#neil will face my wrath

[hiperfixationqueen]

You know the saying "Satan works fast, gif makers work faster"

[elene78-blog]

Jean's anger

Do we still think Jean is going to unleash his wrath in TSC3? Because in TGR it seems he won't, and from what Jean says to Jeremy ("it's not your capacity for cruelty, but your ferocity when it comes to fighting it," or something like that, it's not verbatim), I'm doubting... 

But Nora likes to give a period of calm before sending everything to hell (TGR is practically proof of that), and that "where's your anger?" thing has come up several times in this trilogy.

 Will it happen? If it happens, I see three possibilities, and none of them include Jeremy (because I think Jeremy will fight his own battles and he has to do it by his own choice, not because Jean wouldn't destroy the world for him. He would It.).

The firts one:

Jean will explode for Cat. Not for Jeremy, not for Laila, or for the Trojans (although he would do that too if it came to that.) No. Jean will explode for Cat. 

Why? Because Cat is his best friend, but he's more than that. Cat is the closest thing to "his sister," and Jean could never protect Elodie. Nora loves parallels, and the closest parallel to Elodie is Cat. 

If Nora sets the stage for Jean to explode, it'll be because he wants to protect someone, and I vote for Catalina Álvarez. If someone were to hurt Cat, I think Jean would lose his mind to insane levels. I think he'd completely lose control.

The second option:

 I also believe in is that Jean is building up a rage that he'll unleash at the trial, massacring his parents and Tetsuji Moriyama with his testimony, condemning them all in the process. That would also be in the Trojan vein. Jean would unleash his rage by confronting his abusers, but not in a fight, but in an actual trial that condemns them for life. It would be very poetic and satisfying if it was his testimony that ended them. Without violence, using anger to confront those who have wronged you and destroy them, but without striking a single blow.

And the last option... Jean fights for Neil.

I don't know in what context, but I think it would also be a wonderful parallel where we see Jean rising up and fighting like Neil once did, forging their relationship as forever-lost companions. 

That Jean wanted Neil as a companion hasn't gone unnoticed by me and it has to come up again at some point in TSC3. I think Neil may feel something similar, given the way he constantly mentions Jean in the press, or the way he asks about him or does things for him from afar, without telling anyone.

 Let's face it, these two are in each other's minds. Jean is Neil's protégé in the shadows, and Jean will have his back without hesitation if the time comes.

These are my bets. Do you have any?

[whywasthissohardtomake]

okay!! So before i go into b & iii, i also had a lot of Thoughts about art i wanna make for this!!

so!! Heres my like really shitty finger drawing for the rest of the Team Biscuit Portraits (which i kinda wanna name something silly & melodramatic like Skies of War of Skies of Wrath or something to do with the sky & combat). Also ill go into my thoughts about the concepts below!

Okay, so. Starting with lindy on the left. I thought that 1) she should actually have like mirage-esque versions of herself merging into the real one in the middle. With specious sorceror & conterfeit combatant (does she have more? I cant remember). Anyway, and then 2) i thought like a sunset or dusk would look really good for her background. Like shifting colors, things in flux, etc.

for neil (in the center) im thinking a look of concentration & sun breaking thru a cloudy sky. 1) because of the like associations with the sun that healing has (not necessarily within hwfwm but within like earth mythology stuff) and 2) neil is the healer, so he is yknow the light when shit gets dark. Anywho, for his pose i wanted something like suitably majestic, so i thought maybe holding the orb in one hand & then putting the other palm out with maybe some light glowing from it? (Also i guess everyone is like floating in the air lmao. Thats fun. Tho lindyll have to be high up with the sun setting near her feet due to the horizon line. Ooo thats fun)

finally, for clive on the right, i have his pose there & then hell have a ritual circle coming from the wand. Additionally, i decided i wanted an open, sort of big, thick robe over top everything. idk, i always imagine clive with a big robe that like falls down his arms when he raises them revealing his strong forearms or whatever it is people lust after. Anywho, his shirt/vest will be open & i think ill have the tattoo onslow glowing with some wisps of magic flowing downwards. And then hes, yknow, in front of the moon & stars <3.

OKAY ONTO WHAT IM CALLING TEAM BISCUIT IN RELAXATION

this will be another 6 portraits of em by themselves. These ones are gonna be of them like doing their hobbies ig? Vaguely in that realm. I also want these to have more complex backgrounds, like cityscapes & rooms, etc. Ill start with the ones im sure on already.

jason will be cooking. Im gonna make him look very sweet & soft & hes gonna have like batter on his face. I think he’ll have a spread of baked goods around him & maybe a fruity cocktail to sip at as he works.

sophie is gonna be in a cage match like she did in euresh. I wanna have her with her fists up, suppression collar on, & the pov of the drawing is over her opponent’s shoulder, who’s out of focus. That’s my thought for her!

clive is gonna be at a research desk. I either want him to be like clutching his hair as he stares at a sprawl of pages around him, or at a chalkboard, face in profile as he reads a floating book.

for lindy im thinking i’ll use the pose and city idea that a scrapped for the sky themed stuff because it was a bit to jovial & had a mismatched background to the rest.

now, humphrey & neil are where im struggling a little. Neil more than humphrey.

for humphrey, i was thinking him reading on a couch with puppy stache next to him. (Butlericfy’s suggestion basically) & then behind him would be a balcony opened up onto greenstone behind him, including parts of the sea. I feel pretty good about this one, but im not sure if there’s a better hobby for him to be doing? Like bro, what do u do in ur spare time? (The book hes reading is one his mom gave him is my thought).

now, onto my poor boy neil. What are your hobbies bro?? Do you do anything?? My only thought was to have him doing some healing, which i know he does in his spare time. But like humphrey’s its not quite a hobby yknow? It is what ill go with tho if inspiration doesn’t strike.

OKAY so the third set (ik its a lot) is less detailed in thought so far. Basically i just wanna do team biscuit as well as farrah & gary with their summoned familiars. Like either in battle or doing something cute yknow? So no sophie or rufus. Maybe ill give them a drawing of them like playing a board game together while everyone’s out bonding with their familiars lol.

alright guys we’re almost done. (Im not even sure if anyone likes these in depth musings on art i wanna make but whatevs. At the least, they’ll serve as notes for me). SO! The last two pieces i have thought of but im floundering a bit for the second one. Theyre both big group drawings &, like all the other things i wanna draw for this fandom, are gonna be hella difficult.

first, i wanna do a team biscuit eating lunch in the cloud house. I want people laughing & eating & some little character dynamic details & stache transformed into something silly with a mustache. The whole nine yards of a cute group drawing.

the second is where the difficulties come in. I want to draw something similar to the first. But a picnic/bbq in greenstone cause i think thatll look nice & i want it to have team biscuit, farrah, rufus, and gary. But also dawn, taika, erika, emi, asya, kaito, jason’s dad, jason’s uncle, ian, amy, kaito’s two kids, greg, and maybe craig vermillion. And you may be like, “three of those people are dead & the rest aren’t in this world!” And that’s where the conundrum comes in. I want two versions of this one. a would just be like a normal happy gathering & b would have jason looking straight at the viewer, face blank & SOMETHING with the people who aren’t supposed to be here!

but!! How to change them?? So, i want the dead people & the alive people on earth (plus dawn i think) to look visually different. My first thought was having the dead ones like either in black & white or just black silhouettes? Like how they were when they were summoned? And then the earth ones would be like slightly transparent, maybe with a kinda blurry face? But im just not sure. Thoughts?

anywho, AFTER ALL OF THAT, i wanna do little comics! (Especially the clive becoming manic over magic. I havent forgotten evilphrog!!)

so yes. This is my ramble of plans! Hopefully i will get it done eventually! Yayyyy!!

as always pls no spoilers!

[mysteryverse6]

Mystery kids remake comic pt 1: 2 episode

(Today, as usual, the mystery kids were watching TV, but suddenly someone disturbed them.)

Gideon Gleeful: Listen up, Pines family! The days of the Mystery Shack are numbered! Soon, everything you love will belong to me, little Gideon.Surrender now or face my wrath.

(Mystery kids in misunderstanding)

Susie: What just happened?

Kris Dremurr: Guys, have you heard this too?

Dipper pines: Yes, and I even know who, let's go

(All the children go up to the second floor and look out the window and see a small child there)

Susie: Uh, what kind of freak is this?

Razputin Aquato: Uh... Should we worry about this guy?

Dipper pines: Gideon? No, he's literally never been good at it.

Coraline Jones: Sounds like you guys have some history with him.

Dipper pines: You have no idea

Mabel pines: (Weary) “Ugh, yeah. First he wanted to date me, and now he wants to destroy us and take over the Mystery Shack. He’s totally creepy, like from one of those ‘Charlie’ haunted doll movies.”

Norman Babcock: (hihi)

Dipper pines: I still don't understand what he wants from this place. I mean, yeah, there are some secret rooms and stuff.

Mabel pines: Yes, he has his own little tourist thing - a telepathic business tent. But I don't understand why he does this?

Lili Zanotto: Wait... telepathy? Is he a psychic?

Razputin Aquato: Phew, and exactly the kind that no one likes.

Dipper pines: Except he's not actually psychic.

Lili Zanotto: ...That is. Even worse! People like him make life difficult for us real psychics so that we can be taken seriously

Kris Dremurr: I feel sorry for you, we meet such crooks every day.

Gideon Gleeful: Leave, or I'll take charge of this matter!

Mabel pines: Hey Dipper, I bet it's like a pack of angry wood mice or something?

Dipper pines: While I like the odds, he's used so many other things that we better go see what he's up to.

Susie: Better to make mega udevka

(Everyone came down and went outside, which surprised Gideon Gleeful.)

Gideon Gleeful:Well, well, Pines: looks like you've found a few more freaks for your little circus.

Razputin Aquato: (squinting angry)

Susie: I hear it from a freak

Dipper pines: What are you going to do this time? Attack us wood mice

Gideon Gleeful: Too bad that was the fate I had in store for you! Don't worry about your little heads, I have something that's quite...

Coraline Jones:You don't really have anything, do you?

(Dipper pines nods at Lili Zanotto and she in turn uses the psi ability telekinesis to lift the small pest and throws him to the ground, he recoiled in rage and says "Oh you" but sees the children ready and angry, he runs away in fear)

Mabel pines: Ha I like the way you think

Razputin Aquato: Looks like Gideon is gone.

(And they were already at home, sitting and discussing)

Susie:Ha, did you see the expression on this loser's face?

Coraline Jones: (Skeptical) “Well, that wasn’t nearly as exciting as I thought it’d be. You sure this town is full of weird supernatural stuff?”

Dipper pines: “Oh-ho, believe me, it is. Let’s see…”

(He takes out a book and shows it to others.)

Neil Downe: A…Glowwyrm?”

Susie: Uh, this is a supernatural monster.

Dipper pines:Quiet.“The Glowwyrm: This mysterious reptile uses its luminous saliva to navigate and mark its prey in the caves where it lives. Highly dangerous, approach with caution and wear goggles, and yes they are the size of a cow

Razputin Aquato:(Confident) “Hah! Got that last part covered, and I’m sure we can handle the rest. Me and Lili are trained professionals.”

Lili Zanotto:“Who almost got our butts handed to us by a dentist in a robotic car, but there was more going on there than just Loboto. I bet we could take on anyone—or anything—now.”

Coraline Jones: (Eager) “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go find this thing!”

(And so they began their first adventures.)

[billdenbrough]

fem kevaaron, 790w, for @naturecalls111, inspired by this sketch mina and i stayed up way too late bc of reasons that were mostly my fault, so i wrote this for her the morning of our suffering as a virtual coffee substitute. wasn't originally planning to share it anywhere except just to her but we kept talking about it & now the doc has spiralled beyond its original purpose so i figured, ok, i could share the original scene. kevin is down horrendous

There’s a box of Frosted Flakes in the upper corner of the kitchen shelf.

Kevin knows this, because she put them there.

She’d done it with altruistic motives in mind—saving the twins from a life of cavity and sugar-induced stamina failures on the court (extremely embarrassing, mostly for Kevin, but probably them too)—but she’s having a hard time remembering that now.

Aaron got out of the shower about fifteen minutes ago, see. Her hair had been wrapped up in a loose twist of her towel, but her cereal-obtaining endeavours had involved some attempts at jumping—Kevin had paused in drinking her smoothie for a longer moment than she’s proud to think about—and now it’s half-fallen out. Aaron pays no notice. She has her hands on her hips, and she’s scowling up at the shelf.

