#neil is the last one to come around but once it finally sets in that he doesnt have to run or hide anymore! yeah

[lorifragolina]

The right time

I know it's not an event but I was inspired by @dragonflylady77 for "Billy Didn't Die" day, so I wrote it really quickly even if I tried to give it some sense. Maybe I'll try to make it an event the next year if someone kind will remember me it next May perhaps? XD

Thanks to @ilovecupcakesandtea  for reading and appreciating it beforehand!

WC: 2642 No warnings Steve/Billy, Billy & El.

Ao3

Read it below:

Billy Hargrove didn’t die. He faced the monster, saved the girl, and somehow—against all odds—survived.

Even if there had been a proper funeral, a sealed casket buried at Hawkins Cemetery... even if his half-sister still mourned him, and his death had shattered the lives of half the town—Billy Hargrove didn’t die.

He knew he hadn’t died because he opened his eyes to a white, sterile ceiling while lying in a freshly made bed. The cold air that stabbed his lungs told him plainly: he was alive.

He couldn’t move, but he heard the soft whir of a ventilator, the rhythmic beep of monitors. He felt the weight of his immobilized body, the tug of an IV in his arm, and the overwhelming sensation of not being in control.

He moaned, barely audible, when a nurse entered the room. That moan set off a flurry of activity that left him dazed, until finally, a kind-faced doctor leaned over him and spoke gently.

Billy could barely understand what the doctor was saying, but one thing was clear: he was alive. He didn’t know how, or why.

His limbs were stiff, but within days he could breathe on his own. They stopped feeding him through a tube. They even celebrated when he could go to the bathroom by himself.

His chest was badly wounded, but it didn’t hurt. He felt disgusting after so long without a shower, but eventually, the nurses helped him clean up. It made a difference.

For now, he was confined to the hospital room. The only people he saw were medical staff. When he was finally able to sit up and stay awake for long enough to observe his surroundings, he noticed something odd. He couldn't quite place it.

He’d only been in the hospital once before—after Neil had broken one of his ribs. But this place felt completely different. The equipment looked far more advanced. He suspected he was in some kind of military facility. That would explain the flat, thin screen on the wall that kept bothering him.

One of the first days he could sit up on his own, he glimpsed his medical chart. The name in the top field read "John Doe."

He tried to point it out, but couldn’t make himself understood. When he was more coherent, the questions began.

He told them: his name was William Hargrove. But nobody could find any record of him. They called the police. A couple of days later, two men in black suits and ties came to see him. Their questions were clinical, strange.

"What’s your name? Your date of birth? What’s the last date you remember?"

"I… Billy… William Hargrove. I was born in 1967. I’m eighteen. The last day I remember is July 4th, 1985."

One of the men raised an eyebrow. The young doctor behind them gasped. The other man shot him a warning glance.

Billy didn’t understand why the doctor turned pale, or why the room suddenly felt colder after they left. No one answered his questions. No one looked him in the eye anymore.

The men in suits returned a few more times, asking the same questions. Billy stayed consistent. Eventually, they stopped coming.

After their first visit, the staff around him changed. The kind doctor never returned. The new team was brisker, colder.

They used strange little devices with colorful screens they operated by touch. They took notes, snapped photos, even talked into the thing. It was unsettling. He chalked it up to military tech. Still, he was curious.

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. His face looked the same. He was thinner, paler, but still Billy. He was sure of it. He remembered the Starcourt Mall. July 1985. They told him it was now October, and he’d been in a coma for months. Nothing more.

What he didn’t know was this: when the men in suits searched for William Hargrove, they found he had been born in 1967—and had died in 1985 in a bloody accident in Hawkins, Indiana. His federal death record triggered a red alert in a classified facility near Long Island: there, the news was met with urgent swearing, even by classified standards.

Days passed without event, until one morning, unfamiliar guards escorted a tall blonde woman in her forties into the room. She wore a grey pantsuit, high heels, and an unreadable expression. Her voice trembled.

"Hello, Billy," she said.

She looked composed—glasses, tied-back hair, careful lipstick. But her eyes were watery and uncertain.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, sitting across from him.

Billy shook his head.

"We… met in 1985. In Hawkins. I’m Jane Hopper. Maybe you remember that they called me El."

Billy gasped, suddenly breathless. He only remembered El — vividly — as he had met her only a few days before: Max’s friend, who had been in the Starcourt with him when...

He grabbed the glass but spilled almost all the water with his shaking hands.

“Thirty years ago,” added Jane, staring him in the eyes. The pin on her jacket, reading Montauk Inc. – Chief Engineer , sparkled threateningly. “What?”

“Today is 14th October 2015.”

It took Billy a while to clear his head. Jane asked for juice and tea to calm his nerves, and she waited patiently until he recovered enough to speak. She waited, because she knew it would be a complicated conversation.

“After Starcourt, we were all convinced you were dead,” she said, settling into her seat and taking off her glasses. “I believed it until they called me three days ago. To be frank, I think it was my fault. What I’m about to say is confidential, Billy — but I think I can trust you.”

She paused, then continued.

“The government has been experimenting with time travel and mental control since after the war. I’m afraid to say that all the events in Hawkins and the Upside Down are direct consequences of it. We’re all involved. And my team thinks that during the battle at Starcourt, I opened the portal with my powers...”

Billy gasped again. Jane sighed, telling him briefly what he still didn’t know about Hawkins events and her role in all the situation.

“The Montauk Project is a series of government initiatives to study time travel, among other things,” she continued. “We’ve concluded that time travel is possible, and we work to make it safe and controlled.

“There are known anomalies, and some people — like me — can open them. But we still don’t fully understand how they work. My best guess is that I opened a tunnel at Starcourt… and you fell into it.”

Billy had a million questions, but he kept staring at Jane’s pin for a while.

“I just… I just jumped thirty years in a second? That’s it? How… how did I… how can I…”

Jane sighed. “I don’t have answers to most of your questions. We know how to open the tunnel, but it’s not stable. It tends to close after one or two jumps. It’s not like you can go back and forth — you can likely only travel in one direction.”

Billy was still shaking. Jane’s phone rang, and she glanced at the screen, looking worried.

“I have to go now, Billy. I’m sorry, but there’s an emergency. I’ll be back soon, I promise, and you can ask me anything.”

She left him a couple of flyers about the project and exited, leaving Billy alone with his thoughts. *******

Most of the time, he thought about the people he’d known back in 1985. What had happened to his father? He hoped he was already dead, at least. And Max? And her mother? He had left so many unresolved things behind, and they had moved on with their lives — while for him, only a few weeks had passed. What had happened in Hawkins since his... disappearance? If they thought he was dead...

When Jane returned, Billy had many questions, and she patiently answered all she could.

After the Battle of Starcourt, they had faced another powerful enemy who threatened to destroy everything. They eventually defeated it, and then the government covered it all up — helping the survivors relocate, get an education, and even hiring many of them to work on the project.

“Max is working in Europe at a classified location,” Jane explained. “But I wanted to talk to you before rushing to contact her. We need to figure some things out first.”

Billy nodded. “Things like whether I can stay… or I have to be…”

Jane laughed nervously. “We’re not talking about terminating you, Billy. It would be useful to study what effects the jump had on you, but you’re not a guinea pig. Theoretically, I can reverse the portal — I’ve done it a couple of times — but I can’t guarantee success.”

“Do you think I can go back?”

“Do you want to go back?”

“I… I don’t know. Do you think I could cause… problems?”

Jane chuckled at the question — the one everyone always asked her about going back in time.

“Even if I can only answer theoretically, it’s not like the movies. We believe you can’t actually alter your timeline if you return to it.”

Billy stared at his hands for a moment. “And what will happen to you? Or the project?”

Jane shook her head. “Probably nothing. The anomaly already existed in 1985, and it exists here. I can’t guarantee you’ll come back safe and sound — but most of our agents experience only minor issues.”

She opened the door, and a man in his fifties stepped in, smiling and shaking El and Billy’s hands.

“This is Mr. Robertson. He’s one of the few agents we’ve sent back in time to help our teams. We sent him to 1992 last year to share intel — he left when he was 29 and lived and worked from then until now.”

“No paradoxes,” joked the man. “I just get more nosebleeds than before — real pain in the ass.”

“The agents experience minor physical side effects,” Jane added. “But with each trip, the symptoms worsen. That’s why we forbid going back and forth. You can probably endure one more jump. I hope.”

“So you can send me back, and that’s it? And what if I... talk about it?”

Jane pursed her lips. “As with our agents, the jump back kind of… wipes the memory,” she said, glancing at Robertson for help. “You’ll return more or less as you left.”

“And… if I stay?”

“Then we’ll take care of you. In a good way — no hidden agendas, I promise.”

Billy nodded. He asked for time to process everything, and Jane agreed. She gave him a small device and showed him how to use it to call or message her.

A few evenings later, he sent Jane a request he’d been thinking about for days. She allowed it. *******

Jane rang the bell of a detached house in a peaceful neighborhood. She had agreed to Billy’s single request before he decided whether to go back.

Steve opened the door — unkempt and confused, with a scruffy beard.

“Hello, Steve,” Jane nodded.

“What are you—?” Steve started, shocked by the unexpected visit.

“I called, but you never answered. But I have something for you — and I think you need to see it.”

Billy stepped forward, nodded, and looked Steve in the face.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve breathed. Billy sighed.

*******

Explaining everything to Steve wasn’t easy. He stared at Jane blankly, glancing between her — a woman he had known and grown up with — and Billy, a boy who hadn’t aged a day since 1985.

After a while, Jane tactfully left them alone. The two sat in silence for several minutes, surrounded by the mess of Steve’s living room — beer bottles, takeout boxes, books, and CDs scattered on the floor.

“I… I’m sorry I didn’t answer Jane,” Steve said, vaguely waving at the chaos. “I’m not in a good place right now. My husband left me last month.”

“Your… husband?” Billy asked, stunned. “What do you mean?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, then nodded.

“Right. Of course. You don’t know anything about the last thirty years.”

He picked up a silver-framed photo and handed it to Billy.

“This is us. Our wedding day.”

Billy stared at the photo, confused. It was Steve — younger — and another man, hand in hand, heads resting together and smiling. The man had curly blonde locks, a bit of beard, blue eyes, and soft, full lips.

Billy wasn’t sure if he felt scared or flattered.

“Are you… gay?” Billy asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Steve pursed his lips, then nodded, taking back the photo.

“Figured it out in college. Took a few years. Then I realized why I’d been so unhappy in high school… why I have such awkward feelings for some people.” He blushed, and so did Billy.

Billy brushed his fingers over the photo.

“So… they… can marry now?”

Steve smiled. “We’re not there yet everywhere, but things have come a long way.” *******

The conversation faded. Billy had a lump in his throat. Steve wanted to ask why Billy had come, but didn’t dare.

“So… what are you thinking of doing now?” Steve finally asked. Jane had mentioned that the return jump could happen any day.

“I… I don’t know,” Billy replied honestly. “I thought I’d go back. I didn’t think there was anything for me here. But now…”

“Now?”

Billy looked into Steve’s eyes, remembering what he’d felt in 1985 — feelings he’d tried to bury back then, feelings that were now accepted.

“I… maybe I’ll just stay. Be free. Be open.” He held Steve’s gaze.

Steve was confused at first — then he understood.

“Oh,” he said.

Billy shivered and gently touched Steve’s hand. Steve hesitated, then raised Billy’s hand and kissed it.

Billy caressed Steve’s face and leaned in, eyes closed. The kiss was delicate and sweet. Steve’s instinct was to pull Billy down onto the sofa, but suddenly, he stopped.

“I… I can’t, Billy. I’m sorry,” he said, cupping Billy’s face. “I’m 48. You’re only eighteen.”

Billy understood. Steve, Jane, Max — they had lived. He hadn’t. He belonged with them — but in his own time.

“I’ll go back,” Billy said. Steve nodded.

“I just have one question,” Billy added, blushing. “If I go back and… talk to Steve — the past you — do you think that…”

Steve giggled softly and nodded. “Yes. I think so.” ********

“I think the tunnel is stable enough. You should land at the right moment — more or less,” Jane said, tired from the effort of opening it. “Don’t make that face. I’m pretty sure.”

She handed Billy a large brown envelope. “Give this to our agent on the other side.” She hugged him. “Now go toward the light.”

Billy walked through the dark corridor. His scars burned, and something yanked him painfully from inside. *******

Billy shut the door with the package he had just received. A brown paper envelope, thick and heavy. No sender, just the Montauk Inc. stamp.

It seemed important. He sat on the sofa and opened it.

“Important: DO NOT OPEN before July 5, 2015. Classified.”

Billy broke the seal with shaking hands. July 5th. The day after he’d nearly died in 1985 — the day everything had changed. All he had now was a strange scar that ached with the weather and a tendency to nosebleeds.

“Who was at the door?” Steve called, coming downstairs.

“No idea. It’s from Jane, so the letter says. Something that waited for me for thirty years? Does that make sense?” Billy handed the document to Steve.

“Wow. Serious stuff. Let’s read it.” Steve said, then looked at him and pointed. “Oh, you’re bleeding.”

Billy touched his nose. “Oh, shit.”

He reached for a tissue. The box was beside a silver photo frame — a picture of him and Steve in formal suits, exchanging wedding rings.

[hauntedhouseofhargrove]

hauntedhouseofhargrove | Fluffy July 2025 - Day 12

Graduates ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Billy Hargrove

Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Genre(s): Fluff

Word Count: 979

Warnings: mention of his shitty parentals, mommy + daddy issues, Billy's mind won't shut up

Prompt(s) @fluffyjuly: Sunrises/sunsets - "I'm proud of you"

Read my other works here! | Join my taglist here!

