#the only thing that saves this ask is that neil chose to answer it

[xadeone]

The man literally does not care and has told us so before, why do we keep doing this.

are you aware that people ship Crowley and FurFur and angel Crowley and Crowley? how do you feel about this?

I have no opinions about fanfiction things. I feel it's nothing at all to do with me.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 29 - No Sound but the Wind

Masterlist; Chapter 28

Summary: Stalsk-12.

Warnings: Angst™️, swearing.

Author's Notes: Here we are... at the end of all things. My take on Stalsk took a lot of pain and time to figure out and actually write down so I hope it will be satisfactory. As usual, thank you Shet, for life saving diagrams and patience, as this wouldn't be possible without you.

Still probably 2-3 chapters to go so we're not quite at the end end just yet 😅 With that said, this chapter is as much a finale is it could be. Do hope you'll enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated!

Waking up on the morning of the battle was strange. After the group conversation on the bridge, you and Neil collapsed into the bed, falling asleep instantly. The dreamless night was a welcomed surprise, and so, when you finally resurfaced on the side of consciousness again with the phone alarm ringing in your ears, you felt kind of rested. With the tight schedule, you took no liberty in wasting minutes cuddling and promptly got up, with Neil asking you to join him in his cabin in a quarter for the suiting up. There was no chance in hell you would refuse that.

It was once he left, after a kiss and quick reassurance that somehow it would be alright, the reality dawned with full force. Anxiety settled in your stomach, the nauseous feeling growing with every minute. A strange ache in your right shoulder, radiating down the arm, adding to the rising pile of questions. And doubts. At the edge of your consciousness, a festering thought that would not disappear. What if… what if? The question too terrifying to name, let alone answer.

Desperate for a distraction, you looked outside at the blue skies dotted with clouds, painting a contradictory image to the inside of your mind. At least you didn’t have to worry about the inverted rain… Sighing, you took one last look at the right shoulder and massaged the area with a frown permanently etched onto your face. Maybe it was nothing. With the time nearly running out, you quickly grabbed the battle gear and left the room.

As expected, the suiting up with Neil proved to be the distraction you needed. The moment he opened the door for you, wearing nothing but dark green combat trousers and a matching fitting long-sleeved shirt, your jaw fell slack. Somehow, out of the mess in your head, the only thought that survived was the attraction towards him. Because he looked very good. The shirt complimented his upper body in all the right places, making your eyes widen, overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings. The unbelievable luck and the gravitational pull that always pushed you towards him. And not without reason. Neil instantly caught your wandering gaze, took your hand in his, and pulled you inside the room, letting the door close behind you. The clueless look, checking your sanity from up close, before he asked:

“Why are you staring at me like that?” running a hand through his hair, making the strands stick up in every direction.

Adding to the charm. Stifling a groan building up in your throat, you placed the clothes on the empty chair before turning to face Neil again. Utterly perplexed in his dark green outfit. Stupidly hot. Just… fuck it.

“Because I can’t believe how attractive you are,” stating the truth felt relieving, but still like an understatement, “Like- my god, I-” you huffed, annoyed at both him and yourself.

Passive aggressively, you took off the shirt and pants, taking fleeting pride in how Neil seemed transfixed as well, watching your every move with fascination. Yet, it was much easier for him to shake off the mood and grab the holster. The brow furrowed; coherence lost:

“Seriously?” he was looking at you as though you have lost your mind, thoughtlessly fiddling with the thigh holster.

It was the glimmer of uncertainty that you noticed in his gaze that made you push forward. In any other moment, you would have backed off, pretended the exchange never happened, or responded with a joke to change the subject. But faced with the slightest potential that Neil could be genuinely doubting your claim, embarrassment and pride had to be abandoned. You quickly buckled up the trousers and took a step closer, taking a long look over his body. Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the details that never failed to make you want him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you nodded:

“Yes. Being this fit is unprecedented,” grinning, you took in his stunned face, letting the frustrations and feelings lead the speech “It’s those broad shoulders and the narrow hips that always distract me when you’re wearing shirts,” letting your fingers skim over his chest and down the stomach in appreciating strokes “Long legs with those thighs… Darling, you’re making that holster look almost illicit” you eyed the accessory encircling his upper thigh with unhidden hunger, the tip of your tongue poking out to deliver the punchline “And let’s not even get to the best part because you know what I think about it” settling your palms on his hips, you grinned wickedly, meeting his gaze.

“What?” Neil swallowed hard, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist.

Still so adorably confused. But now, you could notice the faint flicker of gratitude. And amusement. Might drive the point home then…

“Always knew you’d be a spectacular lover, but Jesus Christ… you’re making me regret half the times when I said no to you before” brushing over his backside and pulling your lower bodies flush together, you teasingly slipped your thumb underneath his shirt.

Taking immeasurable joy in the shallow gasp, he let out upon the simple action. You observed as he slowly shook himself awake, blue eyes searching yours, and then a hand raising to cup your cheek, tenderly brushing over the skin:

“What’s gotten into you?” the outpouring of affection waking up the butterflies in your stomach “Not that I’m complaining, though,” he shrugged, the slight concern tinted with happiness.

With your brain eager to remind you about the terrifying reality and the spikes of pain pulsing through your right shoulder, you chose to dive headfirst into the feelings warming up your chest. You shrugged and covered his hand with yours:

“Adrenaline fucked up and activated the wrong part of my brain. I’ve no clue,” your lips twisted in a hesitant smile, “But I want you, and that’s that” with the free hand, you traced the outline of his jaw.

Running over the stubble on his chin and the fading bruise underneath his ear, light blush spreading over your cheeks at the memory connected to it. It still felt strange sometimes to be this open with him. To speak your mind without fearing rejection or ridicule. To know that the sentiments were reciprocated with equal strength.

“Can we move that to after the battle?” Neil wrapped his arm around your waist, searching your face for clues, “Because now… now I just want to hold you. Kiss you, maybe” the timid whisper tugged at your heartstrings as he ran the pad of his thumb over your lower lip.

A familiar gesture, sparking up the fire and asking for consent. As if he still needed to.

“Maybe?” you arched an eyebrow, latching onto the word if only to make him smile.

Neil grinned, happiness radiating from his gaze as he tipped your chin upwards, syncing up with how you rose on your feet to meet him halfway.

“Certainly,” the murmur laid to rest on your lips.

The slow, gentle kiss, beginning with the tenderest of touches, his lips gliding over yours, carefully igniting the flame. It was as though he wanted to commit it to memory, softly drawing out sighs from your throat with the delicate pecks and ghostly brushes. The texture of his lips getting imprinted on yours, the taste of his kisses becoming a permanent memory. The hints of Earl Grey tinting the tip of his tongue as he finally deepened the kiss, trailing along the outline of your mouth and slipping inside to give you the necessary fix. You tangled your hand in his hair to bring him closer and to feel the strands between your fingers. Running out of air, at last, you withdrew by a millimetre and smiled against his mouth, giving in to the chaste pecks, extending the contact even if for a second. Neil grinned back, his thumb caressing your cheek in soft strokes, eyes showing everything you should need to know. The intimate moment awash with affection, adding meaning to the scene. Holding his gaze, you made sure to return the sentiments with equal strength before you leaned back and took in his lovesick expression.

“Don’t worry, I’ll address all of what you said later… Because I’m flattered” Neil broke the silence at last with a glimmer of gratefulness shining through the blue irises.

You grinned, allowing yourself a rare dose of hope for that later. May it come. Sending silent prayer to whatever god could be listening, you brushed away the hair from his eyes before responding:

“Good, because I meant it,” your eyes roaming over his face, admiring the striking features, “You handsome bastard,” the nickname coming out without hesitation.

How very fitting. Your grin only getting brighter when you saw Neil’s double-take, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion once more, only to be replaced with an uncertain head tilt and a thoughtful pause.

“… that sounded way too enticing than it should’ve,” he admitted finally, drawing you closer with his hands on your hips.

Confirming the sentiment, he licked his lips thoroughly with the gaze focused on your mouth. Bingo. Unable to stop the smug smile from spreading on your lips, you suggested an answer to his predicament:

“Maybe that’s just because I said it,” the rare rush of confidence and pride spreading blush on your cheeks.

Once more, you were separated by a breath of space with your lower bodies flush together. That impeccable pull, doing its work as usual as you felt his breath ghost over your lips. Then Neil smiled, confirming the beliefs with a simple statement:

“Yes, that too,” another kiss shutting down the worries and strengthening the feelings.

It only took three more before you continued with the suit up. To prevent distractions, you settled on the opposite side of the cabin, slowly assembling the military outfit, the silence occasionally interrupted with comments. It was once you have adjusted your thigh holster and slipped in the faithful Glock that the reality has once more dawned on you. You were about to head into a battle. An actual, large-scale battle, on the Siberian steppes, armed with nothing but a handgun and rifle. And Neil, both the protector and the protected. Not that it made any sense.

Sighing at the mess of thoughts in your head, you turned back to the man in question, observing him for a moment. He was busy packing the military backpack with the needed supplies, half-dressed in the top layer of the suit. With the hair grown out and the slight stubble on his chin, the outfit gave him the ‘rough mercenary’ look that could not help but quirk your lips in a tiny grin. Luck, and all that. As your gaze fell on the dark green backpack, your eyes got caught by a pendant attached to the zipper. With the curiosity piqued, you crossed the space to see the trinket, asking the question in the process:

“What’s that?” tenderly, you reached out to touch the pendant.

It was a vintage coin from India, attached to the zipper with a red and orange piece of yarn, washed with the years of use. Upon your innocent question, Neil let out a long exhale. Nervous. Perplexed, you glanced at him, immediately noticing the shy smile and hesitant gestures. Running a hand through his hair, he finally strung together a sentence:

“I… uh, that’s something Alex gave me and I- I can take it off if you-” stopping the panicked ramblings, you placed your finger upon his lips.

Idiot. Smiling gently, you let go of the trinket and took Neil’s hand in yours, slowly rubbing out the tension and cherishing the feel of his palm in yours. There were no doubts as towards what you had to tell him in response to something this outrageous.

“Neil, why do you think I’d want you to get rid of that?” you watched as he struggled for an answer, the adorable pinkish tint darkening his cheeks, “I’m glad you had him. And that he was lucky to have you” as his eyes turned glossy, you swallowed the sudden rush of tears and added “I can only hope I’ll be fortunate enough to have you for the rest of however much have we got” the uncertainty creeping in, forcing to add the necessary disclaimer “If you’ll-”

If you’ll want me for that long. But you never got as far as telling that. Neil closed the gap, pulling you close with cheeks wet with tears and eyes full of inexplicable emotions:

“Shut up” he brushed his nose over yours as a prelude before covering your lips with his in a kiss.

A hungrier one this time, a way of returning the feelings you have poured into your words. His teeth grazed over your lower lip in a familiar expression of passion. In response, you could only draw him closer, sighing when the salty tears tinged the contact with boundless weight. Somehow you knew that whatever would happen beyond this moment, the love you had was real. Probably the only genuine feeling you ever had the luck of experiencing. With the realisation fresh on your mind, you could only whimper quietly when Neil broke the kiss at last and pressed another to your forehead. He kept on holding you close as though worried your time was running out. Overwhelmed with the conflicting emotions, you reached out to brush away the evidence of his tears, caressing his face in a dream-like daze. Finally, he broke the silence:

“Never thought I could love someone that much again, but there we are. And you know what?” the happy smile contrasted how his eyes glistened with melancholy, “I like it,” you mirrored the grin, letting the blue of his eyes pull you under “Emotional compromise has never been this tempting” reference to the nightly conversation making you giggle.

A perfect opportunity to lighten up the moment and shake off the premonition shadowing your every gesture and word. Distractedly, you placed your hand over his beating heart, glancing up at him with a playful smirk:

“Does your gob just like… never run out?” Neil’s grin widened, your interference doing its magic, “I’m impressed,” as a confirmation, you patted his shoulder humoredly.

Neil shrugged, the look in his eyes clear: you knew what you’re signing up for. And you did. Frankly, you would not have it any other way. No matter the consequences or the future. Love is merely a madness, after all.

“And I-” when Neil spoke again, you could tell what was coming.

Getting into the temptation (and because you haven’t said it in an hour), you interrupted him with your confession:

“I love you. I know,” a smug smile splitting your face once more upon seeing his reaction.

The eyes widened for a split second, furrowed brow and lips open in a gasp. Before Neil somehow became even more beautiful as the morning light lit up the joyful glimmer in his eyes. The hair caught on the golden fire, giving him the look of an angel that has fallen straight from heaven. And was yours, for some unknown reason. Your affirmation added a spark of confidence to his expression as he thanked you for it with another breathless kiss.

The rest of the dress-up continued in that manner, often interrupted with kissing, hugs, and banter that seemed to wash away the fears. Even if only for the moment. As you adjusted the bulletproof vest and made sure the front pocket was full of the extra magazines, you checked the time. A little too tight, considering you were yet to assemble the oxygen tank and prepare the rifle. Looking up, you met Neil’s attentive gaze as he was shamelessly staring at you. For a second, you could tell that you were both considering never leaving the room and ignoring the reality. Just saying ‘fuck it’ to the universe and abandoning the post for whatever cost to never let this moment end. But it had to. The mirroring mournful smiles on your faces contrasted with the desperate hope you tried to hold on to. Finally, without breaching the gap, you remarked quietly:

“We should move, or else they’ll leave without us” a meaningful look at the window.

Yet without urgency present in your heart. Because you did not want to go. Not at all.

Neil could easily read the sentiment from your face, for he picked up the remaining parts of the equipment and asked:

“Do you think there’ll be bears?” the innocuous question dropped with the needed effect.

A distraction. A way of making the exit easier for you.

“… what?” staring at him with confusion written all over your face, you gaped.

Beloved idiot. He grinned, taking that one step closer to brush away the hair from your eyes with extra care.

“You know, bears, Siberia… Rasputin?” his lopsided smile adding the punch to the ridiculous statement.

And then, just as you were sure the situation would not get stranger, he started humming. Boney M. Rasputin, naturally. You groaned, pondering life decisions. Seduction through talking absolute nonsense and humming Boney M? Sure, why not. Ignoring the urge to facepalm, you let the amusement and bewilderment spill through the glare you gave him. He shrugged in response. Another message easy to understand: your idiot. Taking his hand in yours, you decided to play along:

“I don’t think it’s that sort of Siberia,” you frowned, looking for the correct metaphor, “Think more like… Chernobyl, graphite, and radiation poisoning. Inverted, at that” wincing at the mental image, you squeezed his palm.

The quiet reassurance complementing the silent conversation. All that you did not need to say but knew anyway.

“Inverted Chernobyl?” Neil met your absent gaze with a laugh reflected in the blue irises.

The laughter never felt this important before. Clutching his hand tightly, you collapsed into his arms. A few minutes of delay wouldn’t hurt anyone.

***

If anyone later were to ask you how the briefing looked like or about the specifics of what you did before boarding the container attached to the chinook, you would not know what to tell them. As though in a dream, you attended the meeting led by Wheeler and crafted to fit the needs of the Blue team, registering half of what was said. You had the plan for your unit memorised, and that had to be enough. Rest was up to fate. With the pain resonating through the shoulder and the suffocating anxiety making a home in the pit of your stomach, Neil’s presence right next to you and his hand resting on your thigh mattered more than usually. You had a feeling he knew, shooting you worried looks now and then and focusing intently on Wheeler at the same time. As though he knew that he had to be the strong one. The leader. You could only hope that you would not disappoint him or fuck it up. After all, the fate of the world was a pretty crucial cause to fight for. Even if your world has shrunk to that 1,85m, blue eyes, and dyed blonde hair. Fighting for your future together was good enough, too.

You settled on the bench in the blue container, struggling to find the air to breathe in the cramped space, weighted with the fears and the suit covering every inch of your skin. As the chinook rose and the wind shook the container with force, you strengthened the hold over the helmet resting on your lap and screw your eyes shut. The throbbing sensation in your arm only seemed to get more prominent with every passing minute as though sensing that Stalsk (and whatever awaited there) was getting sooner for you. Trying to keep the mind at bay, you went over the plan once more. The bullet points straightforward enough to be recited like a prayer: upon the landing, exit the container and run towards the epicentre, following Neil; stay out of trouble; enter the dead-drop chamber with 5 minutes to spare (ideally); cover Neil as he deals with the lock; leave and arrive at the drop off zone in time to come back. Simple, right? You glanced at the watch on your wrist. It already felt like ten minutes from the explosion will not be enough. Because what if you were stopped? What if something went wrong, and you will never make it to the lock? What if you mess it up by letting nerves take over everything else? What if something goes wrong?