“Fucking Nicky,” she mutters, which—Kevin can’t decide if she’s pleased to be spared Aaron’s wrath, or if she’s dismayed that Aaron thinks there’s a universe where Kevin and Nicky have interchangeable actions.

Her hair is making the shoulders of her shirt damp. It’s a loose, worn thing, so thin at some parts of the chest that it feels indecent to look. (Kevin still does, of course. She’s not in the habit of denying herself the things she wants.) There’s a discoloured album cover on the front: a bared throat, a naked collarbone, and a band name hidden by the way Aaron has it half-tucked into her shorts, but Kevin knows from prior observation is semi-faded anyway.

Aaron turns around, and for a moment, Kevin thinks she’s going to ask for assistance. She’s still deciding what she’ll say—her rational brain’s firm absolutely not warring with her appalling animal instinct’s drawling what’ll you give me if I do?—when she realises Aaron is planting her palms flat on the counter behind her. She bends her knees, as if to launch herself up. Okay, no.

Kevin moves quickly, slipping off her barstool and making her way around the kitchen island to stand next to Aaron, too close for Aaron to continue her action without knocking into Kevin.

“You could just ask for help,” Kevin says. She’s kind of looming over Aaron like this. It’s not a new sensation, but it kickstarts something in her chest every time.

Aaron glares up at her. “You could have offered,” she points out, which is true. Kevin’s been keeping her gaze fixed on Aaron’s face so she doesn’t get too obviously distracted by the swell of Aaron’s tits through the (genuinely loosest possible, Kevin is just a fucking degenerate, probably) fabric of her shirt, but it’s kind of backfiring now. The way Aaron looks, glaring up at Kevin, is just as hard to look away from. She’s close enough that Kevin can see her eyelashes, even as light as they are.

Kevin clears her throat. “That’s too close to an endorsement of your terrible dietary choices,” she says.

“Oh my god,” Aaron mutters. She’s relaxed her grip on the counter now, just leaning against it. The position has her arm resting lightly against Kevin’s stomach. It’s a searing heat through Kevin’s gym tank. “Then stop complaining and let me get it myself,” Aaron says, shifting a little to re-balance her hands on the counter. Her chest heaves with the movement, and Kevin’s eyes follow the motion, unbidden.

It’s that, more than anything, that makes Kevin swallow a sigh and say, “Fine.” Aaron glances at her before she can get her gaze away completely, but she hopes it’s a blink and you’ll miss it kind of thing, not the pathetically obvious ogling that Neil accused her of last week in the world’s worst whisper after Kevin’s eyes strayed over to the backliners’ section of practice, where Aaron was trash-talking Nicky with a sharp grin while Nicky tried to step on her heels.

Kevin reaches up to the shelf, stretching a little for the box. She’d pushed it towards the back of the shelf, hoping the extra effort required would deter Nicky too, so now she has to twist a little to get her arm far enough in. She huffs as she manages to close her fingers around it, pulling it down.

“Here,” she says, turning to Aaron, who’s suspiciously quiet. She’s not looking at Kevin, exactly; more like she’s looking to the left of her, eyes firmly fixed.

“Thanks,” Aaron says, grabbing the box. She glances up at Kevin. Her cheeks are a little pink. There’s a slight scrunch to her nose, like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, just steps back.

Kevin nods, then realises her shirt’s ridden up a bit. She absentmindedly adjusts it.

There’s a small noise, like a swallow, but when Kevin looks up, Aaron is nowhere to be found.

[manwrre]

i have been dreaming of a top gun:maverick!inspired harringrove fic for the past few days. esp since their usual dynamic is a cocky, self assured blonde and a wildly stupid + talented brunette so puhlease. if that doesn’t scream harringrove, i dunno what will.

imagine billy, whose dad got kicked outta the military on a bad conduct charge but never tells a soul—too ashamed and too proud and too angry to bear the weight of his actions. so instead, when he gets home to his wife and kid, he makes their lives a living hell and runs their home like a base.

0600 - wake up “because i won’t have any slobs living under my roof,”

0605 - leave behind a bed of perfectly creased corners or “sleep on the floor, since you want to live like an animal,”

0615 - start the chores or “starve. there’s no such thing as eating for free,”

“don’t talk back,”

“don’t ask questions,”

“you’re not a baby, billy— stop crying over toys.”

“are you some kind of fucking fairy? sit up straight.”

“you better not embarrass me, boy.”

and it only gets worse when billy’s mom finally ups and leaves. no amount of “yes, sir”s can save him from his father’s wrath and soon enough, rewards and punishments become all too similar; the line between them, blurry at best. neil’s love feels exactly the same as his hate and both leave heavy stamps of purple and blackish-blue near billy’s heart.

so by the time that billy’s eighteen and old enough to leave, he’s more decorated than most. has given up more than most. has endured a battle longer than that of most neighboring countries.

and he doesn’t really have a choice (if he wants to leave neil’s house) but to join the air force and so, that’s what he does. and billy’s done a lot to survive but flying? the thought of it makes him feel alive. and the notion is only cemented after he watches a p-51 mustang take off for the first time and his heart feels it’s been through 10gs of force.

so he becomes the goddamn best in his batch. he gets his degree in mechanical engineering. he gets to flight school and he’s glittering. he’s whip smart and confident and has the instincts to back it up. he’s tall and sun-kissed, blue-eyed and blonde-haired. and that alone has everyone on the squad calling him “johnny— like bravo, not the jackass.” paired with his sweet, little texan drawl, he’s charismatic and a total wildcard. he bitches and preens and leads but billy,

billy gets the job done. every single time.

doesn’t care who it pisses of. doesn’t care about kissing ass. and yet still, when there’s a particularly tough mission, the admiral knows that johnny boy is up for it.

regardless, he racks up a long list of avid followers and enemies.

so when he gets to hard deck a day before top gun training is meant to start, he’s not surprised to meet the latter of whom in the form of steve “beemer” harrington.

steve, who looks the same as he did in flight school all those years ago— golden and freckled just about everywhere. he fills out his shirt just right and if billy were closer, the coupla inches steve has on him would be more obvious.

“beemer, as i live and breathe.”

billy’s pleased to see steve’s eyes widen at the sight of him. smirks when he realizes he’s on the receiving end of the brunette’s sweeping gaze.

“johnny,” steve says, around the rim of his beer bottle. “you look…good.”

and oh, does that light him up.

billy’s careful though, to not let his face betray a single thing. instead, he grins a little wider. a little deeper; a little meaner.

“well, i am good, beemer.” he shrugs and plucks the pool cue out of carver’s grip.

he ignores the blonde’s huffing beside him and instead, leans forward to line the tip of it up behind the ball.

he knows the motion accentuates the long lines of his body. he knows that gravity favors him and the undone buttons on his shirt; gives a generous view of his naked chest.

“i’m very good.”

steve’s eyes flit between his and then, somewhere lower.

and billy snorts, lining up his aim; coiled tightly and precise. holds it for all of a second before the string snaps and he’s breaking the rack with a resounding, wooden clackclackclack.

“in fact, i’m too good to be true.”

and thereby starts their enemies to lovers trope! i’m talking heated looks in the locker room, post training tension, make out sessions in the otherwise empty gym. hanging out at each other’s on base accommodations and billy calling steve ‘bee.’ imagine them exchanging dog tags?? and steve getting all possessive when billy’s got his flight suit unzipped halfway and tied around his little waist. they’d be instructors together and show off in the air, driving everyone crazy. the perfect leader and wingman.

[neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies]

Rereading my own fic and realized there are some lines that got inspired by the media I had watched (or whatever was happening in my life) And I WILL be listing them (this is a threat) 1. "He was seated at the far end of the kitchen table, examining his soggy oatmeal. He had been expecting this for quite some time now, yet he didn't, couldn't look up." I had gotten a LOT into Kellogg's history and I felt like having oatmeal there would be a fit symbol considering how the guy was (Iykyk) Which is also why its been mentioned in Ch1 a lot

2. "The oatmeal sits on his tongue like a dead mouse. He can't bring himself to swallow it." mild tw for this one - I was watching Orange is the New Black and an inmate was forced to swallow a baby mouse.

3. "So let it be known as a sin or as a defect but no wrath of god can stop me from being a degenerate if it means I get to have you." He spat out the word like vitriol. Is this what Neil thought of them? I don't typically listen to Olivia Rodrigo but her song, 'The grudge' has a lyric 'your flowers filled with vitriol' and that came to my mind when I typed this out

4. "Why didn't you throw me against the soil and bury me there when I grabbed your collar and drunkenly kissed you in the forest?" Zombies... I was thinking of zombies (idek WHY) Also this WILL be explored in chapter 6 (the kiss, not zombies)

5. "But all he could see was his father's raging face as he was being restrained by the cops. Would his friends aim stones to his forehead? Would his father kill him first?" Had a poem last year named 'The Patriot by Robert Browning' I suggest you all read it ngl. 'And I think, by the feel, my forehead bleeds, For they fling, whoever has a mind, Stones at me for my year’s misdeeds.' These lines inspired the whole stone throwing

6. ""Hello, who is this? Is this from the Stanton twins? These damn kids, I'm so sick of-"" I just used the name Stanton from the show 'Why Women Kill'

7. "" Yes Jeff, people get married by this time, of course he has a girlfriend. She moved in a month ago, her name is Sophia and she wants Neil to be more serious about her and keeping me in the house as a spare part is not her definition of serious."" Sophia... the... first.... I WAS A CHILD WHEN I WATCHED IT.

8. "Nothingness delved in with more nothingness . A void within a void." I wrote a poem about a void so that's where this is from..

9. "He gasped for breath as the water hit his chest. Recoiling from the shock, he stood against the glass while staring at the showerhead , his vision blurred as if he'd just been slapped across the face by an unsuspecting passerby." This comes from my father because he told me about the time where he touched a live wire for funsies as a child. THE MAIN OVERHEAD WIRE TOO. WHAT WAS BRO THINKING? Anyway he told me that the shock felt like a slap and he looked around to see if someone actually did slap him.

10. "Denim shorts that he wore but were instantly shed the moment Neil saw him in them." I read 'The Girl on The Train' 2 years ago and it had a dialouge where the side chick mentioned wearing clothes just to take them off which I judged her for because I absolutely loathed her. I loathed every character in the book ngl.

11. "Their glowing faces were sealed in paper, which was trapped behind glass, which was folded within newspaper and kept in a cardboard box that was secured tightly with duct tape." I don't know where this is from exactly but I remember watching a movie as a kid and there was a shot where someone was unpacking boxes so idk that inspired it somehow? I remember thinking of it while writing this down

12. "Tell me if I can gently fix your hair. Will you look into my eyes if I do so?" Did that in the face of canon events (she did look into my eyes)

13. "Just let me know if I'm staring, If I shouldn't, Why I shouldn't . Tell me do you why you stare back." Canon events again. heh

14. ""Ooo, Anderson being quite the enigma, what secrets are within your keepsake?" Charlie said with a cocky grin. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he replied with a wink." Josh Charles said this in Dead Poets in NYC

[georgiamaii01]

Chapter 3:

‘Consider the lilies of the field’ Matthew 6:25

July 20th 1969:

“Therefore I say unto you, Be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on”, the reverend spoke gently “And why are ye anxious concerning raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin” he paused “even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” 

….

Reverend Evans’ Sunday mass sermon was shorter today. He read his favourite passage which reminded him of his second born daughter. It felt fitting to share this verse after the notice of foreclosure at the old mill down in Spinner's End. He felt for the workers and families who would be affected and wished he could do more than simply say that God will provide; was he being dismissive? ‘The reverend and his family won't personally be affected’, they will think, ‘so why is he preaching to us’? Whilst Mr Evans and his family were better off than others, living in the small industrial town of Cokeworth, they still weren't well off. The Evans’ home had electricity and they had a monochrome television plus a few other modern appliances like a hoover. However, they couldn't afford a car or a central heating system in the house; Mrs Evans still spent her Saturdays in the local laundrette. 

So when the family stood at the doors to the little village church, Mr and Mrs Evans invited churchgoers to their home to view the moon landing later that day on their television. Not many accepted the invitation however; it seemed satirical to marvel at technological advancement when that very thing was forcing them out of work and as a potential result, their homes. For the few that did attend, Mrs Evans had made some sandwiches and a cake to choose from. They were all gathered around the television at 9pm; Neil Armstrong walked on the moon at 9:17pm, and it was broadcast to televisions worldwide. The evans’ and their guests watched it via the non-colour channel, BBC1. The pastor's two children- Lily Jane Evans, aged nine and Petunia Mary Evans, aged eleven had even been allowed to stay up late, to be able to watch.

