s also completely torn between his innate desire not to get himself sick, and his deep love and affection for you.

So, please don’t get upset with him if he recoils almost every time you cough and sneeze, because he does spend as much time as he possibly can at your bedside.

Speaking of which, Todd sits at your bedside like a loyal golden retriever.

He’ll hold your hand (internally panicking about your high temperature, of course) and place the occasional kiss on the back of it.

He’ll also read some of his poems, works in progress and completed, out to you, and he’ll make sure to pick plenty that are about you specifically.

Sure, he’s nervous, but you love his poetry and all he wants to do is reduce how terrible you feel.

[writing-for-life]

Writing Is The Loneliest Art...

A couple of days ago, this piece of art with a Neil Gaiman quote flickered across my desktop, and it made me think, so longish post about writing, mental health and human connection ahead..

The actual quote says:

The hardest part of being a writer is that you get lonely. It's just you and the stuff in your head and nobody else can do it for you.

I used to be a performer. I spent a good 10 years of my life in theatres and on stage. That can be lonely, too, but in very different ways. You find a "family" for a short while, and then the show is over, and you all disperse to heaven-knows-where again. Some of these friendships last, others don't, but even the ones that do are hard to maintain because of the nature of the job (if you a very lucky, your paths may cross again for another show).

But the difference, to me, was that I had a physical outlet. That's also stressful in many ways, and being a performer is hard and emotionally taxing (plus, the industry sometimes makes you want to vomit). But it is a very different feeling to channel creative energy into something that is physical.

When I write, I only have the words in my head and the blank page; if I am lucky, the words will come out in a way that stops the page from being blank. And although I wrote "Writing Is The Loneliest Art" as a headline, I imagine this must be quite similar for visual/graphic artists.

I was a writer before I was a performer. I came back to my first love, and I wouldn't want it any other way. Writing always was, and still is, the most truthful form of creative expression for me. I am also lucky enough not to have to earn an income with it (although I do) because I have a job that takes care of that (and thankfully one that comes in handy for character development and world building). But it is very easy to become trapped in your head and thoughts, to stop engaging with the life that is out there. And that life is important--for inspiration, for self-care, for human connection. To break these connections, knowingly or unknowingly, is a real issue for many writers. If I am not careful, it happens to me, too. I have a family, and I am constantly teetering on the edge of spending time in my head or with the blank page when I should be present with them. I can snap myself out of it, but it is not always easy to do, and most writers can probably relate. Because thoughts are thoughts and ideas are ideas. They don't care when they pop into your head, and they will try to claim space, whether the moment is "right" or not.

I have a self-care routine in place to prevent myself from getting trapped in my own head (that's maybe for another post), but it takes effort and constant reminders to get up from my desk, get out, get fresh air and move. Because I'd rather be in my head and write. I am an introvert, like many writers, but that's not a big blanket permission to stop connecting with life. Introversion and loneliness are not one and the same, and writers (everyone really) need to understand the difference. You need to pick up that phone, see people and surround yourself with humans from time to time for your own sake. Not just through your job. You need humans around you whom you truly connect with.

But back to different art forms: As a performer, I had the direct interaction with my fellow performers, and with my audience. I cannot stress enough how important the latter is, and I have said this on here many times: Art comes alive through interaction and communication. It connects us through shared humanity. And there are art forms out there that take care of that connection by default--I have felt the difference, and it is profound.

Yes, we can still write or create art as a form of processing emotions, and from a psychological viewpoint, this is healing and helpful.

But art needs to be both created and experienced. Every art ultimately becomes meaningless without the viewer/reader/audience. Art is never a one-way street.

Writers tell stories, but these stories don't exist in a vacuum. They exist because we can't help writing them, and we would always do it anyway, but they also exist because we want you to read them. And it means something to us to know they moved you, made you laugh, made you cry, made you find out something about yourself you didn't know yet, or they just helped you forget about the troubles you are going through for a little while.

So if you appreciate art forms that don't have direct audience interaction, let the artists know you did. It is not annoying us. We are happy about it. Most of us want that communication. And writers probably need it most...

[alianoralacanta]

Yesterday's F1 "race" in Brazil reminded me of why watching F1 isn't something I get quite as much choice about as I'd wish.

Part 1: Introduction to the rules at issue

Some of you will wonder why "race" is in inverted quotation marks. After all, the event had all the usual accoutrements of an actual race - lots of people trying to improve their positions, interesting strategies, twists of fate, lots of skill tests passed, surpassed and failed, brilliant feats of athleticism and moments that made one think "why?". Oh, the competitive aspect was there in full force.

A pity it was all in service of a lie.

Firstly, some regulations that will become relevant:

Sporting Regulations, Article 19.4 a) - "All drivers must attend a thirty (30) minute drivers parade or presentation… commencing two (2) hours and ten (10) mins before the scheduled start of the formation lap."

Sporting Regulations, Article 40.8 - "Five (5) hours before the scheduled start of the formation lap for the race, the seals and covers may be removed but the cars will remain under parc fermé conditions until the start of the race." For clarity, only the front wing and tyres may be changed under parc fermé. No refuelling, no rear wing changes (including driver-operated ones e.g. DRS), no modifications to most of the car.