“As the principal of Hawkins High School and on behalf of the board of all Indiana high schools, I now certify you all as proud graduates of Hawkins High School!”

Families and students all created an uproar in the field, cheering on their most recent accomplishment: high school graduation. As some people tossed their caps into the air, some searched the mosh pit of people for their friends and partners. Upon congratulating your friends, you beelined straight to Billy. 

His arms were wide open, ready to catch you as you sprinted to him. You jumped on him with a tiny bit more force than usual, leading the two of you straight to the ground. Your bellies bubbled with laughter, the two of you rolling onto your elbows.

“What d’ya say we get out of here?” he suggested, his finger coming up to stroke your hair.

You leaned into his touch, humming in approval.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

You left the school hand-in-hand, glancing back one last time at the place that’d served as a second home for all of these years. No one in their right mind liked school for the academics. You simply held it a bit closer to you, as you’d met all of your friends and Billy there. The slight pressure you felt around your hand pulled you from your daze, Billy nodding in the direction of his car.

“Ready?”

It felt as though that question held several layers of meaning. You knew he was just referring to the two of you leaving the property, but it was almost as if he was making sure you were ready to leave this chapter of your life behind. 

Everyone was going off to do something different with their lives. Some didn’t know what they were doing yet, but it would come to them with time. It was all bittersweet. All of those years spent together were finally over. No more endless assignments. No more cliques with the jocks and cheerleaders, all of the popular kids stomping on others. No more rushing to class to make sure you and your friends get seated near one another. No more stopping in the halls to snag a smooch from Billy on your way to class. No more.

“Yeah.”

You took his hand once more, allowing the warm summer breeze of Hawkins to kiss your skin as Billy drove off. 

You’d never seen him so content, with himself at least. With you, he was always able to let his guard down. Though today would be a tough day, you were glad Billy seemed to be at ease. He defied all the times he was called a failure, a nobody, a lowlife. He proved everyone wrong, and he was genuinely proud of himself for once.

He drove until you guys reached a park, a lake settling just below the horizon. You both stumbled onto the grass, getting comfy as you looked out to the setting sun. You couldn’t think of a moment more perfect, reveling in your late accomplishments in total serenity. 

He lay back, propping his arms behind his head. You watched his features. 

He seemed to be deep in thought, anxiously chewing at his bottom lip. He didn’t want to cry. He refused to let you see him cry and, in turn, view him as weak. He didn’t let much of his family matter get to him ever, but he couldn’t help the slight pang in his chest. 

As a child, he thought his mom would be there for his high school graduation. He hated Neil for everything he did, but he wondered if he’d be proud of him at the very least.

It was almost as if you could read his mind, though. Like you knew exactly what he was thinking at any given moment. And that was the one thing he appreciated most about you. He was never great with his words, and it helped that he didn’t always have to speak to let you know what was going through his head. 

“Hey,” you whispered, leaning on your elbow to get closer to him.

He looked into your eyes, feeling his heart flutter. Who knew someone could make him feel all fuzzy inside?

He hummed, acknowledging you. 

“I’m proud of you. You know that, right?”

He felt his stomach turn. In all of his eighteen years, he had yet to hear those words.

“What?” he breathed out.

“I’m proud of you, Billy. Beyond proud, actually.”

Your fingers found a loose curl, twirling it around before allowing it to fall perfectly against his forehead. His eyes glossed over, his mind urging him not to believe you and make him think it was a ploy – just something to get his guard down before you ripped his heart out like his parents did.

Again, you knew. You knew how his mind worked, how it made him feel so minuscule at times.

“I mean it, Billy. Everything that you did to get you where you are now, you did all of that yourself. You didn’t have anyone help you. You should be incredibly proud of yourself for that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, silently praying he wouldn’t break in front of you. Against his wishes, a tear streamed from the corner of his eye, staining his skin gorgeously. You were quick to thumb at his skin, gently cradling his face.

“Billy, oh, baby, don’t cry.”

You didn’t want him thinking you were laughing at him, so you chose to gently smile at him instead. He opened his eyes, turning to kiss your palm.

“You helped me, doll. I can’t thank you enough,” he paused, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to your palm. “I’d probably be in jail with you.”

You shared a laugh, many ‘I love you’s, and many kisses, enveloped in the warm glow of the setting sun. 

[sepulchralblues]

would you call me vengeance?

Canon divergence AU where Neil kills Riko. Warnings for canon-typical violence and character death Also read this on AO3!

The roar of the crowd echoed in Neil’s ears long after the stadium emptied out. Exhaustion weighed heavy on his bones, and feeling only came back to his legs in bits and pieces as the night progressed. 

The ERC had decided to skip the trophy ceremony that would have otherwise followed the championship final, under usual circumstances. Instead, Evermore was crawling with police and EMTs, because this was no normal NCAA championship final. Nothing was ever normal when the Foxes were involved. 

Part of Neil wanted to drown himself in the scalding hot water of his shower, let the heat sink between bone and sinew and never leave. But at almost three in the morning, the urge to fall asleep in the warmth was greater. It took everything in him to scrub himself clean before his eyelids fell shut and his teammates panicked, unable to find him again.

He towelled dry within the safety of the shower and dragged his dry clothes over damp skin. He was the last one out as usual, and didn’t really question the silence in the locker room as he shoved his towel and gear into his bag.

Despite the long game, and the longer day, the police had kept the Foxes occupied for hours with their questions. Neil was insistent that they had the entire game on tape and there was nothing else left for him to tell them that they couldn’t see with their own eyes, but apparently they needed the recorded events to be recited back to them word by word.

He’d refused, and let his more cooperative teammates do the talking. Coach had shot him a baleful look for not playing along with the pigs, but really, it was his own fault for expecting better from Neil after everything this year had brought on them.

Still, he didn’t really question it when there were two security guards at the entrance of the locker room, clearly waiting for him.

“Neil Josten?” One of them asked. When Neil nodded, he continued, “They’ve got a few more questions for you.”

Neil held up a finger, had them wait as he dropped his gear bag back in the locker room. No point lugging it around with him; he’d come back and get it before the Foxes left the stadium once and for all.

When Neil rejoined the guards at the door, they turned without a word and led the way through the locker room, past the small room set aside for the Away team’s press conferences, and to the inner court via the still-unlocked door.

Neil glanced at the court to his left. Even with all but the emergency lights switched off, there was enough illumination to highlight the spot of the court where Riko’s blood had spilled. It was all cleaned off, unfortunately. If they let Neil back onto this court, he knew he’d smell the bleach. But in his mind he could still see that deep red, arterial blood on the glossy flooring, marring the lines of the court.

A dark curl of satisfaction shot through Neil’s chest. He may not have been the cause of it, but he would be lying through his teeth if he said that seeing Riko bleed hadn’t been one of the happiest moments of his life.

Neil was so distracted by his thoughts he didn’t notice where the guards were leading him, across the inner court to the other side of the stadium. Under the archway where he’d met Stuart a few lifetimes ago, to the end of the hallway, where there was an elevator. Above the steel doors was a plaque emblazoned with the word East.

It was enough to immediately wipe the fog of sleep from his mind. The guard who had spoken to Neil earlier swiped a security card over a reader and punched in a six-digit code too fast for him to catch. A second later, the elevator dinged to announce its arrival.

Inside, there were only two buttons — floor and tower. The guards took up positions on either side of the elevator, facing the doors, so Neil retreated to the back and slouched against the wall the ride up. His ears popped with the speed of the car’s ascent.

Idly, he wondered if he was riding to his death. Disappointing, if he was, if Ichirou was unhappy with the events of the night. To be honest though, Neil was so exhausted he prayed the end would be quick in case that was what it came down to.

Neither guard stepped out when the elevator reached the top, so Neil walked to the end of the hallway alone. Standing before the closed double doors were Stuart Hatford, and an imposing looking man who looked like he could take Neil out with a single blow.

Stuart spotted Neil and nodded to the man, who opened the doors and gestured for them to follow him.

It took him a moment to place the room — it was the same one he’d been in all those years ago, when he’d first come to Evermore with his parents. When he’d stood with Kevin and Riko and watched Nathan Wesninski torture a man to death. 

There was a large white sectional in the middle of the room, with two people sitting on it. The wall to his left was made entirely of glass, overlooking the Exy court. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw men in all-black suits standing at every corner of the room, almost blending into the dark-coloured walls.

None of this really caught his attention though, not when Ichirou was standing facing the window with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He took a sip as Neil walked three steps into the room and ground to a halt stupidly, having no idea what to do or what was expected of him.

Should he grovel? Was there any point? He’d already bargained what he had left, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think begging would cause Ichirou to feel anything other than annoyance.

A cut-off noise from the centre of the room drew his gaze.

Sitting on the sectional, looking bloodied and battered, was Riko Moriyama. His arm was wrapped in white fabric to construct a makeshift sling, and from this angle, Neil could see the hard plaster of his cast. He felt a spike of vicious satisfaction. 

To Riko's left sat his uncle. Tetsuji’s face was devoid of any expression, but Neil deduced from the tension in his posture that he was waiting for something to happen.

Neil wondered what he was really here for.

Ichirou turned away from the window. He placed his drink on the tray of an attendant waiting in the shadows, and drew a gun from there instead. 

Neil’s insides froze to ice, and the temperature dropped further with every step Ichirou took towards him. But instead of pointing the weapon at Neil, he offered him the gun. 

“Prove your word is worth its weight in blood.”

Neil recalled the conversation they’d had in a car weeks ago, where he’d traded his freedom for his future. Recalled, a man’s name earns its weight in the blood he has spilled for my family.

This was a test.

Neil silently accepted the weapon. His palm curled around the grip with an ease and familiarity that came with years of handling. He flicked off the safety and gently rested a finger on the trigger.

Ichirou strode past him to where his brother and uncle were sitting. He paused by Tetsuji first, and said a few words to him in quiet Japanese. Neil understood none of it, but watched as Tetsuji lowered his head in shame. He kept his head lowered even when Ichirou moved past him, onto Riko.

Neil watched with rapt attention as Ichirou hooked a finger under his brother’s chin to meet his eyes. It was almost shocking to see the tears in Riko’s eyes, to hear the choked-off emotion in his voice as he looked his brother in the eye for the first time in his life and said, “Ichirou.”

Ichirou ran him thumb over Riko’s chin. To anyone else, it would have been a comforting gesture. But Neil knew a goodbye when he saw one.

Ichirou released Riko and curled two fingers in Neil’s direction, summoning him closer.

Neil moved without missing a beat. 

“Do not leave a trace,” Ichirou said to him, and stepped back.

For the first time since Neil met him, fear widened Riko’s eyes. Neil couldn’t quite stop the smile the carved it way across his face. It was his father’s smile; it made him want to dig his nails into his skin and tear it off his face.

Instead, he raised the gun to Riko’s left temple.

Do not leave a trace.

It may have been nine years since Neil had watched his father cut a man to pieces in this very room, but he’d grown up in a household where nobody ever left traces behind.

Neil knew what Ichirou meant.

For the split second it took him to tighten his fingers on the trigger, he looked Riko in the eye. Neil wanted him to know who was responsible for his death, without a shadow of a doubt.

He pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was loud, but Neil didn’t flinch. Tetsuji did, although Neil didn’t know if it was from the sound or from the blood and brain matter of his nephew that was now splattered all over him.

Neil stepped back, and instantly there was a stranger at his side, waiting for the gun. Neil handed it over wordlessly, and watched as the man wiped the weapon clean of fingerprints with a microfibre towelette and placed it in the left hand of Riko’s now-cooling body.

Although he could make perfect sense of what was going on in front of him, it seemed too good to be true. Neil had dreamed of Riko’s death too many times to believe it was so simple.

Then again, it was only a measly little gun that had ended the Butcher of Baltimore.

His job done, Neil walked away from the gore that stained the sectional. Thankfully, none of it had gotten on his clothes, only his hands. He didn’t have another set to change into. He’d prefer not to have to explain to his team that not only had he nearly died tonight, he’d also successfully committed and gotten away with murder.

Ichirou came over to him. “You have cost the Ravens their coach and their captain. Are you satisfied?”

Neil blinked in confusion, because Tetsuji was sitting right there. It came to him a second later, and almost stopped breathing. Ichirou had heard him, that day in the car, and had come to this match personally to see what had become of the Ravens. To see what to make of Neil’s word.

It had proved true. He’d seen what a fractured mess the Ravens had become under Tetsuji Moriyama’s coaching, a hot mess at the brink of imploding. Stuart told Neil that Ichirou was cutting his losses, and the Ravens liability and unpredictability meant Ichirou had no use for them anymore — especially now that their reputation had been completely ruined by the Foxes.

Neil nodded to Ichirou. “Your people are safe, as are mine. I am satisfied.”

A thin smile stole its way across the elder Moriyama’s face. “You may have changed your name, but you will always be your father’s son. Wesninski blood flows true.”

The words made Neil want to vomit, but he kept his expression calm.

“You are dismissed.” Ichirou flicked his fingers at Neil and Neil didn’t give him a chance to change his mind.

He turned around and left via the same double doors he’d entered through. A fleeting glance in Stuart’s direction as he walked past earned him a nod, and that was all Neil needed to know he’d done the right thing.

He had fantasised about this moment too many times to lose sleep over his actions in the slightest.

The same security guards who had escorted him to the East Tower were waiting outside the elevator when Neil reached the ground floor. They walked him back to the locker room and disappeared as he went to the washroom to scrub his hands clean.