“It's truly a marvel, to be able to watch this with our own eyes!” Mrs Evans exclaimed. Everyone around her gestured in agreement.

“It's nice to see a product of God's creation with my own eyes” a churchgoer responded, “A real symbol of unity”.

“Yet we must remember that whilst we are lucky enough to be able to marvel at God’s work,  some are unfortunate enough to be indirectly impacted by God’s will. I am of course thinking of those affected by the Old Mill closure.” Mr Evans spoke diplomatically. “We must remember that while some receive God’s gifts (the good) , others receive God’s wrath (the bad). It is the duality of the world, of faith and of God.” 

Later that evening whilst in bed, Mrs Evans turned onto her side to face her husband. 

“I've been thinking about what you said earlier, about the duality of god” she whispered to him, “We of course were blessed with our own miracle… So when will the bad come? And in what form will it take? She asked

“Jeremiah 29:11- ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord” Mr Evans responded, matching his wife’s volume. “Remember my sermon from today”. She fell asleep in her husband's arms thinking about her youngest daughter’s gifts; for she was the miracle of whom they were referring...

[clovermunson]

here’s a tamer one:

gimme all your unpopular stranger things opinions, pretty please!!

sav, bestie you know i love being controversial (sometimes) and i know that some of these may get me tumblr-cancelled or cause a fandom riot because most of them will be about billy (and by extension, max), but that’s not my problem.

billy and max genuinely cared about each other. i know, some of you are gonna look at that and say “how the fuck is that true??” but trust me. it is. both of them were forced into a shitty situation, and often took things out on each other because they were both misguided and trying to navigate things on their own. neil and susan obviously favored max, often neglecting billy and making him grow up on his own and way too fast. he was handling full-fledged adult responsibilities by the time he was sixteen, and he shouldn’t have been. now while i think susan may have tried to evenly delegate her attention to both kids, neil completely prohibited that under some false pretense such as “billy needs to grow up” or “he doesn’t need a mother anymore”. any time max screwed up, billy was left to deal with it instead of neil and susan handling it themselves, like parents should, not older siblings (though i believe had it not been for neil, susan would’ve taken care of max herself— i have some very complicated opinions on susan, but that’s another story). every time billy acted out in violence, it was a defense and survival mechanism for him; and he probably did it quite often to protect max because he cared for her, and for the fact that if he didn’t, he’d face neil’s wrath for the nth time (i.e.: the fight at byers’ home with steve— which, in billy’s defense, was totally justified from his point of view). anyway, max and billy cared about each other in their own weird little way.

more on the topic of billy, he wasn’t racist and he didn’t target or dislike lucas simply because he was black. that’s just a bullshit reason that 98% of the fandom uses to justify why they hate billy because they couldn’t read context clues and use some critical thinking skills. he disliked lucas because he witnessed lucas and max arguing in the school parking lot, and lucas was upsetting max— and billy knew that it would be his ass if neil found out about it.

i think the whole “girlboss” angle they’re trying to do with nancy kinda sucks and it’s ruining her character. she was definitely a stronger character in season 2 than any other season.

the series started with will, and it should end with will. i said what i said.

max stabbing billy with a needle and syringe with no idea what was in it is not the girlboss moment y’all think it is. what was in that syringe could’ve killed him for all anyone knew.

the sauna scene was genuinely billy begging for max to help him because he didn’t know what was going on, until it wasn’t, and max knew that was billy and not the mindflayer.

speaking of the whole mindflayer thing, y’all can’t tell me that max didn’t genuinely care about billy when she said “i really hope it’s not you” in reference to the party suspecting that billy was the host.

oh and in season two when billy’s “threatening” to run over the boys?? y’all are delusional for thinking he really would lmao he’s an older brother and older brothers mess with their sisters like that. and he’s a seventeen year old with a cool, fast car. there’s no way he was gonna willingly get himself a vehicular homicide charge in a bumfuck town in indiana. y’all are dumb as shit for thinking he would. and did y’all notice when max grabbed the wheel and made the car swerve to avoid hitting them? billy could’ve easily gone against her force and kept the car on course, but he didn’t.

stancy shippers are essentially romanticizing a toxic relationship between two people who very clearly want different things for themselves and could never actually work, from a logical and realistic viewpoint.

on that note, stancy should not happen in season five. or ever again for that matter. fight me about it.

karen wheeler’s actions in season three can’t be justified. i’m not even gonna argue on this one with anyone because y’all know what happened. sure she chose her family in the end, but she was really about to go hook up with a freshly-18 year old man while being in her 40s…absolutely not, ma’am. don’t even get me started on the other pool-lurking moms.

it’s game night, send one of these!

[xovera-toz]

The parallels between Over the garden wall by Patrick McHale (@oldsidelinghill) and Stardust by @neil-gaiman are insane and, in my opinion, absolutely delightful.

We've got a small town, and a wall, and a beautiful girl. We've got a boy who's head-over-heels for this girl, who's got a younger, half-sibling and a shy personality.

This boy crosses the wall and finds himself in a world beyond his imagination, one he fits inside perfectly. He's offered help by an old man, but their companionship ends when the man sends the boy on his way.

He encounters a girl who's not where she's supposed to be, who misses her family dearly and in all truth wants nothing to do with the boy- finds him annoying and calls him names. Their "friendship" is built on lies and desperation.

They get an equine friend, who has to be left behind later. They narrowly escape the wrath of an old witch.

In the end, the boy faces two options: He accepts the rules of the world beyond the wall, stays with the girl he's met outside, OR he goes home to the girl he loved.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 8

Chapter 9/?

***

The loud beeping of an alarm clock wakes Billy up at 8.30 am on Saturday, and he wishes he was dead.

Last night they partied hard.

Hangover is a logical but, clearly, an unwelcome payback. It feels like a thousand of tiny evil blacksmiths are forging iron on their anvils right inside his head. Fucking christ. Billy opens his eyelids with much difficulty and immediately closes them again. He has to get up, damn it, he has to be at work at 12.

He has to rise from the ashes.

That Halloween Friday sure was freaky.

Billy is instantly filled with regret.

Why didn't he reset his alarm clock yesterday for later.

Before the party, he didn't think about it. He was only shaking his ass in front of the mirror admiring how good he looked in that leather jacket, bitches be thirsty.

After the party it was too late to think about the fucking alarm clock.

Okay, slowly .. slowly, he needs to sit up.

Just don't throw up. On the fucking carpet.

Billy is sitting upright on the bed. That's an achievement. It feels like he's still alive. He can move.

His throat is dry like the Sahara desert, he's in desperate need of water. He has to get to the kitchen.

Billy registers that he's still wearing the dark blue jeans and the gloves from his party costume. The black leather jacket is lying on the floor, near the boots.

Billy slowly takes off the gloves, finds a t-shirt lying nearby and puts it on.

Did he come home at 3? He doesn't really remember. Something like that. He only knows that he was trying to be as quiet as possible, not to wake anyone up, because that skill is ingrained in his brain and body, deep.

Billy forces himself to get on his feet, and sits back down right away, dizzy and miserable.

Okay. Let's try again, buddy.

He so overdid it yesterday.

After dragging himself off the bed, Billy makes it to the door

But the moment he opens it, he understands that it was a mistake. He can hear voices coming from the kitchen, it's Neil and Susan having breakfast. The evil leprechaun must be still sleeping.

Fuck his life, he's gonna die if he doesn't drink water but his dad's wrath is also scary. At least Neil's not gonna kill him right now, in front of his wife, as an extra good morning.

Billy summons all his strength to look as normal as possible and shuffles to the bathroom. He drinks straight from the tap, washes his face and looks at the toilet bowl as if making sure that throwing up is not on today's agenda.

It's still to be seen, but not right this moment, at least.

If he's gonna go back to his room, dad's gonna get on his ass about "being disrespectful" and "not saying good morning". Looks like Billy has no choice but to show his face to them in all its hungover glory.

He checks the face in the mirror. It's fine. Looks human.

Just don't puke on the breakfast table, and everything will be A-okay.

Billy goes to the kitchen, all humble and trying to look like a shadow.

"Good morning, dad. Good morning, Susan."

"Will you look at yourself?"

Neil's voice is full of disgust.

"What time did you get home yesterday?"

"I uh .. a little after midnight, probably. I apologize if I woke you up."

"You didn't wake us up, Billy." Susan is cutting in. "Would you like some breakfast?"

He actually needs to eat something but

He can't even drink coffee right now.

Water. Water. It'll get better in an hour, he just needs a lot of water, and to lie down.

"No, thank you, Susan. I'll get myself something later."

Billy pours a full glass of water. Time to retreat while it's still peaceful.

"I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"Mark my words, son, as soon as you finish school, I'm not paying for another single day of your life! Senior year, the most important time, and he's wasting it on .. what, on debauchery??" Neil is addressing Susan now, all indignant and angry, oh he is angry but Billy hopes it won't get bigger than that.

At nine o'clock Neil and Susan are supposed to go grocery shopping, like they always do on Saturdays. Neil likes it when they stick to a plan. He's already getting up and looking for his car keys. Susan takes the last sip of her tea and starts flopping her good housewife wings around the kitchen.

"Let's go, Susan. Billy will clean up after breakfast, right?"

"Of course, I will."

"Thank you, Billy. Good bye! Wake Maxine up at 10 if she doesn't get up, please!" Susan is taking her purse and the list of groceries.

"Sure. Have a nice time shopping!"

Billy hears his dad telling Susan on their way out

"Seems a bit late to sleep for a girl her age?"

"I know, honey, but she gets so tired during the week, let her have her Saturday .."

The door closes, and they're gone.

It went very well, actually, all things considered.

Probably Neil just didn't want to deal with a hungover teenager cause the said teenager might throw up all over the place, so it's better not to touch him.

Such an unfortunate episode did happen once, when Billy was still in his very green years. He came home drunk, and Neil got in his face. He grabbed the boy by his collar and was telling him what a piece of crap and a fucking burden he was, which only led to Billy feeling even worse. Neil had to run to the shower to wash the vomit off, leaving his son to clean up the mess he'd made.

He got slapped around for that later, but it taught Neil a lesson as well.

Billy goes back to his room clutching the glass of water like a lifeline.

He sits down on the bed again and after finishing the whole glass, lies down. He doesn't want to close his eyes though, cause the dizziness is gonna be back so he's just lying there staring at the ceiling.

Vile gray light is seeping through the window. Outside the rain is drizzling.

Fuck Indiana and its nasty weather right in its Midwestern ass.

Fucking hell.

Billy usually knows when to stop, but yesterday he clearly didn't.

What even happened yesterday? .. He did the keg stand, and there was more beer and vodka .. and he definitely mixed it all, hence the hangover. Smoking non-stop, dancing, Tommy following him around like a faithful bulldog, Vicky hanging on his arm and touching his abs while they were dancing. There was another girl, persistently asking for his attention, Jennifer or .. was it ..

Oh shit.

Oh no no no no

Fucking stupid piece of shit.

Fffffuuuuuucckkkkk.

Billy shuts his eyes but it is a bad idea, because he's getting the dizzies and everything's spinning, so he presses his palms to his closed eyes, wishing to erase the memory of what happened between him and .. fuck. The dumb bitch, Harrington.

He and Harrington fucking .. smooched ??

No no no no nooooo

Billy is groaning hoarsely, and the sound of it reflects the depth of his desperation at his own stupidity

Why is he such an idiot. Why did he do it. He should've instead broken Harrington 's pretty nose ..

fuck JUST nose! Without the pretty, forget that he said .. or thought that.

What was it even, Billy didn't want to start any shit in the first place, as god is his witness.

His clouded consciousness doesn't provide him with much, but some flashes do come to his mind.

Bathroom. Harrington.

He fucking started it!

His face. His lips. His hand on the back of Billy's head, almost hurting, the fingers sharp and digging into his skin

The silky softness.

The wetness of their tongues touching

Fuck fuck FUCK.

Mission: erasing the memories.

Billy is an idiot. A certified one.

***

He crawls out of his bedroom half an hour later for more water, and to go to the bathroom. The hangover is gradually stepping away, but the more it does, the more unsettled Billy is.

His dad is right.

He's an imbecile.