Sporting Regulations, Article 40.9 - "In order that the scrutineers may be completely satisfied that no alterations have been made to the… aerodynamic configuration of the car… whilst in pre-race parc fermé, it must be clear from physical inspection that changes cannot be made without the use of tools."

Sporting Regulations, Article 42.4 - "The provisional starting grid will be published no less than four (4) hours before the scheduled start of the formation lap for the race". Yes, it was so important that the number in brackets was used.

Sporting Regulations, Article 42.4 - "The final starting grid will be published two (2) hours before the scheduled start of the formation lap". The gap between this and the provisional grid is set to 2 hours, so that drivers and teams who cannot start due to problems foreseeable after qualifying or overnight problems can do so with enough time to close the grid.

Sporting Regulations, Article 44.1 - "Forty (40) minutes before the scheduled start of the formation lap the pit exit will be opened"

Sporting Regulations, Article 44.2 - "Thirty (30) minutes before the scheduled start of the formation lap the end of the pit lane will be closed"

Legal settlement following the Bianchi crash: All races must begin and end within a 4-hour window (later shortened to 3 hours), which must end before sunset - unless lighting is provided - and cannot be moved once fixed, unless the scheduled start of the race is altered. (Bear in mind the original purpose was to prevent races wandering into or being outright planned to go into darkness or unacceptably poor visibility). This is the one rule in this list the Race Director cannot change. Strictly speaking, only a successful negotiation with the Bianchi family and their legal team, or a court, could change this. Needless to say, neither of these things has occurred (the Bianchi's legal firm would be Stewarts and it would have mentioned it on its website had any such negotiation succeeded. No court has stated it is considering the matter).

If the Race Director (in this case Neils Wittich) wants to temporarily change a Sporting Regulation, that has to be announced through either a Race Director's note, or discussed at an official race meeting. No additional race meeting was organised for post-sprint or the race day, neither was any Race Director's note on the subject of the above regulations forthcoming. There was a note to move the qualifying and race, however, as well as amended Event Notes that changed other elements of the regulations for this track. The Race Director had the opportunity to liberalise nearly everything I just quoted, but chose not to do so.

Schedule set out for Sunday of Brazil 2024 (as modified on Saturday 2nd November 2024 due to qualifying being a washout), going by the regulations and the modified schedule as provided by the Race Director (all items on schedule have an asterisk, everything else is implicitly required by regulations the Race Director did not oppose):

7 am - Start of pre-race parc fermé

7:30 am - Qualifying*

8 am - Latest possible publication time for the provisional grid

9:40 am - Parade or presentation

10 am - Publication of final grid

11:20 am - Pit lane opened

11:30 am - Pit lane closed

12:00 noon - Race window opens*

3 pm - Race window closes

6:21 pm - Sunset

The qualifying session overran spectacularly due to 5 red flags. The provisional classification (not even the provisional grid, because that's a different document that takes protests into account) therefore was not published until 9:35 am local time.

The starting grid was not published until 11:40 am. Yet the pit lane was apparently open by 12:26 pm (still 26 minutes after the race window opened, but less than an hour after the starting grid was published).

I will write about the details of why all this was a problem in Part 2.

[errantemilia]

Good Omens Fandom and Body-Type Representation (1/3): Lady Crowley

The Good Omens fandom is on fire after the release of Season 2 (we need to cope, yes). There is a lot to say, but let me focus on the visual representation of Aziraphale and Crowley as women. It has always been done, gender swap is a sort of internet rule, but in this case it's canon: in Season 1, during Warlock's childhood, Crowley is a woman; and Neil Gaiman himself revealed that among the flashbacks planned as possible for Season 2, there was "a 1960s American one with Crowley and Aziraphale female presenting." The fandom has gone wild, and the fan art of ineffable wives has multiplied.

So, let's talk about Crowley as a woman – I’ll call her Lady Crowley.

She. Is. Glorious. When artists draw Lady Crowley, they depict her as confident, bold, and beautiful, while retaining Crowley's physical features. Now, I'd like to draw attention to my own physical features. I have a hooked nose, a sharp jawline, I'm very tall and very thin, without curves. In short, I'm very David Tennant-ish (it even happened a couple of times that I was told I looked cartoonish). Rarely in my life have I seen myself as beautiful. Even more rarely have I seen women like me in cultural products who weren't the comic relief, or the villains. Certainly not the primary romantic interest of the story.

The portrayal of Lady Crowley expands the concept of "feminine beauty." Not only it reiterates a figure of a woman unconventionally or atypically beautiful – and the more you see her, the more you'll be inclined to represent women like her – but it surrounds her with coolness. It's the imaginary that feeds itself.

Sure, it's a small slice of imaginary. However, maybe the next time a tall, thin, big-nosed teenage girl gazes herself in the mirror, she won’t think, "I'm ugly, I look like a Scottish man," but rather, "I look like Lady Crowley, I'm awesome!”. For me, this would already be enough.

For the post about Aziraphale, aka Mrs Fell, see here.