The blood had begun to crust under his fingernails and the sensation was disgusting. Neil worked soap into his skin and scrubbed until it felt bone dry. He grabbed his gear bag and headed to the team lounge where the Foxes were waiting for him.

“Finally,” said Aaron, when he walked through the doorway. “How long does it take to shower? There isn’t even that much of you to wash.”

Buoyed by the good mood Riko’s death had left him in, Neil only responded with a, “Sorry.”

Aaron blinked at him.

“What’s got you smiling, Neil?” Nicky asked, reaching down to grab his gear bag and standing up.

Come morning, they would know that Riko was dead. They wouldn’t know who’s hand had caused it, but the Foxes were smart enough to know it was not a suicide. Neil let them have their last few hours of ignorance.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Life?”

The answer was unexpected, but true. 

Dan and Matt exchanged matching grins, Allison tossed her hair over her shoulder, even Kevin—who looked like his dinner was about to spew all over the floor—perked up a little.

They had won the the championships; they’d defeated the top ranked team in the country with nothing more than sheer grit, determination, and hard-work, despite everything this year had thrown at them. They had proved to the exy world that the Palmetto State Foxes were no longer a joke, but a team to take seriously, a team that would come back stronger next year as the defending champions.

Even Wymack cracked a little smile at that. “Come on,” he called, “we’ve got an afterparty to get to. Anyone who’s not on the bus in the next two minutes is getting left behind.”

Neil knew there was no universe where their coach would leave them behind, but the Foxes hustled to get out as if it were true.

Only Andrew remained, slow to get up as Coach eyed the two of them and followed the Foxes out the door.

Pay grade, thought Neil.

Andrew paused in front of Neil and studied him. “Thought you were done running, but you disappeared again.”

“I had unfinished business to take care of.” Neil let his gear bag drop to the floor.

Andrew watched him move then followed suit. “Such as?” he prompted, when Neil didn’t explain any further.

Neil wondered how much to tell Andrew right now, and how much to let him find out tomorrow. He decided to keep it vague, unsure of who could be listening. “I was getting rid of the trash. You know me, I hate littering.”

Andrew hummed. “Littering,” he repeated, fisting Neil’s collar in one hand.

Neil dipped his head down in silent question, and in an attempt to distract Andrew. He was only partially successful.

Andrew stilled, and Neil watched with no small amount of satisfaction as his gaze flicked down to Neil’s mouth before coming back up to meet his eyes.

In the space between their lips, Andrew breathed, “You will explain.”

Neil let his nose bump against Andrew’s. “Tomorrow.”

Andrew kissed him, little more than a brush of their lips — almost as if by accident, like they were too close together for him to do anything else. He pulled back a moment later, but Neil didn’t let him get too far.

He repeated, “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” and it was enough for Andrew, because the next moment he was kissing Neil again, harder this time.

Neil let himself be pushed against the wall with by Andrew’s weight, and revelled in what he got to keep.

Andrew. Exy. The Foxes. Vice captain next year, and captain the years after that. A pro team and soon, the US Court. A future.

This was everything he wanted, everything he needed, and Neil was never letting go.

[lau219]

HEADCANNON REQUEST! How would the boys try to make amends (if at all) after a petty argument that has you giving them the cold shoulder?

Cillian: Would find it amusing that you’re acting like that and would just continue to talk to you like nothing was out of the ordinary. He’d intentionally say stuff that he knows would rile you up or that you disagree with until you finally cave and start talking to him again. Once you’re talking once more, you’re apologizing to each other, sharing a sweet hug and kiss.

Emmett: He tries to make amends by doing little things for you like making dinner, taking your car to the gas station and filling up your tank, and letting you choose what you watch on TV that night. While you’re sitting on the couch, he’s reaching for your hand or wrapping his arm around you, and you two are eventually snuggling and apologizing to each other.

Leonard: He buys you flowers and is bringing home takeout from your favorite restaurant for dinner. As you’re unpacking the food, he comes up to you at the counter, hugging you from behind as he apologizes for being an ass. Once you agree and teasingly call him a few more names, you’re giggling as he tickles you as punishment, then you two are making up with a kiss.

Neil: He follows you around everywhere and keeps making sad, apologetic faces at you, even leaning over or moving around in order to get you to meet his eyes and see the pouty faces he’s making. Doesn’t stop until he finally gets you to crack a smile or laugh, and when you do, he’s then dramatically apologizing, pretending he’s gonna die unless you forgive him.

Robert: Creates a romantic night for you at home with an exquisitely set table in front of the fireplace, candles and flowers included. You walk into the condo to find him attempting to cook your favorite dinner, wearing an apron over his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up and the kitchen an absolute mess. As soon as you see him, any lingering annoyance you had is gone. All you can do is kiss him.

Tommy: Comes up behind you and holds you against him, apologizing with his lips pressed to your temple as he tells you that he knows he’s a cranky, stubborn, demanding, unbearable jackass. Says that he has no idea how or why you continue to put up with him, but that he knows he’s the luckiest man on Earth because you do. Allows you to playfully smack the back of his head before he kisses you.

Raymond: Doesn’t mind that you’re giving him the cold shoulder at first, because he’s so stubborn and as equally as frustrated as you, even if he was the one in the wrong. However, when his ego finally relents a bit, he’s trying to make amends, but without words, because he still hates the idea of admitting he’s at fault. Instead, when he gets in bed that night, he’s wrapping his arms around you from behind and holding you close, silently spooning you as you two fall asleep.

Jonathan: Actually, he behaves the same way as you, giving you the silent treatment. When you two argue/disagree, he gets as stubborn and prideful as you, and dare we say a little petty? This lasts for a day or two until neither of you want to keep it up anymore. Finally, when the two of you are in his office, you’re silently walking past him when he reaches out and firmly yet gently pulls you down into the chair with him. As you sit in his lap, you two are apologizing to each other as you stroke the back of his neck and he’s massaging your thighs.

Jackson: “You’re giving me the cold shoulder/silent treatment? You mean I don’t have to hear you bitching and nagging at me anymore? It’s a dream come true!”

@ennui-whimsy-and-me @breakthestereo @newbarrel

[writing-for-life]

Dream and How He Experiences Love

(Or: When the Unreal is at War with the Real, and Finally Understanding Unconditional Love Tightens the Noose Around Your Neck That Has Been There All Along)

And as always: Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!

Let me start this one with a few adjectives from the horse’s mouth (aka: Neil Gaiman said so 🤣) as to what Dream is actually like:

from: Vertigo Chase Card Set

So in short: This is probably the most accurate way to describe Dream in a nutshell, from the author himself, fully knowing that Murphy doesn’t lend himself well to be described in a nutshell.

And of course it’s absolutely fine if we want to head-canon him just being 5 out of those 50 (or none of them at all)—our stories are our own. At the end of the day, we went through a whole year of Tumblrfication (I might have made up that word), and getting back to the series will be tough. So is trying to align what the current prevalent perception of Dream is like in parts of the fandom, and what he is like in both comics and series (show and comics really aren’t that different where it matters, and I’ll die on that hill). I already worry about the fallout if I look at what happened with GO or OFMD, but that just as an aside.

Anyway, Dream in fandom spaces is often portrayed as either a pathetic wet cat who can’t get to grips with anything and constantly needs rescued in one way or another, or as a completely unfeeling arsehole incapable of relating to the human experience and being horrible all around. There are very few shades of grey in how some fans perceive him, when just the list of above adjectives shows us how complex he is as a character.

One thing that obviously comes up regularly are his relationships, be they romantic or platonic. So I just wanted to draw attention to the adjectives that relate strongly to the relational element in him (although they all apply in one way or another):

touchy, sentimental, cold, loving, [elusive], gentle, hurt, deep, intense, solitary, romantic, shy, intangible, lonely

Dream is the unreal. His way of loving relates very deeply to what stereotypical romantic love is: Romance and reality are a contradiction in terms—romanticism is dreaming because it is, at its very core, an idealised view. The intangible dream that comes back to bite us in the arse once reality sets in. And his flavour of love is the prototype of idealised and intangible (=romantic) and can never be anything else by his very nature.

And I’ve often thought that the way he experiences love is also a large part of why his existence is so difficult for him, and why he ultimately makes the choices he makes. Yes, he detests his function, but if he weren't so lonely (and weren't doomed to be so by his very purpose), he might find it easier to bear.

Let me look at, and draw parallels to, the 7 types of love as the Ancient Greeks perceived them [quick note about the image references: I would have loved to give more, but there is a limit. Also: Apologies I have no alt text for the comic panels at this point, I might add them at a later stage if I find the time]…

Eros

That’s both sexual and romantic love (to varying degrees), and it can be fleeting (like a dream) if not anchored in a less idealised view. So there’s your first cue—he totally experiences that kind of love.

The Ancient Greeks also thought it was a dangerous type of love, one that clouds our judgment and one that won’t last if not combined with some of the other types. And Dream himself knows this and probably relates (he detests his sibling Desire for “meddling”, after all). And yet, he is the intangible, the ungrounded, the unreal.

It’s all over every single one of his relationships we witness:

Killalla—“gifted” by Desire. We never get any cue as to what exactly they were up to, but it can be assumed desire, for whatever, played a large part in their relationship. Killalla makes no secret about it either (and is at the same time uncertain whether she truly loves him while being confused Dream might actually love her after what seems a very short time, at least in cosmic terms). Suffice it to say, he has a very idealised view of her and their relationship. Romantic idiocy at its best: He has literal stars in his eyes and is so grateful for Desire’s help he is basically kissing their boots in gratitude.

Alianora—again one of Desire’s gifts. And Dream tried, and I definitely think he was at least romantically (and physically) attracted to her (the art is very hard to interpret otherwise, neither is the context--she was gifted by Desire, after all). But this relationship is generally a tricky one because there is gratefulness and guilt n the mix, and that is sometimes a very unfortunate combination. He also couldn’t fully trust her because of his deep mistrust of D/desire. And lo and behold, of course the relationship soured when romantic and (potentially physical) attraction waned.

Nada—pursuing each other on and off, broadcasting sexy time all over the Dreaming because he's just so head over heels and literally bursting at the seams—need I say more? Yes, he does say to her that her body does not matter to him, which I 100% believe is true. He also says that he will love her as no mortal man can. But everything that transpires is still deeply informed by romantic attraction, because quite frankly: You don't feel love yet after you've barely met someone. It's again a deeply idealised view and that is something inherently romantic in tandem (in this case) with physical desire. Again, because D/desire was involved.

As to the particulars of Nada’s banishment to hell, and why Dream acted so out of character compared to his other failed relationships: You can find all of it here.

Calliope—read her speech at the Wake is all I’ll say. That is someone making romantic love so integral to their whole existence, I don’t even know where to start. He puts the world at her feet and makes sure she always comes first (quite literally) while they are still loved up…

Thessaly—he's the romantic idiot (affectionately) in the rain with his coat billowing in the wind, and referring to her “weighing him dispassionately and finding him wanting”. It was only a handful of months--you don't feel true, stable love at that point. Again, it has the idealised view of romance (and potentially sexual desire) written all over it. He would have given her the world, just like he would have given the world to Nada and Calliope. That is the trope of every freaking romance novel, and that is exactly how he perceives love.

Titania—who knows, she keeps her mouth shut.

Ludus

I think he has a hard time to be flirtatious and playful (at least, we don't really see it. We never really see him during the courting stage, and what went down with Thessaly was hardly "flirtatious". `Then again, bickering like they did in A Game of You is electrifying to some, so who knows. She also said at his wake he was cautious and nervous). And if he comes across as flirtatious (there is a charming on that list of adjectives after all), it’s just because he is so deliberate in everything he does that he might just push someone’s (right) buttons, so to speak. But that’s not the same as “no strings attached”-love, because I honestly believe he’s incapable of experiencing love that way. There is no “casual” with him. He always stays attached to the people/women he once loved, even if the relationship sours. He still loves each and every single one of them, he never stops. But he also doesn’t in a way that’s sustainable, and it’s an unsolvable conflict due to what/who he is.

Philia

Most closely translated as friendship and affection. Platonic love, if you will. It is also a love between equals. He has a hard time with it and only slowly learns what it means through his relationship with Hob. Needless to say: The Ancient Greeks valued platonic love as one of the highest forms of love. Hence, I’m personally reluctant to turn it into something else/slant it towards romance, because that’s exactly what this part of the story is about: His relationship to Hob is important and grows/lasts because it is not romantic in the comics.

Storge

Unconditional love for family, especially children. Based on complete acceptance and potentially sacrifice. Doesn’t need to be reciprocated. You feel it, no matter what, and you act accordingly. And for Dream and Orpheus, that didn’t work until it did. Or, let’s rather say: I don’t want to assume he didn’t feel it. But he pushed it down in his hurt and pride (as did his son in his grief). No further comment, because that one hurts.

Agape

Altruistic, universal, all-encompassing. And that’s so deeply at the core of his being, and so central to his whole conflict that I don’t even know where to start. From not wanting to kill the first vortex (or Rose, for that matter), to telling John Dee he’s hurting the dreamers, and that being his main concern while he himself was writhing on the floor in agony, to “humanity I love you”, to a million other things. He cares so deeply, there is such a deep concern for sentient beings in their entirety that it’s quite literally impossible to call it anything other than love. And it’s also what plays a large part in his demise.

Pragma

Oh, here we go. I honestly believe he likes the idea of committed and long-lasting. And he’s trying. So very hard. Calliope is the best example. Alianora was another one, because it’s not like they broke up swiftly (hard to tell how long they lasted, but since she had stayed in the Dreaming too long to go anywhere else, it wouldn’t surprise me if we’re actually talking a very, very long time. He called it “a goodly while”, and considering how old he is, I doubt that equals only months, or even just a few years, especially since he is fully aware how short his relationship to Thessaly was). And he wanted to stay true to his promise. But he is who/what he is: the unreal. And as the personification of that, love both feels real for him but will also forever stay intangible. It’s heartbreaking really. Again, it has written the contradiction between romantic love (the ideal) and pragmatic love (the thing that is grounded in reality) written all over it.