With the questions multiplying at an alarming speed, you quickly found yourself struggling for breath. The mask and the constant rattling of the packed container were not helping. Shit. A louder gasp was unnoticed by everyone but the man to your right. Neil turned on the bench in a second, scanning your face for the obvious signs. As your wild, panicked gaze met his, he tilted your chin firmly:

“Hey, hey,” the gentle whisper urging you to focus on him only “Look at me” he searched your eyes for something and then asked, “What’s wrong?”

It was that patience and kindness that always got you. No matter the circumstances or the advancement of your relationship, Neil always reacted with the same gentleness. And that was both the reason to love him and to be disappointed by your inability to keep it together.

“Sorry, it’s just nerves… and… fuck, I’m sorry” stumbling over the words, you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, betraying you “You need me, and I’m already fucking it all up by being too weak-” your rant was gathering speed, stopped only by Neil.

“If it wasn’t for the bloody oxygen masks, I’d make you shut up now,” he sighed with exasperation, eyes glancing at your mouth to point out the true meaning of the sentence “Stop it, give me your hand” obediently, you let him entwine your fingers “Actually, I’d be a little worried if you weren’t scared. But we’ll manage because it’s us. And there’s nothing we can’t do” the words spoken with confidence you could only dream of having “Do you trust me?” he asked the question with startling resolve in the blue eyes.

Despite the mess of thoughts, the answer was too easy.

“With my life,” you squeezed his palm for comfort and added, “And heart too, apparently” a sheepish shrug to complete the confession.

But is it still a confession when it’s glaringly evident? Talking with Neil like this with the troops all around and the chinook’s rattle overhead, everything felt surreal. But it did not seem like anyone noticed your ‘heart-to-heart’. Thank fuck.

Neil did not seem to mind, staring at you with that familiar affectionate glimmer in his eyes. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, soothing the anxiety and reasserting his presence.

“I’m glad because I kind of need your heart to pull this off,” he grinned, the sudden tentativeness endearing and distracting you successfully “Because this way I know that it’s all worth fighting for” locking your eyes with his, you somehow knew what was coming “Do you remember the promise?”

Of course. It was not as if you spent many hours thinking about it. And praying that you will never have to break it.

“Yeah, I… I hope it won’t come to that” the careful answer to make sure he would not catch on to your doubts.

And the countless plans you have made in the quiet of your mind. Just in case.

“Me too, but if- If it’s me, or you, I’ll always choose you,” the simple statement made the breath hitch in your throat.

As did the look in his eyes, assuring you that he meant it. Boundless love, pouring out of every glance and expressed through the firm hold over your hand. There was no escaping it.

And I, you. The answer unspoken; whispered only to yourself. And that had to be enough.

***

The moment of quiet did not last long. Soon after your conversation ended, the wind picked up, increasing the shaking of the container. Even without windows, you could tell that you were getting closer. After another violent jolt, Wheeler stood up, holding on tightly to the railing overhead:

“We’re coming in on the shock wave,” her voice rang out loud and clear, “Hold on, people!” with the warning, you strengthened the hold over Neil’s palm and used the other to tighten the seatbelt.

You tensed, body preparing for the impact and everything else that could come after. As though following your instincts, you turned to Neil at the exact moment he glanced at you. Your gazes locked as the chinook flew through the explosion shock wave, eliciting gasps from the troops and increasing the feeling of doom. The only anchor, the blue eyes gazing back at you with love and determination, were a perfect place to wait for the landing. You kept on staring, letting yourself find a piece of hope in his face and knew Neil was doing the same. But the time was already running out.

Two minutes later, the blue container touched the ground with a thud giving you the signal to stand up and prepare for the charge down the ridge. You fastened the helmet and prepared the rifle, ready for the strike. As the doors opened, you got struck with the piercing light outside. The area was covered in the sandy steppe, the ruins of the city littered with crumbled grey buildings and blocks. The blue skies, giving nothing but a contrast to the scene with its startling serenity. As Wheeler gave the Blues signal to begin, you followed the troops, running out of the container and down the steep ridgeway, instantly noticing the hundreds of mercs in your way. Inverted, normal. Everything the hell had to offer. You could see the Reds fighting them off, trying to create a safe passage for the splinter unit. Before it began, one final thought resonating through your head – you never even got to say goodbye to TP. It felt strange. And yet.

You did not have much time to process the realisation as Neil tugged at your hand in a clear signal: C’mon. You followed him down the hill, rifle comfortably placed on your shoulder to allow easy aim if needed. 9:35. The bullets were wheezing past, inverted, and normal. An additional level of chaos was introduced by the crumbled buildings, flying upwards in denial of physics. That’s what the training was for. Focusing on staying alive and relatively unharmed, you swerved between the rocks and walls, eyes open on those that behaved differently. Rounding up the corner of one derelict building, Neil pulled you to crouch as he scouted the horizon for obvious traps. The construction acted as a hideaway, giving you a moment to catch the breath burning your lungs and give the legs a millisecond-long rest. The ringing in your ears seemed permanent as you stared at Neil, awaiting instructions. 8:00. The blue digits on the watch speeding up the pounding heart. After too long a pause, you asked:

“Are we clear?” your voice wavered, showing the anxiety brewing underneath.

“One second” Neil glanced at you before going back to risk assessment.

You tensed, closing your eyes for a split second to ground within the moment. To find clarity in the chaos of the battlefield. A breath in and out. Hand tightening the hold on the rifle. The other was squeezed by Neil. The sign to sober up.

“Go” your eyes shot open as he whispered the command.

Without a second of hesitation, you leapt up, turning around the corner and running straight towards the bunker. You could hear Neil following close, the sounds of your footfall the only noise you allowed in. And then the third one joined. Startled by an explosion nearby, you looked to the right in time to see a merc running in your direction. Inversed, luckily. He was too close to use the rifle, and so you faced him for combat. A kick there. A backhand to weaken the enemy. Adrenaline rushing in your veins as you successfully brought him to his knees. Now it was just the question of pulling the trigger. The shot echoed in the space as he fell on the ground with a thud. It never got too easy. Stifling a heavy sigh, you only managed to turn on your heel when Neil’s yell broke the silence:

“Watch out!” you saw the worry in the blue eyes before the world turned upside down.

In a flash, you heard strange noises coming from the rumble laying all around. There was no time to jump to the side as the stones flew up. A piece of rock hit you in the shoulder as another large boulder made you trip, landing face down on the ground. Fucking physics. The breath knocked out of your lungs as you groaned:

“Fuck,” the curse coming out as you tried to pick yourself back to standing.

The time was still running out. You winced as the pain radiating from the right shoulder increased by a notch.

“Are you alright?” Neil pulled you up with a frown etched onto his face.

No.

“Yeah, let’s go. It’s close now” you offered him an unconvincing smile and looked towards the buildings.

From the distance, it looked like a barrow or a war-time bunker with the top covered with soil and the entrance through a dark tunnel. The main way in was not yours, however. Projecting the mental map of the compound, you searched the terrain for your entryway. Soon, just where you expected it to be, you noticed a metal trapdoor in the ground, partially hidden by the shadow of a crumbled building. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he gently pushed you in the direction without a word. 6:02. On time. Sort of.

The rusted padlock keeping the door shut gave way after a forceful kick. You stood on the lookout as Neil opened the flap with a creak of the old hinges. Making sure no one was on the horizon, you looked over your shoulder to see the progress. It seemed like your way in was a vertical tunnel with ladder steps ending in eerie darkness. And beyond? God knows what. Fantastic. As Neil peered down the hole with a small torchlight, you frowned:

“A dark hole in the ground… brilliant” letting out a small sigh, you met Neil’s eyes as he looked up at you.

A glimmer in the blue irises told you he was up for no good. And you were right.

“… there lived a Hobbit?” Neil completed the quotation in an innocent tone.

Just as if you were not in the middle of the battle with bullets wheezing past and explosions punctuating every heartbeat.

“… Neil, what the actual fuck?” gaping at him, you almost forgot the reality.

For a split second, there was no ticking clock and worry of death waiting around the corner. Only you and Neil, entangled in yet another dialogue of nonsense. As it was supposed to be. You knew he understood, for he squeezed your hand once more before responding:

“Sometimes I ask myself that too,” a perfect punchline to elicit a sharp gust of laughter.

But there was no time. You both checked the horizon one more time before Neil pushed you in the direction of the entrance:

“Go, I’ll follow,” a whisper, giving the necessary support.

No chance of backing out. With a final sigh, you secured the rifle on your shoulder and took the first step down the ladder. The railings were cold and corroded by time and elements, giving that additional spark of anxiety you did not need.

Looking down, you could make out the end, and so, making sure to ignore the aching body and screaming mind, you began the descend without a second of hesitation. There was no time. With only the light from the world above, you soon lost the count and the ability to see, relying only on your instincts not to slip and fall.

After what felt like hours, your feet touched the ground with a shallow thump, resonating through the cavern. The tunnel was lit by a single fluorescent, giving out its swan song underneath the Siberian ruins. As you took a step to the side to let Neil join you, you scanned the surroundings. The dark cave with rusted pipelines lining up the ceiling and the metal crate and railings covering the ground. You exchanged a glance, similar reactions mirrored on your faces. It was easy to feel unwelcomed.

You turned to the right, as the maps indicated, following the tunnel towards the epicentre. With each step, the anxiety rose, manifesting itself through the shaking fingers and shallow breaths. You could feel the inexplicable feeling of dread fill your heart with nothing to blame it on. Until you finally turned the last corner and found yourselves at your destination.

The dead drop chamber had a high dome with the entrance at the top and a cage-like construction underneath, edging a dark cavern. In the poorly lit space, your eyes took a second to adjust and take in the necessary details. Inside the cage, you could see TP and Ives, hunched over a mysterious, steel object, shaped like a coffin. The Algorithm. A shudder ran through your body as you noticed the yellow countdown clock attached to the item. Next to them, there was a body. A man lying flat on his back with a gunshot wound in his head. You immediately recognised the face from the folder given to you long before the mission took off. Volkov, Sator’s right hand. Your blood turned cold as though anticipating something that was yet to happen. The pain in your shoulder has reached the levels of tolerance, increasingly growing to make sure you could not ignore it. Tough luck.

“Neil… something’s wrong,” you whispered, grasping his hand in yours, seeking comfort.

Even though he could not offer anything beyond his presence. You knew that whatever would happen, you had to face it alone.

“I know,” the low murmur bringing you back to the present moment.

As you locked eyes with Neil, you could see the worries confirmed. He was tense as if anticipating the worst yet not knowing when or how it would come. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Ives and TP stare at both of you, seemingly unsure of how they should act or which part to play. The body language, showing nothing but unease and confusion. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he quickly closed the space to the lock and rummaged in the front pocket of his vest for the tools.

“Let’s…” throwing a look at you with the necessary determination.

No time to waste. You nodded, blocking out the pain, if even for a second longer. Job to be done.

“I’ll watch your back,” the assurance he did not need, but you gave anyway.

As Neil began the lockpicking, you positioned yourself sideways, hoping to have a good vantage point to observe the inside of the cage and the tunnel leading to the epicentre. A glance at the watch picked up the heart rate. 03:27. With the muffled sounds of the battle above the cavern, you could hear your heavy breaths filling the silence, sometimes interrupted with backwards gibberish coming from the splinter unit and Neil’s curses. The time was both suspended and was ticking away mercilessly.

Upon a louder sigh, you glanced in his direction. The question died on your tongue as you perceived movement through the bars of the chamber. A gasp pierced the silence as your eyes landed on Volkov raising from the ground. No bullet hole in his head. Fuck. Before you could utter a word, a gunshot resonated through the space. Ives lowered the gun, staring at you with a strange emotion. Neil glanced up, a shaky breath the only sound on the comms.

It was easy to put together the pieces. And make the decision. Ignoring Neil’s startled look, you crossed the remaining gap to the cage. The gate was almost open, needing a few seconds more, at most. And after… It made so much sense. Easy. No need to think or analyse. Shield Neil, keeping your gaze fixed on Volkov. The pulse, pounding in your ears. The backward gibberish, coming from the splinter unit, talking to the henchman. It all did not matter. You awaited that faithful sound of the lock opening. A breath in and out. It would be alright. It would be worth it.

The click came both sooner and later than you expected. A jolt of adrenaline ran through your body, elevating the heart rate, making your reactions fluent. Fear is your companion. As the gate creaked, Neil’s tools clattered to the ground. He looked up at you, questions and worries multiplying in the blue eyes. He didn’t know yet. Taking comfort in the realisation, you smiled at him. For reassurance. I got you.

And then swiftly threw yourself between him and the now open door as the second gunshot echoed in the chamber. A flash of pain ripped through your shoulder; the inverted bullet tore through the tissue before you could perceive it. Of course. Everything made sense now.

Volkov lowered the gun and retracted through the tunnel in the dome. With a strangled yell, you fell onto the ground. Your knees hit the crate as you toppled onto your side. The edges of your vision darkened; your brain overwhelmed with the increasing agony. As though through the glass, you could hear Neil scream your name before he gathered you in his arms. Through the tears, you could see his furrowed brow. The eyes glossy with unshed tears of his own. You wanted to brush them away. To tell him that you are going to be alright. That you love him. But no sound could come out through the tightened throat.

The warm liquid was pooling inside the suit and spilling through the gaping hole. Pain flooded your vision as you fought to keep your eyes open. Through the ascending fog, you could hear Neil’s whispers, begging you to stay with him. To stay awake. Easier said than done.

Slowly, he stood up, cradling you in his arms. Horror and determination etched onto his face. You laced your hands on his neck, following the instincts that played out their roles without your actions.

The tunnel. Please, don’t cry. Bright light, hurting your eyes. Explosions in the distance. The boundless blue cast with fear. I love you. Burning agony radiating through the body. I don’t regret it. Neil’s panicked screams. I’ll do everything for you. The soil underneath your fingertips. You’re my everything. Scarlet hands. Pain.

No sound but the wind.

[mourntheantagonist]

#HarringroveApril Day 16: Nostalgia

***

When Billy signed those discharge papers, piled into his dented Camaro and headed west towards the sunset despite the screaming redhead banging on the windows crying “please don’t go!”, with an aching chest both metaphorical and physical, he didn’t think for a second about looking back.

So how he ended up back in the same shithole he turned his back on ten years ago was entirely beyond him.

He had made a life for himself in California. He got his associates degree at the local community college and worked his way up from a nine to five teller position at the local bank all the way to branch manager, making an upper middle class salary. It was easy work. Boring work, unfulfilling work, but easy and worth every penny. He had a couple of friends, mostly coworkers, more so acquaintances than friends. He had a fancy apartment in the city, he went on dates, though they usually ended in one night stands where the other guy snuck out in the dark hours of the morning leaving Billy to sleep in a bed that was just too big for one person. But he was free from all of those forces in his life that always held him back and pinned him down, and each and every one of those forces just reeked of small town America.

He hadn’t heard a peep out of Hawkins since Max had given up on calling around eight years ago, or at least he hoped that she’d given up and something worse hadn’t happened to her. He regretted not answering those calls everyday. The guilt of leaving her behind like that weighed heavy like an anchor, but he did it anyway. Bad decision after bad decision he was surprised he made it to where he had today, and he just wished she’d call again.

But he also wasn’t sure enough of himself that anything would change if she did, and that phone would likely remain on the hook until the ringing stopped and she was left to the sound of his voicemail.

“You’ve reached Billy Hargrove. Leave a message.”

He wasn’t home the day she finally did call, which fortunately took that decision away from him. Her message was tossed in with a mix of telemarketers and employees calling in for days off, it could have easily been dismissed, passed over like every other piece of junk in the system if her voice hadn’t been exactly the same as it was the day he left her.