[strangerqueerthings]

Soft

(CW for body image issues, disordered eating)

Billy's getting soft, and Eddie doesn't draw attention to it at first, because he wants to enjoy it as long as he can.

The last thing he wants is for Billy to relapse into overdoing his exercises, his weight lifting, counting calories, protein, and carbs.

Billy hasn't measured out his portions in almost six months. He hasn't stared at the nutrition facts panel on a box for over five minutes in almost five months. He hasn't lifted weights and exercised to the point of exhaustion in almost a year.

He indulges in dessert at least once a week, and he doesn't look around the room as if expecting danger. He has a beer and takes his time to enjoy it. He shares more joints with Eddie, and doesn't fight the munchies when they come.

Last week, he shared a plate of chili cheese fries and a greasy, oversized burger with Eddie- he even had a Coke with it.

He still goes for runs, or swims laps, but instead of them being daily occurrences, he does them when he has time, because he's slowly replacing over exertion with hobbies he never allowed himself to enjoy.

Eddie comes home from his shift with Gary to find Billy sitting on the bed, hair pulled up in a sloppy bun, chewing on a pen, surrounded by books and notebooks.

Edgar Allen Poe. Mary Shelley. Oscar Wilde. William Blake. Bram Stoker.

He's comparing them, writing notes in his small, neat, precise handwriting. He also has a large book of Blake's watercolors open on "Book of Urizen- the creation of Urizen in material form by Los, 1794."

Eddie's never been much a literary nerd- he prefers to write and create his own works, rather than read what was written a long time ago. Still, he knows about Blake, and how the religious themes are important to Billy, because he's been struggling with them due to his upbringing.

Eddie's happy to see him fully investing his time and attention to something he enjoys- and is clearly absorbed by.

But what really has him smiling, is how Billy's stomach now has two gentle rolls to it as he leans forward to look at a page before taking another note. How he has the start of love handles visible from the waistband of his shorts digging into his hips.

Physically, Billy is getting soft, while sharpening his wits, and Eddie has never been more attracted him than he has been in that moment, seeing his softness paired with his hungry mind, proof that Billy isn't ignoring any of his appetites anymore.

Eddie comes into the room and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots. Billy looks up and smiles, the expression lighting up his face.

"Didn't hear you come in."

"Didn't want to interrupt," Eddie replies, leaning over to plant a kiss on Billy's cheek. "You look like you're in the middle of something."

"Really into the Book of Urizen right now. Something about the conflict between him and Los makes me think of how I had to deal with Neil."

Eddie lifts a brow.

"How so?"

"Urizen wields nets, with which he ensnares people in webs of law and conventional society," Billy says, reading from his notes. "While Los, his counterpart, is an aspect of art and imagination, and in their struggle to control the world, Los and Urizen fall and bind each other in human forms."

Eddie frowns.

"I don't get it."

"Their downfall was that they wouldn't stop fighting, and it warped their purpose. I've been fighting Neil so long, I lost sight of who I am, and what I want, even how I feel about my body. I was bound in a human form Neil forced me to take, and my fear of him... made me keep it that way."

"Not recently," Eddie says gently, kissing Billy's shoulder. "And I've never seen you happier."

"I've never been happier," Billy agrees, then frowns.

"I struggled with it for a while, you know."

Eddie nods, but says nothing. He knows Billy well enough that the silence isn't the end of his train of thought- it's the calm before the storm of words that he needs to get out.

"I was worried I'd get bad again. Over doing it, going back to constant working out, skipping meals, or only eating protein. I was worried that I'd need to be that same person in high school, the same build, even though he's not a threat anymore. He's far away, out of my life, but he still has a hold on me."

Eddie leans against Billy, providing silent, solid support as Billy continues.

"But I see how you look at me, Eddie," he says. "I saw when I took my shirt off yesterday, and how your eyes lit up. The way you smiled when we shared that really greasy meal."

He looks at Eddie meaningfully.

"I feel how your hands linger on my hips at night. I can feel your fingers run over my stomach when you think I'm asleep."

Eddie flushes.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Billy-" he begins, but Billy puts a finger to his lips.

"I'm not good with words. Never have been. Not with saying them, and definitely not with accepting them. If you told me you like how I look now, I wouldn't believe you."

His face lights up as he smiles again, the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes wrinkling in contentment, and those tiny little lines take Eddie's breath away, knowing that his happiness is becoming such a regular thing that it's leaving its mark in his skin.

"The way you touch me when you think I'm asleep, or when you think I won't notice- I do, and it means more than any of your silly speeches. You don't blow it out of proportion, you don't draw attention to it."

Billy rests his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"You just love me, the way I am, and you never ask me to change, but you appreciate and encourage me in your own, unspoken way every time I make changes for the better, and it keeps me from going back, from second-guessing those changes."

"Because I love you, and I want you to be happy and healthy, babe," Eddie says, reaching up and pushing a lock of hair behind Billy's ear.

"And I know I haven't said it until now, but Billy... I love seeing you soft and content."

Billy laughs, looking at his notes.

"Kind of arrogant to compare myself to a mythical figure," he says, but there's no self-derision in his voice, only amusement.

Eddie grins.