Philautia

And that’s the most heartbreaking one. He is incapable of self-love and full of self-loathing instead. The Ancient Greeks used to say that you can’t give what you don’t have. And it’s hard to feel compassion for the flaws we perceive in others if we don’t have that self-compassion for the exact same flaw in ourselves. And that one hurts in so many ways, from his not being able to forgive himself (which is mirrored in his relationship to Nada, who also couldn’t forgive herself—she didn’t need his forgiveness, she needed her own) to Orpheus being so much like him apart from one major difference: he’s mortal in spirit, and even immortality doesn’t change that. And Dream struggles with the part of his child that is so like him for a million reasons that would burst this meta at the seams, but again: it’s hard to love in others what we detest in ourselves, knowingly or unknowingly.

So in short: The particular flavours of love Dream feels (Eros, Agape, Philia growing slowly over time) and the ones he doesn’t (Ludus, Pragma, Philautia) are also at the very root of how the story goes.

And when he finally truly understands what Storge/unconditional love is--both in the way he reassesses his relationship to Nada but especially in how he finally submits to his love for Orpheus (with all that entails)--and when he allows it to become real, it’s what tightens the noose around his neck. But that noose has been around his neck loosely all along…

[neilljcsten]

it’s on the tip of everyone’s tongue and it fills each silence with a tense, bloated energy. the trial, aaron’s trial, is coming up. aaron will have to take the stand and detail how he killed drake. smashed his head in with a racquet. andrew will have to take the stand and detail why drake was there at all.

neil knows he’s oblivious but he isn’t stupid. he sees the tense set of aaron’s shoulders and the vacant gaze creeping into andrew’s hazel eyes. the twins haven’t been in the same room for a month, other than their visits to bee.

he schemes.

he starts with allison. she’ll know best, he figures, what the media will do with something like this. as it turns out, to nobody’s surprise, columbia has shit privacy rules. (it’s not the world that’s cruel - it’s the people in it) reporters won’t be in the room but there will be no publication ban. neil knows the story will spread like wildfire. he asks allison what would top it.

he schemes.

he calls stuart. lawyers cost money and the mafia isn’t lacking in that department. he also needs a favour. he did, after all, omit the hatford’s from his FBI testimony.

he schemes.

it’s a week before the trial and he slips out of the dorm early one morning. “i’ll be back later” he tells andrew, giving the man a quick kiss. “there’s ice cream in the freezer and the dorm is yours for the day; i made sure they’ll leave you alone”. andrew nods in response before sliding back into his vacant state of being.

allison picks him up in her convertible. their mission takes a day, nothing more, but neil knows he needs her there - it wasn’t a job for andrew and he shudders to think about how it would turn out if kevin was involved.

he waits.

aaron and andrew were both told to stay off their phones and avoid all media the days leading up to the trial. for once, they listen. the day of the trial comes and neil watches the weight fall off of them as the not guilty verdict comes down within an hour of jury deliberations. neil sends stuart a quick thank you before turning off his phone; the constant buzzing was getting old.

later, he sits with andrew in the mas. andrew’s checking his phone for the first time in days and neil knows the moment he finds neil’s omission. not a lie - never a lie, not to andrew - but something he didn’t share.

“abram.” andrew grits out. neil hums back at him, a small smile on his face. “drew”

“don’t drew me - what the fuck is this?” neil turns in his seat to look at him. blue meets hazel, unwavering and sure.

“allison said we needed a bigger story to keep the trial from making headlines. i gave them one. nobody will give a shit about aaron now - not that i understand why they did in the first place.” neil dances around the truth that they both know - it wasn’t aaron neil was protecting.

“300%”

later, back at the dorms, neil finds a copy of the latest issue of ‘exy magazine’ on the counter. he lets a rare smile slip at the cover; his last secret is out.

“Neil Josten: Scars & All - The Striker’s First Interview and Photoshoot Since Finals”

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I HELLO IM NOT MISSING THIS WEEK. Can I get some more of my demon boy?

WIP Wednesday (3/5) | Demon Neil AU (Part 24)

For the better part of an hour Andrew has been gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to slam his client in the back of the head with his fist. But he's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to do so. You see, this bastard will not keep still and Neil's snickering every time the idiot flinches is starting to drive Andrew insane. He likes to think himself a professional, but it is getting ridiculous.

"What's wrong with this guy?" Neil asks the sixth time Andrew almost gets himself horse kicked in the stomach. He dodges and takes a breath. "I mean... He was aware this process involved a needle, right?"

"I assumed so since we did the lines last week," Andrew says as he wipes down the leg he's working on. "Apparently not."

"What?" asks the guy on the table, turning to look at Andrew.

"If you kick me again, we're done. You can walk around with this half finished for all I care."

"What? You can't just—"

"I can do whatever I want," Andrew says, jamming a finger at him. "Put your headphones back on and stay still."

"Great bedside manner."

"Fuck you." Andrew whispers. His little outburst pays off though. The guy lies still as a corpse for the next thirty minutes and Andrew quietly applauds himself for not knocking him out. In fact, he thinks he deserves a cookie for his restraint. Neil laughs at that and makes fun of the tattoo in the same breath.

"I drew it, you know." Andrew tells him on an exhale, almost offended. Neil had liked his work earlier. What's wrong with this?

"No, no. I like your art. But why is it on the back of his leg?"

"People do weird shit."

"A bird on the leg's worth two in the bush?" Neil jokes and Andrew turns his head to hide a stupid laugh in his shoulder. "I mean he's not even going to be able to see it without a mirror. So what's the point?"

There are far weirder places to put a tattoo, Andrew thinks. For instance, the woman who got a Hello Kitty on her ass cheek a couple weeks ago— Andrew did not handle that job. That was Allison. Besides, Andrew himself has tattoos he can't really see, so...

"What tattoos?"

"I have one on my back, for instance. And there's one that lives under my sock—"

"Are you talking to yourself, Andy?" asks Seth's voice as he comes back in from his car. Andrew bites the inside of his jaw and Neil bitches about that.

"Shut up, Bryan." Andrew says, flipping him off with his free hand. Seth blows him a kiss and Andrew hopes that he and Reynolds make up before the day's over. They're both less unbearable when they're fucking. As soon as Seth turns around, Andrew sighs. "You're making me look fucking schizophrenic here, Neil."

"Hello, I'm in your head. You don't have to answer me out loud, Andy."

"Do not." Andrew thinks violently. Seth's bullshit aside, he will not tolerate the nickname coming from inside his own skull.

"Okay. Fine. How long does all this take?"

Andrew very nearly opens his mouth to answer, then catches himself. "Depends on the tattoo."

"This one specifically. I'm bored."

"Another hour or so, I think." Andrew thinks back as he surveys the phoenix he's put on the back of Cory's— that's Mr. Kicks-a-Lot's actual name— leg. "If the fucker stays still and I don't choke him to death first."

"Well, either way we'll be done with him soon." 

Luckily for all parties involved, the rest of the phoenix goes off without a hitch. When Andrew is through he sets the machine aside and grabs a fresh tissue to wipe it all down. It's perfect. Neil hums his agreement and Cory finally risks looking at Andrew again, pulling his headphones off.

"Is it done?"

"Is it done." Andrew confirms with a nod of his head. Once Andrew is finished wiping it down, he lets Cory off the table and he wanders off to the mirror the check it out. Renee takes photos of it for the shop's social media accounts and after a few post-tattoo pleasantries— it is usually quite easy to be nice to someone when they aren't trying to kick your ribs in, Andrew finds— Cory leaves the shop all plastic-wrapped and satisfied.

"One down, one to go." Renee says with a smile. Andrew nods. His other appointment is a consultation, but they might go ahead and get started if the client's got the time.

He has nothing else to do today, after all. Except for finding a ride home that is not purgatory for Neil. He supposes he could call Kevin; he's pretty used to hauling Andrew around. He's been begging for the opportunity to buy Andrew a 'decent' car for years, the bastard. He's almost decided on it when Neil starts vibrating.

"Never mind, we'll walk."

"Andrew, I'll behave. I'm not allowed to control the body anyway so it's not like I would embarrass you."

"My body. Mine." Andrew reminds him. "We'll see."

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 8 🍒

"Fooled Around and Fell in Love"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 1,807

Summary: a mini getaway brings you closer to Joel, and you reach a new level of your budding relationship.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), adult language, brief mention of someone unaliving herself (told in a local legendary tale), breast/nipple play, thigh riding, hand job, mutual confessions of love, reader's race not mentioned, takes place in summer 2003, no use of y/n

Author’s Note: I admit I don't know much about the terrain of Austin that well, but Mount Bonnell is real as is the Colorado River, so any mistakes are my own and purely for fictional purposes anyway. The legend that Joel tells the reader is very loosely based on a story my grandfather told me when I was a kid. I once went on a date with a guy who took me to a cemetery because he thought it was a romantic place, and that gave me the idea for Joel telling that downer story lol. If I missed any tags please let me know!

Series Masterlist

You're on cloud fucking nine.

No one has ever made you feel this way, as if you're brand-new, abundant with promise, with new chances. The little moments you spend with Joel are marked upon your young heart. And you do spend little moments together: he comes by the cafe for coffee before work or after, and the times you hang out with Sarah at the Miller house, you find that Joel hangs out as well, adding himself as an awkward part of the group, until Sarah asks him to leave. You have to hide your smile when he leaves, or risk your secret being blown.

One late Saturday afternoon he picks you up from work in his truck. It's a June night in the Texas hill country, and the sun sets its last golden rays of the day down upon the deep green hills on the horizon. The windows are down, radio blasting Neil Diamond tunes, especially since Joel has turned you on to his music. One of his hands is on the steering wheel and the other is in your lap. You trace the lines in the roughness of his palms, trace each broad finger, wonderingly, and when you look up you see the effect you have on him. Joel is turned on by any little way you touch him.

"Where are we going?" you ask, though honestly you could be driving to Hell itself and it would be just fine with you.

"Just wanna be alone with you for a little bit, sweetheart. Is that okay?" He looks over at you and you know you can't resist those deep brown eyes, the way the lines around them crinkle when he smiles.

"Fuck yeah," you grin, eliciting a wide smile from him.

He drives you up to Mount Bonnell, where you've never been, and your heart gallops to think that you're finally going to be alone with him. He drives you about halfway then insists on hiking the rest of the way.

"Joel, I've been on my feet all day," you pretend to pout at his suggestion.

"I'll carry you if I have to," he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. "But I do want you to see the view from up there." He offers his hand and you take it without delay.

Even though there's almost a twenty year age difference between you, you notice that Joel is quite agile, but you keep up with him, laughing at the freedom of the moment. His hand rests on your lower back when you slow down, and brings you close to his side, stopping for you to have a drink of water. "The view will be worth it, I promise," he says in that deep drawl you love so much.

And when you do reach the top, wiping the sweat from your forehead with your arm, the view takes your breath away. The evening sky is azure, with pink and violet cotton candy clouds stretching to infinity, and the earth touched with tinges of tangerine. Below, the Colorado River flows serenely. You and Joel stare in wonder: you watch the view and he watches you. His hand is in yours, and he pulls you close for an embrace. "It's gorgeous," you say at last.

"Not as gorgeous as you," he says with a twinkle in his eye. He leads you to sit upon a rock in the shade of an oak tree. "There's a legend about this place, that in the 1830s there was a young woman who leapt to her death to avoid being captured by men who'd killed her fiance."

You raise your head from where you'd been leaning on his shoulder. "That's actually pretty sad."

He nods solemnly. "Yeah.. I maybe should've saved that story for later."

You giggle and elbow him. "You really know how to ruin a romantic mood, old-timer."

"So you admit you're having a romantic time?" He brings his lips to your ear.

"I was," you retort.

"How can I remedy that?"

"Ten grand would do it, for my mental anguish," you continue the banter.

"Your check's in the mail," he says, his lips now on the soft part of your neck below your ear.

You let his kisses travel down your neck, giggling lightly at ticklish feel of his mustache on your sensitive skin. His hands wander across your chest, gently lifting your shirt to find the satin-smooth cups of your bra. Your breath hitches and your eyes flutter shut despite the stunning view before you. His fingers dip beneath your bra, his thumb grazing your nipples, softly teasing them to hardness. When you sigh he catches your lips in a kiss, his tongue tasting your mouth as your arms wrap around his neck. Your hand encourages his own under your shirt, and he squeezes your breast, eliciting a moan from your sweet lips.

A sudden rainstorm sweeps through, starting to soak both of you.

"Truck," you say breathlessly, both of you scrambling to your feet to get back to the vehicle. You shriek when he lifts you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brings you to the truck. Once inside, you're both wet, but you don't care, reaching for each other again in the dry safety of the truck that's become your only getaway for your secret romance.

In a blur of lust you take off your damp shirt, reveling in the carnivorous look on Joel's face. Next come off your shorts, and Joel's breathing becomes all but labored. Just in your panties and bra you kiss him, slowly, savoring his taste as his hands grip your waist. "I need you," you moan, and the excitement between you becomes electric. You climb onto his lap, writhing against him.

The rain beats down on the truck as the two of you discover each other, tasting the raindrops on each others' skin. Joel's shirt is off, his jeans pulled down. "There's something I want ya to do for me," he says.

A thousand thoughts come to mind. It could be anything. "And that would be..?"