“Hey Billy, it’s Max. I know you probably don’t give a shit, but Neil died of a heart attack last night…” Billy stopped listening after the words ‘Neil died’ came over the speaker. He had to replay the message to hear the rest because by the time he’d gathered himself it had already ended. “...the funeral is next Saturday in Hawkins. Nobody expects you to come but I thought you should know anyway and that everyone would still like to see you. Call me back at…” Billy wrote the number on the back of a blockbuster receipt and set it flat on the counter quickly with a firm hand and a quick retraction, like it might burn him. Max’s name and a ten digit number below it in a blue ballpoint pen stared back at him and he just drummed his fingers on the counter and bit his lip trying to think everything over.

He looked at it for probably another thirty minutes while the rest of the voicemails cycled through in the background before he decided to make a call of his own. Slowly and shaking, he dialed the phone number and tried to even out his breathing while he waited for the sound of the pick up. He was partially hoping that it never came.

But it did. The click sound was followed by a voice that didn’t belong to Max, but one he still recognized.

“Hello?”

Billy took in a deep breath. “Hi. This is Billy.”

“Wow, I’m surprised you actually called.”

Billy huffed and if it had been ten years earlier he would have already hung up the phone by now.

“Who is this?”

“Lucas Sinclair. I take it you want to talk to Max?”

Billy tensed at the mention of her name, as if that hadn’t been the whole plan in the first place. “Yeah,” he said, a little bit of shakiness to his voice, “could you put her on?”

After a few short moments of silence and a little bit of movement in the background, he heard her.

“Hey Billy.” she sounded… glad… and it made Billy let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Hey Maxine.”

“It’s Max.” There was that tone, she hadn’t changed at all.

“Yeah, I know.” There was a pause, Billy twirled the phone cord around this index finger to the point it started going pink and then purple while he tried to get the question to leave the tip of his tongue. “So, he’s really dead?” he asked, blunt as ever.

“Yeah. I don’t expect you to want to come for the funeral, but I just thought you should know, and if you need a place to stay you can– hold on one second” Billy could hear muffled bickering and Max yelling ‘Lucas Sinclair’ through clenched teeth and it brought a smile to his face. It reminded him of all those times he’d eavesdrop on her phone calls with him just to piss her off, just to hear her yell at him through their shared wall before she’d chase him around the house. Those were good days. “As I was saying. You can stay here if you need. We have a spare room.”

“Thanks for the offer.”

“I really hope you decide to come.”

“We’ll see.” He was just about to hang the phone back up, but he stopped himself, “Hey Max?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice hearing the sound of your voice again.”

Billy wound up taking the week off and driving that same old Camaro, restored back to its former glory, that did the distance twice before, back over to Indiana, to the place he said he’d never go back to, and he really couldn’t figure out the reason why he didn’t just go into work. There was nothing to drive him to go but the weird feeling in his gut that refused to go away until he called in, and a little bit of that pressure was released.

For each freeway exit he came across on the over thousand mile journey he contemplated turning around, getting back on that on-ramp going the other direction and save himself from whatever hell he’d be walking into.

Because that’s what Hawkins was to him. Hell. There were monsters like his father, and then there were real, legitimate monsters as well and Billy wasn’t safe from either of them, well he was safe from one now. He couldn’t imagine why Max decided to stay in the shithole and not get out like he did.

Maybe that’s what makes him the coward.

The welcome to Hawkins sign gave him chills. He remembered seeing that for the first time, following behind the rickety Uhaul pulled by their beat up truck when Billy decided not to follow them into their next turn, and instead got lost on the “scenic route” of Hawkins which really meant “trees, trees, and more trees” when he hit the Quarry’s dead end and nearly went off the cliff into the water below.

At the time he might’ve thought it would have been better if he had.

A lot of things had looked to have changed about the town since the last time he saw it. Places that he remembered being nothing but vast forests now had neighborhoods and restaurant chains and the place that once had a natural canopy was now completely deforested and exposed to the sun.

But the Quarry was exactly the same as he left it.

From the beer cans crushed and scattered, to the sounds of gravel pieces bouncing up and chipping the paint on his car.

The continuities continued to add up when he stepped foot out of the car, pulling on that same old denim jacket he hadn’t worn in years after trading it in for a suit and tie. His boot hit the gravel path just like it always had, with that same stomp that demanded attention, like each time he got out of that car he had to play into the dramatics, put on the mask and play the part he chose for himself. The breeze and the smell, it was all the same as before, as if the industrialization just several blocks north hadn’t had any effects on this little corner of the town where the birds still sang their songs in harmony and the smell of nature was pungent. It felt like no time had passed at all.

But it had been the sound of a rumbling BMW rolling down the crushing gravel that made him feel exactly like he was back in highschool again, the same rotten kid who used fists as forms for problem solving, the kid who as an adult had worked on his impulsivity, standing there, staring up the gentle slope with his fists clenched so tight his fingernails left marks on his palms. All that work, all that progress he thought he’d gone through, thrown straight out the window at just the mere sight of something from his past.

The BMW pulled up beside him, and the quarry apparently wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed. Steve still had the same big swooped back hair and that same exact look on his face when they made eye contact through the passenger window, the same exact look he had the day he told him he was leaving, and screamed at him to get out of his hospital room.

That was the last time they spoke.

Steve got out of the car without a word and just leaned against the door, looking him up and down, and Billy didn’t feel like he had any right to say the first word, considering he’d had the last one.

“It’s good to see you Billy.” Steve broke the silence, and it was almost startling, with both the sudden change of volume, and the sound of that voice he’d almost forgotten singing in his head like a song he didn’t remember learning the lyrics to.

“Is it?” Because it felt like it was all just a formality coming out of his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting an answer to that, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when Steve changed the subject. It was oddly refreshing seeing Steve write the script this time, steering the conversation his way.

“Looks like we both kept our old wheels,” he said, slapping the top of his car twice, maybe a little too hard. The sound of a hand against metal echoed through the trees. “though there’s not as many dents from what I remember.”

“I had it restored.”

The majority of Steve’s body was hidden behind the car that separated the two of them, but he could see in the way that his shoulders moved that his hands had found his own hips, doing that same stance of a mother who just caught their kid in the act of something naughty. “Some good memories happened in that car.”

“Some bad ones too. Or do I need to remind you how the dents got there in the first place?” Billy crossed his arms over his chest, as if the thousand pound chunk of metal that served as a barrier wasn’t enough to protect him. Because it felt like Steve could see directly through him with the way his head tilted when Billy threw his words back at him. Because they both knew that it was horseshit. Memories of whatever happened between Steve and the Camaro existed only in the dents that remained and the neck pain that still lingered. He didn’t actually hold any grudge about that, and he never did.

Because Steve was right. There had been good memories in that car, some he didn’t remember until seeing him again, some that still played in his mind when he went to sleep at night. Maybe that was the reason he kept it around for so long, that one piece that contained all of those few good times, all of those times with Steve.

“You were always so good at that.”

“What?”

“Deflecting. Pushing people away.”

Billy opened his mouth to defend himself, but there was nothing that came out but his own breath, but Steve filled that silence anyway before Billy would have even had the opportunity to speak.

“You cut your hair.”

It was like he was being interrogated.

“Company policy, they practically had to strap me down and take the clippers to my head themselves.”

Steve actually laughed, and it seemed genuine at least. Billy pulled out the pack of red that he always kept on the seat like it was muscle memory. His hands would only ever stop shaking when he had that little stick between his fingers, and they were only shaking more since Steve got out of that car.

“You still smoke?”

Billy put the cigarette in between his lips and lit up, pausing for a nice drag before bothering to answer Steve. Just letting his eyes fall shut and experience just a short moment of relaxation.

“Some old habits never die”

Steve pursed his lips. Every single one of his mannerisms were exactly the same. This one meant that he wanted to say something that he didn’t know if he should.

“Was I just an old habit too?”

“Steve–”

Steve just kicked the side of his car with his knee, sure to leave a dent of his own. The sound was loud enough that the consistent stream of chirping birds transformed into a cascade of flapping wings as the birds on the trees flew away from the scene. He walked around to the front of his car and the physical object that once created separation was gone, and suddenly Steve was within reach and he couldn’t breathe.

“Glad to know it’s harder to quit nicotine than it was to quit me!”

Billy chucked his lit cigarette at the ground and scuffed it with his heel into the gravel. “Who told you it was easy?!” He had a finger pointed to Steve and had closed their distance a few feet more, less than an arms length apart from each other.

“You left!”

“Because I had to! You know I did!”

“You didn’t have to leave me!” Steve practically screamed that final word, his face was now just inches away from Billy’s and he was nearly foaming at the mouth and from an outsider's perspective, Steve looked about two seconds from either kissing him, or killing him.

He did neither. He took a step back and recollected himself with a dramatic clearing of his throat. “You didn’t even ask me to come with you.”

“And you don’t think I regret that every fucking day of my life?” Billy’s voice broke, trembling throughout the sentence like he was containing a ticking time bomb. “Why are you even here?”

Steve just rolled his eyes at the steer. “Max sent me.”

“Of course she fucking did.”

“She cares about you y’know.” Billy scoffed, because how could she? After all he did to her? He could still hear those palms banging against those windows and her muffled screams for her to stay every time he got into that car. “Why are you here?”

“Did she not tell you the part where my dad died?”

“I know damn well you didn’t come all this way to pay your respects.”

Billy let himself drop to the ground and sit on the rough terrain with his back against his tire, unable to continue standing, his legs were ready to betray him.

“I have no idea why I’m here, okay? I just am.”

Steve nodded his head, and he didn’t say anything, no quip back in his face, he just followed Billy to the ground.

“Are you upset he’s gone?”

Billy let out a groan and tried to rub the growing migraine from his temples.

“I’m feeling a lot of things, but I don’t think ‘upset’ is one of them.” Neither of them said anything after that. They just sat there on the ground and enjoyed the silence together like they used to do. Looking up at the clouds and arguing over what shape they were. There’d be none of that today though, and it had nothing to do with the overcast skies. “You still keep a six pack in your trunk?”

Steve laughed and got up from where he was seated and popped the trunk. He was right. Some old habits never fucking die.

Steve tossed a can over to Billy and sat back down on the gravel, maybe a little closer than he had been before. Billy took a long swig and swallowed the bitter taste down. He hadn’t drank much since he was a teenager, he traded in his Coors for Cola and he doesn’t understand how he used to enjoy the taste of it before.

“Why did you stay in Hawkins?”

Steve dug his heel and pushed a pile of rocks forward, kicking a plume of dust into the air.

“Nobody ever gave me a reason to leave.”

Billy wanted to ask if he would have even come with him had he asked him to. But he opted against it, instead just taking another drink from the can and a genuine “I’m sorry.” passed his lips.

“You know I followed you?”

“What?”

“Yup. Made it all the way to St. Louis before I turned around.”

Billy was just staring at him at this point, unsure if he’d just heard him right. He just sat there with his mouth agape, catching flies and waiting for Steve to say more.

“I knew that you needed to go. I knew that you were hurting and it took me almost ten hours on the open road to realize that you needed time to heal.” Steve’s eyes looked glossy and his cheeks flushed but he kept his smile on. “So I came back home, and I waited here for you to come back. I wanted to make myself easy to find when you needed me.”

“You waited for me?”

Steve inched his hand over to where Billy’s was propping himself up and let his fingers gently trace the back of his hand. Steve’s touch was everything. It made his heart start racing and his palms start sweating and it felt just like 1985 all over again.

Billy took Steve’s hand in his own and entwined their fingers together and Billy let out a long exhale as they did.

“Billy,” Steve said softly, scooting his body just a little bit closer, less than a foot of separation now between the two of them, and he looked Billy in the eyes. Billy had almost gotten entirely lost in those pools of deep brown before Steve had the chance to speak again. But he heard it, loud and clear. “I’m still waiting for you.”

He waited.

Waited ten fucking years.

Billy wasn’t going to make him sit there and wait for a kiss too.

Billy closed the distance at the moment the penny dropped, sinking all of his weight into the kiss in a frantic and uneven pace just like they were eighteen again trying to squeeze both of their bodies into the backseat of the Camaro, refusing for even a second to separate themselves from the one point of contact that sealed them together like glue. The kiss felt just like their first. In the same spot, instead under the stars and the two of them both drunk off their asses, and that time Billy tasted of only blood and liquor.

But it was that same feeling. That desire to never pull away, that fear that it would end and that it would be the last time. He had that fear with everyone of Steve and his kisses, that each one might just be their last.

So he made a point to savor all of them.

They kissed until they physically couldn’t anymore. Out of breath with swollen lips and an inability stop the smiles that peeked through every couple of seconds. They sat there with their foreheads touching and their clasped hands still intact, relishing in the heat that was each other’s breath on their faces. Billy was crying, just streams of tears paired with a smile that Steve gently wiped away with his thumb, the brush of contact making him shiver.

“I missed you so fucking much.”

Steve cradled Billy’s head in his hands and peppered a few short kisses to his lips.

“I missed you too.”

“You think this is why Max invited me here?” Billy asked. “I can’t imagine she’d actually think I would want to come to this thing.”

Steve laughed. “No. She’s not an idiot. She figured you’d want to crash the funeral.”

Billy immediately got up from his place on the ground and held his other hand out for Steve to grab onto. “Well you wanna join me while I go piss on my old man’s grave?”

Steve took his hand without hesitation and let Billy pull him up off the ground.

“It would be my honor.”

Hawkins made a lot of bad memories for Billy, most of which he locked somewhere far away, but the good still remained. Right there in the look on Steve’s face with the way he looked back at him.

And he was happy to make a couple more.

[meanminyxrd]

neil josten and his foxes

Guess who’s re-reading TKM. Yeah. So! Before you is a series of quotes from the kidnapping scene that I have compiled to showcase that throughout the entire build-up to Baltimore and then within the scenes that take place thereafter, the one thing Neil I Form No Attachments To Anyone Josten was thinking of most was his foxes.

Also some bonus Andreil moments bc I’m a little bitch for them.

Don’t read if you are worried ab spoilers!

-

“He’d promised Andrew he’d hold his ground here, but he couldn’t do that if it meant catching his teammates in the cross-fire.”

-

“He was sorry to leave them with all of his lies, sorry they’d have to get the truth from Kevin after the fact. They were all right here with him but he missed them with a ferocity that threatened to turn him inside out.”

-

“Neil dropped his racquet and let his bag get ripped from his shoulder. Andrew and Kevin knew he’d never let go of these things willingly. It wouldn’t tell them where he’d gone, but they’d know he hadn’t left them by choice.”

-

“Neil clung to a version of the truth that would protect the Foxes, but no matter how many times he said it she wouldn’t stop. Eventually he stopped answering altogether, afraid he’d slip up in his pain and panic, and saved his energy for breathing.”

-

“He didn’t want to think about this, didn’t want to feel this, so he thought about the Foxes instead. He clung tight to the memory of their unhesitating friendship and their smiles. He pretended the heartbeat pounding a sick pace in his temples was an Exy ball ricocheting off the court walls. He thought of Wymack holding him up in December and Andrew pushing him down against the bedroom floor. The memories made him weak with grief and loss, but they made him stronger, too. He’d come to the Foxhole Court every inch a lie, but his friends made him into someone real.”

-

"He traced the outline of a key into his bloody, burnt palm with a shaky finger, closed his eyes, and wished Neil Josten goodbye.”

(because he couldn’t afford to allow them to kill neil; neil belonged to the foxes and always would. nathaniel was the one who was sworn off to this fate, not neil.)

-

“Look: these are the people I chose to stay with even knowing I couldn’t stay for long. I picked them over my own safety. So give them back to me and I’ll answer anything you ask.”

-

“They might hate him, they might fear him, and they would likely never forgive him, but Nathaniel couldn’t leave them like this. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye yesterday. He had to say it today, before the feds pushed him so deep the light would never again reach him.”

-

“‘They can’t leave without Andrew, and Andrew won’t go anywhere until he talks to me.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Yes, I do.’ Even if it was just to tear Nathaniel apart for hiding this from him, Andrew would wait as long as it took. He wasn’t the sort to leave things unfinished. Nathaniel knew that, believed that, with every fiber of his being. It was enough to soothe the sting of Town’s callous warning. ‘You can take me to him, or you can let me rot silently in a cell somewhere. Those are your only options.”