"I'll have you know, Dionysus is one of my favorite mythical figures, and everyone agrees- that god knew how to party, was a symbol of fertility, just an overall rock star."

Eddie lifts a brow.

"And in most of the statues and art of him? He's built just like you- sometimes, even with man tits."

Billy laughs, flushing a bit.

"Are you saying I've got a godly figure?"

"Not just saying it- I'm stating it as fact."

Billy smiles, and closes his notebook, stacking his books up and putting them on the nightstand along with his pen. He pulls Eddie to him, and grins wickedly.

"Well then, Eddie," he breathes. "Worship at the altar of my body."

Eddie can't get either of their clothes off fast enough.

[traintrainingmontage]

It's Love That Sits at the Heart of Violence

This is a rough excerpt from a piece that I wrote for the AU I'm co-writing with @tam-o-shunter! I like it quite a bit, so I wanted to share.

The AU itself is sci-fi themed, but for this excerpt, please envision this as a human!AU. Takes place around 1963. Angst with hurt/comfort and brotherly love.

Summary: Skarloey has recovered from the debilitating physical injuries that he suffered during WWII, but the scars upon his heart are still raw. Thus, he's turned to a rather unhealthy means of coping.

Characters: Skarloey, Rheneas, Edward, Toby, Henrietta (mentions of Neil)

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Implied Neilloey (Neil x Skarloey)

(CW: war-related trauma, slightly graphic depictions of violence, drug mention [violence as a drug], f-bomb, some mentions of blood.)

It's only when Skarloey gets out of the hospital that he learns that the entire underground fighting ring has been shut down, along with several others, in a huge raid. Furthermore, the ringleader, Walter, had been arrested, but after selling out the other rings, he had gotten a reduced sentence.

He's reading all of this in the paper one morning, eyes wide. "Rheneas… they've shut this all down! All of it!"

"Good," Rheneas says crisply, setting a mug of coffee down before each of them. "Perhaps this means they won't prey on the wounded and grieving anymore."

Rheneas keeps his tone neutral, but Skarloey has always had incredible insight, and his head snaps up as he glares daggers at his brother. "You did this."

Rheneas crosses his arms, his expression defiant. "That's right. I got the answers out of Walter, and reported it all. You're welcome."

Skarloey is livid, and he angrily tosses the paper to the table, standing up tall. "And why should I be THANKING you?! That place was my escape! Over there, I was strong! Over there, I wasn't a fucking failure!"

The crunch of cartilage beneath his fist. The spray of blood on his face. The feeling of skin ripping beneath his nails. The anger of his opponents. Skarloey hates it. He hates it all. He's hated every sensation that he's endured while learning how to fight. But he's grown stronger, and that fact far outweighs any hatred or disgust he has for battle.

And at some point--he couldn't tell you when--it wasn't about self-improvement anymore. It wasn't about being strong enough to protect the things he wants to protect. It was that the grief and guilt were so overwhelming that he wanted to escape them. He wanted be so strong, so useful, that he would never be too powerless ever again.

He never wants be a burden to Rheneas ever again.

The violence is a drug. It's bitter. It's disgusting. He hates it still. But it's the only thing that works, and he fears giving it up.

Rheneas's eyes go wide, and his arms fall to his sides. "Skarloey, what are you--"

"Don't play dumb with me, Rheneas!" Skarloey screams, tears beading in his eyes. "It was my fault we lost Neil! It was my fault you had to work yourself so hard, to the point of destroying yourself, and all I could do was be useless and watch!"

"Don't think I didn't hear you fretting over the bills! Don't think I couldn't hear you sobbing when you thought I was asleep! I tried to do any kind of work, but the fatigue from my injuries meant I couldn't, and you'd always say that I'd worked so hard and that it was your turn and that you were grateful, but how could you be grateful dealing with a useless lump like me?!"

"That's ENOUGH!" Rheneas shouts, angry enough that it startles Skarloey into silence. Tears are welling up in his eyes too, and ah, there's another reason why Skarloey is a horrible brother. He's made Rheneas cry.

"Don't you dare think of yourself that way," Rheneas says, his entire body shaking as tears fall down his cheeks. "You mean everything to me. I would do anything for you. You saved me during the war, time and again, whether it was dealing with the mountain of work or you keeping my spirits up so I wouldn't give into despair."

"Skarloey, you're… you're my brother. In every way that matters. Of course I would support you at your lowest. That's what family's for. You're my brother, and… I love you."

I love you. Those three words slam like weights into Skarloey's chest, overwhelming in their enormity. I love you.

"I… I love you too, Rheneas," Skarloey manages to stammer through the tears, his fists clenched. "So much. That's why I… I…" Rheneas slowly approaches, arms out for a hug. Skarloey stares as he comes closer, and then… he runs.

"Shit! Skarloey, wait!!" The unexpected flight catches Rheneas off guard, and he scrambles to catch up. However, thanks to his training/pit fighting, Skarloey is lighter on his feet and moves more efficiently than Rheneas does. The younger brother clocks that Skarloey is heading for the train station, but by the time he gets there, Skarloey is already gone.