At around ten he bangs on Max's door,

"Wakie, wakie, Maxine!" he bellows and then bangs some more until he hears

"Stop it, you jerk!"

"Rise and shine, birdbrain!"

Then goes to the kitchen to finally find some food.

He's slowly getting back to his senses. At 12 he needs to be at work, and he will be. Old Joe won't even notice that Billy partied last night.

Partied so hard, that he ended up kissing that annoying motherfucker.

Erase, erase, erase.

No panic. It was only once, and it was a mistake but Billy could always say nothing happened.

He was so wasted, he wasn't himself. Hell, he didn't even remember it when he woke up.

Harrington is not gonna run his mouth about it, what is he, a kamikaze?

It's nothing, it's just a drunken slip up.

Happens to the best of us, amirite?

***

***

Steve stays at home all Saturday. They only go grocery shopping with mom, he drives her to the store and back in the afternoon. Or course, Dad chooses this very day to ask him fucking questions. Steve mumbles something about his captainship ot the basketball team and finally finishing his college application essay. He's also retaking his SATs at the beginning of November cause the results of the tests he took last year were not very high. Not high enough.

They were pretty low. After he gets the new results back, he'll still have time to apply to some places. Mom asks him if he has thought of a backup plan, and Steve honestly says

"No, mom. I haven't."

"You probably should."

"Yes, I will, after I'm done with applications. Can I go study now?"

Parents do not seem very happy with the outcome of their conversation, but Steve can't offer more. To him, his future plan looks okay for now.

Honestly, Steve doesn't even know what specific sphere he'd like to study. He's still at home and at school, and the future seems vague and a little bit scary. Nancy is definitely aiming at a university, and Steve's not sure what will happen to their relationship.

Especially after yesterday.

He spends the whole evening revising for his SATs. A lot of confusing stuff. He probably should've started sooner, and not a week before.

Well.

Steve studies more on Sunday, but then Tommy calls and they decide to go to a pizza place.

They order pepperoni and cola, and Steve can finally take a breath with his whole chest

"Ugh man, I've been studying for two days straight, my brain's on fire."

"Dad wants you to get into Yale or something?"

"Well no .. but .. they want me to have a clear plan, and I don't have it, and it's just .. they fucking nag."

Tommy nods in understanding

"Yeah man."

"Must retake SATs soon, and it just .."

"It sucks."

They chew some more pizza

"You remember, Hargrove took your keg king title? The dude got 52 seconds, fucking crazy."

At the mention of Hargrove's name Steve's cheeks start feeling hotter

"Yeah, whatever. I got bigger problems to worry about now."

"The princess?"

"We had a huge fight at the party. She was so drunk. I dunno, Tommy."

"You haven't talked to her since the party?"

"No. Why?"

Hagan is looking at Harrington in a weird way

"Hey, man .. I've actually been meaning to tell you. I think you should know."

"Know what?"

"Your Wheeler girl .. remember you asked me and Carol where she was and we told you she'd left home?"

"Yeah?"

"Well she didn't go home alone."

"That's good? She was drunk."

"Do you know who she left with?"

"How am I supposed to know that? I didn't see her leaving. You and Carol told me she was fine, and I .. I kinda left it at that?"

"So you still don't know?"

"Tommy, what the fuck?"

Hagan's still looking at Steve like he pities him but he also wants to gloat so bad because he told his friend a lot of times to "dump that prissy bitch", and they even fought over it, more than once, and voilà, in the end Tommy is actually right

"I thought that maybe she left with this .. Samantha or something? .. Tommy??"

"You girlfriend left with the Byers freak."

WHAT

"She what?"

"Just thought you should know."

"She left with Byers?"

"Yup."

"Jonathan Byers?"

"Yes, Steve."

Fucking what?

"Are you sure?"

"Dude, I was drunk but not blind. Carol saw that too. Nancy went downstairs in her wet dress, and it was like .. well, he was just standing there near the stairs. They talked for a minute and then went away together."

Well, that's uh .. Steve didn't expect that.

Is that what people feel when their heart breaks? Is that the burning acid of being betrayed?

Tommy eats what's left of the pizza.

Steve doesn't pick Nancy up on Monday to drive her to school as he usually does.

***

***

On Monday before practice coach Nelson informs the team that

"We're having visitors this week, boys! Let's show them all you've got!"

Two sports recruiters are coming to see if they have any hidden talents here in Hawkins.

Billy thinks someone should warn them not to waste their time. There's nothing to look for here. Nada. Fucking zero.

He knows that the odds of being chosen are extremely slim. And even if a recruiter spots you, it guarantees nothing.

Billy has seen his share of sports scouts back in San Diego. He's aware that they are not interested in him.

There are so many good things recruiters told Billy. He's a great player, he scores points, he makes flashy moves, his techniques of shooting, dribbling, rebounding and defense are excellent as well as such attributes as strength, endurance, speed and agility, blah blah blah. His physical characteristics - weight and wingspan - meet the requirements. Add to it Billy's intelligence on the court and the unbeaten desire to win.

He basically has it all.

There's just one problem - Hargrove's too short to be a professional basketball player. He's too fucking short, and that's why a career in basketball is not even an option.

He's 5'10. It's fine. Just not for the NBA.

At some point in his life Billy used to be bitter about his height. That was when the first recruiter came looking and he was like

"Kid, if only you were taller."

The second one said the same. And the third. Little by little, Billy accepted it as it is, and that's why

He doesn't care about the visitors. Unlike him, the whole team is buzzing. Are they stupid? Recruiters will never choose any of them. The only player who has a tiny microscopic chance of getting noticed is probably Andy. He's tall, he's got the physique. His game's not great but it can be worked with.

Harrington, on the other hand? Billy's has seen his serious and focused face, eyebrows knitted together, when the coach mentioned the recruiters.

Please, it's ridiculous.

Billy's not even gonna elaborate. It's simply ludicrous.

Harrington can drool all over his pillow having dreams of a sports scholarship or a prominent career in the NBA, and the sucker can keep on dreaming because that's as close as he's gonna get to playing this sport professionally.

Anyhoo.

It's skins and shirts as always, and Billy's playing rough as usual. He's seen Harrington in the school hallway earlier and they shared a class. Billy just straight up ignored the loser. Steve also didn't seem to look his way much, maybe he doesn't even remember about the kiss.

He also looks as if he's brooding about something, like something weighs heavy on his preppy-ass soul.

Either way, it's not Billy's business and he doesn't give a shit.

And yeah,

Mission: erasing the memories of the most idiotic kiss

Status: incomplete.

In his defense, Billy was so wasted, he could've kissed anyone.

***

***

During the match Hargrove behaves like nothing happened, there's just something about his game that's extra precise and extra ruthless. Like he wants to show with all his obnoxious persona that he's above all that and doesn't give a fuck. It's likely he doesn't recall what happened on Friday night because he was drunk as a fish.

Or it's a bluff.

He remembers.

Steve knows he does. Why is he so sure? Cause Hargrove hasn't touched him once since the beginning of the game, hasn't said anything mean to him. He's trying to send a message that he doesn't care, but he's trying too hard, and it shows.

Billy knows what they've done, and he's .. what, ashamed?

Heheehe.

Nice.

Harrington would've gotten much more pleasure out of it if his heart wasn't hurting.

Are they broken up with Nancy, did she cheat on him? What the hell is this whole fucking situation?

Steve's lost in his thoughts when suddenly he hears Nancy's loud irritated voice

"Steve?"

There she is, standing at the gym doors, clearly expecting Harrington to come have a conversation with her outside.

He doesn't want to bail on his team in the middle of the game but he's been avoiding Nancy all morning, and soon he won't be able to tolerate the level of acidity that has swallowed his whole being.

They do need to talk.

Steve needs it.

They go outside to the little passage between the gym and the school building where they usually hide smoking with the guys.

Maybe it's the first time since they got together, when Steve's absolutely not happy to see his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend? Guess we'll find out now.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?"

Nancy sounds pissed. She talks to him in that tone like .. like a strict mother to a naughty child, when she's angry at him.

"You didn't call all weekend.. and where were you this morning? I missed first period!"

"I figured Jonathan would take you."

"Wha .. what are you talking about?" Maybe she's a good actress but there's genuine surprise in her voice. She looks confused.

Harrington scoffs

"Jesus, you really can't handle your alcohol."

"Uh ..?"

"You remember going to Tina's party on Friday night?"

"Yes?"

"And then what?"

"I remember dancing .. and spilling some punch."

Nancy's thinking for a second.

"You got mad at me because I was drunk. And then you took me home."

Does she really remember nothing or that's all acting?

"No, see, this is where your mind gets a little bit fuzzy."

Steve's making a pause.

"That was your other boyfriend. That was .. that was Jonathan."

There's a perplexed expression on Nancy's face

"I don't understand."

"It's pretty simple, Nance."

"What?"

"You were just telling it like it is."

Maybe she really doesn't remember. That doesn't make it okay though.

"Uh .. apparently, we killed Barb and I don't care cause I'm bullshit and our whole .. our whole relationship is bullshit and .. I mean, pretty much everything is just bullshit bullshit bullshit."

Nancy raises her well-defined eyebrows and wrinkles her forehead

That doesn't make the stuff she told Steve okay!!

"Oh yeah also you don't love me."

"I was drunk, Steve. I don't remember any of that."

Really? So you can get hammered and tell your boyfriend you don't love him, and then everything should just get back to normal cause you don't recall doing that?

"So that makes everything you said .. it's what? Just bullshit too?"

"Yes?"

"Then tell me. Tell me that you love me and there's nothing going on between you and Jonathan."

"Really, Steve?"

"Harrington !!"

Roy is out of his breath, appearing between the buildings.

"Dude we need you, man! That douchebag is killing us! Let's go !!"

"I'm coming!"

"There is nothing going on between me and Jonathan, Steve."

It's nice to hear, really. Steve needs a longer explanation though.

"We're not done talking, Nance."

Their team loses anyways, with or without the captain. There's something about Billy's game today, it's .. like he's holding that distance, with a hint of "nothing personal, guys".. Is he getting ready to show off in front of the sports scouts? The new behaviour infuriates the hell out of Steve, even though the asshole hasn't pushed him one single time.

You're wrong about nothing personal, Hargrove. Locking mouths seems pretty personal to me.

However, Billy's not number one problem on the list of Steve's troubles right now. Let him believe Harrington has suffered a case of amnesia, and there was no kiss.

***

Steve picks Nancy up after school. On the way to her house she tells him

"Nothing happened that night, I swear."

"Are you sure, Nance? You didn't even understand who took you home! You thought it was me!"

"Steve, I would know if someone tried sleeping with me in my own bed, okay?"

She also admits that they sometimes talk with Jonathan between classes or during library study. They talk mostly about Barb, because his little brother Will was also missing last summer. They found him in the woods. Three weeks later, yet they found him. Maybe Barb also disappeared in the woods. Too much time has passed and there's no hope of finding her alive, but bringing some certainty would help her parents obtain peace.

Nancy assures Steve there's nothing romantic going on between her and Jonathan.

Steve's at a loss. Like .. he feels that he can't give Nancy the consolation she's looking for. He has no idea what happened to Barb and he thinks they should let the police deal with the whole thing. He can listen to Nancy, but what else can he offer? He's not .. experienced at things like that.

Steve should probably make a scene anyway and get really pissed and show her how hurt his feelings are, but he's also kinda glad everything 's cleared up, and she didn't cheat on him, and they are still together.

They are still together, right?

Nevertheless, he definitely must keep an eye on Jonathan Byers. The guy took creepy pictures of them in the middle of the night, Nancy seems to have forgotten about that. Steve should have a talk with Byers, tell him to stay away from his girl.

They kiss each other good bye.

It feels .. mechanic.

***

Late at night when Steve's again tossing and turning in bed, he suddenly realises that Nancy told him a lot of words but forgot to mention the most important thing - she didn't tell him she loved him.

Should he ask her again?

Tell me you love me

He's always thought if you're in love and in a relationship, you shouldn't be asking the person you're together with for confirmation.

Steve again feels that he wants to give so much, but no-one needs it, and no-one is willing to give back the same amount.

Of love.

Or even close to it.

Maybe relationships aren't that easy, and he's idealising them.

However, if there's no love, what's there to fight for?