-

“In a terrible, impossible way, this somehow felt like home. Nathaniel wanted to claw that feeling out of himself and burn it. The Foxhole Court was the only home he needed; the Foxes were his family. He didn’t want any of this to have a hold on him anymore. How sad, how strange, how stupid, that he could run so far and still end up back here in the end. He couldn’t stand the sight of the city, so he tipped his head back and closed his eyes.”

-

“Nathaniel opened his mouth, but words failed him. Last night he knew he’d never see any of them again. Having them back was a salve on every one of his aching wounds, but he was keenly aware he was just here for goodbye. It would kill him to walk out of here.”

-

As a warning, the rest of these are pretty much Andreil based.

-

“Andrew shifted as if to get up and Nathaniel knew he was going to shut Browning up for good. Nathaniel knew better than to touch Andrew yet but he got as close as he could and framed Andrew’s face between his bandaged hands. Andrew could have easily pushed him aside, but after a short pause he got settled again. Nathaniel flicked him a quick look, grateful for that compliance.” (he’s always so whole-heartedly grateful when andrew chooses to do the bare minimum and i love him)

-

“They were there for me, and they would have hurt all of you to get me out of there. I thought by keeping my mouth shut I could keep you safe.”

-

“It was Nathaniel’s fault Andrew’s self-control was in shreds, but it was also for his sake. Andrew’s bottomless rage would never hurt Nathaniel, and that made all the difference in the world.”

-

“I have to go,” Andrew said. “I don’t trust them to give you back.”

-

“This had to be a cruel dream. Their forgiveness threatened to burn Nathaniel up from the inside-out, as healing as it was damning. He didn’t deserve their friendship or their trust. He’d never be able to repay them for rallying behind him like this. He could try the rest of his life, however long it was going to be now that Stuart was in the picture and Nathan was out, and he’d always fall short.”

-

That’ll close out this post but thank you for reading, if you did! Reread AFTG again, you won’t regret it.

[hyunlore]

this is something a lot of people seem to forget or ignore for sure. the fact that it wasn’t expanded on and we only get that scene is so frustrating because why show it if you’re just gonna make everyone still hate him? dacre built billy up from the ground. he was the one who fought for that scene with neil because he wanted to humanise billy. he wanted people to see that what billy was experiencing (his fathers abuse from early childhood) and how he was acting (essentially just pushing everything away, being distanced and irritable towards max/everyone, self medicating w alcohol and smoking) were two sides of the same coin. and i feel like that definitely threw a wrench in the duffers plans for billy. also i kinda go off in the tags with my character analysis and that’s not even half of them like i have so many thoughts on all of it yikes

so you’re going to tell me that a kid that stood up to his abusive father to protect his mom when he was like eleven or twelve and sacrificed himself to protect a kid he didn’t know after one touch of comfort at barely eighteen following a life of physical, psychological abuse and abandonment wasn’t brave or worth saving? just because he was a mess and made horrible mistakes? in his teenage years? okay, d*ffers.

[i-did]

hey! I hope those aftg asks aren’t getting tiring lol but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on the recent fandom treatment of Kevin, which seems to be mainly seeing him as a victim mistreated both in canon by the other foxes & by nora himself? Like I remember in the earlier days of aftg (like maybe around 2016? 2017??) there definitely wasn’t this kind of focus or view of Kevin & I feel like he was treated with somewhat more nuance then? And this could be related to the growing hate for Nora since then but you don’t see people say the same things about the other foxes?? This is a very messy ask lol but I’m genuinely so confused about this trend esp because Kevin seems to be the only fox (as far ive seen anyways) that people are holding up as a victim w/o any nuance

I have a lot of fun answering these, I just sometimes take a minute to get to them lol

Okay so I definitely know what you're talking about with the Kevin thing. The first major factor is that AFTG has finished coming you years ago, and Nora has not actively engaged with the fandom since 2016. I came around into AFTG in 2017 as a reader, and looking at the fanart. Mostly by then you see the race headcanons locked into place and the beginning of the split between fanon and canon. Without more canon, fanon content starts to develop as whoever is more influential the fan creators (fic authors, fan artists) start to do things that trend. As a time passes in a fandom, it tends to split into niches, people who see things a certain way and want to see more of that follow each other and gain followers who agree with them. 

There is definitely a Kevin centric niche that thinks those things. I don’t think there was as much focus in general on Kevin back in 2017, but I also was pretty new. But there were no extreme Anti-Andrew fans, back then it was “you are either a fan of Nicky or a fan of Aaron.” People didnt have “dni choking apologists” on their blogs. 

I think choking discourse is a good example of the rise of Kevin. Andrew must fall for Kevin to rise. There are kandreil fans that genuinely like all three, and some ace/aro Kevin fans that like him just as he is, but a lot of Kevin centric content I see now on tumblr is about how Andrew is the real villain of AFTG for choking Kevin, despite Kevin violently choking Neil in book 1. 

Back in 2018 they weren't pitted against the other and I think the whole “you can only like one character or the other” thing is stupid imo. I like Nicky more than Aaron, but I still think they're both interesting characters. Ive seen a lot of “Kevin was only a victim” takes, and in fact got cyber bullied for a while by some people who thought I was too mean to Kevin in some of my HC by implying he also had some power in the nest and likely hurt others, and that he feels guilt over it. :/ but there is also a similar niche with “you can't blame Aaron for his homophobia, his mom was abusive, and she likely made him that way.”

It's the most similar discourse trend I've seen to the Kevin discourse. It’s a similar lack of nuance, and I think people inflict it their favorite character because they don't want to have a ‘problematic fav.’ Aaron is canonly homophobic, Neil says directly after him and Andrew ‘come out’ to the others, that he was waiting to see the same grief Aaron gave Nicky over his sexuality. It doesn't mean he can't be also a good character or a person someone likes, in fact well written characters have dimensions and flaws. 

Which that whole mess is similar to the whole Kevin thing. I think people fall in love with the idea of Nora’s characters, or maybe the fanon characters–but not the real characters. Which is also why they say the author hates them, because they got written to do bad things or not be in the story as much, they defend these characters as if they were real people who need defending, need to be saved from being erased. These characters become “their character.”

I think this also happens because people kin characters and identify with them a lot, so when I said “Kevin was in a position in power in the nest too, even in second place” and then receive threats for how I personally hurt someone who's a CSA survivor because of my Kevin HC I'm like (o – o). I think these people project so hard onto Kevin and design him in their mind, they feel as if character flaw HCs or depictions of Kevin struggling and being mean are personal insults, or at least very personally insulting. And I don't want to sound like an ass, but like my Kevin isn't the same as their Kevin, my Kevin is my Kevin. 

I see skinny art of Andrew and art of Neil as white or ginger, these don’t align with my personal HC’s about them, but like that's what I chose to go with. Nora uses language that makes me believe Neil has dark auburn hair, but if people want him to be ginger idc. In canon he was written with the intent to be white, I ignore that because I think him being mixed adds more depth to his character (as well as me being tired of only white mlm, and have updated my reading list). Andrew wasn’t imagined by Nora to be fat either, but I HC him as like a mini muscle bear instead of Toby Hemingway. 

I keep the canon intent in mind to remind myself how she actually saw them and how that can color canon and how other people are allowed to see Neil as white and Andrew as skinny. Like I understand why people get annoyed over other peoples hc’s, I feel similarly sometimes. But like at the end of the day, you just gotta move out of that fandom niche and into a new one or just ignore the post.

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

I know it’s not what you usually write, but could you do hc’s for Nicky / Aaron / Neil learning the actual timeline for Andrew and Roland’s “relationship” and then completely cutting Roland out of their lives? Bonus points if Neil like, kills or calls up Ichirou to kill him :) thanks :) I need closure :)

Don’t we all, babe? Here’s a lil something for your trouble

“How old were you when you lost your virginity,” Andrew read off the block. All the Upperclassmen, save Renee leaned forward in anticipation. Amidst the flood of articles published upon Andrew’s admittance to Easthaven, the media had muddled much of the story in regards to the entire Pre-Thanksgiving Fiasco. While Neil had taken the time to clear things up with the Upperclassmen, he’d left out a lot of the details, namely Andrew’s history of trauma. 

“It’s none of y’alls fucking buisness-” Aaron started. 

“Seven.” It was as though someone had sucked all the air out of the room. “He was dating my foster mother. She knew what he was doing. So long as she got her check, she didn’t care.”

Folding his hands in his lap in an attempt to sate his urge to reach out, Neil let his eyes go out of focus. Every single fiber of his being ached to touch Andrew. For eight months, Andrew had stood by his side, quelling his every urge to run despite the looming threat of his father. Even after Nathan’s death, Neil had bolted awake in the middle of nights, iching to cut and run. Every single time, Andrew had hooked a hand behind his neck, drawn him close, muttered quiet reassurances until he’d smoothed over all of Neil’s ragged edges. Admitting this could not be easy for Andrew. Why he’d even done it, Neil didn’t know but he wished that he could offer Andrew with at least a fraction of the support he’d provided him in the last year. By nothing short of a miracle, he was granted the opportunity to. 

Andrew’s arm dropped from off the couch back, settling across Neil’s shoulders. Immediately, Neil felt himself relax. 

“How old were you when you chose to have sex for the first time?” Nicky asked, hesitantly. That wasn’t a distinction anyone should ever have to draw and it cut Neil deeper than any of his father’s knives. 

“Seventeen,” Andrew answered. The Foxes collectively exhaled. In South Carolina, the age of consent was sixteen. It probably wasn’t a good call to grant hormonally charged teens the legal ability to consent to sex but what were they going to do? Have sex with an adult? 

“Who was it?” Nicky asked. Aaron groaned, clapping his hands over his ears. 

“Roland,” Andrew admitted. The second the name left his lips, Nicky’s smile faltered. Aaron’s hands dropped away, his brows knitting together as they always did when he was sorting through something. 

“No way,” Nicky laughed but it was false cheer. Concern welled in Neil’s chest. “Andrew, when you were seventeen, Roland was…”

“Twenty-three,” Aaron said. His voice was empty, devoid of all the fury painting his features. “He was twenty-three years old and you were a child.”

“I’m more than capable of making my own-” Andrew started.

“No you fucking weren’t!” Aaron roared. “He was your boss. Not only was he older than you, he was in a place of power.” Once more, a pregnant silence fell over the Foxes. None of the Upperclassmen nor Kevin deigned to intervene. 

“Aaron-” Andrew began.

“No,” he snapped. “I don’t- I can’t,” Aaron said as he rocketed out of his seat. Storming through, he knocked into the table and sent the jenga tower toppling. 

“How about we call it a night?” Matt asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before he began clearing away the blocks. Renee moved next, clearing up the glasses and coaxing Dan and Allison to help her with the dishes. Nicky stood, his movements mechanical as he made his way from the room. Kevin followed him out in silence. It wasn’t until everyone had left the room that Andrew moved. Unfurling from where he’d curled up on the couch, he drew his arm back from around Neil and stood. 

“Andrew,” Neil called quietly. There was something poisonous in the gaze he turned on Neil but it did nothing to deter him. “He wasn’t just older or your boss. He didn’t respect you.” Andrew’s lips curled in a snarl. “You had to handcuff him just to keep his hands off you.” Neil’s voice broke near the end but he didn’t care. It seemed to break something in Andrew too.His apathetic facade fell back into place but there were cracks in it now. From the slump of his shoulders to the muscle ticking in his jaw, Neil could see how their words had affected him. Andrew didn’t believe in regret for it was the result of shame and guilt. Surely, he felt neither of those things now. There was no shame in sating his desires. All teens had them. There was no guilt in it either. He wasn’t the one that had done anything wrong. 

Fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket, Andrew slipped one out of the carton and lit it up. He headed out the door with Neil at his heels. They parted ways at the door to their room, Andrew headed for the stairwell in search of some time to clear his head and Neil headed for their bed to give him the space he undoubtedly needed. 

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

“How was y’alls weekend?” Bee asked, chipper as ever. “I heard you forwent the usual Columbia outing in favor of going to one of Dan’s game night.” Aaron’s heart stumbled. A wave of anger washed over him, thinly veiling the anguish beneath. Seven. Andrew had been hurting since he was seven. Not only that, but he’d allowed the unthinkable.

“How can you stand him?” Aaron asked, his body trembled as he struggled to contain his anger. 

“How can you stand her?” Andrew countered. As always, he looked entirely uninterested in the proceedings. He was slumped down in his chair, absently stirring his hot chocolate. 

“Tilda didn’t rape me.” Bee sat a little straighter. Immediately, her gaze flicked towards Andrew. Aaron watched as Andrew set his cup back onto the desk. 

“I trust Neil.” 

“Like you trusted Roland?” Aaron’s voice came out sounding cold, empty, and nothing like himself. Fury lit up Andrew’s face. “He was twenty-three, Andrew. An adult! You were seventeen. What the fuck were you thinking?” A heavy silence settled over them. Bee always gave the boys a few minutes to cool down or pick up the conversation without her own intervention. Just as she opened her mouth, Andrew spoke.

“It was the first time I’d felt in control of things,” he said finally. “Everyone was always taking what they wanted from me. My… arrangement with Roland was purely transactional. I got him off and I got to feel like I was in control.” Andrew picked his mug back up from the desk. Aaron watched as he drained it in one go. “In retrospect, I see that I wasn’t. My sense of control was an illusion that Roland allowed me to maintain so that he could get what he wanted.” 

“That’s a very interesting insight, Andrew,” Bee remarked. She made several notes on her clipboard as Aaron digested his brother’s words. That was all they had time for. The two of them allowed Bee to walk them to the door of the clinic and drove back to the court in silence. 

Despite it being the middle of practice, Nicky was standing in the parking lot. 

“Hey,” he said, plastering a smile to his face at the twins’ approach. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron asked. He watched as a shiver ran down his cousin’s spine at the chilly tone. 

“I left the flash drive with all my old photos of Erik at the house a while ago. I’ve gotta go grab it so I can make him a video for our 7th anniversary! Kevin’s letting me borrow his car too. How was Bee?” Neither of the twins answered. “Alright, good talk!” Nicky called after them.

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

Good talk indeed. It seemed that neither of the twins suspected a thing. Cutting the engine on, Nicky peeled out of the lot. A month after Riko’s death, the Ravens had sent his old car to Kevin. They’d said that, as his brother and closest family member, Kevin should be the one to inherit all his belongings. Of course, their intentions weren’t as pure as the media portrayed them to be. Every single one of Riko’s belongings served as a reminder of Kevin’s time in the Nest. 

The Foxes had held a bonfire on the beach in which they’d burnt all of it. Neil had attended as well. From what Nicky had managed to wring from him, his mother had died on a beach and Neil had been forced to burn her body. 

“It won’t be easy,” Neil had admitted, “but I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” The smile that had stretched across his had been so undeniably fox-like that Nicky had done a double take. 

It was nice seeing Neil smile. It was even nicer to see the way Andrew relaxed around him. The two of them had been forged in the hellfires of their upbringings into the most wicked blades in the Fox arsenal. But that didn’t mean they were invincible. Even the sharpest of knives could be scratched and chipped and, eventually, broken. 

Ever since Andrew first arrived in Columbia, Nicky had sworn he’d protect his cousins to the best of his abilities. He’d never once managed it. In fact, more often than not, Andrew was the one protecting him. It was time he paid him back for it. 

Nicky pulled into the parking lot of the ramshackle apartments at the edge of Columbia in record time. Atop his car, lounged a familiar figure. 

“Nicky?” Roland called as he sat up. His eyes were red and he reeked of weed. “What are you doing all the way out here without Andrew?” Nicky could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin. 

“When did you start sleeping with him?” Nicky asked, struggling to keep his voice steady. Roland’s brows knitted together as he thought.

“Started maybe… four years ago? It ended as soon as your little runner joined the line, though. Shame,” Roland said, sliding off the trunk of his car, “Andrew was the best I’d ever had.” 

“Do you know how old he was?” Nicky demanded. There was no hiding the way it trembled now. 

“He was seventeen.” The answer was immediate and it knocked the air out of Nicky’s lungs. “He was legal,” Roland said with a shrug. The old one two, he heard Matt say in his head. It suddenly struck Nicky that Roland was older than he was. 

“He was a child,” Nicky roared. “My child!” Before he even realized, Nicky had closed the space between them. His hand came up, curled in a fist. The jarring pain of his own knuckles connecting with the side of Roland’s jaw knocked him back into his body. 