Rheneas bites back a curse. He's going to have to make some calls.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rheneas, Edward, Toby, and Henrietta wind their way through the back alleys of Barrow-in-Furness, the noonday sun streaming down upon the warehouses, jutting up from the street like tight teeth.

Rheneas had heard through the grapevine that Skarloey was seen coming this way, but Skarloey would normally have no business in Barrow-in-Furness... unless, of course, he's actively looking for trouble. Initially, Rheneas is worried that finding Skarloey is going to be challenging. However, he's somehow more worried when it ends up being remarkably easy.

Right on the pavement before the first row of warehouses, they find Skarloey's tie. More notably, however, is that there's a trail of bodies. Most appear to be thugs, but there's a BR railwayman or two as well. Fortunately, they're all still breathing, but they've been knocked out with a ferocity that's rather frightening. Despite their misgivings, the four press on.

At the end of the trail, there's a large warehouse. A door was there, as evidenced by the remains of broken hinges welded to the outside, but there isn't one now. Rheneas gulps, and steps inside.

In the center of the warehouse is Skarloey. He's panting hard, and he's covered in a mixture of blood and other substances Rheneas isn't sure he wants to identify. The group's not being quiet, but Skarloey doesn't turn to look.

Rheneas walks forward, even as Edward hisses "Be careful!"

"He's probably not in his right mind!" Toby calls softly.

Slowly, Rheneas approaches his brother. He begins to reach out a hand to place on Skarloey's shoulder, when suddenly, his brother moves.

His hand is balled up into a fist. That fist is aimed right for Rheneas's face. And his eyes… those eyes aren't seeing Rheneas. They're seeing an enemy. All of this flashes through Rheneas's mind as the punch comes toward him. He shuts his eyes; it's too fast for him to defend himself, and there's not enough time--

But the punch never comes.

Rheneas's eyes slowly flutter open, and he sees that Skarloey's fist is close to his face, and that all of his friends had begun moving in, but most importantly, Skarloey is staring at him. Seeing him.

Skarloey breathes heavily, wide-eyed. His fist is still suspended in the air. Off to the side, Henrietta fixes him with a long look. "That's quite enough, Skarloey," she says firmly, yet not unkindly. "Come back to your senses, please. Your brother is very worried about you."

Rheneas and Skarloey stare at each other, both of them now breathing heavily. Skarloey's fist retreats, falling limply to his side. "Rheneas…?" Skarloey murmurs, finally able to find words. "Rheneas, I…"

Then, it dawns on him, and Skarloey falls to his knees, crashing to the floor.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" he begins to scream, holding his hands up to his head as tears unfurl from his eyes once again. Rheneas's eyes widen, and he lunges forward, wrapping Skarloey in a huge hug, heedless of how disgusting his brother is right now.

"Easy, Loey. Easy."

"NO! NO! Rhen, I… AHHHHH!"

"Shhhhh. It's ok. You didn't hurt me."

"But I COULD have! I was so close! If I hadn't stopped myself, I'd have--"

"But you did. You did stop yourself, Loey. And that's what matters."

"Oh, Lord. What have I done? I'm… what happened to me? When did I get like this?"

Skarloey is shaking and shivering in Rheneas's arms, and his brother holds him close. "Loey… I know you're still beating yourself up over Neil. And about what you think you owe me. But… I know he wouldn't want to see you like this. He wouldn't want you to punish yourself for things you can't control."

The mention of Neil causes Skarloey to stop abruptly, and then sag. Rheneas's arm comes up to rub small circles into Skarloey's back. The other three railway workers nod to each other and step away, giving the brothers space.

"Skarloey…" Rheneas continues. "I can tell that you don't enjoy fighting. You've never been in it for the sport. You've always used it as an escape, as a way to make yourself feel stronger and more in control of things after everything felt so overwhelming during the war. But please… no more."

"I… I thought I was doing it for you," comes Skarloey's muffled voice, and Rheneas gently loosens his hold, letting his brother pull away to speak. Skarloey's hands come away from his head, dangling at his sides. "I just… didn't want to be useless anymore. I didn't want to lose my loved ones again. I felt so empty after losing Neil, and so guilty after you had to take care of me, that I… I…"

Skarloey takes a deep breath, and Rheneas lets him.

"I threw myself into work, and into learning to fight. It's a useful skill, and more than anything, I just… needed to feel like I'd never be as powerless as I was watching Neil disappear. Watching you work until you dropped. Watching as… I became an utter failure, a burden to the ones I love."

This causes Rheneas to pull Skarloey into another bone-crushing hug, and this time, Skarloey's arms rise up, reciprocating the hug. "You could never be a burden, Loey," Rheneas whispers fiercely, hot tears landing on Skarloey's shoulder. He thinks about what Skarloey had yelled about over breakfast, about hearing him worry about bills, and a shudder rips up his spine. "Not now, not ever. And I am so, so sorry that I ever made you feel that way."

Skarloey doesn't immediately answer, but he hugs his brother that much tighter. "I love you, Rheneas," he whispers.

"I love you too, Skarloey," Rheneas whispers back. "So much."

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: If I Stopped Haunting You by Colby Wilkens

4/5. Releases 10/15/2024.