"Take off your panties. I want to feel you, hot and wet on my thigh while I suck your nipples."

He has a way of saying things that make your insides light up, your cunt clenching as if he's already in there.

He holds you close, his large hands roaming your waist and your hips. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," you whisper. Keeping your eyes on him you remove your panties, sliding the fabric down your legs, tossing them to the floor of the truck. His hungry gaze goes to the V where your thighs meet, and he guides you to his thigh, groaning when your hot wet cunt settles on his skin. You feel why he would like this, and begin to move a little to ease the ache he's built up in you. He lets you do as you wish, whatever makes you feel good.

"That's good," he whispers his seductive encouragement. "Just rub yourself on me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on me."

Your eyes close and with your arms around his neck you move, seeking that friction on your clit that will make you see stars. And just as you get into a nice rhythm Joel reaches behind you and deftly removes your bra, gently moving the straps down your arms as you drop them to your sides. When he uncovers your breasts his breath hitches. He cups them in both his wide palms, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples as he did earlier, and bringing his lips to each puckered pebble, then lapping his tongue over one while softly tweaking the other, testing your limits, grazing your delicate flesh with his teeth. The faster you move the harder he pulls at you, his hands splayed on your back, keeping you pressed to him.

You palm him through his underwear, familiarizing his shape with your hands. His girth and length are intimidating, but in this moment you don't have to worry about taking him inside of you. Not yet. You stroke him as he removes himself from his briefs, loving the groans he makes, the way his cock seems to grow harder by the second, jerking under your touch. You use the beads of precum on his tip to lubricate him, caressing him with longer, stronger strokes.

The car windows fog up with the steam of your gasps and sighs. You grab at the back of his head, cradling it to you as he continues worshipping your breasts.

"Joel! Joel!" you whisper his name in a frenzy of euphoria, and then his thumb is on your clit, pressing gently, flicking, moving with you until you come, hips twitching as you convulse. At the same time you feel him come, his semen spilling over onto your hand, thick and warm. He smiles when he feels you've also left your own traces on his skin.

In those hazy moments after, you rest your head on his chest and he kisses your hair. The small space of the truck is scented with your musk and sweat. It's peaceful, and you feel closer to him than ever. Though you haven't technically had sex yet, you feel your innocence being chipped away at, and it's exciting. For the first time you're in control of what you do.

"You can't be real," he says, his voice breaking the silence that blankets you both. "You gotta be some fantasy that I dreamed up, or some kinda angel."

"I am. You died and this is heaven," you joke, kissing his neck.

You don't even hurry to get dressed. The rain has slowed to a drizzle but there's no rush for you to leave.

"You comin' over tonight? Thought maybe we could watch a movie.. you, me, and Sarah."

"Really? I'd like that." You love the sweetness he has after the intense passion you've just shared.

"I gotta drop you off at your car. Once I'm able to catch my breath, and once I've got feelin' back in my legs I'll drive you back."

You chuckle, kissing along his collarbone. "But what if I'm not done with you yet?" Oh, the scent of his skin drives you wild.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he chuckles low. "I think I love you.."

You look up quickly, your body buzzing with excitation, disbelief daring to poison the beautiful night you've just had. "You.. what?"

His eyes are soft as he cups your face, gently brushes your hair from your face. He studies every feature, committing everything to memory. "I. Love. You." He emphasizes each word with a kiss: on your forehead, nose, lips.

It's the first time you've ever heard it said to you, and the first time you've ever felt it right to say it back. "Joel Miller, I love you too.."

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[ninyard]

I would love to just sit on a roof top and talk to you about anything and everything. Hear all of your opinions on everything.

Wait what the hell that’s so sweet I’m the mayor of yapsville when you get me started on something I have An Opinion on, so I promise you’d probably quickly regret it.

But picture us. Me and you on a roof. And I tell you the following, as the wind blows our hair and the sun starts to set:

- Andrew helps Renee dye her hair

- When they move in together, Andrew always finds his t-shirts or random belongings shoved under Neil’s pillow. Harmless stuff, but usually stuff that belongs to Andrew. Kept safe, untouchable below his pillow like the few belongings he had in the beginning.

- Dyslexic Kevin Day

- Allison helps Neil get his hair back into a good condition when he starts to grow it out post-TKM. She helps him do treatments and recommends the best products. She braids it when it gets long enough. She shows him how to properly tie it back, she teaches him how to properly look after the texture in his hair.

- Andrew has a folder in his camera roll for nobody else but himself of things that make him smile on the inside. Most of the time it’s stupid things, like a terrible advertisement stuck to a lamp post, or an ugly dog, or an awfully parked car. Silly things that make him laugh that he screenshots or snaps a picture of. There’s eventually hundreds of pictures in there. There’s photos of Neil, when he falls asleep on Andrew’s shoulder and Andrew’s too proud to tell him how cute he looked. Photos of Neil in his suit before a banquet, photos of him doing dishes or handing him dinner. There’s photos of Andrew and Renee after they’ve been sparring. There’s photos of things he’s seen in stores that remind him of Kevin, or Neil, or Renee. Sometimes Aaron. There’s even a few photos of Kevin in there, too. Nobody know this folder exists. Not even Neil, who doesn’t even know half of the photos of himself in there even exist. Because it’s just for Andrew. It’s just for him to collect the little joys in his life now that he can somewhat actually feel it.

- Kevin has to wear a brace on his hand/wrist every now and again, and he still sees a physiotherapist once every few months to check up on his hand.

- Matt goes to Andrew the first time he thinks about relapsing. He doesn’t even think about it. Neil is very confused when he comes back to the dorm to find Matt and Andrew playing video games together, but doesn’t question it.

- Dan tags along to night practice every now and again. Nobody acknowledges that she isn’t usually there, they just let her join them on the court and practice as usual. It makes Kevin really happy, actually, to see her trying to better her skills with them. Usually she just joins them when she can’t sleep and needs to get out of her head.

- On the OG foxes last night together before the first of them graduate, they all find themselves around a fire pit in one of their parents houses, or on property Allison rented out, and they tell each other stories and share some confessions in a mostly-funny, kind of emotional way. They cry and laugh and hug and shock each other with some of the things they say but it’s a really beautiful moment before they’re finally split up for the first time

- Dyslexic Kevin Day (again)

[traintrainingmontage]

I love your neiloey head cannons!! Do you think you can write a cute story about it sometime? ❤️💚

Talking about my OTP???? I WOULD LOVE TO, ANON!! 🥰 Absolutely thrilled to do so. Thank you for the opportunity. Let's have some train-flavored domestic fluff for the soul.

(If you like to see which prompts I've written already or have an idea for a prompt of your own, details are here!)

None had been more surprised than Skarloey himself to see the return of a face as familiar as Neil's, the first engine he'd ever met on Sodor's shores. Years of memories had cascaded like rapids, washing over him like a tide—all at once, with astounding clarity, Skarloey could suddenly recall those sepia-drenched days of talking for hours beneath the moonlight, laughing about nothing of great importance but everything of minuscule importance. To see his face and hear his laughter after decades of grim silence, heartbreak, and finally hope had been nothing short of a miracle.

After their tearful reunion and many a day spent reminiscing, laughing, and getting to meet all of the "new" engines on the line, Neil had settled in to the railway's day-to-day dynamic quite nicely. He had been formally instituted as the Skarloey Railway's standard-gauge multipurpose engine, used for when the little engines needed to be transported places or for bringing slate and other goods trains wherever they needed to go when nobody from the NWR was available. Such an arrangement worked out incredibly well, especially given that Neil was not often called upon for such tasks and could often be found spending his days enjoying the warm sun and chatting with whoever was in the sheds at the time. Skarloey's outdoor shed had even been modified to fit a dual-gauge track, and he and Neil happily slept buffer to buffer, their fireboxes warm despite holding no flame.

One day, about a month after Neil had arrived on the railway, Skarloey's driver Tabitha had a thought. "You know," she grinned, as they finished up their last run for the day, "we could always set you two buffermates up on a date."

Skarloey couldn't help but sputter in response, eyes wide as a bright blush blossomed across his cheeks. "Wh-what?! A date?! I... what?!" From his cab, Mazel, his stoker, suddenly squeaked in alarm as his flame flared up, and Skarloey took a breath, willing himself to calm. "I appreciate the idea, Tabitha," he replied stoically, his reddened cheeks returning to a more normal color, "but what kind of date could we possibly have? We can't exactly... erm... Mazel, what do humans do on dates?"

"O-oh! Um, let me see... go see a film? Walk around the park? Go out to eat?"

"Yes, those sorts of activities. We don't have hands, and we can't exactly move by ourselves, so I simply don't see how we could go on something as... personal as a date."

Tabitha could only roll her eyes affectionately at Skarloey's rebuttal, giving his frames a gentle pat. "For how old you are, you sure can be silly. No, you daft engine, here's what I'm thinking..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks later, about an hour after the last train had finished its run of the Main Line, the clouds had all fled for further horizons and the stars, usually so shy, had all come out to dance. Stellar bodies waltzed their way through the sky, keeping time to a song they'd heard since birth and giving their due deference to the moon, who watched from her perch with an imperious eye.

Far beneath her alabaster gaze, thanks to the help of the terribly good-natured cleaning crew, Skarloey was being carefully loaded onto a flatbed, and secured with high-strength cables. The crimson engine fussed in place a moment, testing his restraints, then gave a little hum of approval before his eyes turned to gaze at his companion for the evening.

Neil was staring up at him, absolutely transfixed. The box tank's eyes overflowed with adoration, and he smiled so gently that any observer would think he was admiring a priceless work of art. Skarloey couldn't stop himself from smiling back, somewhat embarrassed by the attention but equally craving it.

As the two engines waited for the workers to finish their final check, they found that they only had eyes for each other, both of their minds immersed in memories of those fateful days in 1865. "This is just like the day we met, isn't it...?" Neil marveled, his eyes skirting from Skarloey's down to his buffers, then to the flatbed he was secured to before rising back up, and Skarloey chuckled in reply, his smile somehow growing even wider.

"I was just thinking the same, my darling."

"Alright, you sappy coupling," Tabitha interjected, a quiet smile on her face and a barely contained laugh sitting just behind it. "Mazel and I have been practicing with Neil for these past two weeks, and we've gotten the hang of how to operate him. We've gotten permission from Sir Topham and Mr. Sam to take you both down the Main Line, where we'll turn around at Maron. You'll both get to finally see a new part of it, after all this time." Skarloey and Neil's eyes widened almost comically in sync, expressions brightening with a youthfulness that strangely suited them. "Oh, thank you, Tabitha!" Skarloey cheered, while Neil shot both driver and stoker a grateful smile.

"Yes, yes. Now, as always, do keep a look out, but we'll be extra vigilant ourselves, so you ought to enjoy yourselves." Without further ado, the two humans took up their positions behind Neil, and soon enough, the train was off, two more dancers waltzing out into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they began to move and find their cadence along the rails, Skarloey and Neil couldn't help but gasp in awe, marveling at scenery that was so new and different to their old eyes. Yet, despite the plethora of new sights, their attention was mostly focused on each other, with the two of them talking and laughing in tandem, sharing stories of what had happened during their time apart. It couldn't have been easier to fall back into their old rhythm, picking up where they'd left off with an ease that most would envy.

"...and that's when Sir Handel's ego finally deflated, and he never mentioned steam-rollers again!" Skarloey laughed, and Neil chortled right along with him, having no trouble imagining the scene.

"You all were quite the busy sorts! But look at ye now; ye made it through everything that's come yer way. That's real special, Loey. You've overcome some real odds."

"...Yes, well."

At this, the little engine's tone took a turn for the melancholic, his smile slipping away to allow for a more somber expression. "I have... overcome much, I suppose."

A beat of silence passed; as much as Skarloey tried to hold fast to his now-fleeting cheer, he instead only found himself left with a dread he'd tried so hard to hide, and had mostly succeeding in doing so. Unfortunately, given the seriousness of Neil's expression, it was abundantly clear that he could see it plainly.

"Neil, I..."

As much as Skarloey tried to will the words forward, for some reason, they forsook him, instead gathering behind his eyes as tears. Neil, being the engine that he was, did not rush Skarloey in the slightest. He simply waited, going along at a relaxed speed, and Tabitha and Mazel did their best to blend into the background.

Finally, Skarloey managed to form the words, forcing them past the lump in his tubes such that they came out so quiet as to be almost unintelligible.

"Can you... can you still love me as I am now?"

Once the last word left Skarloey's lips, slight rivulets began tracing their way down his cheeks, although his eyes never left Neil's. It appeared as though he was waiting for some kind of judgement, or perhaps absolution for some perceived crime.

"I'm not the same engine I was when we met. I've been through too much. I've changed beyond recognition. I've been broken so many times and pulled myself together; I'm not... I'm not..."

His voice broke like a wave upon a rock, and steady as he'd ever been, Neil could only furrow his brow, looking up at his love like he'd said something unconscionable. "Oh, my Skarloey... how could I not love ye?"

Skarloey felt his frames start shaking, making him all the more grateful for the restraints, and he could only try to take quick, fast breaths, his tears now running more like streams. Seeing that he was in no position to speak, Neil decided to continue his thought.

"Sure, ye've changed 'cause of what life's thrown atcha; that's just how life is. All those ups 'n downs'll change anyone. But who ye'are atcher core hasn't changed a bit. Yer smile hasn't changed. Yer heart hasn't changed. The Skarloey I know who loves the whole wide world is still right here, wit' me. I know, because I see how all yer li'l brothers an' all the people who run our railway look at ye. They love ye somethin' fierce, and that kinda love is only given if given to them first."