“What the fuck, Nicky-” Roland started but, as he looked up from where he’d fallen, terror washed over his face. 

“Don’t you ever speak to me or my boys again,” Nicky snarled. The drive back passed in a blur. Making his way up the stairs mechanically, Nicky headed back to his own room. When he opened the door, he found Andrew settled on the couch with Neil in his lap and a controller in his hands. Aaron was stretched out on the other couch, watching the screen. 

“Can’t wait to lose a fourth time, can you, Minyard?” Matt taunted. 

“Fuck off, Boyd,” Andrew snapped. Aaron laughed, warm and bright, and the sound filled the room. Nicky watched as Andrew’s gaze flicked over to his brother, the ghost of a smile flickering across his mouth. My boys, Nicky thought with a smile. 

“Come on, Nicky,” Matt called. “I need someone who’ll put up a real challenge.” 

“Get ready to have that fine ass of yours handed to you,” Nicky shot back. 

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

“You’ve missed quite a few birthdays,” Neil said, offhandedly. 

“That’s a helluva birthday present, Abram,” the man on the other end of the line remarked. 

“It is,” Neil agreed. The man huffed an exaggerated sigh. 

“Fine. You’ll have Roland’s head by the end of the week.” 

“Thanks, Uncle Stuart,” Neil said. He could feel the cruel smile curling his lips but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was one of the monsters after all.

[91percentpynch]

false god - kevaaron au pt 5

long time no see because i was in a writing block and that sucks but i‘m back and ready to break our hearts <33 thanks to argyro for helping me figuring out what happens here

i listened to false god by taylor swift cuz the angst??? love it!!! anygays this is from kevin‘s pov, i hope it makes sense and i hope you like it <33 stay safe, drink some water and always remember only racists, trump supporters, transphobes and homophobes skip meals!!

to check out the other parts click here

Aaron wasn‘t gone for too long when Kevin‘s phone rang

He didn‘t have the energy to pick it up, just to stare it down as if some kind of magic or his sheer will power would make it stop, let him be alone with his thoughts

But obviously that didn‘t work, it never did

The phone kept ringing, slowly driving the striker mad, slowly taking his sanity.

It would be the fifth or sixth missed call that would make him get up to answer the phone

„KEVIN HI NICKY HERE, LISTEN I TRIED TO CALL YOU FOR THE PAST HALF HOUR OR SO BUT AARON‘S IN THE HOSPITAL AND I CAN‘T GET THERE UNTIL LIKE TOMORROW AND ANDREW DOESN‘T ANSWER HIS PHONE EITHER AND HE WOULD TAKE LIKE HOURS TO GET THERE AS WELL CAN YOU PLEASE GO TO HIM SO HE DOESN‘T HAVE TO BE ALONE I DON‘T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED PLEASE, KEVIN I NEVER ASKED FOR ANYTHING FROM YOU PLEASE JUST GO AND MAKE SURE MY SON IS OKAY“

„Nicky? Hi to you too. You do realize he isn‘t my responsibility and that he broke up with me and that I don‘t really have to go there. I don‘t own him shit. He made my life miserable. He probably deserves whatever happened to him“ was what Kevin wanted to answer, was probably what he was supposed to say. But deep down he knew it was not true, that Aaron never ruined his life. Made it better, made it it bareable. Made it worth living, not just existing. Made it more than Exy and Vodka.

After a few moments of silence that felt like an enterinity Kevin settled for a simple: „Which hospital?“

„OH DIO MIO GRACIAS, MUCHAS GRACIAS. ESTÁ EN EL CHICAGO HOSPITAL“, Nicky replied in Spanish. Something the Latino only did when he was either very emotional, very drunk, very angry or all at once.

Kevin didn‘t have it in him to tell Nicky that he still did not speak Spanish, he understood the hospital and that was enough. For now.

„I‘m on my way, call you later and Nicky? He‘s going to be fine. It‘s not your fault. You‘re a great mother to them, the best I‘ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Now calm down, go to Erik and take a nap. You don‘t have to come, he‘s with us. We got this. Do you want to talk to Jeremy while I go to check up on Aaron?“

„Sí“, was all Nicky had to say. Voice thick with tears.

„JER CAN YOU TALK TO NICKY AARON‘S IN THE HOSPITAL I‘M GOING THERE“, Kevin shouted into the flat.

„Absoloutly“, Jeremy replied and took the phone from Kevin.

„Mi corazón, escúchame“, was the last thing Kevin heard as it hit him. Aaron was in the hospital. Right after Kevin refused to listen to him, right after Kevin refused to let him explain himself. It was Kevin‘s fault. If Aaron died, he would have killed him. He was basically a murderer. His breathing came out uneven, his lungs didn‘t get enough air. He knew that he needed to breathe, but breathing was hard and he was weak.

Jean noticed Kevin having a panic attack when he came to check up on him. „Day, listen to me. Breathe. In... And out... In.... And out... In... And out“

Kevin‘s breathing got better, slowly but steadily.

„It‘s my fault“, the striker whispered.

„It‘s not, Kevin. It is not your fault. If you don‘t want to go there, you don‘t have to. He is not your responsibility“

„Hypothetically if Jeremy was to break up with you and you‘re hurt and sad and blame him for your misery when it‘s more the lack of him that makes you feel that way and his sister or brother or mother or whoever would call you and hysterically asked you to go look after him cause his family is stuck on another continent and the only other person who could call refuses to take the phone cause they‘re too busy doing their boyfriend, would you not go cause he is not your responsibility anymore? Because Aaron is my Jeremy. Just like Jer saved your life and made you see that live is indeed worth living, Aaron showed me the same“

„I don‘t think I would surive Jeremy leaving me, you‘ve always been stronger than me. Should I give you a ride?“, Jean whispered.

„It‘s not a thing of strenght Jean, it‘s an addiction. It used to be alcohol that made me forget, made me feel light and free and carefree. I drank and drank until I couldn‘t live without it anymore. And then I met Aaron, I tasted him, I smelled him and he chose me. Me? What did I have to offer him? A boy broken and raised by Exy. All I can offer is Exy. Nothing more. Until he made me see that it was wrong, that I am more than that. And he might have broken my heart and yes I might still love him even though he will never feel the same but I cannot not go there. I have to. I have to be there for them, the way he was always there for me“

„Get your things, we‘re going to the hospital“, Jean replied, unable to put his emotions into words.

So Jean and Kevin left for the hospital while Jeremy tried to calm Nicky down with softly whispered Spanish words.

As they arrived at the hospital Kevin stormed in there.

„Aaron Minyard“, was all he was able to say. Too many memories were connected with hospitals. Too many memories he would much rather just forget.

„Name?“, the nurse said in a bored tone.

Kevin just put a finger on his cheek.

„Kevin Day? I can‘t let you to him, only family and spouses“

„What if I sign something, we take a nice selfie and you tell me where he is. You see I‘m basically family. I‘m the closest and the others can‘t be here until at least tomorrow evening and we don‘t want the poor guy to be all alone and confused, do we?“, Kevin said with his press smile and shining eyes. He knew the charme he had on females. It was just not useful for him as he never really was into that. He never was into anyone but Aaron, to be fair.

„I could lose my job for that“, the nurse replied, her eyes wandering from his eyes to his lips and up again.

„I‘m sure I can offer you something that will you let me to go see him“, Kevin replied with a wink, being disgusted by himself that he even thought about all the possiblities this woman could ask him to do with her.

„Room 21, second floor, station E. You clearly care about him, if anyone asks it wasn‘t me“, she smiled at him. „Besides I always liked Moreau more, I‘m sure we can think of something to do while you are with the boy“

„Sorry“, Kevin whispered to Jean as he ran down the aisle trying to figure out where Aaron was.

The hostpital was a mess of busy nurses and angry doctors, but nothing could stop a determinded Kevin Day. No one. Not even Andrew Minyard.

After what felt like forever he made it to the room, kicked the door open and walked with three long strides to Aaron.

„You fucking idiot, what have you done?“, he whisper-shouted, holding back tears while taking in Aaron‘s sorry state.

„I don‘t need your fucking pity“, Aaron replied, exhausted.

„Did you tell them you can‘t have morphine? Because you might relapse, i mean you already did but we don‘t want it to get worse. And this is not pity, this is Nicky yelling at me in Spanish cause you‘re in the hospital and he‘s in Germany and I‘m the closest to you and he does not want his son to be alone“

„Andrew didn‘t care to come, did he?“, Aaron whispered into his pillow.

„Andrew does care about you he‘s just shit at showing it, that fucking asshole“, Kevin replied softly. „C‘mon what have you done Minyard?“

„Car accident, not that it‘s any of your fucking business“

„How are you?“

„Fucking great, I should let a truck drive into me more often. Very freeing. Very calming“, Aaron said sarcastically, avoiding Kevin‘s eyes.

„A truck. Drove into you?“, shock made Kevin‘s Irish accent stronger.

„Not that you would care“, Aaron‘s voice was barely more than a whisper as he turned around, back to Kevin.

„Aaron first of all I can see you naked ass and not that I wouldn‘t mind the view and I‘ve seen it often enough but the nurses don‘t have to see that too. And secondly of course I care. I always did. Always will“

Blushing Aaron turned back towards Kevin.

„Why wouldn‘t you listen to me if you care so much? You‘re exactly like like Andrew, you guys only ever care when I‘m about to die or do something that doesn‘t sit right with you. Never about me as a person. The conecept about me maybe, but me? Me as a person? No one cares about that“

„You are Aaron Minyard. Born on the 4th of November, 8:31:45 am. You grew up in California in the house next to Nicky. Nicky and you were always close and you didn‘t have many friends because of your mom. Your mom might have abused her and I might hate her for that but you still love her and I get that because on some fucked up level I still care about Riko. You are allergic to cats, peanuts and house dust. You have a freckle right on your right hip, under your navel, from under your left eye over to the nose to the corner of your right eye. You like it when you are hold when you can‘t sleep but you hate showing affection in public. You were 13 when you started exy, because it gave you an escape, but you had to stop because the bruises from your mother‘s beating got to obvious. So you started getting into medicine. You borrowed every single book on medicine you could find and read it at night, always hidden from your mom. You had to have straight As or the beatings would be worse. Your mom did go out to have ice cream with you when it was especially bad. That‘s why you hate ice cream so much, especially vanillia because it was her favourite. Your secret hobby is skating. You feel free when you do it. You want to live at the coast, but not close to Cali, never back to Cali. You want Andrew to notice you and you hate how easily he let Neil in because obviously deserve it more and I get that. You tried drugs to escape, to see what was the appeal. Your uncle never helped you but he brainwashed you into believing he did. You grew up very religous and in an extraordinary homophobic household, you watched your cousin and only friend getting shipped away because he was different, not right, so you confinced yourself you were different. Heterosexual. When in reality you knew since you were 15 that you preferred guys. You liked girls as well. At least you thought but it‘s so much more complicated. Actually it isn‘t. You‘re asexual, you do however like the feeling of sex. You think the process is disgusting, but you still like the feeling. It has to be the right person though. It doesn‘t matter wether it‘s a boy or a girl or something else entierly, all that matters are the feelings the person makes you feel. It took you years to accept that you are not wrong, that you wouldn‘t have to go away like Nicky. You apologized to Nicky. You thought you had to be against their relationships, because that‘s what they made you believe. Old habits die hard. But you got over it and I am very proud of you. You sleep with a teddybear or with another person that cuddles you because the thought of being alone scares the living crap out of you. Your favourite flowers are sunflowers because yellow is a happy color. You hate sweets, you prefer salty snacks. You prefer coffee black, like your sould. You use sarcasm and humor as your coping mechanism. You stole my history books because you love history as well. You also love art but you don‘t think you are good enought to become an artist. You would love to work at Jean‘s studio but you are afraid to ask. You and Jean used to be friends but you cut him off and isolated yourself because your anxities and insecurities took over you again. Sometimes you have depressive episodes, in these you crave drugs more than normally. You want to stop it, you really do but somehow your brain tries to tell you you need it. You would love to have five dogs. An Irish Red Setter, an Irish Wolfhound, a poodle a big one though, a labrador and a golden retriever. You also want to adopt at least two kids. You don‘t want any child to go through what you had to go through or Andrew. So don‘t you dare tell me I never cared for you. Because I do. I listen when you tell me things. I remember every single time you came to me, black out drunk, crying and telling me you‘re worthless. Because every single time I wanted to tell you you aren‘t. You are a wonderful human being and I don‘t understand why I wasn‘t enough for you to stay but I will not let you tell me I never cared about you. Because that‘s some fucking bullshit“

Kevin didn‘t even notice the tears running down his cheeks. It‘s been a while since he was that emotional, since he let his walls down and dared to show emotions.

„You really did listen“, was all Aaron had to say.

„Why wasn‘t I enough for you?“, Kevin replied, voice thick of tears, Irish accent strong.

[bird-in-a-cage]

Zombie

Do not provoke the patient.

Do not touch the patient.

Do not ask any leading questions that could cause trauma to the patient.

If the patient touches you at any time you will be pulled from the room for decontamination and not permitted to return.

Do not pass anything to the patient. If caught doing so you will be arrested and charged with tampering with government properly.

Steve stared down at his hands on the table, under two layers of latex up to his elbows. He'd been forced to wash them three times until they were pink and raw. Thoroughly decontaminated.

When Max had handed him the very official looking letter, shaking with tears right in the middle of Family Video he knew it was serious.

He didn't think it would be this serious.

The room he'd been taken too was plain. Had no windows and only two doors. A table in the middle with two chairs. All of it bolted to the floor. It was cold stainless steel, not that Steve could really feel it through all the layers. Opposite was a large mirror that took up most of the wall. Clearly two way. The room behind probably full of officials and scientists, all very proper looking with ID badges and miles of abbreviations after all their names.

Apparently Neil had wanted to burn the letter. Ignore it completely like it never existed. Max had snatched it away and ran. Skitched behind a bus nearly the whole way with little care for safety. Robin read the letter first. Let Steve try and calm Max down somehow. The full severity of the situation hit home even harder when Robin's eyes blew wide, like she couldn't believe what she was reading.

Billy Hargrove was alive.

The room smelt overly sterile. Steve tapped his sneakers in plastic bags on the floor, waiting. They bounced hollow with no squeak. The door he hadn't come through was pushed open, and someone wearing a lab coat and a white mask walked inside with the ‘patient’. Set him down in the opposite chair on the other side of the table, and left without a word or even a passing glance.

Steve was shocked into silence.

This wasn't Billy Hargrove.

He remembered Billy being full of life and fire, eyes that could pierce at a thousand yards, a dangerous tanned frame, and a quick tongue within a mouth that was too smart for his own good.

The person in front of him was none of those things.

His hair was completely gone. Shaved short. His eyes looked black and bruised with fatigue, those once deep ocean blues sunk in and hidden, staring down at the empty table top. He was pale. Thin. Gaunt.

This wasn't Billy Hargrove. This wasn't the boy he'd known, had a whole secret life with away from the gossips of high school. Had spent nights with at the quarry getting high, drinking and talking, listening to mixtapes in each others’ cars. Playflighting about Billy’s love of metal and Steve’s love of anything that wasn’t. Making out in backseats in the rain.

This felt like meeting a stranger.

"I had a feelin' she'd ask you to come," Billy spoke. His voice cracked like it hadn't been used for a while. He raised his head and dared to smile, but it didn't look right. He felt forced and it was too big for his new face. Wasn't bright or menacing. Just felt like a mask. Hiding the pain underneath.

"She tried. Wasn't allowed in." Steve just watched as Billy rolled his shoulders in a silent laugh to himself, pulled his arms up with some effort to rest them on the table. They were lined with white scars and tracks, poked with obvious needle marks. His wrists were thin. Steve could see the tendons shift in the back of his hands when he moved his fingers. Rolled his hands into fists and released.

It made Steve’s heart fall into his stomach.

"H-how have you been?" Steve winced at his own question. It was obvious to see how Billy had been but he couldn't think of anything else to ask. Two days ago he, and the rest of Hawkins, believed Billy had died in Starcourt. The town chose to ignore the whole thing, not knowing the true story. It was just a terrible electrical fire that had spread too wild before it could be controlled. The government forbade Steve from talking to anyone about it aside from his specially appointed therapist once a fortnight.