[sandersea]

coach!neil au

i will (probably) never flesh this out further but please enjoy this au that has been living rent free in my head since 2016:

after the butcher cuts the tendons in Neil’s ankles, he laughs. he laughs as Neil crawls his way across the floor, already bloodied fingers leaving streak marks against the cement. no one laughs as Neil drags himself from the house, when he refuses any of the offered help.

the hospital sends him home in a wheelchair, and he refuses to leave the building until he’s shoved it down a flight of stairs. he’s only been out of surgery for twelve hours, only been out of bed for six, but he signs himself out AMA and orders them to give him a pair of crutches. sitting down in that wheelchair feels too much like he’s got a future there.

the FBI tells him he has twenty minutes with the foxes, and it takes him eleven of those to climb the single flight of stairs to their room. they tell him ‘starting now’ at the door, awkwardly, and he snarls in their face that he doesn’t need their pity.

it’s not Andrew who has him collapsing to his knees in the hotel room, but exhaustion. he faces the foxes the same way he first met them - doubled over, scrabbling for his dignity against the floor, fighting the urge to vomit. (this time Andrew is not the one who knocks him down, but he is the one who picks him up.)

the horror in their eyes isn’t just at the mess that is his face or his arms or the haunted look in his expression, but the way his legs are shaking, spasming, and even with the surgeries they just aren’t moving the way they’re supposed to.

the first week with the crutches, Neil’s legs collapse beneath him like a puppet with its strings cut. after that, he can’t get around without the wheelchair.

they still play the ravens in the finals, but they don’t have the fastest defenseman in division i anymore. they do, however, still have Neil. it’s Neil who notices the way Matt is limping. the way Riko is weaving through the backliners like they’re not even there. it’s Neil who makes the call to sub a few players out - Matt joins him on the bench. Kevin takes his place in front of the goal. they don’t have the fastest defenseman in division i anymore, but they have the best player in the country, and the man who knows riko’s moves better than anyone. they leave the foxes with barely anything in the way of offense, and focus entirely on defense. Kevin guards the goal like his life depends on it.

(it does.)

they don’t win the game, but they don’t lose. the buzzer sounds with the score still tied. Neil wheels himself to center court for the final shootout and gets as close to Riko as he can. Riko grins like he’s already won. he might not have orchestrated this injury, but it’s everything he could have wanted anyway. Neil grins in return, and throws the fact that Neil and Kevin and Jean belong to the main family now. that Riko can’t touch them without bringing his own brother’s wrath down on the nest like a bomb. that even if he wins this game, he’s lost everything. Riko turns on him, anger consuming rational thought, and raises his arm with the intention to kill.

(Andrew gets there first.)

the only thing that changes is that Neil never walks again.

the future he sold to Ichirou in exchange for his life never comes to be - instead, he pays off his debts as the new coach of the ravens (you said it yourself, Ichirou throws in his face as he all but throws him from the car. it’s been 14 months since the surgery but his legs still can’t support his weight. a professional player can make seven figures a year for my family. you turned the foxes into champions, now you will do it for the ravens.)

he says no.

Andrew says yes. (you are a fox, he says desperately against Neil’s neck, and I am still the man who is keeping you alive.)

the same team he is told to lead is the team that lost to him only weeks before. the team that tried and failed to break him at christmas. the team that stands kingless, toppled, teetering at the brink of total destruction. the team that resents him. the team that can’t respect him, the cripple who calls himself their new coach. the team that refuses to listen. the team that has been turned, brainwashed, the team that reacts to his humanity like a poison.

the only thing that keeps him in black and red is the way that it’s not just his life anymore - the deal was for the three of them, Neil and Kevin and Jean, and then Andrew offered himself as a fourth. it’s hardly the first time he’s walked into evermore for his family. (but this time, it may be the last.)

Andrew turns his back on his brother and cousin and every promise that tied him to south carolina and transfers to edgar allen, like he was originally meant to. it’s one final victory against Riko’s memory. (no one is surprised to see him leave. if anything, they’re surprised that he pretends to be reluctant about it.)

the following season the ravens play the foxes and it’s the most painful day of his life - he sends his team to the court opposite his family, and he knows a hundred different ways to exploit their weaknesses (he mentions none of them). the seven original foxes refuse to play (they’ve been telling him they were going to for weeks now. the one thing that doesn’t change is that he is still a fox, and they see each other at least once a week. talk once a day. it’s not the same). he has to wheel his way to the opposing team’s locker room that still feels like home and drag them back onto the court. they go, but they don’t play their best - all these times that Neil has thrown himself on a grenade for them, it’s all too easy for them to throw the game. it’s not USC who wins that year, but the ravens.

the next season it’s easier. they’ve got new players who never knew Riko’s regime, and older players who are coming to see that there’s just as much winning to be found with Neil’s way of thinking. it’s still never going to be home.

the next season, it’s not terrible anymore. the ravens are slowly learning how to play it as a game and not a battlefield, how to be humans again. they play the foxes and the foxes win. (the ravens don’t throw the game, but they act as leaderless. Neil still won’t coach them against his people)

the season after that, he thinks he might be enjoying himself. the ravens are allowed to study whatever they want now, to make friends. the ones who were there during Riko still act like they used to, but the younger players are happy. they don’t put on their uniforms like they’re going to war. they don’t fear death if they don’t win. (most of the time, they do win. Neil drives them through the same drills he learned as a raven, the ones he learned from Kevin, and he still reads the people around him like he’s living on the run. the saddest part is that he’s a hell of a coach, and that he genuinely enjoys what he does - he just wishes it was a different team he led.)

the original foxes have finally all graduated. Matt and Kevin and Andrew make court, and 70% of their earnings go directly into the Moriyama’s pockets. 86% of all of Neil’s graduates make it to the pros, and a portion of theirs come back as well.

Andrew signs with the West Virginia team. Matt does too. Dan takes over when Wymack retires, and she and Neil get together as often as they can to discuss their teams and the sport and their lives over lunch.

now when the foxes are seated across from the ravens at the banquets, there’s smiling and laughter. the foxes are still taken from broken homes and the ravens still practice longer hours than any other college team, but they’ve found a common friendship on the court. (and it helps, now, that Dan calls out the raven weaknesses as loudly as Neil does for the foxes. it’s impossible for their games to be anything but friendly when Neil wears an orange jersey that reads WILDS 01 and Dan wears the long forgotten black and red JOSTEN 04.)

evermore is the seat of the national team as well, and for a period of months every year he’s yelling at Kevin and Thea and Matt to haul their asses, he’s not here to watch them lose. the original foxes (and their spouses and children) splay across the seats in the raven lounge and make it feel more like home than it already does. Andrew makes the short drive from their apartment to the court like he does nearly every day, but this time to play instead of to sit beside the coach and offer unsolicited advice.

it’s nothing he ever wanted, but it’s still his life, and he’s still okay. the foxes are still his family and they’re still alive, they’re just a little bit farther away than he would have liked. he still spends the rest of his life in the sport he loves and he still makes a name for himself as one of the best, it’s just in a different position than he thought. he still has a home and two cats and a life with Andrew, it’s just in a different state.

even in this world where everything goes wrong, Neil does what he does best - he survives.

[shads-shipposts]

Well this is a monster of a chapter lol. Lots of info being shared/brought to light, with varied responses to it.

This'll be the last chapter before another break, not sure how long its gonna. The story is hitting snags and my tank is empty rn lol

Enjoy! Comments, votes, kudos, and saves are much appreciated! <3

Ao3 Version

Masterlist

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As soon as Shadow disappeared into the woods with Allan, Tom turned to offer Neil a... little reminder about the chain of command. Tom understood the man's concern for Shadow, holding some of that same affection, but Neil needed to remember where he himself stood in things.

If anything, Shadow had more immunity from Allan's wrath than Neil did.

Fresh to the crew with a mere month under his belt, he didn't have the experience nor trust to be mouthing off. Allan would tolerate a lot from the fresh meat until they got a better grasp of how things worked, but disrespect didn't go unpunished forever. The hammer eventually fell, with Tom typically being the one wielding it.

He liked Neil, and deeply admired the man's conviction, but sometimes younger men needed a dose of reality. Unfortunately, they never took the medication without a fight.

Luckily for the Australian, Harry beat Tom to the punch.

"What the fuck were you thinkin'?" Harry snapped. He slammed Neil against the banister, a fist gripping the front of his shirt as he jabbed the other finger into the man's face. "I warned you before you signed on, Allan's word is law. Challenge him and I can't shield you from the consequences!"

Neil shoved him away. "I'm not just goin' to stand by as he threatens Shadow!"

"When Allan is workin'," Tom growled, crossing his arms. "You don't undermine him. You know that, Neil."

"I also know I got my own code, and it don't include collaterals."

"Then you're in the wrong profession, aren't ya?" Tom sneered. "The only morals that matter are Allan's. Don't like those terms? See yourself out before we have to do it for you."

Worry flickered across Harry's face again, and he stepped in between Tom and Neil. "He was just worried about Shadow," he said, tone unusually passive as he raised his hands. "Don't mean nothin' by it."

Tom shook his head. "I get that, but he needs to watch it before he learns the hard way how we deal with traitors."

Some of the color drained from Harry's face and he swallowed hard. "He gets it, boss. He does."

"Tch, I'm not afraid of you," Neil retorted, drawing himself up. "I've killed worse for less."

These young pups never know how to pick their fights.

"Careful," Tom warned, unfazed. "Shadow's taken a likin' to ya, and I don't think she'd like comin' back to find you in a pool of your own blood."

"Neil, for God's sake!" Harry exclaimed, grabbing his arm and yanking it hard. "Back off 'fore Tom beats you into a pulp."

Neil didn't flinch, narrowed eyes not moving from Tom's. "He can try."

Tom stared back, eyes darkening.

"He can, and will, kill you!" Harry snapped. "Don't let some jailbait be the reason your hitch is cut short."

Tom's anger shifted to Harry.

Is that what you see her as?

"Shadow isn't jailbait," he growled. "What's with you and throwin' that term around?"

"Why else would a young gal like 'er be hangin' 'round us so much?"

"Because she has an interest in our ship?" Tom retorted. "She's not been flirty once, and she came lookin' for the ship this mornin'. Not a fling."

Were she in her thirties Tom may have entertained the idea if she was there for a fun night, as he did find her more attractive than some women he'd come across, but she couldn't be more than twenty. Too young, too naive, too easily hurt. Not worth the risk in the slightest.

She already showed remarkable fondness for him, and he just prayed it didn't come from a childish crush. Last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but she had to know he would never reciprocate that sort of affection. If it was not romantic, then he had no issue. But if it was...

Absolutely not.

Harry shifted in place, looking guilty. "She's still not worth goin' to war over," he stressed.

Ah, but that wasn't quite right. Shadow was special, but because of the knowledge she possessed rather than the physical pleasure she could offer.

"She is, but it's not her body." Tom shook his head. "It's her brain. Rather, what's in it."

"Crazy?" Harry offered.

"No." A wave of confusion washed away some of Tom's anger, his mind struggling to process the information Shadow dropped on his head earlier. "She's... got it in 'er head that this whole thing is... just part of some film," he explained, gesturing vaguely.

Both Harry and Neil's jaws dropped.

"She thinks we're just actors?" Harry sputtered.

"No, she thinks we're real," Tom corrected. "We're just not real for her. She's from another universe."

Neil's eyes widened, his anger forgotten. "She thinks we are from another universe?"

Tom nodded.

Harry's jaw dropped. "And you believe her?"

Did he?

Not really.

He honestly thought she was a bit crazy, even if it was an endearing type of oddness.

But her information was just... so damn accurate.

"Either she's right," Tom said. "Or she has been spyin' on Sakharine for quite some time to know everything she did about his background."

"What kind of stuff she know?" Neil asked.

Tom looked up at the old manor, crouching in the dusk light like an ancient, looming beast. Full of secrets, but not interested in sharing them. Not without a fight at least, and it already waged many battles against Sakharine judging by the state of complete disarray in the cellar. The old man seemed to be winning, but not easily. Not without significant struggle.

Then along came Shadow, knowing exactly what Sakharine himself knew without any of the effort.

Perhaps knowing even more.

"She knows about the boss's ancestor. Knows about the treasure. And knows about us hoodwinkin' the old boozer on the ship," Tom muttered.

"She's in cahoots!" Harry gasped. "I knew it. She's a plant, just you wait." He pointed conspiratorially at Neil, who smacked his hand away with an annoyed look.

"Fuck off, mate. What are you, a bloody detective?" the man grumbled.

"Sure, laugh it up!" Harry huffed. "She's gatherin' dirt on us to get us locked up for good. You'll see."

"I doubt that," Tom grunted. "Accordin' to 'er, even though we're background villains, Shadow still prefers us. If she's gonna be in cahoots with anyone, it'd be us."