Vibes: rivals ro lovers, haunted houses, danger banging, and unfinished business

Heat Index: 7/10

Penelope Skinner carries a huge grudge against Neil Storm--and it culminates in her throwing a book at him at a conference. Why? Because Neil claims that his books break Native stereotypes, while they simply seem to embrace them. Penelope's been blacklisted ever since, so she's none too happy to see him at a writers retreat in a spooky Scottish castle. Neil isn't thrilled to see her either--but as they discover that the castle's ghosts may be realer than expected, they're forced to work together to help the spirits resolve their unfinished business... while fighting some of their own.

This was a really interesting, different debut--and I'm excited to see what Colby Wilkens does next. There's a lot delved into here, especially surrounding the politics of passing (as Penelope, who is Native, does), gender privilege, respectability, and the particular way that publishing treats BIPOC authors.

However, it's still first and foremost a romance, and a good one at that. Neil and Penelope have a crackling chemistry from the start, and it only intensifies as they spend time together in this castle... full of tight passages.... (in more ways than one).... and occupied by a ghost that's always showing up at the right times. (And by the right times, I mean the times that force Penelope and Neil emotionally and physically closer.)

There's some... interesting... genre marketing happening with this one, but I'm here to reassure you: 'tis a romance!

Quick Takes:

--Okay, so, the genre stuff. I've seen this marketed as "horror romance" or "horrormance". I am just... refusing.... with horromance. I'm done with the portmanteaus, I can't do it anymore. HOWEVER! I can see horror romance being a thing, maybe? I have yet to read it, but maybe? As a subset of paranormal romance? But it's tricky, and I still wouldn't say this aligns with any conceptualization I have of theoretical horror romance.

So, what is it? I'd say VERY light paranormal romance, or, more accurately, a contemporary romance with a sprinkling of paranormal. None of this is critique; the book is good no matter what it is. Just--if you like contemporaries and don't like paranormals, don't worry. Read this. You'll like it, and it's not scary, I promise. A little spooky, yes, but not scary. And if you enjoy some spookedy bump in the night stuff, you'll like this, too.

--I can see Penelope being a polarizing heroine. Mostly because she has, I don't know, an opinion. And she gives Neil shit. And she's not right all the time. She needs to consider nuance! Her hot takes have holes in them every now and then! She's a little morally rigid and judgmental! Gasp, horror.

Personally? Her flaws made her more human for me, and she's quite likable. As is Neil! I actually loved how palpable his irritation with Penelope was. Like--she didn't have the whole story, but she had his number, and he knew it, and that bugged him. Fun fun fun.

--The ghost story is cute. I will say that it's weaker than the romance, which is fine because this is a romance novel, but... I did expect a little more there. However, the way it resolved did amuse me greatly. There's one detail that I kind of can't wait to see unfold further.

--One thing I really liked about the way Colby Wilkens presented Penelope and Neil's contrasting opinions and experiences is that there wasn't like... a wholly right or wrong side? Both of them had points. Their histories were valid. I feel like there are going to be a lot of judgments made (especially against Penelope) but to be real, if you're white (like me) maybe you should.... pump the brakes.

--Random, but when Penelope and Neil have sex, she notes that he has a soft belly. Because he's a writer. He's a nerd. He sits at a desk a lot. I LOVED THIS. More body diversity in romance please, especially for heroes.

--There is a lot of "Neil is hard at an inappropriate moment" here. What a great choice. I approve. Yes.

The Sex:

It's definitely a sexy read--and one that handles sex in a smart way. You wait a while before Neil and Penelope get down to it... But once they do, they're all over each other. You have several penetrative p in v sex scenes, and a particularly delightful fingerbang (and, obviously, Neil goes down; you can sense it in him from the start). All of it is treated like sex, which I appreciate. However, I also liked that a throughline in the sex scenes is that Penelope guides Neil? It's not that he doesn't know what he's doing, but he doesn't know HER body yet. And it's totally cool for her to show him where to touch her and how, and HE thinks it's hot. It was both really consistent with their characters, and really good to see in a romance novel.

Here, we have a fun romance novel with a legit interesting, unique premise and point of view. Like, I can genuinely say that I haven't read anything like this before. It's funny, it's hot, and it covers issues you really don't see in the genre often at all. More, please!

Thanks to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for providing me with a free copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[dopeasspancake]

Okay, I have another Hear Me Out situation, but this one is for Billy/Sidney/Stu.

An AU where Billy and Stu kill everyone so they can have Sidney to themselves.

Billy and Stu have been hooking up behind Sidney's back for quite a while, because despite him loving Sidney, he loves Stu just as much (if not more). One night as they're laying in Stu's bed, Billy laments how much easier things would be if Stu was interested in Sidney too and they could convince her to date the both of them.

And of course Stu is like "what do you mean IF I was interested?" because he has eyeballs and Sid is gorgeous and genuinely very sweet and kind and Stu has been lowkey obsessed with her as well, but would never dream of acting on it because he loves Billy.

So they hatch a plan to slowly introduce Stu into Billy and Sidney's relationship in a way that Sid won't even realize until it's already happened.