It didn’t do very much. 

It’s hard to talk through being tortured by Russians in a secret underground base in the town that used to be your home but now just feels like a shell and all the memories you made there feel like lies. It’s hard to talk through fighting monsters and having to make split second decisions to either save your own life or a bunch of kids’ you barely know. It’s hard to talk through nightmares that are just endlessly long tunnels and a snarling noise and rows and rows and rows of teeth dripping slime clamping around your face and eating you alive soft parts first.

It’s hard to talk through losing the one person who understood you inside and out, even if you never completely opened up to them, but you just didn’t have too because you were both on the same page of the same chapter of the same book somehow. And that was all that mattered.

Steve had slowly made peace with the fact he was never going to see Billy again. Quietly. Alone in his home that he now felt like a ghost walking through. Acting like nothing had happened. It had taken months but he was slowly getting over his fear of the dark again. Was getting over waking up alone again.

Seeing Billy though, even as small and un-Billy like as he was sat on the other side of the table in a strange building it had taken three hours driving through the middle of nowhere to get too, with Max in the passenger seat bouncing her knees and going between wanting to throw up, cry or just scream out the window, had ripped open every wound Steve had tried to let heal.

It was the most alive he’d felt since July.

“I’ve been better,” Billy answered, with a small coy smile. “Been worse too.”

Steve blinked and he was back at the mall. Back when it was all over. The air thick with gunpowder and smoke. A single wail of despair echoing from a soul too young to deal with something so horrible.

They were all too young to deal with something so horrible.

Billy on the ground. Lifeless. Nearly torn in two. Cold eyes at the sky. Covered in black and blood. Laying in a puddle of indistinguishable fluid.

Yet here he was. Clean. Breathing. Alive. Eyes still bright despite obvious pain. It was a miracle.

"How?" Was all Steve could think to ask next. 

Billy shrugged, bony shoulders within hospital clothes. A pale mint coloured loose fitting top and matching pants. He didn't have shoes.

"I try not to think about it. They say it's not good for me to think about it. Causes too much stress."

They. The government. Doctors. The Russians. The monsters that could still very well live under Hawkins. The monster that was inside Billy the whole time unseen by those who should have cared enough to notice.

Steve would never forgive himself for that.

"But I fell asleep there. And woke up here. Only way I can put it."

It was November now. Thanksgiving was in two weeks. Billy had been three hours away for five months. If the letter had never been sent no one would have ever known. If Neil had burnt it no one would have ever known. His eyes flashed dull for a moment, dragged down to the table keeping them apart, looking at his own reflection or trying not to get pulled into remembering something awful Steve couldn’t tell.

His fingers itched within the layers of latex. To just reach over and touch and confirm this was all real and not some crazy hallucination. To feel Billy, alive Billy, breathing Billy again. Hold Samson and will his power back. Will all of this to be over for good. Kidnap and smuggle him out of here somehow so they could run away from nightmares and monsters and Hawkins forever. Start again somewhere where it never got cold. Where they could both get tans and be happy.

“Max says hi,” Steve said instead, keeping his hands between his knees. “Well, she says more than hi…”

Billy chuckled like a cough, matching Steve’s eyes. “I figured.” He slowly rubbed his chest like every heartbeat was aching.

Do not ask the patient about any procedures.

You have been asked to come here to stimulate cortexes within the patient’s brain. Sight alone should be sufficient but we understand you may wish to exchange a few words.

“Do you know if you’ll ever be out of here?”

Do not ask any leading questions.

Billy’s face fell. He tapped his fingers on the table. Thinking. His voice was small and sad. 

“No.”

Steve released his hands from being clamped down where it was safe and put them on the table, slowly inched over until it just barely touched Billy’s fingertip. Blue eyes sparkled a little. Felt like home seeing them like that again.

Do not touch the patient.

“I miss you,” he said quietly, forcing down a self pitying sob, focusing straight ahead. He heard a door behind him swing open. Billy rolled his hand over the latex. Squeezed tight. The door behind Billy swung open too. The doctor started coming towards them.

Do not touch the patient.

“I miss you too. Tell Max I love her, okay?” Billy smiled so genuinely as he put his hands up in surrender. Looked like he was practiced in that movement now. He was marched away without a glance back. The door was closed sharply and it was like nothing had ever happened. 

Steve had just spoken to a ghost.

Outside in the car Max was still in the passenger seat, waiting for news. Steve’s hands were even pinker after more decontamination cleaning. They tingled but he still felt the weight of Billy’s hand somehow. Felt the slight compression. She stared wide eyed at him getting in and slipping the keys into the ignition so they could return to Hawkins and pretend none of this had ever happened once again. One more lie wouldn’t hurt.

“He’s okay.” 

[honeytea8]

Space Cadet

Disclaimer: I honestly can’t explain what this is but it’s my first contribution. Constructive criticisms welcome lmao

Prompt: Childhood

Summary: Ghiaccio used to want to be an astronaut, but only so he could fly to the moon and never come back.

Word Count: 693

.

His earliest memory—the only one that stuck out in technicolor among the graying film strips in his head—was of the winter in 1988.

He remembered being seven years young and enraptured, for the first time. The look of fluttery snowflakes dropping from the sky and coating the entire neighborhood in a blanket of white; the press of a warm cheek and nose against the cold window-pane, the way his tiny breaths fogged up the glass.

His neighbor’s car was stuck in the snow.

Nonna Maria, with the orange tabby, was shoveling white flakes off her balcony with a broom.

Ghiaccio even remembered the unmistakable taste of jealousy on his tongue as he watched what’s-his-face from down the street, making snow angels with his older brother.

It was the best thing he could come up with when Melone had asked him in front of everyone. “What's one thing you remember from your childhood?”

Not really thinking too much about it, Ghiaccio gave the shortest answer he could.

“Snow.”

“Aw Ghia,” Melone cooed. “Is that all?” There was a mocking lilt in his tone that seemed to accompany everything that came out of the man's mouth. He didn’t like it.

Ghiaccio bristled with an insult ready on his tongue, but Melone had simply turned his focus onto the next target. The spotlight effectively shifted from him to someone else, as everyone’s gaze fell on Formaggio, retelling the first time a girl let him cop a feel. That was the kind of answer they had wanted, something to occupy their minds while they waited, with bated breath, on Gelato and Sorbet to return. 

Ghiaccio, for one, wasn’t worried. Those two could handle themselves.

He attempted to resume his typing, but his attention was no longer on the mission report. The familiar dredges of this stale memory remained at the forefront of his mind, and now that he truly considered it, there were several other things he could recall about that morning.

The sound of his mother’s sleep-filled voice: “What the hell are you doing?”

Followed by his whispered response, “Nothing, ma.”

“Nothing? Well, I should give you something to do, yes?!” she could be rather shrill upon first waking up.

Having found her son kneeling in front of the large window in her room with the curtains pulled back. She decided to give him something to do, rather than be stuck looking at a face that reminded her of the man who knocked her up and left her with his debt. She tossed a box of old newspaper clippings at him.

They said one man’s trash was another man’s treasure. He hadn’t known why the hell she was so obsessed with shit that didn't matter anymore. It was all old news, but she’d collected so many different newspapers as mementos, he figured it was important to her at least.

Pulling up a chair to the desk in his room, he chose the same clipping as always.

July 1969: Neil Armstrong lands on the moon.

Ghiaccio underlined the english word, astronaut, and copied it into his notepad with careful strokes. His comfort found in scratching graphite against the sheet. He wrote it over and over until the word itself began to look weird, like foreign hieroglyphics or an alien language from somewhere beyond the stars.

He wondered about the moon? What was it like? Probably quiet, and cold. Did it snow there?

Through the thin wall of their little apartment, Ghiaccio could hear his mother yelling again. At who, he didn’t know and couldn’t tell you—

“—Astronaut?” a voice said as the doorbell rang.

.

.

Ghiaccio blinked slowly, field of vision opening as he came back to himself, only to find that the previous conversation had petered out. 

The room was nearly empty, save for Risotto and Melone. The latter was leaning over his shoulder with a crooked little smile and question in his brows. The rest had gone down to collect the several packages gathered at their door.

“Astronaut?” Melone repeated while peering into the laptop; the word had been typed enough to fill the entire spreadsheet.

Ghiaccio slammed the computer closed.

“Mind your damn business.”

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 9 - ‘The Kindest of Kisses Break the Hardest of Hearts”

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 (swear I’ll make a masterlist soon)

Summary: Back in London, you find unexpected help in the form of Ives. But when Neil comes back sparks fly... ✨

Warnings: Swearing.

Author’s Notes: So here’s the chapter I’m incredibly excited about... Suppose I should thank Dior for inspiration in this one. Hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing the last scene! Please let me know what you think!

You did not remember the last time you were this happy to be back in London. After the mission in Paris was done, Jasper went back to Boston, and you were free to do what you wanted. You contacted TP, told him how the mission went (without certain details), and in return, got told to wait for more information regarding the next steps. By your estimation, it was less than two weeks left till Kiev and the day when the mysterious plan will be set into motion. You were scared.

Ever since that day in Paris when Neil called, you had a difficult time maintaining normal conversation with him. He would message asking about something as mundane as how your day went, and you would only respond with a short sentence. You could not really explain it if asked. It was as though after hearing his voice and letting yourself have that conversation with him, all the doubts came back with a tripled strength. Suddenly you could almost believe Jasper and his harsh words suggesting that you were not important in Neil’s eyes. Maybe he just liked flirting, and you were conveniently there? That sounded rather plausible. Ever since you started naming those thoughts, an ache in your chest was hard to ignore. And so you did the best you could, which in this case meant low-key ghosting Neil and losing yourself in training and work. 

Surely with enough time and space, you would get over it (him), right?

That was the state of your mind the day when rather surprising help appeared. You have been back in London for a few days and have not really interacted with anyone. Usually, you would spend two hours in the shooting range and then in a sparring session. After you were done, you would retreat to your room and try to ignore the texts that were still occasionally coming. 

“How’s London treating you? Say hello to Anna from me” you glanced at the screen and frowned.

The instant temptation to text back was still there. Only now, it was tainted with much more anxiety and uncertainty.

“It’s alright, rather quiet. I haven’t seen her around though. Maybe she’s moping after you”

Like I am? You sighed and chose to focus on notes from the physics class. You were saved from the study by an unexpected knock on the door. Without thinking, you got up and opened it, only to see Ives standing there with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Hi” you muttered, worried you have forgotten how to behave like a human being.

“Hello, love” he grinned “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No, I was actually rather bored” you admitted with a sheepish smile.

You heard the distinct buzz of a text message but chose to ignore it. You were slowly getting better at the game. 

“That’s terrific because I thought we could have a coffee in the canteen and chat” Ives’ thick cockney accent was somewhat adorable.

And you could definitely do with a distraction.

“I’d love that” you beamed back at him and left the room, locking the door behind you.

As you walked side by side along the corridor, you struggled to say something.

“How did you know I’m here?” finally you settled for a rather easy question.

“I’ve seen you at the shooting range in the morning” he watched you closely for a short moment “You’re fucking amazing, did you know that?”

“Oh no, I’m really not” you felt your face heat up.

“Yeah you are” he playfully nudged you in the side “You could probably teach me a thing or two”.

You glared at him and then quickly considered your options.

“Only if you taught me how not to be knocked out within the first two minutes of the hand in hand combat” you knew you could use help in that department.

“Deal?” Ives stopped and turned to you with an outstretched hand.

“Deal” you shook it with a grin.

Once you made it to the mess hall, you noticed with relief that it was rather quiet. You both made coffee and sat down at the table in the corner. After a few moments of comfortable silence when you sipped your drinks, Ives spoke up:

“What have you been up to?” he was eyeing you curiously.

Even though you barely knew him, you felt at ease. There was no enigma of TP to him or Neil’s intensity. Instead, he was just a friendly bloke with sharp wits.

“Oh you know, shit mission in New York and now even shittier one in Paris” you frowned at the fresh memories “Though I suppose the recent one at least ended with success” you mused.

It was true not all of your missions have ended with a huge fuck up. And that was somewhat encouraging.

“With Jasper?”

“Yeah” your frown deepened, and Ives grinned.

“My condolences. He’s a right pain in the ass”

“Well said” you laughed, finally feeling some of the tension of the last few days dissolve.

But it was not meant to be for long. Before either of you spoke again, you heard your phone buzz. You took it out of the pocket and glanced at the received text. It was him, of course. You grimaced and placed the phone screen down on the table as if to avoid the temptation. All the while you felt Ives’s attentive gaze. He has not missed a thing.

“Neil?” he asked, watching you closely with a neutral face.

“Yeah…” you shrugged, avoiding his stare “I’ll probably sound pathetic… but do you know where he is?”

Once the question was out of your mouth, you felt your cheeks heat up. It was one thing to worry about him daily. Another to actually voice the worries. But Ives did not seem to mind. He quickly considered something before leaning over the table.

“He’s in India, dealing with some sudden disruption. I was there with him in the beginning” at your unspoken question, he added “He’s fine, often said that’s partially thanks to you” he eyed you carefully, and you looked down at the table, flustered.

“It’s more that if I wasn’t there, he wouldn’t even need help in the first place” you mumbled, feeling the guilt gnaw at your heart.

Still, sometimes you kept wondering why on earth had he decided to shield you back in the bar. But any possible answer to the question meant having to assume something about Neil’s intentions. And that was dangerous territory.

“Should I ask?” Ives’ question brought you back to the present moment.

“Better not” you smiled wryly, and he just nodded.

“He wouldn’t shut up about you sometimes, you know” he spoke up again after a short silence, making you look up.

You were not sure you liked the cheeky smirk that appeared on Ives’ face. You were not going to give in.

“He’ll get over it in no time, I’m sure” you feigned nonchalance as you finished your coffee and met his gaze.

“Are you two good?”

You just shrugged. To be frank, you had no clue how to answer that. Was there even such an entity as ‘you two’ when it came to you and Neil?

“Well, whatever is going on, know that I’m ready to slap some sense into him if needed” Ives grinned at you, and you beamed back.

“Appreciated”

The next few minutes passed in companionable silence. That is until your brain rudely decided to suggest another pressing question.

“Is he there… alone?” you cringed as soon as you said it aloud.

No point in trying to sound disinterested…

“Nah, Wheeler stayed with a couple of others” his stare was way too knowing.

You felt a sharp stab of pain in your heart. What even… There was no reason to be jealous. Right? As you were internally debating what the new feelings were supposed to mean, you failed to notice Ives’ grinning at your distress.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous” he was enjoying it way too much.

“What? No, I’m not” you tried to scoff at this insinuation but failed miserably.

“Yeah, you are” that’s how you learnt that Ives had his own version of a shit-eating grin.

Was that a part of the Tenet work application?

“Mate, Neil and Wheeler wouldn’t fuck each other even if I paid them. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you” Ives wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you groaned.

You glared at him, unable to come up with any good response.

“What? I may have only seen you two together once, but it was clear to me that dear Neil is interested. Very much so” he smirked at your wide-eyed stare “But I don’t think that’s in any way news for you” he squinted his eyes as though trying to see right through your soul.

“Please, let’s leave psychoanalysis for another date” you grabbed the phone from the table and looked at him pleadingly.

“Of course” he grinned “When shall we have our first sparring lesson?”

“Tomorrow morning. Be there at 9” you got up “Thanks for the chat”

“Anytime, love” he waved as you left the canteen.

*** Combat lessons with Ives have proven to be a gift from the gods in the days that followed. He would accompany you to the shooting range afterward as well under the pretence of wanting to learn from you. Even though you were sure it was utter bullshit as he could hit the marks as well as you, if not better, you appreciated the sentiment. To say that his help in the sparring sessions meant you have greatly improved would be an overstatement, but certainly, additional tips slowly started to make a difference. All that distraction meant you also spent much less time wondering about Neil’s whereabouts and asking yourself existential questions about your own feelings. That was probably the best outcome of the situation.

Another morning of the sparring session began with you and Ives meeting in the gym as usual. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as you entered the gym.

“More or less” you grinned, stifling a yawn.

Last night you spent way too much time overthinking the text exchange with Neil. All it took was for him to mention ‘the fun you had in New York’ and then compare it to the recent night undercover. To you, it meant that Jasper was right, and you were just another ‘flirting companion’. And that shit hurt.