Good thing she chose them, too. She was so high spirited, and he'd hate having to silence her because she chose the right side.

Enough shit haunted him without that on his conscience as well.

"Why are you always so soft on her?" Harry asked. "Were she a man, you'd've already questioned him at knifepoint with at least two cuts for good measure if the poor lout was lucky."

Yes, but those men often spat degrading insults or cowered pitifully as they begged for mercy. Tom had little tolerance for either, and neither got sympathy from him. Shadow could insult without true injury, but also had enough courage to stand up and fight even when she knew she wouldn't win.

Tom respected that.

Too, any kindness he paid her would be returned earnestly without hesitation. Few people cared enough about him to be nice, and even fewer cared enough to stand up for him against authority that could easily cut their life short.

A simple trade; loyalty for loyalty.

So long as it wasn't driven by romantic feelings, because he had enough to worry about without catching a case.

"It's got nothin' to do with her sex. She's nice to me, so I'm nice to 'er. And I like seein' 'er torment the boss," he stated, then chuckled darkly as the memory of Sakharine bleeding and crying crossed his mind. "Thought he could control 'er, but Shadow isn't a meek little bunny. She bites back and bites back hard."

Serves him right, actin' all high and mighty.

He just wished Shadow wasn't so rattled.

It sucks the first few times, kid. But once you start to have a little fun with that darkness, you'll realize how good it feels making someone regret crossing you. To see the fear in their eyes as they realize the roles are reversed, and it's now them at your mercy.

Then again... Tom supposed it would be better if she didn't get a taste of that high.

It was one hell of an addiction to shake.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Does this have anythin' to do with Scarlett, Tom? You think that because she has these delusions about bein' from another universe, she knows Scarlett?"

Tom... supposed it could have something to do with that.

He wouldn't feign disinterest in learning the truth of the Alphian; he yearned to know, the strength of that desire stealing his breath sometimes. He never got to thank her, never knew if she survived the encounter...

Neil spoke up. "Her bein' from another universe where this universe is a fictional series that she likes... that would explain how she knows about Scarlett when no one else does."

"It don't," Tom sighed. "Shadow said the movie starts this mornin'. She only knows Sakharine's past because it's plot-relevant." He shook his head, a sense of helpless anger making his skin itch. "She can't know Scarlett through the movie."

"She did look confused when you asked about Scarlett this mornin'," Neil said after a moment, scratching his chin.

"But she mentioned there's also a comic series this was based on, so the movie isn't completely coherent to canon," Tom added. "She was shocked we knew that pipsqueak Tintin, so maybe Scarlett was just another character Shadow knew of from the comics."

Then why didn't anyone else know of her species? Why did everyone outside of the crew act like aliens were some grand conspiracy theory, and magic was just the sort of thing found in children's fairy tales?

Tom saw both. He knew they were real. Why didn't anyone else?

"If we're separate from the comics like she claims, and Scarlett's from them," Harry countered. "Then how the hell do we know 'er?" He spread his hands triumphantly. "See? Even I can find the holes in her argument."

Neil hummed thoughtfully. "No one knows who the hell Scarlett is, right?" he asked Tom. "No one you've asked. No one knows her species either." Neil gestured at the treeline. "Could Scarlett not even be from this universe at all, but instead be from Shadow's?"

Tom's eyes widened. "What?"

Scarlett and Shadow from the same universe? But... Shadow doesn't know how she ended up here, and Scarlett knew nothing about us when she first met us.

"Think about it," Neil urged. "Shadow already thinks she's from another universe. Say she's right. You mentioned Scarlett came through a portal. What if that portal leads to Shadow's reality, and that same magic is the reason Shadow's here now?"

It made sense. The horrible, sickening sort of sense that often could be found in life's greatest tragedies. No one else outside the crew knew of magic or aliens, at least those of Scarlett's world, because that magic and those aliens weren't from Tom's own world.

Did Scarlett go back to her reality, then?

Could Tom find her again, tell her all the things he never got to? Thank her for saving his life? Ask why she just left them without ever saying goodbye?

"You're bloody mad," Harry scoffed with a disbelieving laugh. "Scarlett wasn't half as insane as Shadow, and never once talked about different universes."

"There's another issue," Tom grumbled, reality souring his hope. "Even Shadow knows Scarlett, it may not be the Scarlett we met."

"What do you mean?"

"Accordin' to her, Scarlett should have been with us right now. She did drive the slavers off, including a man named Piccas, and ended up stickin' 'round for two years afterwards."

"Who the fuck is Piccas?" Harry scoffed.

Tom shrugged. "Near as I can think, it's a variant of Claudius."

That's as helpful as a hole in a boot during a flood in the trenches.

Utterly bloody useless.

"Wait," Neil said. "What did Scarlett look like? Did she even slightly resemble Shadow?"

Tom nodded. "She's very similar. Same face shape, though Scarlett was older. Why?"

Neil frowned, looking towards the woods. "Hmm."

Tom followed his gaze, eyeing the last of the sun's rays overshooting the canopy as the sun finally sank below topmost leaves before he looked inward at the dark, twisting wood. "What is it?"

"It's just... interestin'."

That was certainly a word for it.

"Tom, hey. I'll... fill ya in back on the ship, ok? It's... it's the least I can do."

"What'd'ya mean by that?"

"You'll... understand when I tell ya."

"Promise you'll tell me?"

"Pinkie promise."

She promised to tell him. She could be lying to get him off her back, but her words held a genuine sort of remorse. The kind found in people's voices when they had information they knew would hurt you.

Shadow knew the truth. Knew it would hurt him.

But she promised she'd tell him.

And Tom would hold her to it.

"I'm gonna ask 'er when we get back to the ship," he said.

"How do you know she won't pull some other delusion out of her ass?" Harry demanded. "She's probably just after the money, and is lyin' through her teeth to stay in our good graces."

"Mate, she bit the boss's bloody thumb off," Neil reminded him, wiggling his own. "You really think she'd do that if she wasn't tryin' to cozy up to that wanker?"

Harry scowled. "Well... I still think she's just playin' us all for fools," he mumbled, scooping another stick off the ground and running his blade along its length. "This other universe delusion of 'ers... it'll never hold up under real questioning."

Tom grunted, watching the thin shavings fall to the dirty gravel. "If there's any holes, Allan will find 'em." He glared at Neil. "He can do that without hurtin' her."

Neil didn't look convinced. "If he tries?"

Tom turned his attention back to the woods. "Then Shadow will give him one hell of a fight."

Have more faith in him, Neil. Besides, he's not an idiot. He knows we need Shadow's knowledge, assuming she's telling the truth. If she's not...

Tom really didn't want to think about what would happen to her if she proved herself a swindler.

I watched Hector trot to and fro through the lavender-tinted woods, occasionally bolting after a poor squirrel or rabbit. But while I smiled as he occasionally leaped across our path, Allan just scowled and stepped back to give him room.

Finally, I dared to nudge the first mate, Hector's presence making me bolder than I'd usually be. "Whatcha got against dogs, man?" I asked as he shot me a questioning look.

He shook his head. "I prefer cats. Wolves are fine, but I'll pass on domestics."

"Reckoned you'd love rotties since you keep one as a second in command."

Allan scoffed. "Tom's not a rottweiler."

"You sure?" I teased, skirting around a rock. "Strong, tough, can be scary as hell but is also a bit of a baby at times? Highly protective and sweet to those they consider family? Somewhat clueless in an endearing way?"

Allan looked Hector over as he came back alongside us and trotted a few paces ahead. "Maybe Tom is a bit like a rottweiler," he muttered, then turned to me. "You're a dog person?"

"Nope," I chirped. "Cats and horses are my thing. Cats are my favorite though."

I debated giving him a hint about me and Scarlett. I knew I had to get this over with, but I didn't really wanna explain it myself. Better for him to come to his own conclusion. Then he may be less likely to explode and incinerate everything around him if he was lost in the high of his own cleverness. But given the sheer insanity of the situation should it prove real, I'd have to make it obvious.

"I'm especially partial to tigers."

Allan narrowed his eyes. "Tigers."

"Mhm."

"We told you how we knew Scarlett," he said, stepping in front of me and forcing me to halt. "Your turn."

He caught on, then.

Perfect place to stop too, for we'd reached the edge of the manor grounds and stood by a crumbling corner section of the wall. Time won this front, the gaping hole on the fence coated in creeping brown vines as thick as my wrist and green moss with little spore-heads that shone in the last bits of sunlight as it drowned behind the distant rolling hills. Hector seemed to know this was the edge of his territory, regarding the hole with a dismissive snort and plunging back in the undergrowth around us.

I watched him go, wishing he'd stick around but I didn't call him back. Instead, I faced Allan and shook my head. "Pass."

Come to your own conclusion, Allan.

Last time I spilled the beans I got doubted left and right.

"No cigar, cough it up."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "The dad card? You're pullin' one of those?"

"I'm not really in the mood for games," he retorted. "I was lenient because you're in over your head, but we're not leavin' these woods until you tell me what you know about Scarlett."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"But the satisfaction of bringin' that cat back is worth the risk."

"That cat," I repeated, slowly. "You want 'er back to help with Sakharine, don't ya?"

"You don't know what I'd do to get free of that slimy peacock," Allan stressed. "And for your conscience, it's better if you don't find out. Scarlett... you know the power she held, right?"

Do not cite her deep magic to me, bitch. I was there when she was written.

All the way back in 2013.

"I am more aware than you could ever be of the true spectrum of Alphian powers," I said.

Come on, Allan.

Another clue.

You're clever.

You can figure this out.

Don't put this on me to reveal.

Allan took a step toward me. "Then you know no amount of money in the world can buy her powers. Only Alphians have it." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If I had her back, I wouldn't need him. You could do whatever you wanted to Sakharine."

"I know."

And you'd do whatever you wanted to me.

Another pause, the gears in Allan's head no doubt spinning to try and find a new route to get the information out of me.

At least he's not going straight to physical torture.

"You remind me of her, you know."

Great, we're doing the 'wear down my defenses so I slip up'.

"Imagine that."

"I mean, the resemblance is uncanny," he said with a chuckle that didn't fool me at all. "You look just like 'er, too. Aside from the tail and stripes of course."

"Mhm."

"Any chance you two are related, and you're an Alphian but aren't tellin' me?"

Someone is getting bold. Or low on patience.

I just held his gaze and blinked.

The sunlight struck his eyes, and interestingly I found they weren't exactly brown. Rather, a hazel color flecked with green around the outer edges.

Almost... like a wolf.

Are you a wolf, or are you a shark, Al? Make up your mind.

Frustrated, that's what he is.

I warily eyed the hard set of his jaw, shifting my weight to dart away if needed. Back to the undergrowth, where I could squeeze through shrubs and stones better than he could. From there it'd be a mad race back to the others.

Even if I couldn't square up to him, Tom could and Neil would certainly try.

Allan took a deep breath, and I braced for the eruption. Instead, to my surprise, he shook his head with an amused yet tired sigh. "Not gettin' it out of you that easily, am I?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I'm savin' both our sanities by avoidin' it, trust me," I replied with a small smile and a shrug. "Besides, you knew what you were signin' up for when you decided to pressgang me into this."

"Pressgang implies forceful service," he reminded me. "You're perfectly happy to be here."

"Guilty."

Allan went quiet for a moment, the only other sound the distant chirp of crickets and Hector frolicking through the undergrowth.

What's up your sleeve now, Allan? There's no way you're gonna give this up, I know you're more dedicated than that. The only question is what wildcard you'll pull next.

"Speakin' of sanity," he said eventually, the conversational tone putting me on edge. "Can Trevor possess people?"

Well that was unexpected.

I took a step back in shock, shaking my head as I raised my hands. "I beg your finest pardon, my good sir?"

Allan held my gaze, a note of triumph in his eyes. "Trevor. I know he's an Alphian, but I didn't know Alphians could possess people."

"They can't!" I said. "Alphians can shapeshift, wield elements, and talk to animals but possession? They're only supposed to be able to do that when they're asleep!"

"And how do you know so much about them?"

I tilted my head. "How do you think I know so much about 'em, Allan?"

Allan tipped his head back and groaned. "C'mon, kid. Help a man out here." He came closer again, but stopped when I took a step back. "You think I'll do away with you once I know the truth? Is that why you're bein' squirrely?" he asked, raising his hands. "You don't have to be afraid of me. You can trust me."