First, they kill her mother and frame Cotton for it. A year later they kill Tatum, Randy, and Neil Prescott (but make his look self-inflicted so they can frame for him for the latest murders). They did go after Sidney but made sure not to hurt her, but do slice themselves up to really sell it and then tell police and Sidney her dad snapped on the anniversary of his wife's murder and took out Sidney's all friends and tried to kill her but they were able to stop him.

And naturally Sidney is upset but also so grateful to the boys for saving her and they're like "Well of course, anything for you, Sid."

So her aunt Kate moves into Sidney's house so that Sidney doesn't also have to move in addition to grieving her friends and parents. But she's always busy working or looking after her own little toddler, so Sid is on her own a lot.

And now she's nice and isolated, with really only her boyfriend and good friend Stu to lean on for support. And they make it a point to always be there for her, comforting with sweet words and gentle touches and small tokens of affection to cheer her up.

The plan really kicks in with regular movie nights where Sidney sits on the sofa between the two boys. And Stu is more than happy to get up and grab Sidney snacks and another can of Dr Pepper whenever she wants. It's just what a good friend would do he says anytime she protests.

Billy and Stu start finding opportunities for Stu to slip extra compliments towards Sid into everyday conversation.

"Your hair looks very pretty today, Sid."

"Hey Stu, what do you think of Sidney's new jeans she got yesterday?"

"I'd say they make your ass look fantastic but I'm sure that's all you and not just the jeans, baby."

(She'll blush and chastise him for his choice of words but Billy and Stu will only laugh and agree that it's true.)

Then one movie night Stu offers to let her rest her legs over his lap so she can stretch out and lay against Billy's chest while he plays with her hair. And since her legs and feet are just right there Stu is kind enough to rub her feet and occasionally runs a finger along her legs to test the waters. But he never looks at her because he's totally just spaced out watching the movie, right?

And from there they start conditioning Sidney to get used to Stu becoming as touchy as Billy. If he opens a door for her, he guides her through with a hand on her lower back. She has a hair out of place? He reaches over and tucks it behind her ear.

After a couple of months Billy and Stu start to notice Sidney seeking out physical contact from Stu just as much as Billy. If they're standing around talking, she'll lean against him if he's closer than Billy. She gives him and Billy both hugs anytime she's saying goodbye. Eventually she even starts kissing him on the cheek.

They enter the final act of their plan with Billy initiating brief make out sessions during their movie nights. And at first she's hesitant because she worries Stu will think it's uncomfortable or weird but he's of course like "oh by all means, suck face."

And so they do. And sometimes, since they're often right there on his lap, Stu will caress his fingers along her legs and thighs while her and Billy kiss. And this begins to instill a sort of Pavlovian response in her.

So sometimes if Stu happens to touch her leg, she'll initiate making out with Billy. Which gets progressively more heated.

And then after 3-4 months it finally all comes to fruition when the 3 of them are watching a movie. Sidney and Billy are kissing, but both boys see her constantly looking out of the corner of her eye at Stu while he draws little circles around her ankle with a finger, and her breathing is getting heavy.

Billy feels like it's finally the right time, so as he kisses along her jaw he whispers in her ear that Stu looks so lonely over there. And Sidney nods in agreement but doesn't say anything.

And then Billy looks her in the eye and with a very charming smile tells her "you can kiss him too, if you want." And of course she looks completely taken aback, but not mad. So Billy continues on with things like I see the way you look at him sometimes, he looks at you too and it's okay, I'm fine with it, we're all friends here and he's been so lonely since losing Tatum.

And by now Stu isn't even pretending he's not listening anymore and he plays the Good Cop and reassures her with you don't have to do anything you don't want to and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, you're just so pretty and just so nice and Sidney, baby, you know I adore you.

And with one last nod of encouragement from Billy, Sidney slowly pushes up and away from Billy to scoot down the couch toward Stu, who gently scoops her up and and resettles her so that she's straddling his lap.

Because she looks so nervous still, Stu takes the initiative to draw her in with a gentle finger under her chin and she doesn't stop him so he finally goes in for the kill.

And while Stu and Sidney gently make out, Billy scoots down the couch so he can sit next to them and lean against Stu's side so the hand not gripping Sidney's waist can run through Billy's hair.

And when one of Sidney's hands reach out to hold Billy's while the other runs along Stu's jawline, Billy just thinks to himself Got her.

[elusiveclownbox]

SOME ANDREIL/NEIL/ANDREW CODED SONGS (in my humble opinion)(with links to listen)

(because i have the biggest brainrot, they’re also just great songs so please give them a listen!)

Neath The Grove Is A Heart

Yaelokre

“Home is where we are now. Home is where you are. Home is where I am standing. Where I'Il be staying forever now”

this entire post is just gonna be my biased interpretations of songs but honestly the entire song gives vibes to me…the places that one would refer to as “home” being a constant ever changing cycle of different places, never being able to stay and settle in a physical place. but finding a home in someone else.

Room By Room

Shayfer James (I’ve almost exclusively been listening to him, so the rest of the songs are his oops)

“If the keys in my hand turned a lock of your hair I would walk through the glance, but I'd stop at the stare. And I'd follow it down To the very last step and I'd wait by the room where your secrets are kept”

THOSE ARE THE FIRST LYRICS cmon mannnn,,,learning the brutal past of someone you love as they allow you in, do i even need to say it?