In the deep quiet of the Sudrian night, Neil gave his beloved a wry grin, willing him with all his heart to understand. "Ye did yer very best wit' whatcha had, Loey. Despite it all, ye held on and made it through. Don't ye let anyone, even yerself, say otherwise."

The air was silent, save for the sounds of Tabitha and Mazel desperately trying to hold back tears. Conversely, Skarloey's tears had stopped falling at some point and his body had ceased its shaking, leaving him with an expression of wide-eyed wonder that soon turned into besotted, disbelieving laughter. The negativity that had rooted itself in his soul hadn't quite been weeded out, but Neil's words had certainly drowned out the worst of it, at least for now. "Neil, my dearest, how is it that you always know just what to say?!"

"Well, y'know how it is, beau'iful," Neil retorted, his familiar grin making a reappearance. "We Sco'ish steamers are plain-speakin' folk! We call 'em like we see 'em, n' I 'appen t'have a real good eye fer engines!"

Just like that, the gloom seemed to lift, replaced with something not quite as cheerful as earlier, but even more warm-hearted. With stars in their eyes and the years in their smiles, the love-struck coupling proceeded with their journey down the line, and then back up again, their eyes and words only for each other.

[ash5monster01]

Goes On Chapter Fifteen

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 2.6k

Fourteen ←→ Epilogue

Masterlist

Welton Academy, VT

4/16/60

It had been four months to the day since Charlie found out about Neil. Not so long ago he had experienced the best four months of his life. To think he had just gone through four months of his worst was mind numbing in a way he couldn’t comprehend. So he let this thought consume him as he took a bus to the ferry and then the ferry to another bus just to be met with the large metal gate he thought he would never have to see again.

He didn’t have to call and ask if they’d be here. He knew they would. Easter wasn’t a big enough Holiday for the parents to pull them out of school. The most they’d have to attend was Easter service tomorrow and classes would be back on schedule on Tuesday. That meant Charlie had all of this weekend to come to terms with what his life was becoming. Come to terms to who he was without Welton or Neil.

Considering he was expelled he didn’t know the proper etiquette for visiting the school. He didn’t care to know anyway so he snuck in, something he had done hundreds of times before and made his way through the empty halls and passing all the familiar rooms. It was weird being back here when he thought it wouldn’t be. That he would always be a part of this school somehow or another. It was still weird to think he wasn’t. This thought scared him as he knocked softly on the safest door.

“Charlie!” Meeks surprised voice squeaked as his eyes widened at the sight of him. Charlie quickly lifted his finger to shush him, pushing him inside as he stepped into the room and out of sight of any teachers eyes. It’s possible he was allowed to visit but based on the terms he left, he didn’t want to bother to find out he wasn’t.

“Hey Meeks” he grinned softly, the happiness of seeing his friend outweighing the sadness burrowed deep inside. When Meeks finally realized this isn’t a hallucination he hugs him quickly.

“Pittsie” Charlie nods at the boy who gapes at him from his desk, standing to hug him as well. Charlie already feels the heavy tears burning against the back of his eyes as he holds his two friends.

“What’re you doing here?” Pitts asks once they pull away and Charlie offers his familiar smirk, one that had become so foreign over the last few months, as he sets his suitcase down.

“Ridge gives their students the entire week off and since my parents figure I’m staying on campus to keep up with my studies, I figured I’d come here. See my best pals” Charlie explains, leaving out the very grave detail he did intend on staying at Ridge, all up until the girl he loved looked at him with eyes as cold as the dead of winter.

“We gotta get Todd and Knox” Meeks starts for the door and Charlie doesn’t stop him, laughing lightly as his red-headed friend takes off on his mission. Charlie hates how familiar and foreign everything around him feels when not so long ago his presence here wouldn’t have been such a big deal. It doesn’t take long for Meeks to return, the two boys barreling behind him just to see if Meeks speaks the truth.

“Holy shit” is all Knox can say when he finally spots him, wrapping his arms around him in a large hug. Charlie laughs at the excitement, hugging him back just as enthusiastically.

“Knoxie, how’s Chris?” Charlie smirks and Knox just smiles, softly shaking his head. He snuck out any chance he could to meet the beautiful blonde girl and risked being killed by Chet Danbury everyday, but man was it worth it.

“Still a dream” he grins, cheeks flushed because somehow he was able to keep his dream girl through all of this. Charlie just smiles back, nodding his head because he knows a thing or two about falling head over heels for a girl now. He’s brought back to reality when he spots Todd who stays standing in the doorway, eyeing him as if he looked away Charlie would somehow disappear.

“Todd, heard you started a revolution” Charlie grins that familiar smile at him and all the times Todd imagined seeing his face again it was nothing like this. Yet to see it in person again felt like being wrapped in a warm hug.

“Ah I learned from the best” Todd says after a beat, waving a hand as if to brush off the sentiment but it doesn’t make Charlie any less proud as he pulls the boy into a tight hug and ruffles the blonde hair on his head.

“Who would’ve thought quiet old Todd would grown a pair” Charlie says when he lets him go, the teasing tone not matching the adoration in his eyes. Not so long ago he thought of Todd as Neil’s quiet roommate and now he was considerably his best friend.

“It was a one time thing, one more stunt and I’m out like you Nuwanda” Todd teases back and Charlie just laughs, moving and flopping onto Meeks bed.

“That’s not a bad thing” Charlie jokes, hands motioning upward as he relaxed against the cushions. It was still a dorm bed but it was better than two buses and a ferry.

“How’s Ridge? How’s the girls?” Knox asks, eyebrows wiggling with suggestion as the boys all begin to settle around the room and catch up.

“Ridge sucks. I’m on track because I didn’t sign up for any sports in time and they made me take it anyway. As for the curriculum it’s the same old boring shit and Dr. J Evans Pritchard” Charlie sneers, thinking of that God forsaken school they stuck him in. Before Keating he might’ve actually liked to go there and experience co-ed but now it was cruel punishment made to diminish his spirit even more.

“And the girls?” Pitts inquires, not missing how Charlie skipped over the little fact in his spiel.

“Fine I guess, my girlfriend is pretty pissed at me right now though” and gasps quickly come from each of the guys around the room as Charlie drops this bomb.

“It’s Evelyn, isn’t it?” Meeks asks, knowing she was the female lead in every story Charlie told when he called. It would be the only thing to make any sense.

“Yes it’s Evelyn” Charlie confirms, rolling his eyes even though just mentioning her name makes his heart soar. Leaving on the bad terms that they did hurt him, but she was still who he wanted to comfort him.

“Got a picture hot shot?” Todd asks and Charlie chuckles, leaning to his side in order to reach the wallet in his back pocket. When he finally frees it, he flips it open to pull out the photos they just recently got back from the Valentine’s dance. How he convinced her to take it he wasn’t sure but he was sure glad they did.

“Wow” Pitts breathes as the picture slips between his fingers and for the first time since Neil’s death a real smirk graces Charlie’s lips. Not a fake one or a forced one, a real one. Pride swells in his chest and it’s the first time he’s had this feeling in a very long time. As the boys pass around the picture of his girl Charlie can’t help but smile at each one.

“Only Charles could bag a chick like that” Meeks says while shaking his head and passing back the picture of the gorgeous girl in Charlie’s arms.

“She’s not a chick” Charlie corrects, slipping the picture safely back into his wallet. “She’s amazing though. Not shy at all and always calls me on my shit. I tried to stay away, I really did. I just couldn’t help myself”

“That doesn’t surprise me” Knox jokes and Charlie glares half heartedly as he looks back at each of the boys.

“How’d you get her to date you?” Meeks asks, curious as to how Charlie actually found a decent girl and not a ditz like the ones he brought to the cave that one time.

“Not sure to be honest, one night I knew she was alone and snuck into her room. Just couldn’t stop myself, she’s the best” Charlie says, mind still stuck on how sweet her kisses are and the taste of her lips.

“Well when do we get to meet her?” Knox eagerly asks, having been the only one of the group to ever actually share words with the girl even if they were brief.

“I don’t know, she’s pretty upset with me right now” Charlie sighs, mind still reeling and trying to wrap around what happened not so long ago. The catalyst to even bring him here.

“What’d you do?” Pitts asks with a snort, picturing the old Charlie doing some idiotic stunt to get him in trouble. If only that was the case.

“You didn’t tell her” Todd suddenly mutters and Charlie’s eyes lock onto his own, sharing a look foreign to the others around him.

“Yeah and she found out. I don’t blame her honestly. She probably thinks I was using her and she knows nothing about me which in a way she doesn’t. Neil was apart of every aspect of my life and if it included him, I didn’t bring it up” the boys realize what they mean in an instant, realization flooding across each of their faces.

“But why, Neil was your best friend?” Meeks says, head shaking and trying to understand the boy in front of them. To be honest none of them have gone as long as they have without seeing the boy before. Maybe things weren’t entirely as they seemed.

“He is my best friend. That’s why I can’t. How do I not only admit to myself but everyone around me that he’s actually gone. I’m all alone now. I’m stuck in that school with no one who understands me and I hate everything about it. I’m no longer Nuwanda, I’m barely even Charlie” Charlie gasps, eyebrows furrowed and heart straining in his chest. The boys watch him, words getting desperate at they come out and Charlie begins to feel that familiar tightening in his chest, the panic rising up his spine.

“You’re not alone Charlie” Todd says with the shake of his head and all the boys eye the two, waiting to see what either one of them would say.

“I am Todd, you guys got to stay here with each other but I was left to grieve on my own” Charlie says but Todd stays firm on his sentence, staring Charlie down with a confidence he never expected to posses.

“No you’re not. You have Evelyn and if I’m not mistaken a few other people at that school. You may not have know them long but four months is enough time to care for a person. I should know” Todd says, words sharp and strong and Charlie freezes as these words sink in. Up until Neil died they had only known Todd four months and he was just as important. So why couldn’t the kids at Ridge be the same.

“Shit Todd, I didn’t mean it like that” Charlie starts but Todd is shaking his head, stopping him short and Charlie waits for him to speak again.

“Just don’t count them out. If you push away every person in your life only because they didn’t know you before Neil then you’re bound to be lonely forever” Todd says and Charlie nods, wrapping his head around the fact that the very people at Ridge he had come to love were more important than he thought.

Not only was Evelyn important to him but the rest were too. Nate was his roommate and the only person he had let close since Neil. Marty was kind, looking out for him any chance he got. Laurie was funny and defended him when necessary. Violet was honest and would tell him the truth when he needed it most. Evelyn was understanding, and passionate about everything around her. They were beautiful people and he had spent so long pitying himself he never got a chance to fully enjoy it. He could see Neil now, almost cursing him for not allowing people close. He was Charlie Dalton for God sakes, a legend who had spent so long pretending he wasn’t.

“Neil didn’t die to kill your spirit, he died because he lost his own. So we should spend everyday making sure we enjoy it. Not only enough for ourselves but him too” Knox says and Charlie tries his best not to cry all over again. He had never looked at it like this, never allowed himself to think about the fact he was wasting so much time waiting for something that would never happen. Neil to come back.

“God I did fuck up” Charlie groans, hands reaching up to tug at his hair and the other boys laugh even though there is a layer of sadness now filling the room that they all figured would never leave.

“No you didn’t, you’re Charlie Dalton after all. You’ll find a way to make it up to her” Knox encourages, hand reaching to pat the boys back and Charlie chuckles, mind already trying to come up with ideas on how to make it up to all of them.

“Maybe but until then I think I just need to spend some time here. Finally let myself heal” he says and the boys nod, understanding exactly what he means. At first it was hard being at Welton without either of the boys, rules becoming more strict and classes becoming harder. Yet after a while it became healing. Classrooms holding memories like a time capsule that comforted them in a way nothing else could.

It was little things. Like learning Shakespeare in class which would remind them of how amazing Neil was in the play. When it was meatloaf for dinner they could eat it remembering it was his favorite. When they scored goals in soccer they could still hear Neil cheering. He was everywhere within the school, a permanent reminder in its walls and even if the memories sometimes hurt, at least somewhere on this earth still held the spirit of him. Welton and this town would forever hold the spirit of him and that was better than any comfort any of the boys had known.

“That’s a good idea, we can hide you in our rooms and go and visit Neil” Pitts voices his excitement and the boy freeze, waiting to see Charlie’s reaction. It had become common for them to visit Neil’s grave but Charlie hadn’t since the funeral. Charlie didn’t even know it was something they did.

“I would love that, even more if no one mentions my presence to Cameron” Charlie responds with his cool and confident tone that for the first time felt right to still have. The boys just laugh, nodding their heads in agreement.

“We can manage that” Meeks says and Charlie grins, sitting up and finally feeling more of him falling back into place. Maybe Nate was right after all, just being here was already healing him. He wished he could stay forever. Thing was, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, life goes on. So he needed to spend as much time as he could, remembering not to forget that.

“Good now one of you needs to sneak into the finks room and recover my stash”

Taglist: @octaviasdread @eden-punk @linmichea1 @pursuedbyamemoryy @mynameisjxlia

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[dr-thumbs-brand-new-spot]

The hedge mage (Garbage wizard)

Tonight’s the night. The signs are all there, the stars are in alignment, astrology is correct, it’s an auspicious night. Time to break in and use the telescope, time to put the pieces together, after everything, he has to know. Neil gets up from his rest, sleeping outside for what seems like the hundredth time for him and brushes himself off. It was hot last night and he hasn’t been eating right, his bones ache and his body hurts, he can’t stop the anxiety that discomfort causes him. He wishes again that he could make it go away, fix it somehow so he didn’t have to feel this way. And he thinks back to the man, the one he met behind the McDonald’s when he went to root through the dumpster. The man who said he had potential and he shouldn’t waste it, he should do something more with himself than root through a dumpster. The man who stood oddly still, Neil never saw him breathe, he’d notice because he doesn’t make eye contact with new people, his eyes are always pointed down.