I side-eyed him. "I'm sheltered, not stupid. There ain't a single canon timeline in which you are more trustworthy than sushi at a Kentucky gas station."

"I don't know what these other versions of me are like, but I'm not them," Allan urged. "Said so yourself. Met too many backstabbers to push away those that are genuine."

Comics!Allan would laugh you off the very ship you both stole.

He risked a step closer. "You can trust me, kid. You know you can. You wouldn't even be here otherwise."

That... was true...

And yet the threat of a negative reaction hung above me like a demented wraith, ready to slice me in two.

We stared at each other silently, both waiting for the other to speak.

Then, there it was.

The tension went out of his shoulders, his face relaxed, and his eyes softened. A small crack, a risky show of weakness. Like a glimpse of sun between storm clouds, a reveal of another side of Allan.

A vulnerable side.

"Kid... the mystery of Scarlett has eaten me alive for months," Allan admitted. "My memories get foggier with each passing day, but no matter how hard I look or who I ask, no one knows anything. Not her name, her species, nothing. Again and again the last memory of her plays over and over in my nightmares, but no amount of searching turns up anything." He gestured at me. "Then you come along, and you know her name. Know her species. You're the first in months to offer even a crumb of a lead."

Shit... I think I prefer you yelling.

Manipulation.

It had to be... had to be manipulation...

He risked another step closer, his tone shifting from tired to almost...

Pleading?

"Even if you can't lead me to her... tell me what you know." He hesitated, then rested a light hand on my shoulder. "You are the only one who has any answers."

Fuck.

"Allan-"

"Please, Shadow." The hand on my shoulder tightened. "You're the only hope I have of ending these nightmares."

Tell him. You should tell him.

Of all people, he and Tom deserve to know the most.

Consequences be damned, at least give him some satisfaction.

Some closure.

You owe him that much.

And with that, all my mischief evaporated leaving only guilt in its wake.

"Damn you!" I shouted, tearing out of his grip. My heart twisted when he followed me like a puppy being abandoned.

This wasn't the angry Allan who screamed at me.

Wasn't the charismatic Allan who coaxed me to his side.

Wasn't the amused Allan that bantered with me as we stood at a stalemate in that alley.

This was a desperate Allan, one who just wanted some sort of closure after a traumatic ordeal.

And I alone could give him that.

No joy came in that revelation. No triumph. No pleasure.

Just sickening dread and remorse that the truth would only hurt him further.

But he needed to know.

I needed to tell him.

It's what I would want if I were on the other end.

"Allan, I can't lead you to Scarlett," I stressed, voice catching in my throat.

"Then why can't you tell me where she last went?"

I struggled to find the words. "She... there's a very good chance she doesn't exist anymore."

"Kid, don't play with me." No anger in that rough tone now, just desperation and underlying panic. "Don't toy with me like this."

"I wish I was, Allan." My voice cracked as regret seized my chest, stealing my breath. I sat down on the nearby rock, not trusting myself to stay standing. "Fuck, I wish I was." I slid my fingers through my hair, gripping it tightly as I tried to ground myself. "But I'm not. I'm not."

Hector appeared by my side, staring up at me with large brown eyes as he rested his head on my lap. He had a stick in his mouth, but seemed to understand now wasn't the best time for play. Grateful for the grounding pressure on my legs, I rubbed his ears.

The sun was gone now, the last glimpse disappearing beneath the indigo waves of grass. All that was left were the beams of light that grew fainter with each passing moment.

Soon only Hector would be able to see clearly.

How fitting for our clusterfuck of a situation.

Allan seemed to struggle for words, mouth opening and closing many times. "I don't get what you're sayin', kid," he said, sitting beside me, which I allowed.

I didn't really like him this close, but since he looked more confused than angry I didn't feel in danger.

Too much at least.

"You're smarter than this, Al," I said with a weary smile and weak voice. "You have everything you need. I know the movie. Got obsessed with y'all, with cargo ships. The moment you mentioned Scarlett, I knew y'all were mostly safe. My favorite animals are tigers. I greatly resemble Scarlett. I'm a writer. I know the powers of Alphians better than anyone you will ever meet. I know multiple timelines." I spread my arms halfheartedly. "Piece all that together, what do you get?"

His eyes shifted between mine, brows furrowed in concentration before his eyes flew wide. "Are... are you saying that the hijacking... that Scarlett... Alphians... was something you wrote?" he sputtered, leaning back.

I sighed, glaring at the last rays as they streaked toward the heavens. How dare it look so peaceful? "Scarlett, yes. She's fullblooded my doing. Alphians too, they're a species I created. The slavers not so much. That timeline with Piccas? It's the original one, and Piccas was my ex's character. He brought the slavers into things. I just wanted to vibe with y'all."

"Why the bloody hell would you want to do that?" he asked. "We're criminals, kid. You couldn't possibly know of our morals if we're background characters!"

"No, but... well I projected a bit. Since you were pretty much blank slates, it was easy. I'm an outcast. Friendly with most groups, but never belonging to one." I looked down at Hector again, grateful for his support even if he had zero idea what was going on. "Y'all were an escape. Friends I could retreat to when life kicked me down. Fictional or not, y'all would pick me back up again and help me cope."

"Why us? You had the good guys at the forefront of the movie. Why not choose them?"

Can probably thank puberty and Tom for that one.

"Aye, but I latched onto you. I don't question it when the dopamine gods send me a crumb, I just take that shit and milk it for everything it's got. I never claimed to have healthy copin' skills"

"So Scarlett was... what?" Allan said. "An insert of yourself into relationships you wanted?"

I shrugged. "Right on the money."

"So why the hell did she abandon us?"

I winced. "She didn't. We're... in a remake I attempted a year or so after the original timeline was written. But I... never finished it, and stopped halfway through."

"When did you stop?"

"Five years ago my time. As for when in the story, right around the time Scarlett knocked you out to go kill a slaver. I may have gotten halfway through 'er savin' Tom and tryin' to return to the ship, but I don't think I ever got back."

"That's... my last memory of 'er," Allan said slowly. "And matches what Tom told me about his last memory."

"I was worried about that." I weakly chuckled. "Your insistence at answers makes hella sense."

"Why did you stop writing it?" Allan pressed. "If we are as important to you as you say, why abandon a project with us?"

"I switched to original stories. The plot of the book, True Colors, was repurposed into an original story. The Caroline is the new ship." I shook my head. "I get you're mad, Allan. I really do. But I need you to understand I can't get you Scarlett back. All I can do is get you through the movie to the best of my ability."

Allan groaned, getting Hector's attention. "Just my luck. I'm stuck in the one universe where Scarlett vanished," he muttered dryly, then pushed Hector away with a hand as the rottie tried to lick his face. "Go slobber on Shadow."

I gathered Hector's head in my lap again. "Afraid so," I quipped. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, make it quick. Broken neck is preferred."

"Give a man a minute to process," he snorted. "Then I'll think about it."

Taking his hat off, he ran his hand through his hair before resting his face in his palm again.

I waited as the moments dragged by again, stroking Hector's head as the guard dog gradually dozed off.

What the hell did I do to earn this nightmare? What cosmic entity had I pissed off? Sure, there'd been moments of fun here and there, but ever since I made the mistake of letting Allan take me back to Sakharine it'd been nothing but nonstop dodgeballs to the face.

And Allan... poor man, he couldn't catch a damn break today for nothing.

I jumped when he groaned loudly, startling Hector. I apologized as I helped the pupper get resettled at my feet.

"Let me get this... straight," Allan muttered, not looking up. "You're from another reality where we are fictional. You like the film so much, you wrote a story where slavers took over our ship and your... character helped us through it. Then you tried to remaster it. But you never finished, and as a result the ship is left with patchy memories of a ship hijacking that was never truly resolved. Then, five years later, you yourself somehow end up in the timeline you created but the characters and everything connected to them was erased from this existence. Now any who interacted with elements from your story are left with hazy memories of people they will never see again."

I nodded slowly, even though he couldn't see me. "That about sums it up."

He dragged his hand down his face, inhaling deeply as he did so."That's it." He threw up his hands. "That's it!"

"Er, what is?"

"I never woke up this morning. This is just a continuation, no, mutation, of the dream with Scarlett." He gestured at me. "I'm so desperate to get her back I'm dreamin' that her creator jumped across realities to help me."

There go the marbles.

"Think you got issues?" I sighed, looking westward. The last of the rays had dimmed, allowing a greenish hue to flood the sky. "At least magic exists in your timeline. Try chokin' all this down when you got zero exposure to magic."

"Must have some magic if you're here."

"Still tryin' to wrap my head around that, thanks."

"If I have a migraine," he replied, voice dry. "You're gettin' one too."

My own tone turned dry as I grumbled, "You're too generous, Allan Thompson."

He grunted in acknowledgment, hesitated, then nudged me. "Say I believe you. Say you're right. You have that film script memorized?"

I sighed. "To an embarrassin' degree."

"That's very valuable information."

"No shit."

"So like I said. I have zero reason to kill or harm you." He tugged at my arm in an attempt to make me look at him. "I'd be a fool to do that, and you don't think me a fool, do you?"

"I don't know," I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the crumbled wall. "You're pretty dorky in the last comic you appeared in. Wearin' converse shoes and shit, like you were havin' some sort of midlife crisis before all your teeth got knocked out"

Speaking of shoes, I'm so glad I'm wearing my waterproof boots or they'd probably be soaked through thanks to Hector. My pants are already disgusting.

"You know, your ability to wisecrack even when you're feelin' like shit is commendable."

"It's called bad copin' mechanisms. And salt."

"It's called a good sense of humor." He shrugged. "Means you will fit in great with the boys."

I glanced at him, not sure I'd heard him right. He looked sincere, but knew he could mask his true thoughts. "Y-... You still want me along for the ride?" I stammered in disbelief.

"You still have far more knowledge than anyone else in this race." His arm hovered above me before he draped it over my shoulders. "Not a chance in hell I'd turn a golden goose away."

My skin prickled under his touch initially, but as he rested more of his arm's weight on my shoulders it went away. I wasn't thrilled with being touched, but given it came from a place of comfort I let it slide.

"And if that goose don't lay? Then what?" I asked. "What if this movie begins to deviate too much and my knowledge... becomes outdated?"

I didn't want to admit weakness around him, but I wanted all the cards on the table so I didn't have to constantly worry about what would happen when the information inevitably came out.

Because while I thoroughly enjoyed writing suspense... I despised living through it.

His answer came immediately. "Then I'll keep it around for amusement."

He... he liked me being dramatic? Being snarky? Liked my theatrics? Liked me biting back when he tried poking me?

He... liked having me around?

Just for me, for what I alone gave without reference to the treasure hunt?

No.

Not possible.

No one liked me for... me.

There was always a catch.

"Really want me on your team?" I ventured, scarcely daring to hope.

"More than Sakharine does." His arm drew me closer. "You'd be more appreciated with the boys and with me than you would ever be by him."

He's manipulating you.

Yes, but... he's doin' a damn good job of it.

I wouldn't lie, the thought of being accepted into the Karaboudjan crew was just too good to pass up. Dream or no dream, being a genuinely welcomed part of any group was too damn tempting.

An hour, a day, a week, it didn't matter.

I'd be damned if I let the chance slip through my fingers.

And what of your anxiety? Your weirdness? Think they too won't turn their backs?

Doubt slithered up my leg and around my neck, slowly constricting me.

People closer than them left you behind. What's to stop them from doing the same?

I couldn't pretend forever. Couldn't mask forever.

Shit... what was I even thinking? I couldn't keep up, couldn't-

"Me and the boys need you, kid," Allan spoke up, breaking through my thoughts. "You can't lead us to Scarlett, sure. But that knowledge? That foresight? We need it. I need it." He paused. "Need you."

"No one needs me," I remarked with a weak laugh, genuine hurt lingering just beneath the thin veil of humor. "Everyone loves keepin' the stray around 'til they realize that mutt comes with fleas."

Hector whined, staring at me with a look of betrayal.

"Sorry, bud." I reached down and rubbed his ears. "But you probably have at least one flea or two."

This time he snorted, but settled his head back on his paws.

Can I talk to animals here or is this just a plot hole? Worldbuilding hole? Hellhole?

"Think you have fleas, huh?" Allan asked. "Well, then you're in good company. Most strays I pick up do."

I glanced at him, shocked, then stared at the ground.

Even with my host of issues... Allan still wanted me around?