First Date

Shayfer James

“Tell me your story, and I'll tell you mine, I think we will get along fine. Tell me your riddle, I'll tell you my rhyme, I think we will get along fine. And if the rules change, don't hesitate to say you've had enough of me”

It’s literally the whole beginning of their relationship, a truth for truth, trade for trade. The game of, maybe not necessarily originally trust, but of mutual understanding that grows into trust and respect.

Your Father’s Son

Shayfer James

“So if you're any good at bluffing, I suggest you do it quick 'cause everyone is next to nothing, and every tock will have a tick. It fits so well. What you've become is your father's son which will never be much of anyone”

Oh Neil, you poor boy cowering in the shadow of your father, his legacy locked within your image and the face you share with him. No matter what new name and identity you create, you know your father will never be far behind, you will always be his son. At least, that’s how it used to be.

Learning to Be Lost

Shayfer James

“I am a plagiarized autobiography of wreckage, a shipwreck in sheep's clothes. Be patient with me, I am learning to be lost. Don't be gentle. Never gentle. Be mindful of me, I will sink at any cost”

This I feel resonates more with Andrew, but one could argue resonates with both. They both have tortured pasts that are unspeakable to almost all but each other, but Andrew shoves that past and those memories behind a face of calm indifference and apathy. But they are both navigating a relationship with each other that they are unfamiliar with, and didn’t necessarily intend to enter. As they reveal bit and bit of their pasts, they don’t want pity or sympathy, their pasts are what created them and they refuse to be treated as though they are broken, especially Andrew.

Lullaby

Shayfer James & Kate Douglas

“People can't be trusted and we have to fight to stay alive. We'll always be the enemy, oh. Eye for eye and limb for limb, The blood that I've been swimming in, oh. Mother, I've grown tired of this. Mother, I've grown tired of this. There's beauty and there's empathy, some people might've cared for me. I hid my heart, and stayed inside, instead of moving with the tide”

THIS IS ALLLLL NEIL BABYYY. Blindly continuing to follow his mother’s words and advice, she kept him safe for so long after all (in her own way). He trusted that she loved him, wanted to protect him, but he missed out on so much because of her. Missed out on friends and life in general, people who might have been able to actually help him. If it wasn’t for meeting people more stubborn than him, for wanting to just exist for once, he could’ve been on the run and never settling for so much longer. Or have died.

Carve A Smile

Shayfer James

“And with every kiss you make a better man of me. The safe disguise of accidental lies won’t hide us here, no more, my dear. And I would sacrifice the air that makes my body breathe, if it keeps you safe”

They are both so willing to put themselves in harms way to protect the other, even before they came to realize just how much the other meant to them. Andrew with the intention of winning, and Neil half the time not caring if he ends up dead as long as Andrew is alright.

PLEASE DROP YOUR OWN SONG REQS i love good music.

anyway if anyone has actually made it to this point thank you for listening to my babbling. I can associate any and every song i listen to to whatever i am currently hyper fixating on and i need to express it outwardly. Hopefully yall like the music at least, even if you disagree with my interpretations!

[fru1typunch]

So WHAT if autistic folks find comfort in Aziraphale and see ourselves represented in him? So WHAT if ADHDers find comfort in Crowley and see ourselves represented in him? Neurodivergent folks think these characters are like us and it's comforting, so WHAT! I'm an auDHDer (autistic as well as ADHD) and I absolutely see traits in both characters I relate to and I adore it. My closet is pretty much just a dozen flannels and button ups and various graphic tees for shows I like, and hasn't been updated since, oh, I'd say around the 1800's (I joke with you amusingly). I get upset almost too easily and have a hard time expressing my emotions "properly", even as a grown man. I have a safe space from the world that myself and only very close very trusted loved ones can enter, and I get incredibly upset when it's being disturbed by unwelcome visitors. I'm very observant and inquisitive about how the world works and why things are the way they are and get really upset at even slight injustices. I flap my hands and shake my fists and smile and giggle when I'm happy or excited. I wear tinted glasses, yes even indoors, to deal with sensory overload. All that shit is shit Aziraphale and Crowley do, too. So I LOVE these characters. Who cares that neurodivergent folks find comfort in them. I highly doubt Neil Gaiman's the type of asshole to tell me I shouldn't. He's always been a pretty big advocate for the folks that society doesn't like, as a writer and as a person, so I think he wouldn't mind if I find comfort in seeing my autistic traits in his angel or my ADHD traits in his demon. Michael Sheen literally said "god bless the happy flappers" with a bunch of heart emojis to an autistic fan saying they loved Azraphale's hand stimming because they did it too in 2019, so I highly doubt he'd care either. And I keep seeing the argument thrown around that angels and demons couldn't be neurodivergent because they should be "perfect" celestial beings, which is grossly ableist. If angels and demons can be visibly physically disabled, they can be invisibly mentally disabled too, I reckon.

Anyways, rant over, Good Omens is neurodivergent as hell because I say so, fuck you.