The man who disappeared when Neil looked away to consider what he’d said. Was he just another thing lurking in the corner of his eye? Neil never knows when his mind is playing tricks on him but he can’t shake this certainty that some veil is about to lift for him. He will finally, finally understand. He’s not even sure what it is he needs to understand yet but he knows he can’t let go of it, it’s inescapable and the pull is like gravity for him.

It’s not quite late enough yet to see, he checks his pockets and finds he actually has a little money for once. Cash he had set aside for this night, to make something of a celebration for himself where he could. His birthday had already come and gone and he’d spent another night running away. He’d be damned if he lost another opportunity for a little joy.

Time to go to white tower, some people say it’s just a knock off White Castle but Neil can’t even express how wrong he thinks that is. White tower is the food he would pick up on the rare peaceful night when his Mom wasn’t home and Neil would sit down and play spacewar! Most of the people at school didn’t know it yet but Neil was sure video games were gonna be the next big thing back then, he’s still convinced but it’s taking a little longer than he thought it would. He starts his walk to the fast food restaurant.

The people walking by, no one even notices him, on one hand it’s nice to get to walk around without feeling anxious and afraid. On the other hand, he wishes someone, anyone, would notice him.

He arrives, orders his food, sits down and for once, takes pleasure in the eating process. This isn’t food kitchen stuff or dumpster food from unserved patties, this was a full meal he picked out and ordered just for himself. Neil cannot even remember the last time he got this. Has to have been years by now from what is beginning to feel like a new start. He eats and enjoys his food and since he’s in here, he checks his backpack and he still has his grooming scissors. If he’s going to see the truths of the universe he should look the best he can. He lets himself in to their bathroom, washes himself up and trims his hair as best he can, it’s not perfect or even really pretty but it’s serviceable.

Finally ready to go, Neil is filled with sudden dread and fear, what if he messes this up? He’d ruin the first good night he’s had in who knows how long. Is it better just to skip the telescope? Go somewhere else and just watch the stars for a time? But no, he tells himself, really not a time to give up. He grits his teeth and steels himself, ready for his chance and walks to the school.

He arrives just in time, still not sure exactly how he’s getting inside but completely determined that he will somehow. Looking around, the building is locked up tight, no immediately visible way in. Just on the off chance someone forgot, he tries the front door. Locked, as expected, but for a long moment he thinks, if I just knew how, I could transfigure this door handle right off, wouldn’t have to knock it in or lock pick it or anything. And this moment goes on far longer than a more well adjusted person might think is reasonable. For Neil, it’s just another one of his moments.

When he snaps out of it, he realizes he’s gone from early to cutting it close now and with the heat his body broke into a sweat. Looks like he won’t be perfect for his date with the stars, figures he can’t have things go perfect just one time. Hurriedly he rushes to a window and tries to open it, no luck, next window, no luck, third try, jackpot. He gets the window open but it will only open a crack, he strains and tries to force it open further but he just can’t get it. Neil goes to move toward another window when he heard a voice ring out from behind him as he freezes. “Do you need some help with that?” The woman asks from behind and as Neil turns sheepishly to look at her he catches the briefest glimpse before his anxiety hits his head like an anchor and makes him look down. She’s average height, average weight, average features with raven black hair, a long black dress, black boots and wearing black lipstick. The only thing exceptional about her other than the way she’s dressed are her eyes, ice cold blue and feeling like they’re staring straight into his core. This woman is no older than Neil, hell, she might even be younger than him but that gaze roots him in place and fills him with fear. “U-um I uh…it’s not what it looks like” he says, quite clearly having just been trying to break into the school in the middle of the night. “Yes it is and I’m going to help you.” She says matter of factly, walking up next to Neil, reaching into nothing and producing a crowbar. For a moment Neil isn’t sure, is this his mind again or did that really happen? Who is this woman? Why is she here? This is an auspicious night, all the stars in alignment why isn’t this going how he hoped? Is she here to show him the hidden truth of the world? Why is this happening? Has he seen her before? The tide of thoughts rush through Neil as he babbles incoherently at the woman before she reaches out and lightly brushes a finger over his lips, instantly demanding silence from him as he goes stock still. The only movement from his body the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. “Your mind isn’t tricking you this time Neil, I did just do that and yes I knew you’d be here. I know why too. And I also know that if you go in there something terrible is gonna happen and I have decided I don’t want that to happen. So you can either come with me and learn the truths you so desperately want anyway or I can hit you in the head with this crowbar and keep you from going inside that way.” The woman says to Neil who just stares, mouth agape, directly at her feet as he still can’t bear to look her in the eye. “I’ll take that as a yes then, come on Neil, let’s go learn some magic together.” She says beckoning for him to follow and he does. Dragging his feet, mind moving a mile a minute, unable to shake the feeling his life is about to change forever.

The woman’s name is Abigail, Abby she insists on being called. Abby tells him that if he went into that school to watch the stars he would have met the man from behind the McDonald’s. He was and is real, he’s a monster that had been watching him, scouting him for months. Trying to decide if he should make Neil a monster too. She says getting into the school on an auspicious night, following all the signs, that was his last test for this monster. Now that Neil has failed, he’s moved on and will find someone else, somewhere else. She says she doesn’t care and is just glad she could help Neil but he can see it in her eyes sometimes, she wants to stop him. Neil’s still not sure he understands but for the first time in his life he thinks he’s starting to.

Abby lets him stay on her couch, she has a job working at the local library, it’s where he’s seen her before, he didn’t recognize her there because she dresses so differently at work. When she leaves in the mornings he doesn’t even recognize her some days, dressed in a sweater, blue jeans and sneakers, hair neatly out back, no black makeup. The only things that tell him it’s the same woman are her eyes and her hair, that black so deep he knows she had to dye it to get there. While she works Neil takes care of her house, he does the dishes, cleans the place, does her laundry, anything to feel useful. He still can’t find a job but she’s made it one of her requirements to keep teaching him that he keep trying to find something that works for him and no matter how hard it is he knows in his heart he needs to keep learning. She calls herself a sorcerer, says her abilities come from the studies of paths of linear magic. Something anyone can do if they work hard enough but most don’t see the truth or want to even try to learn. She tells him how her father was a sorcerer before he left to go work with the Mages. Neil is pleasantly surprised to learn there is actually a difference. He doesn’t understand why she decided he should be her apprentice but he’s grateful for it and can’t shake the feeling that she saved him from something terrible. He knows she’s been telling the truth about everything but he can’t explain how he knows that.

The first gift she teaches him is the one he’s most desperate to learn, the power to see, the gifts to look into the future. Learning is hard and unpredictable. At first his predictions are so small he’s not even sure he’s predicting anything but gradually, he notices he’s predicting things he couldn’t possible just guess. The first time he’s sure he divined the future is when he predicts a complete football game, start to finish, every score ending at every quarter with complete accuracy. Neil doesn’t even watch football, it’s why he picked it to divine, because he’d have no idea otherwise. When he tells Abby for the first time he sees her smile warmly and she hugs him “I’m proud of you Neil, I knew you would make a great apprentice.” She says as Neil finds himself locked completely still in place by this woman once again, his body not knowing how to react but responding to the body heat and loving touch of a woman. His whole head turns beet red and he can’t speak a complete sentence to her for the next week.

The first time she kisses him is the first morning after he visits her in a dream, he doesn’t realize when he visits her that his dream self reflects his emotional state to someone more experienced. She tells him when she kisses him that she knew for sure then that he was falling for her. Neil’s never had a girlfriend before so he doesn’t know what to do or how to act but he finally manages to land himself a job. He’s a ticket taker at the local movie theater, it’s not much but it’s a start and he’s proud of himself that he can actually pay for their first date since she still doesn’t charge him rent.

The first time they sleep together Neil finally learns alchemy, he figures out how to make a potion that will enhance your physical vitality. She’s so proud of him she makes him drink it. Neil is completely sure he wants to marry this woman, they can keep peeling back the veil for the rest of their lives he thinks for a brief hopeful moment. He’s been having a lot of those lately for some reason. He knows he can’t afford a ring but he decides to earn it, he knows he doesn’t deserve this, not yet. But he also knows he can earn it, he just needs to keep making himself useful and learning.

The future he wants so badly with her that he’s too afraid to let himself ask her for is within reach. Even with him denying it he knows, they sleep in the same bed every night, they have a grocery list together, Neil’s things are all throughout the apartment. He’s not her couch surfing apprentice anymore, he almost lets himself believe he can just go for it. Until, one day, he finally realizes what he needs to do, Neil needs to learn to transmute objects. It’s a magic Abby doesn’t know and not one he’s even sure is possible but if he wants to feel like he deserves this he knows he needs to learn something on his own and keep breaking the veil by himself.

He pores over book after book, finding resources anywhere he can find them, anything he can do, except ask Abby for help. She knows something is going on and that Neil is working on something but the fact he won’t tell her what’s wrong drives a bit of a wedge between them. He keeps forcing her away when he feels like she’s getting close to getting him to tell her because he needs to do this himself. His first night back on the couch is a cold one.

Weeks of searching finally lead him to a text, something Abby held onto from her father but never had the chance to translate from the dead language it was written in. Neil goes without proper sleep for a week just finding the right translation source. He keeps ending up on the couch more and more but Abby wanted to get a cat so at least he’s not alone.

He’s finally done it he thinks, holy shit he’s finally done it. The secret to transmutation is right in front of him and after reading this text over and over, constantly experimenting with it, he thinks he finally gets it. He’s not sure he can quite turn lead into gold just yet but he’s confident he can alter the shape and composition of an object.

Neil takes the time to try and make sure she’ll say yes, he picks back up on his housework, puts in extra hours at the theater to buy her flowers and take her out to dinner a few nights. She’s confused and doesn’t understand why he’s doing all of this but she’s grateful to have his attention again and she lets him back into the bed. For a moment Neil almost misses his couch before she pulls him in for a hug and he realizes how stupid that thought is.

It’s time to go to the antique store. Neil goes, having finally saved enough to maybe afford something resembling a ring, having gotten Abby’s measurements with a deft and gentle hand while she slept. He’s usually up before her anyway, even though he’s more comfortable than he’s ever been he still doesn’t need much sleep. He picks out a ring and takes it home. Placing it between his hands he focuses his will, feeling the heat and energy radiating off of the ring he pours his vision and heart into it. When he unclasps his hand there rests a perfect golden ring with what looks like a big diamond sitting right in the center. It might be a fake diamond, he’s not sure he can make the real thing but it looks convincing and that’s good enough for him. He smiles and thinks to himself “turning trash into treasure, I’m a regular garbage wizard.” She says yes

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

More Gatsby Reincarnation AU bullshit while I work on a piece for the show I’m in rn:

It’s a long ahh list so here’s a cut to save ur dash :)

Gatsby and Daisy absolutely love Grease. Yes the movie. Yes they force everyone to watch it at least once every four-or-so months during group movie night, yes they sing the whole thing

Everyone begrudgingly has their song in Grease. Jordan’s is Danny’s part in summer nights (with Gatsby as Sandy funny enough), Tom’s is Greased Lightning, Jay’s is Raining on Prom Night (although Daisy joins him 90% of the time), Daisy’s is There Are Worse Things I Could Do, and Nick’s is Beauty School Dropout!

Nick has the voice of an angel. Literally. First time he really sang Beauty School Dropout left everyone floored

For my fellow Natsby Shippers: Already was Jay entranced by Nick’s voice, but things got worse when Nick turned his performance of said song above on him during their obligatory watch. Dude bluescreened hard and it took a minute before they could continue the movie

Speaking of movie nights, the gang does movie nights! With how available it is nowadays why not? Sometimes it’s twice a month, sometimes it’s once, sometimes it’s every other month. Really just depends on how often they can

Meyer is here too everyone! He’s a teacher at a nearby high school (although you’re a fool to think that’s his only job). While he originally taught economics, he got roped into using his double major to teach English. Specifically Junior Year. The Great Gatsby unit is always awkward

Nick has a Tumblr! He’s flat out said multiple times on said blog that he is Nick Carraway reincarnate. Through some simple proofs his followers have accepted that yup, that’s Nick Carraway back from the grave. It’s like how we have Neil Gaiman here, but with Nick.

Jordan has a blog too, but only to fuck with Nick. That’s it, that’s the only reason. Their followers love watching them fight online lmao

Nick uses his blog to update everyone on the gang and answer questions. Yes, TGG was gay. So is he. He’s answered this a million times can we get a new question please??

One of Meyer’s students showed him said blog, at which point his student teacher George Willows (Wilson) pointed out that he knew Nick back in high school and offers to set up a meeting

That meeting was awkward as fuck. Nick and George just stared at each other, both knowing, until George ran out of the room, at which point Meyer took to testing Nick. The two shot references back and forth until Nick cracked

Nick has a therapist. He was pushed to get one after a rather bad crack in his own mind after Jay remembered (I’ll explain in a minute). He tiptoed around his real problem for ages, not wanting to be seen as insane (again), until his therapist asked him one day about a book. See its uncut pages? Do you know what that means, Nick?