Fleas or no fleas, I really did want to be around the crew. Hellish moments aside, I loved all the banter, the teasing, the roughhousing. The... odd sort of acceptance of my quirky humor and sass.

And... even if the rest of the crew didn't want anything to do with me...

Tom and Allan did.

My comfort characters wanted me around.

That alone would be enough.

"Alright, Allan." I took a deep breath and straightened. "What's the play?"

His expression shifted back to the confident yet amicable front I'd gotten this morning. "You want to know about cargo ships, namely mine. I want that knowledge in that thick skull of yours," he mused. "Way I see it, we both have something the other wants."

"Reckon so."

"Then how about it?" He offered his right hand to shake. "Seems this partnership would benefit us both."

"Is that what this is?" I chuckled, raising a brow.

"Or I could have the boys kidnap you," he said breezily, a small smile playing across his lips. A lazy shrug accompanied his next words. "Let you show off some more of that fancy learnin'."

The corner of my mouth twitched. "I do kinda stay wishin' a motherfucker would."

"What if I throw some street-fightin' lessons in on top of the cargo ship information?"

Fighting lessons from sailors? Um yes please?

I pretended to ponder that, tapping my chin. "Hmm. Throw in a gun and you got yourself a deal."

"A gun, huh?"

"Stay strapped or get clapped."

"I'll see what I can do." He moved his hand closer. "Partners?"

I glanced down at it again before meeting his gaze. "Aye." I grinned, shaking his hand hard. "Partners."

[dastardly-ethereal-love]

So friends. I am okay but have been so very not okay in the past. I’m reading more of this wonderful ‘Oh,Maker’ world - this time from Aziraphale’s perspective and it is hard hitting for an ex Christian like me.

Here is my looooong comment to the first bloody chapter!

But this is a flaw, a weakness in me. The LORD is righteous, and a jealous God, and I must find a way to be strong enough to witness Her wrath with the same equanimity I witness Her love. I will, one day. If I remain faithful, if I try hard enough. I will be granted that strength.

Those lines. Fuck. It’s so true. It’s how I used to think there must be something wrong with me because god is perfect so why am I not okay with his judgement of gay people or his treatment of women or his killing and punishment of anyone who doesn’t fit his exacting standards. As if Jesus’ sacrifice somehow can cover over whole societies who never knew Jesus or had a chance to accept his very limited opportunity for salvation? Who can accept those terms… who can look at themselves and be okay with being on the ‘winning team’ when so many are forced to ‘lose’. My dad was in a Christian cult that refined that saved number down to some crazy number in Revelation… 144,000? Like ever? It’s arrogance in the extreme. And Aziraphale was created within it. He’s a bloody angel and has no say in it but has to enact it. He watches it unfold.

No words for that level of trauma. How you have him watching the flood and Crowley takes him away and comforts him. How you have him watching 20,000 die in wars between England and France. So much senseless loss of life. You could lose your mind thinking about it. How does any of it make sense?

Anyway… I love your writing and how it shakes out these big questions and reminds you that we as humans have choices. I absolutely choose Crowley now and his way of questioning. I grieved losing my faith but now I’m grateful to have escaped that very limiting frame of thinking. It felt like losing something precious but you said in Oh Maker that it could be the start of something else that is joyful. Maybe not in those words… but I like the honesty and the genuineness that comes with stripping back the layers of indoctrination. I am finding so much more pleasure in simple everyday things now. I’m not forcing myself to do things because they are someone else’s will be it my church minister, a Benedictine monk or my idea of who God is. Haha I’m finding out what my will is. Who I am. It’s nice to connect with myself and find that I like who I am. I am embracing my emotions - sad and hurt as much as happy and joyful and giving them more room to be heard. Not having to paint a bloody happy face on horrible stuff. That’s a relief. Also, not feeling guilty about enjoying things for their own sake. I used to be told off for wasting my time and my labour on meaningless stuff - but life and joy and being alive is not useless! I’m going to art galleries, going to plays, going on holidays to walk under trees and be in nature and connect with who I am. It’s a kind of bliss. It’s a kind of joy. It’s a recognition that I was worth love even if I didn’t earn it. The whole love is given, not earned thing. Killed me. It hit me hard. I was told salvation doesn’t come from works by one side of my faith community and the other side was all ‘cover your head to pray’ and ‘take communion’ and if you don’t do it regularly then you will have no life in you. So it was do this or be cast out but then also, faith alone! But then faith without works is dead… such a horrible tug of war and where was I in any of it?! Like when did the person who I was get a chance to speak? When did I get to move without guilt or obligation pushing me one way or the other?

Gah. Religion is not my favourite. It may work for some but i think my brand of childhood trauma and religion created a bit of a monster. I was ripe for being taken advantage of. I didn’t know what boundaries were and I was just way too ready to sacrifice my whole entire self by becoming a bloody nun. A boy ended up tempting me away from that idea… haha but I was so ready to just give my life away to some other persons idea of the right thing to do. I just so wanted to be good. To be told I was good. Ugggghhh!

/no one was prepared for that level of trauma dumping. Apologies and thanks for sharing your words with the world!

[v1ctimplagued]

❛ don’t shut me out like this. ❜ + ❛ let me get closer, i have a hell inside of me where your demons can live. ❜

memes. / always accepting.

　ANGER WAS NOTHING NEW. The only difference was now she was there to witness the ugly form and blossom out of him. The thorny nastiness broke the surface of his haphazardly-shaped control. It's so big and threatening and looming Billy cannot manage to keep it contained so tightly inside of him. The bruises on his face are new and fresh—the hurt is nothing new but new to her 'cause normally he lets himself clean up before he sees her again. He had been desperate this time seeking her comfort and understanding, soothing away this festering rage boiling in his chest.

❝ My father. ❞ The words feel bitter and wrong in his mouth. That man wasn't his dad. Billy had known this since he had been a naive, bright-eyed kid. But it relays the message he wants her to know. A fucked up dad who hit his kid when angry and a mother who hadn't bothered to stick around to defend Billy against that man. Even now when he was no longer a child he could still manage to feel powerless against the asshole. He thought he had escaped and in some ways, he had when he moved out as soon as he had graduated. But Neil had a way of disrupting his life and barging his way in, ironically in the same way Billy often bulldozed his own way into others. The apple doesn't fall too far from the fucking tree, huh?

Bruised fingers—smashed against the nearest surface, a tsunami of repressed wrath washing over him—falteringly reach for hers. Her presence has always been a tranquilizer to the storm in him. But today he felt inconsolable. Lost, even. ❝ I know it's wrong and fucked up but I wanted to kill him. At least then, I know he wouldn't come back into my life to wreck shit. ❞ 'Cause god knows Billy felt immobilized and paralyzed when facing the man despite knowing he could easily overpower him.

[orionsangel86]

Thank you so much for your thoughts! I think as the day as gone on my nerves have calmed down a bit and the thought of Brief Lives being adapted early isn't such a frightening aspect to me anymore.

I really like @tickldpnk8's view on how the arcs could play out, and when considering how season 1 was adapted, it does make sense. We had Preludes and Nocturns adapted across 5 episodes, and the Dolls' House adapted across 4 episodes, with the Sound of Her Wings and Men of Good Fortune making up a 6th episode, and Calliope and Dream of a Thousand Cats making up an 11th.

So we have 12 episodes and potentially THREE arcs being shot. Now that I've had time to consider, it WOULD make sense to adapt Brief Lives in the same run of eps as adapting the Song of Orpheus, because technically Song of Orpheus bookends the end of Brief Lives. Just like Nada's tale technically could kick off Season of Mists (giving weight to my theory that they wanted to adapt that with the story that resolves it). I initially thought the episode titles we were given were specifically for the FIRST 6 episodes, but now i'm not so sure.

Okay so I have done some extra digging and found some interviews from way back after season 1 was first released where Alan Heinberg is talking about season 2 and says this:

"The end of episode one, if we move forward, is Dream saying to Matthew, 'I'm going to Hell and I may not come back,'" Heinberg teases. "So then episode two begins with the rematch between Dream and Lucifer. It's so juicy! I'm so looking forward to doing something entirely different with Gwendoline's look. I don't want to spoil the surprises for people who haven't read Season of Mists, but that's where Dream's trouble really begins."

So if this still tracks today, episode 1 must throw us right into Nada's tale and the family dinner, and ends with Dream going to Hell. and episode two focuses on his journey to Hell to face Lucifer.

Alan Heinberg also said this about A Game of You in the same interview:

"If we're able to do Game of You, we've got a lot of characters who aren't even human, who are talking animals, who I'm looking forward to meeting," Heinberg says. "Lenny Henry is so good as Martin Tenbones, and I can't wait for the audience to meet Wanda, Foxglove, and Hazel."

But I notice the big "IF" at the start there so I'm still not holding out much hope for it, unless, as @tickldpnk8 suggests, its an animation.

I'm also thinking a lot about that interview with Jamie Childs the Director who said "we know what worked and what didn't work" [in season 1] and "we've got all that prior knowledge and are coming at it again" and I've been wondering what they think didn't work and I can hazzard a guess that they didn't think The Dolls' House arc worked as well as the Preludes and Nocturns arc because the Doll's House didn't focus on Morpheus. I'm sure saying this will ruffle some feathers but I'm trying to think about this logically. I enjoyed the Dolls' House, and it was a really faithful adaptation, but I can admit that in order to adapt something to television and appeal to the widest audience you need to keep your protagonist your protagonist and the biggest issue with the Sandman comics is that Morpheus is NOT technically the protagonist half the time. Sometimes he is sure, and usually, those stories where he IS the protagonist are the favourites among fans - Preludes and Nocturns, Season of Mists, Brief Lives and The Kindly Ones.

So I wouldn't be surprised if A Game of You gets sacrificed for that reason, and becomes minimised to a single episode, or gets blended into the other arcs somehow - keeping Wanda is clearly the best move to make because Neil Gaiman would never have survived Tumblr's wrath if she wasn't included (I would myself be carrying torches and pitchforks to his door if that had happened), but perhaps Barbie's role and the roles of Hazel and Foxglove have been drastically reduced?

If Season of Mists takes up 4 episodes, then we get three one offs for A Midsummer Nights Dream, Song of Orpheus, and Thermidor (or maybe some of these can be combined? Then another one off for A Game of You followed by a final four for Brief Lives? We also don't know how long these episodes are going to be and theres no reason why they couldn't just release feature length episodes like Netflix has done with other shows like Stranger Things in the past.

Like @marlowe-zara I am nervous about cancellation. But I keep telling myself two things - 1. Neil Gaiman would never let it be cancelled without finding some way of completing it and I'm sure other networks would be hungry to get it (like Amazon who knows all too well how popular Neil Gaiman's works can be) and 2. Netflix wouldn't have just invested in Dead Boy Detectives if it was intending to cancel Sandman anytime soon. The fact that they already grabbed this show from another network just so they could make it an official spin off is a really good sign. Especially if they are planning to have characters from each series guest star as well (also the former SPN fangirl in me is just majorly geeking out at some of my fave SPN cast now being part of the Sandman universe AND my all time favourite SPN writer the beloved ghost of Steve Yockey is showrunning it. There is too much joy to be contained here!).

Finally, I'm putting my hat in the ring for taking bets on wild speculations as proposed by @writing-for-life. I'm sticking with my theory/hopes that Thessaly won't be part of the Netflix universe, and Johanna Constantine takes her place and is the one to break Morpheus' heart (or at least ruffle his feathers enough to flood the Dreaming) - sod the bloody no mortals rule, they can still change that. We haven't had Nada's story yet after all, and I just really want messy, sexy, and oh so toxic Morphanna to be canon. So sue me.

Well. This is interesting.

Episode titles in no particular order:

Song of Orpheus is self explanatory. We knew they were doing that episode.

More Devils than Vast Hell Can Hold - if this is the Midsummer Nights Dream episode then its probable episode 1 I would have thought.

Family Blood I would think is the family dinner at the start of Season of Mists.

Which would then kick start the Season of Mists arc with the episode of the same name. The Ruler of Hell presumably would come next.

Brief Lives has thrown me though. I know we've had rumours here and there, but I genuinely didn't think they'd be touching the Brief Lives arc yet because SoM and aGoY cover so much ground.

Obviously this should all be taken with a pinch of salt - I guess I had hoped they wouldn't rush through the story too quickly (for fear of Netflix not renewing further perhaps?)

This is all speculation and its totally possible that the names will change anyway. There are 12 episodes being released in possibly 2 batches according to the article, looking like a 2025 release date.

What are we thinking?