“That will have to do then” he tossed a water bottle in your direction, and you caught it easily.

You set it down on the side and the mat and stood facing Ives. After a short warm-up, he began showing you the way of blocking punches aimed at your upper body. While the demonstration always looked easy, once you went onto the practice, you have begun to struggle. After getting a third light punch to the shoulder, you huffed:

“Maybe I should just give up and become a sniper” you rubbed the aching spot.

“That could work” he grinned “Though I’m not sure how Neil would feel about that career change”

“Fuck Neil” you made sure to put up your guard, expecting another punch.

“I see how it is” Ives smirked before he threw a hit towards your other shoulder.

This one you blocked. And the one afterward as well. Slowly, with only a few mistakes, you got the hang of the game. That is until you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat by the door. You both turned to see Anna standing there.

“Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment?” she sent you a fake smile.

Christ…

“Of course”

You looked at Ives with panic in your eyes before you followed her into the corridor. Anna was clearly uncomfortable with having to talk to you, and that did not ease the tension.

“What’s the matter?” you spoke up first, hating the awkwardness of the moment.

“Neil called me yesterday” she paused, and you frowned.

“Yeah?” if she wanted to torture you, she has succeeded.

“He wanted me to let you know that they got Steiner in New York” despite Anna’s best attempts at keeping her face neutral, you knew she was enjoying this.

“Okay, thanks” you smiled weakly, trying to ignore the jealousy building up in your chest.

“Oh, and he says he should be back next week” now she was smiling dazzlingly.

“Great” you mumbled and showed her your brightest grin “Thank you”

With that, you chose to end the tortures for you both and went back into the gym. At Ives’ questioning stare, you just glared. He understood instantly.

“Fuck Neil?” he offered you a sip from the water bottle, which you gladly accepted.

“Mhmm”

There was so much to unpack from what Anna told you. Partially, you knew your ghosting was to be blamed for the situation but still, it hurt. Especially the unspoken fact that Neil has called her. You knew you were being ridiculous but could not ignore the feelings that were attacking every fibre of your being.

“Ready for another round?” Ives looked at you worriedly.

“Absolutely”

*** A few days later, as you left a meeting covering suspicious activity around London, your head was most certainly elsewhere. Ever since the awkward situation with Anna, you were not sure what to do with yourself. Only carefree moments were those you spent in the shooting range or learning hand to hand combat with Ives, who was surprisingly great at distracting you.

Walking along the corridor, you were too busy worrying about all those texts you have ignored to see where you were going. With eyes trained on the floor, you barely registered the surroundings. And that is why you were incredibly surprised when you unexpectedly collided with something solid standing on your path.

“Fuck” you muttered before slowly realising that you have, in fact, walked into a person.

You felt someone’s hands reach out to steady you by wrapping around your waist. The next thing you registered was the smell. A very familiar one that you have tried to repress from memory for the past few weeks. You felt panic surge through your whole body before you let out a long exhale and lifted your head.

“Didn’t expect our reunion to be that dramatic, but I’m not complaining” Neil grinned at you with that smug look on his face you have grown to hate.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you” you choose to stare at his tie.

A nice burgundy one which he has worn in New York, during the mission. At the memory, your cheeks grew somehow warmer, and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to be swallowed by the earth. But to no avail.

“Are you alright?” his voice broke through the increasing paralysis.

“Yeah” you forced yourself to look up at him again.

The concern in his eyes only made your desire to run stronger. But his grip on your waist was unyielding. You were acutely aware of standing in the middle of the corridor. Anyone could pass by and see you like that. But it looked like Neil did not care.

“I tried calling you last night” his voice was tense.

Shit.

“Sorry I was busy” you were a terrible liar.

And, of course, he saw right through you. You noticed how the look in his eyes went from concern to serious worry, and you desperately wanted to flee the scene. He was studying your face, and you tried to look anywhere but at him. After a beat, he must have found some answers in your conflicted expression because he relaxed the grip on your waist, giving you a way out.

“If I said anything wrong…” you were thrown off by the slightly wounded look in his eyes.

Now that you actually could run away, you did not want to. Not without making sure he understood.

“You haven’t” you took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing heart “It’s… just things that Jasper said and stuff… it made me think” you mentally groaned, annoyed at how you could not form a coherent sentence.

But Neil understood as he nodded and reached for your hand. You let him lead you to a quieter spot in the adjacent corridor. You were still paralyzed with conflicting feelings, but now also curious. The voice in the back of your head kept on reminding you how much you have missed him. You had your back pressed against the wall and stared as he slowly stepped closer, making your personal space non-existent. It was suddenly hard to think about the reasons why you should not let him be this close. The look in his eyes was unreadable to you.

“I don’t know what that idiot told you or what’s going on in your head, but it’s all wrong” you felt his free hand slide up your arm to rest on your neck and gently caress the skin there.

It was embarrassing how you responded to his touch with your body tensing and goosebumps appearing where his fingers made contact with your skin. It was hard to lie, even to yourself.

“Why should I believe you?” your voice sounded breathless already.

You knew you should have never let him get this close before you talked. But still, the way he looked at you was surprising. Any train of thought was interrupted when he brushed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. His eyes were darker than usual, and the intensity of his gaze alone made the flutters in your stomach appear.

“I’ve got a few reasons”

Gently he tilted your chin and covered your lips with his. You gasped at the contact and felt him smile against your mouth. Then, as though a switch was flipped, Neil started kissing you hungrily, and you responded in kind, letting your teeth graze his lower lip. When his hand wrapped around your neck, you felt lightheaded and breathless. But still, you deepened the kiss, making all the feelings you have tried to stifle lead the moment. It was scaringly easy to do. Only once you felt like you had no breath left, you broke the kiss and stared back at Neil with a dazed expression. That was not what you expected from your reunion.

“Hope that beat whatever Jasper had to offer you” he grinned, and you enjoyed the sight of his subtly swollen lips.

“Please don’t remind me” surprisingly, you could still form a sentence.

But that ability was soon to be gone as you watched mischievous sparks shine in his eyes. His lips curled into a smirk, and you knew you were fucked. In every meaning of the word. Before you could react, he leaned in closer again, kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down to your jawline, and then crook of the neck.

“Neil…” you breathed out, trying to somehow stop the situation from getting out of your hands.

“Yes?” he interlocked his fingers with yours, pinning your joined hands to the wall.

Perfect leverage. Thinking was getting increasingly difficult.

“I… I’ve missed you” that was not exactly what you wanted to say.

You heard him chuckle with his lips brushing the skin on your neck.

“Quite right” he kissed the spot beneath your ear “Too”.

You sighed at the sensation, tightening the grip on his hand and letting your other palm splay on his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, you could feel the fast heartbeat. It was somewhat encouraging to know that it was not just your heart that was beating wildly. He was kissing your neck with something akin to reverence, which made you feel faint. The traces of reason left in your brain started screaming for attention.

“Neil” you huffed, annoyed at how you were unable to voice the mess of thoughts.

Slowly he lifted his head and looked back at you.

“I really like how you say my name” the roguish grin that began it all was back to haunt you “So breathless” his voice was huskier than usual.

He wanted to kill you, evidently.

You met his gaze helplessly, feeling vulnerable with how he could see right through you. He looked almost fascinated by your stunned expression. Then his eyes softened.

“I missed you too” you felt his hand travel down your body to settle on the hip “So much”.

That admission was all it took for you to lose it. Again. You leaned in and initiated another kiss, unable to deny the need you felt. Neil was ready as he easily matched the tempo you have set. This time neither of you wanted to rush it. Instead, you kissed slowly and delicately, enjoying the careless moment. You tangled your hand in his blonde strands, tugging lightly to bring him even closer. He groaned at the sensation, making you feel a new kind of tension. You wanted him to make that sound again. But before you could find ways of achieving that, on the periphery of your attention, you heard the distinctive sound of footsteps approaching fast. Then they stopped abruptly and were replaced with a shocked gasp.

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring straight at Anna. Fuck. She was frozen in the spot three meters away and had a bewildered expression on her face. You knew there was no way in hell she has not realised what was going on. You could only watch as her face scrunched up in a scowl before she turned on her heels and almost ran back down the corridor. That image was enough to help you wake up from the daze. Gently you disentangled from Neil, who looked confused. Despite the reality of the situation downing on you, you grinned seeing his ruffled hair and disoriented gaze.

“Well done, now Anna hates me” you warily eyed the corridor before settling your eyes on him again.

You watched as he slowly absorbed the information, frowned, and then brightened up again when he met your gaze.

“Pretty sure she did already” he eyed you carefully as though assessing the state he brought you to.

Conscious of how you looked, you smoothed your hair and patted your blazed cheeks. There was no pretending that nothing happened, even if you wanted to.

“Why?” you arched your eyebrow at the implication.

“You know why” he just smiled as though it explained everything.

You didn’t know why. At all. You watched as he ruffled his hair even further by combing a hand through it, and your eyes settled on the exposed forearm and rolled up sleeves. For some reason seeing him like that was very thought-provoking. You knew he caught your stare when you heard him chuckle.

“Like what you see?” it was that smug smirk again.

You could not help but roll your eyes at him. This time the voice of reason was not so easily ignored.

“We really should talk before…” you did not even want to finish the sentence.

“Before?” Neil took a step closer again.

“Before we do something much more reckless than… this” you gestured vaguely and took a step back.

“Would that really be so bad?” he bit his lip and eyed you curiously again.

You have had enough. Placing a hand on his chest, you pushed him back. That clearly surprised him.

“Let’s just talk. Please” you put on your best puppy eyes just for him.

That did the job. Thankfully.

“Couldn’t say no to that” he grinned and took your hand in his “C’mon”

Now you just had to figure out what to tell him. The only issue was that you had no idea about how you felt… Fun.

[relatablemormonmoments]

April General Conference 2020

These are my personal notes on each of the talks given. This is to give those who chose not to listen to conference a chance to select which talks they would be comfortable listening to or reading.

Talks will be marked as such. This is the level of suggestion I have for interacting with each talk

Read and Listen to

Listen/Watch

Read

Don’t bother

Saturday Morning Session

Russell M. Nelson (Listen/Watch)

Life’s personal trials stretch far beyond this virus

If you are prepared you shall not fear - personal spiritual storehouses

Stand in holy places and be not moved

Seek to hear Jesus Christ who speaks to us through the power of the Holy Ghost

As our hearts change and we commence a lifelong quest to hear him

M. Russell Ballard (Read)

The Lord has watched that family forever, Joseph Smith was ordained in the premortal life for eternity.

Because the family was united, they survived these challenges when starting over in Palmyra, New York.

Joseph: Felt great confusion from many religious revivalists contradicting eachother

The bible did not contain all the answers to life’s questions, but rather told men and women how to find these answers through fervent prayer

Joseph asked the personages which sect was right -> fullness of the gospel would be noted to him at some future time

Joseph prepared to be a prophet of G-d

“No such things as visions or revelations”

Joseph was persecuted for his visions

Moroni appeared to Joseph to tell him about the plates

Hyrum witnessed the Gold plates and was one of the first members of the church in 1830.

Hyrum was promised the power to escape if he wanted to, or to lay down his life to glorify G-d

Hyrum sealed his testimony in blood

A faceless group of cowards became the mob that killed them

In life they were not divided and in death they were not separated.

“Mother, weep not for us, we have overcome the world”

“And G-d shall wipe away all tears from their eyes”

They come to know G-d through their suffering in ways that could not happen without it

As we listen to the spirit, share it and be courageous.

James R. Rasband (Read and Listen to)

Without the Book of Mormon, where would I turn for peace?

Trust in His atoning sacrifice

The more we understand, the more we will have reassurance that the Book of Mormon can comfort our souls

To bring about the plan of mercy and the demands of justice

Alma tormented by the pains of hell, believing he had murdered G-d’s children by leading them away, but then realised that they were saved by Christ’s Atonement

The thought that rescued Alma was the Atonement

King Benjamin declared that the glad tidings of joy came in the righteous judgement of men

We are accountable when we are not ignorant and we still sin - we can repent

How can those we harm be made whole?

ALL G-d’s children will be given the opportunity

The pain of our own mistakes is the fear of limiting our childrens’ joy.

Commands us to do all we can to make restitution

Can require a simple apology or years of humble effort

Joy D. Jones (Read and Listen to)

Women’s continuing roles in the restoration

As exemplars and devout leaders of the faith

Early sisters unitedly followed the prophet

“Sisters, it is our turn!”

To be a woman in this time is an especially noble calling

What children can do as they step forward->Is it hard to be the prophet?-> Hard to strive to be like Christ, Follow the example of Moses (the Lord loves effort), like piano lessons, requires practice to progress -> I want little Pearl to be the next prophet

Our journey indeed takes effort, hard work, and study

Offer up the desires of our hearts to G-d

G-d knows each of us by name and has a role for each of us to fulfill

The Lord expects us to receive revelation from him

“Increase your spiritual capacity to receive revelation.”

We are promised a crown of righteousness

Prevent General Conference Overwhelm

The spirit helps us determine which work to do today

Our continuing ride is to receive revelation

We can then inspire the rising generation to do the same

Every woman and every man has direct access to the power of G-d

As women we must recognise our covenants as direct access to G-d

World’s greatest champion of women and womanhood is Jesus Christ

Neil L. Anderson (Read and Listen to)

Despite living in danger, Joseph continued proclaiming his truth

We are being blessed openly and spiritually, and in times of difficulty, the saviour brings these experiences back into our mind

“What I received was from Heaven, I know it and G-d knows that I know it.”

President Nelson was a heart surgeon uwu

“It’s a miracle” -> President Nelson had been directed by G-d

Glasses lost in ocean -> prevented driving car -> would be stranded -> “Praying would do nothing” ->his pair of glasses rested in her hand

114 years old -> missionaries give a blessing to critically ill baby -> miraculously recovered -> baptized at 103 years old, endowed at 104, now takes 14 hour bus ride to visit temple every year.

“Help me to never forget what I have felt” (on woman reading Book of Mormon and knowing it was true)

Abish believed! ABISH!

"A beautiful, warm, loving spirit surrounded me”

Sometimes fire, sometimes ideas, sometimes intelligence

Signs may not be grand or loud

Many have heard him but not realised it

We worthily do

Prayerfully listen and keep commandments

These experiences are for children as well

“Did G-d send a message that was just for me?”

ooo animation

Our book of life, luminous stones that help brighten the world ahead

I met this dude (Neil L. Anderson), he’s a sweetheart. He shook my hand. I had just joined the church at the age of five and had not yet seen more than 2 conferences

As you acknowledge and treasure the spiritually defining events in your life, you will find more.

Douglas D Holmes (Read)

New children and youth initiative

Principles the program is built on

The Lord is trying to help all of us

Relationships in our ongoing journey to Christ

Parents, friends, family members, leaders

Be open and honest with each other as we strive to be better together

When we see through Heavenly Father’s eyes, we will see their eternal worth

What you learn is who they are and who they can become

Knit our hearts in unity and in love

It’s not enough just to be bound together, we also need experiences

Word of G-d is spiritual power

Fuels our desire to repent and walk the covenant path. 

We allow the saviour to change us and become the best version of our selves,

Allow G-d’s children to choose to do what is right

Invitation to choose to become like saviour.

Goals are a tool that can help us come to heaven.

We need to engage in it

“They desire a cause”

“Only the Gospel can save the world from the calamity of its own self destruction.”    ------> ew this is kind of a yucky way to say it 

Empowering the youth

“You have the capacity to be smarter and wiser and have more impact on the world than any previous generation”

See the youth as President Nelson does

The youth will amaze you with their abilities and insight into the Gospel

Ultimate Purpose

Henry B. Eyring (It’s my boy!!!!) (Read and Listen to)

Inspiration has come to us

“In what way is my part vital”

Feel more joyful, optimistic and determined in serving the Lord

He will lift each of us

The work of the Lord is almost incomprehensible to mortals

Glorious promises made to the fathers

Energy, skill, and abilities of the Saints

Prophet Daniel

The Lord will offer the gift of his gospel to every nation and people

The power of G-d is upon it

Take upon them the name of Christ to grow in spiritual power

Obeying the commandments increases spiritual power

Pray in faith = revelation

As we face today’s challenges, every breath should be a prayer to  G-d

Always remember him and keep his commandments

Use all your power to call upon G-d to unleash the chains that bind you

Our determination can strengthen us in our resolve

Like Enos, have faith, be made whole

Goatee!!! XD

Pray while smiling, speak to Heavenly Father with joy in your voice

Your prayer will be received with a smile

May we find joy in the work

[thenightling]

Dreams to Dream: Chapter 3

Bet you thought I gave up on this, didn’t you?  Well, I wrote a bit more for a half hour today.  :-P

Chapter may be fleshed out with more detail later.