Boy was it a relief to be able to actually talk about his struggles with reincarnation after that

(TW: Derealization, just in case) Nick’s Mental Crack, as mentioned above, happened on his first birthday after Jay remembered everything. He vanished for a few days, only to be found unresponsive by his friends. When he finally did respond, it was only to repeat that they (the gang) weren’t real, something drilled into him from his time at the sanatorium and his last 60-ish years of isolation in his first life. For a few more days he did little more than stare into the bathroom mirror, repeat that phrase, or gently touch at his eyes. When he finally did come to, the first thing he did was turn to Jay and ask “Is this real?” There was. A lot of crying from all parties following. And therapy.

Listen, dealing with grief in the 20s already sucked. He got sent to a sanatorium for Christ’s sake! That, paired with what I imagine to have been spending the last 60+ years of his life in self isolation AND being the first to remember their past lives? That ain’t easy man. He could use a little help

He does get better tho. Things get easier. Maybe a little too easy because one day, when a mutual friend(s) of all of theirs outright stops them and asks if they’re the reincarnated cast of Gatsby, he just says yes. Straight up. “Yup. Took you that long?”

Meanwhile everyone else (except for Jordan honestly) is trying to deny it and failing miserably

Back to movies and film! Nick likes Sci-fi things alongside historical stuff that he can laugh at being wrong, Jay enjoys romance (specifically shit like the Bachelor tell me I’m wrong-), Jordan is a fan of of mysteries, Daisy enjoys horror films purely because of the kickass final girl most of them have alongside a fair share of musicals, and Tom likes Sports films like Happy Gilmore and Benchwarmers

To my fellow Natsby ppl again: Gatsby is shorter than Nick. Was back in the 20s and is now! When hugging or cuddling, Nick could absolutely smother Jay. He is a small fella, very holdable

Every time they rewatch the 2013 Gatsby, Jordan has a tendency to say either “that’s gay” or “that’s homophobic” at respective times. Nick keeps a tally on how many times she says each every watch

And that’s all I think I have again for now. Thanks again for @writerinconstantcrisis for helping with most of these and this AU as a whole really. Until next time nerds!

[mostlymaudlin]

#8 for the fic writing ask 🖤

i just answered this but ill do another !!

i've always wanted to put andrew in a time loop

hold on tw suicide a lil bit lmfao

BUT i just kinda think that andrew's will to live is such a tentative thing but you can't kill yourself in a time loop lmfao. at least not in a way that lasts. but that's kind of the ethos of why i want to put andrew in a time loop because i think it would force him to find more reasons to live! my original idea around this was actually just a normal day post-canon so he does have reasons to live but he's still so wrapped up in his duties to others, and the loop would just inherently isolate him from his people which would be excruciating -- and also he would have no one to put up fronts for. i think that level of independence and shamelessness would be really interesting to explore with him. and also he would kill himself so many times sdkjngksjn

i'm also fascinated by how neil would react in the repeating timelines, because he's so attuned to andrew's moods and up in his business. once i actually wrote a lil bit of this kind of thing but from neil's pov. the idea was that andrew is pretty far into the loops and he just doesnt care abt anything. so he tries to spend the day in bed. but to neil, andrew is just rly depressed out of nowhere!! and ofc neil always always always tries to take care of andrew...

i'm not sure if i'll ever write the big andrew pov version, but here's the lil snip of neil pov:

Neil doesn’t know what to do when Andrew doesn’t get out of bed. 

He leaves him be at first, trusting him to make decisions for himself. But they’re really going to be late for practice, so Neil crouches on the floor next to Andrew’s bed. He’s awake — Andrew never sleeps through this level of movement and noise. 

“Hey,” Neil says. Andrew, facing the wall, does not react. “Are you coming to practice?”

Nothing. 

Neil looks to Kevin, who stands in the bedroom doorway, but he looks as lost as Neil feels. 

Andrew’s head is not an easy place to be. The evidence is on his skin. But still, Neil has never seen him shut down quite like this before. Regardless of how wound up or closed off Andrew gets, he always gets up. He might move through the day stone-faced and silent, or irritable and violent, but he moves. Something is very wrong. 

Neil grimaces. “Get a ride with Matt and tell Coach we’re sick. I’ll call him later.”

Kevin tries to argue, but Neil shakes his head firmly. Kevin snaps his mouth shut with a look toward Andrew’s blanketed figure, then stomps out the door. Neil waits for the slam that signifies Kevin’s exit, then turns back to Andrew. He watches the subtle rise and fall of Andrew’s back for a few breaths.

“It’s just me now,” Neil whispers. “What’s wrong?”

Still no reaction. Neil sighs, then gets to his feet. In the kitchen, he pours the last of the coffee into a mug and makes a bowl of cereal, carrying both to the bedroom. He sets them on the floor near Andrew’s bed, then sits down next to them.

“Will you eat?” Neil asks, this time expecting the non-response, though it doesn’t ease the churning worry at his core. “If you want me to go, I need at least one sign that your brain hasn’t turned into a vegetable.”

Neil decides to give Andrew five more minutes before he starts considering seeking outside help. He sets his forearms on the edge of Andrew’s mattress, resting his cheek against one arm as he stares at the silky, sleep-mussed hair at the back of Andrew’s head. It’s been four minutes when Andrew finally rolls over. 

The action puts their faces only inches apart, but Andrew’s stare is distant. Still, the movement is a relief. 

“Hi,” Neil whispers. “What do you need?”

Andrew closes his eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he rasps. “Go to practice.”

“You want me to leave?”

Andrew looks at him again, and this time his gaze is more focused. “No.”

Neil exhales. He reaches out a hand toward Andrew’s face, waiting for a subtle nod before he brushes Andrew’s hair off his forehead. 

“Breakfast?” Neil asks softly. Andrew shakes his head. 

“Kuefsteinstraße,” he says. 

Neil’s eyebrows shoot up.

“The street you lived on,” Andrew says. “In St. Pölten. You said it was the nicest place you lived in Europe, and that you’d believe me if I mentioned it.”

Neil swallows, racking his memory. “I don’t remember telling you about St. Pölten. I haven’t thought about that place in years.”

Andrew closes his eyes again. “You wouldn’t remember.”

“I don’t understand.”

Andrew slides back on the mattress until he’s pressed against the wall.

i'm not really sure where it goes from here other than andrew would tell neil he's in a time loop and neil would believe him! i don't think neil could help him get out of the loop, but having him believe him would at least give andrew comfort. and andrew would probably only tell neil in loops where he really needed that 😭

[rezcowgirl]

Ooo, back into the grieving. Back into the never ending winter eulogy. And a part of me doesn’t want it to end. Don’t want to grow around the grief. Don’t want to forget anything. (But I know I am. To both.)

Won’t forget her DJing while dressed up as Neil Tennant from the Go West music video.

Won't forget her craning her head out of the window of the speeding car to literally yell at trees “Fuck yeah! You’re why we moved here!! Mountains! TREEEEES!”.

Won’t forget when we spent a winter weekend together shivering around Victoria because our prairie blood wasn’t quite adapted to the wet kind of cold yet. We finished our Victoria adventure together by getting burritos at 11pm. My last text to her ever was: “You know that burrito you said I couldn’t possibly finish? Well. I did.”

She responded “You are a champ”.

I used to love winter. December baby. I love the cold and snow. I don’t even mind the lack of sunlight (I probably still love you, winter, but you should be nicer to me).

Now there’s always this creeping grief when the days get shorter and we end November with the usual punch in the face that knocks both Aries and I completely on our asses. And then it’s December and we get to do it all over again.

Our world ended once. A dark solstice morning of “oh my god oh my god” in the most honest way we ever said it because there’s nothing else, there’s nothing else, there’s no other grief words that fit except that kind of cosmic pleading. We were in the car at sunrise sobbing on the phone asking where? where? Was it three bodies? (their dog. Their dog died, too). We were the only ones near enough to reach them. And I can still make myself sick when I think about it, of: “it was quick”, of: “she wouldn’t know”, of: “there was no pain,” of: “you can see him now, he’s awake” and his quiet “she died” and our “we know. We love you. (please. Please don’t die, too)” 

Here we are. Still. With all the leftover love she can never get. 

Once upon a time 7 years ago I lost someone I loved very much. And there were so many weeks that followed sitting behind an intensive care door with a grieving mother and father not convinced their son was going to make it. Her husband did survive. When it was clear he was going to live, we told his elderly parents to go back to the prairies - we got this, go, go. Go grieve her properly. They were so tired. 

We finally wheeled him the fuck out of there. Aries almost hit his healing legs on the elevator door because we were moving so quickly and we laughed too hard about it because you have to take what you can get. I emptied the piss from his commode. I helped set up the GoFundMe for the ramp installation. I didn’t hate this part. I felt useful. Tangible things to grasp onto while we stumbled through it.

I hate this part.

When she died, we didn’t all make it out. Her brother died by suicide after. And I get it. I get it. Losing her almost did me in, too. And I didn’t grow up with her bright big-sister babyface. I can’t imagine.

There’s this photo of him in front of his birthday cake and there’s a memorial photo of J. just behind him on the mantle. And every fucking November I see it, I know it’s coming, I know it’s coming because it’s one of the last photos they have of him alive and it’s his birthday. And what haunts me the most is it is also one of the last photos of J. alive there in the background, too.

I spent some of Monday and some of Tuesday crying. Better than the usual full day ordeals. Attempting any planning of our nuptials and of my friend's 50th birthday without J. still feels fake. Unfair. Depressing. I think I need to up my meds.

Sometimes Aries and I just have to lay on the couches across from one another and watch each other breathe. It’s just a listless, wordless kind of haunting if we let it set in, but on the other end of it, it’s: I’m still here. You’re still here. Let’s live. Let’s work it out.

The reason I kiss my friends now is because of you. The reason I throw ridiculous birthday parties is because of you. The reason I call them all beloved, dearest, babe, is because of you. The reason I write all these love letters is because of you. 

You loved me while I was still holding my cards close to my chest. To be that way at first, slow to warm, guarded, gave me absolutely nothing except wasted time I could have spent being your friend for longer. I won’t make that mistake ever again.

Ah. And this weekend is also the memorial dance party for a different friend, one that I barely got to know because we only met earlier this year. Shit sucks. 

But I’m going to have a good time because it is quite literally the only thing he ever asked of me. And J. was a hooligan, always trying to get me out dancing.

(If I had assless chaps, I’d wear them for you, Santi.)

[nellie-elizabeth]

Some whining about fan responses to GO2 below the cut. I'm just being a jerk mostly lol.

Not gonna tag or link the posts because I'm not trying to stir shit but I see some people doing the thing for Good Omens season 2 that people did for Sherlock or Supernatural where, they didn't really like some aspects of season 2, and instead of saying "oh, that part didn't really gel with me" they think "Oh, it's actually all part of a long con that Neil Gaiman is playing on us! The stuff that I thought was bad? It was bad on purpose!" (Remember, the secret final episode of Sherlock, or the fact that the penultimate Supernatural episode was "bad on purpose" so the finale would fix it all?)

And it's so frustrating because I think these people are setting themselves up for further disappointment when season three comes. I personally loved season two of good omens! It really hit the spot for me, I thought it was funny and charming and clever and perfectly heartbreaking. If you didn't like it, that's okay, you don't have to construct a whole conspiracy theory around "why it was bad".

I want to be clear i don't mean just having theories about potential mysteries/clues leading to season 3. What are the Metatron's real motivations? Will we get to know who Crowley was as an angel before the fall? That sort of stuff is fun to speculate about, and we certainly don't have all the answers!

What I'm talking about things like... I saw someone say that the Eccles Cakes were a secret clue: why bring them up and put such emphasis on them only for them not to get eaten, hmmm? That couldn't have been just a simple oversight... it must be a grander point about the secret undercurrent plot that's been hiding right in front of our eyes this whole time.

And... no, it's not a simple oversight. It's not a grand clue to a big mystery (imo) either. It's pretty basic storytelling. Aziraphale asks Nina for something that calms people down, he procures the Eccles cakes on her recommendation, and then hands them off to Crowley as they enter the shop. There's a pointed shot of the uneaten cookies as Crowley storms off because, guess what, nobody ate them, and nobody's calming down! I think that's it, y'all. No grand mystery to parse here.

Or one thing I saw that really had me scratching my head was "why did we spend so long in the '40s minisode seeing Aziraphale pick out magic tricks in the shop, do the whole fake-out with the bullets, etc.? What was the point of showing us all that?"

I mean... because it was funny and charming and good character development? I don't know that it was leading to any grand secret behind the scenes. The setup and the pay-off is all right there in the 1940's flashbacks. Aziraphale is bad at stage magic, and then real miracles are blocked, and in the moment of truth he's able to use trickery correctly, for once in his life. Crowley and Aziraphale both manage to keep each other safe in the human way, even when their miracles are blocked. It's all right there, it doesn't have to be a clue leading to some big switcharoo later down the road.

Or one last thing I saw was people saying "where were the Zombies? Why have a plot about digging up corpses, and another story about Zombies, what does it all mean?"

And like... I don't know, maybe it means some Secret Extra Thing that i just haven't seen yet, but isn't it also possible that it means... thematic foreshadowing of season three's external plot? You've got Job's children being "reborn", you've got corpses being dug up, you've got zombies roaming London. The third season is about the Second Coming, y'all. I don't want to say "it's not that deep" because it is that deep, it's not just... extra made up layers of obfuscation that give it unnecessary confusing deepness. If that makes sense.

Bottom line, if this season didn't gel with you, I'm sorry! But I promise you, you're setting yourself up for disappointment if you spend the next couple years divining all the secret codes Gaiman put into the work for you. He didn't write a "bad on purpose" season of television. He wrote a good season of television! I'm sure there are mysteries to unravel, and fun clues to go back and find later on when we see how it all ends up. But he didn't write an entire season of TV to be a big giant misdirect in and of itself. I really don't think that's how this works.

End of soap box.