Dreams to Dream:  Chapter 3.

Disclaimer:  Sandman belongs to Neil Gaiman and DC comics.  

    3

           Darkness.   Darkness and the plunging sensation of falling.   Spiraling, spinning.   Lucien was screaming.  Matthew was fighting the powerful current with desperate and frantic flapping.  

 “MY LORD!”  With one hand Lucien was trying to hold his spectacles on.  With the other he reached out desperately for Morpheus, whom he couldn’t actually see in the maddening whirl of dark haze as he tumbled through the abyss.  Lucien felt a sudden tug on the back of his jacket.  Someone had him.   Morpheus had him in a grip much stronger than Lucien may have expected considering Morpheus’ recent signs of weakness.

Matthew let out a surprised cry as he was caught in a pale, bony grasp.    

           They were descending now, more slowly.  Gracefully.   The trio landed on a platform floating in an oddly colored void.  Around them was a vastness of a cloudy nebula that was somehow devoid of distant stars.

Morpheus released his two companions.    Lucien dusted himself off and straightened his spectacles.  He attempted to restore his usual appearance of being prim and proper.   Matthew fluttered to get a higher angle and look around the strange nothingness that surrounded them.

“My Lord, what IS this place?” Lucien asked.

“This is a place outside of known reality. A place to commune.”

“Commune with who?”  Matthew asked with a wary and cautious tone.

Morpheus chose against directly answering but instead reached out a pointed finger and started to draw in the air.  A simple symbol- a pentangle of sorts. A simple five pointed star. Where his finger touched at empty air a golden aura of light lingered behind and soon the symbol took form.  The star floated in the air as if suspended by an invisible wire.  

“What’s that?” Matthew asked as he flapped down to settle a perch on his old boss’s shoulder.  It was familiar and good, as if no time had passed between them at all, no time lost that they could have and should have shared- now on this strange adventure.   And Matthew wondered- would Morpheus go back to being dead after this?  Like really dead?  Would he be gone again, inaccessible to them?   For the first time in the entirety of his life as a raven Matthew wished he had arms to physically grab him and maybe give him a good shake to knock some sense into him.   He dreaded the end of the adventure that he knew was bound to come.

“It’s a star.”  Morpheus said simply.

“I can see that.  I mean… Why are you drawing it?”

“It is a very old sigil.”

Matthew and Lucien understood this.   Sigils were symbols of magick and power. Each of the family of Endless had a sigil. Death’s was her ankh.  Destiny’s was his great, chained book.  Desire’s sigil was a heart.  Despair’s sigil was a hooked ring.  Delirium’s was a strange splattering of rainbow color that maybe once vaguely resembled a flower.

“Whose sigil is that?” Matthew asked.      

“Mine.”

“Yours?” Matthew asked and then Matthew and Lucien exchanged looks.

Matthew attempted to broach the subject delicately as if dying and current existence had left Morpheus addled somehow.  “Uh… Your sigil is your battle helm.  Don’t you remember?”

“Yes, Matthew.  I remember. But before the helm there was another sigil.  Before I created the helm my sigil was a star.  And He knows it.  He knows I am the only one who would use it now.  He will come to me.”

 They stood in silence for several, awkward seconds.  And just before Matthew could state that nothing was happening something did happen.   A glowing vortex opened in front of them, golden in color and bright as the sun. And a figure emerged from this light, as pale as Morpheus but in a white roman toga that draped down to his feet from his midsection.  A sash, also of white, was across his shoulder. And around his neck hung a pendant of bright green emerald. It glowed with power.

“Hello Dream.”  Morpheus said without the slightest hint of recognized irony.

“Hello Morpheus.” Daniel replied in the same tone.  The tiny star-like pupil in Daniel’s eye flared and the mirror that was Morpheus gave a bitter smile as the two walked toward each other.  With Morpheus’ dark hair and dark clothes, and Daniel’s white hair and white clothes, the two seemed to be opposite halves of a yin yang moving in toward each other.   Two pieces of a puzzle finally connected and whole.   It was… weirdly beautiful to the raven but he would never say it.

There was some unspoken communication between Morpheus and Daniel, some silent communication that Lucien and Matthew could not see or hear.  It passed silently between the two as an exchange of knowledge and memory.   And when the silent exposition had ended Morpheus spoke out loud.

 “I see.” Morpheus said as most of his questions were now more or less answered.  “The girl?  Ivy?” Morpheus asked as if the question conveyed a great deal more than it seemed.

“She is safe.”  Daniel replied.  “I have her.”

Morpheus nodded.  “I underestimated your humanness.  For that I am sorry.”

Daniel shook his head.  “That which was human was burnt away long ago.  I am no more human than you.”

For a moment it looked like Morpheus was about to protest but Matthew gave a croaking caw to get their attention, his wings flapping.  “You’re both more human than you’d want to admit!  So shut up and let’s postpone the pissing contest. We’ve got The Dreaming to save!”

“Quiet, Matthew.”  Morpheus commanded.

“Don’t talk to him that way.” Daniel said.

“Yeah, you’re not the boss anymore.  Don’t talk to me that way.”

“Matthew, quiet.”  Daniel said.

 And Matthew gave them both a look.  He then turned his head toward Lucien.  “It’s like he’s in stereo.”

 Lucien wiped a tear at seeing Daniel.  He was sniffling, trying not to sob.  He was trembling from all he had recently experienced.  From the A.I. that took over the dreaming, to the digitization of the library.  To his exhaustion at trying to keep The Dreaming running without his king for a second (and somehow more trying) time.

“My lord, what are we doing to do?”

Daniel gave Lucien a warm and sad look, “There is nothing I can do.  I am-…“

Before Daniel could finish what he was saying, Morpheus was walking behind him. He seemed to be circling Daniel like a vulture encircling prey.   He placed a hand on Daniel’s back.  “This…”   His hand rested on the dream catcher tattoo, a geas spell that bound him.  “This petty hedgemagicking?   This is what has crippled you?”

“I am not crippled.”  Daniel said indignantly.

Morpheus gave a tiny, strained smile. “Am I always so-?”

Matthew interrupted “Stubborn?  Usually refusing help?  Cocky? Acting like your shit don’t stink?”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘Incorrigible,’ Matthew.” Lucien said as he adjusted his spectacles, no longer quite sounding as if he was on the verge of a break down.

“Yeah, that.  Uh…You are.” Matthew answered Morpheus.

“Ah. I see.  Fascinating.”  Morpheus said with actual consideration as he rested his fingertips on the dream catcher.   He grimaced, trying to mask that the magick was hurting him.  “This… This will not do.    But Dream Catchers were never designed to prevent or stop dreams.  Only Nightmares.   And you are the master of both. Or… Are you?”  

Daniel blinked. “You know how to remove it, don’t you?”

Morpheus sighed “At great sacrifice to myself, yes…”

“How so?”

“I can pull you through it, your very essence but the darker part of you.  The part that governs Nightmares… That will be ripped from you.   It will be painful.  And you will lose much of yourself.”

“Where will that part of me go?”

“…Where it once was…”

Daniel nodded solemnly and turned to face Morpheus.   He stared at him for a very long moment and understanding the sacrifice he was making, the freedom he was giving up to save him- to save his kingdom- the balance he meant to preserve, he took Morpheus’ hand, his fingers intertwining with his.   And he breathed the words, “Thank you.”

Morpheus was briefly surprised by the sudden grasp of his hand, their fingers instinctively twisting together. Again Morpheus nodded sadly.

 The two figures, one light, one dark, were rotating in the void, and speaking, now separate from the two dream creatures.  They were away from both Matthew and Lucien.  

 “This will hurt.” One of the two similar figures said.

“I know.” confirmed the other as the light and dark figures moved in circular formations like a slow waltz.

“It will be like being born again.” Said one solemnly.

“It will be like dying again.” The other replied apologetically.

“And when it is over…” said one.  

“When it is over things will never be the same again.” Said the other.  But it was hard to tell which was speaking.  

           Matthew and Lucien were now on a platform of displaced terrafirma though Matthew did not remember leaving Morpheus’ shoulder.  He was fluttering in the air (or was it air?).  “What’s happening?  What are they doing?”

           “I… I don’t know.”  Lucien said with puzzled worry.        

          There was darkness and then a great explosion of light.   Someone was screaming.   Both were screaming.   An agonized cry, like a man dying, or a baby being born, or both.   It was deafening and heartbreaking and all around Lucien and Matthew they could feel the rush of a tremendous energy.    They knew they were witnessing something profound but they could not quite tell what it was.

             After what seemed like a small eternity it was over.  In a strange crater lay two naked beings.   A burnt dream catcher made of wire, and a wooden frame, and beads, and feathers, with Hebrew letters Matthew could not read lay on the ground.  It was as if the hideous geas of a tattoo had been ripped from Daniel’s back and made manifest into a tactile object.  But in reality Daniel had been torn through the pentacle and the tangible object was merely all that remained of it now.   It looked like someone had tried to shove a fire cracker (or a small star) through it.   The mark on Daniel’s back was gone, but the flesh of his back was raw, pink and slowly healing back to bone-white.

             Morpheus lay on the ground, curled in a fetal position as he laid been once before when summoned to the cellar of a human occultist, Roderick Burgess.  He lay there with his eyes clenched shut. He seemed to be in a great deal of pain.   Clutched in one hand was a pendant.  A brand new, glowing amulet, a jewel hanging from a chain.  Ruby?  Perhaps garnet?   A bright red new dream stone made from the torn piece of Daniel’s essence.   He could feel the power of the dreamstone passing into himself, coursing through him.   He couldn’t throw it away now.   It had been the only way to save them- to save his world.   There has to be balance.  There must be two.  Two sides to the coin.  Light, and darkness.   And he, as he had always loved his Nightmares, had accepted the darkness that could not survive the journey through the magick of the dream catcher. He placed the pendant over his head and let the stone’s weight hang against his chest.  This was somehow very familiar.  

             Oh, certainly there was a way to give it back to Daniel now.  If he thought about it for a few minutes he might have.   But sometimes things happen for a reason.  Sometimes sacrifices must be made.  And sometimes…  There must be balance.

            Lucien had somehow made it from his safe, floating shelf, to the crater on the other floating ground.   “Morpheus?” He asked.  

           Oh, poor Lucien.  He hadn’t remembered to not call him “My Lord” that whole time and now he finally had remembered to disregard the formality.  And now he was to be corrected again.

           Morpheus slowly, shakily stood up, not too modest about his current nudity. “Is that any way to address your king, Lucien?” he asked softly.  But though his voice was soft there was power there, familiar power. And Lucien felt him there, felt him and the other Dream- both in his mind.

           “Ugh.  Kings.” Groaned the other similar voice, correcting him.  

Lucien hurried over to help the white haired one to his feet.

           Matthew flew over to Morpheus. He could feel the restored connection too.  “What have you done?”

           “Isn’t it obvious, Matthew?  There needs to be balance. That Dream Catcher would have destroyed a great deal of his essence if there was no one else to claim it.   “We are now both Dream of The Endless.”

             “My Lord!”  Lucien exclaimed, while supporting the weakened, white haired Dream.

             “Yes.” Both answered, as if it was a question.

[shkspr]

i was thinking about the similarities between tenrose (+ninerose) and a/c and i had a thought - rtd would’ve done a really great job with a/c. i feel like he would actually portray what neil retroactively claims he was trying to portray aka non-conventional romance.

i dont think these two asks were from the same person but every time i tried to answer them, there was a lot of overlap in my responses, so i’m putting em together

it’s interesting bc i feel like there’s no real consensus as to whether or not it’s baiting? like ive seen a lot of twitter folks for example say that it’s really clear they’re in love and they don’t need to kiss or anything to affirm that. idk i feel really conflicted bc im seront valid arguments on both sides of the debates. it’s definitely not like other baity ships i’ve come across before, that i can say.

this got reeeeeaaaally long so tl;dr: i don’t hate neil, i love the book and the show beyond human comprehension, but i do think it’s baiting and i am a bit upset about it. authorial intent should not stop anybody from interpreting or responding to it in whatever way they prefer, but it is important in the discussion of baiting and representation. i’m not waving a pitchfork, i’m just a gay person critically enjoying a piece of media. 

okay so… for me, what’s on the screen is not the issue, you know. a/c is very like tenrose, in a lot of ways. ten & rose never properly kissed, they never properly said “i love you,” there was never anything explicit in the show that said they were in what we would consider a romantic relationship, except for quips that could be written off as jokes (like “that was our first date”). 

and it does help that it’s a het ship, so there’s less…conscious denial of it, i think. but also. rtd and julie and david and billie and everybody involved has said time and time again that they were in love. bc that’s what was written. and it was obvious. it was clear, on the screen, that they were in love, even if they never explicitly said it. and it was never a question, it was just the truth. 

and with the exception of a few qualms (like the fact that they like… never touch), i think a/c is the same. it is obvious, from what was written and how it was acted, that they are in love. the issue, for me, is firstly, that neil fully knows how important this relationship is to a great number of his fans, and chose to ramp up those aspects of the relationship in the show to a ridiculous level, knowing that people would see it like that, took it right up to the precipice without allowing one toe over the line, and still says it isn’t a romance.

and secondly, that he’s patting himself on the back for writing it, for appealing to the audience like that, for the support of the relationship, not realizing that people support that relationship in spite of him. the other day he retweeted a tweet calling it a “slow burn love story” and it’s just like… you can’t write a fantastic romance, claim it isn’t a romance, and then congratulate yourself for writing a fantastic romance. it’s not fair.

it’s kind of like. some months ago, i saw a post made by someone saying that they saw themself in a&c because they were asexual, and they appreciated that a&c have a clearly profound connection without it being overtly sexual. and that is valid, absolutely, that fan: valid. but then i saw neil had either liked or reblogged it, i don’t remember, and that made me uneasy, because… he didn’t write a loving asexual relationship. he wrote a relationship that he knew would be interpreted by many as a romance, and included several jokes at their expense, and then chose to no-homo it basically by saying they don’t have sex. that’s not… that’s not representation of any kind.

neil’s favorite line is that what’s on the page/screen is canon, and he supports fans having headcanons and whatnot, but canon is canon. and that’s. true, obviously. but it’s not a coincidence that the show is so much more out there with the romantic aspects, and it’s not a coincidence that it still just barely manages to not be “canon.” and while i’m at it, i’d be remiss not to mention that it’s not a coincidence that it’s only the gay relationship that gets this treatment.

like, i’ve spoken about this before just as an issue that i have with the book in general, but it gets even more upsetting when considered alongside aziraphale and crowley’s relationship. newt and anathema have no chemistry whatsoever. the narration from his pov mentions several times that she’s hot, and that’s it. she shows no signs of liking him, at all, and he shows no signs of liking her beyond a superficial physical attraction, and he has zero qualities that would make it worth her even considering him as a romantic option. but we’re supposed to accept that relationship, because it’s canon.

shadwell and tracy also have literally no chemistry. he’s useless and mean and racist and treats her like garbage, and one of her only defining character traits is that she… likes that about him? like literally their entire relationship is him being awful to her, and her doing things for him because he’s a grown man who can’t feed himself, for some reason. and we’re supposed to accept that as a relationship, too, because it’s canon.

crowley and aziraphale have a 6000-year-long relationship full of trust and understanding, overcoming obstacles, bonding over their love of humanity, choosing each other over their loyalties to their respective sides, saving each other, helping each other, knowing each other’s interests and quirks, showing each other, over and over again, that they love each other. that’s the story that was written. so you’ll have to forgive me for being a bit put out when the writer tries to simultaneously insist that he didn’t write it like that and that he did write it like that, somehow. 

listen. i’m not saying i’d prefer it if the relationship was toned down. i’m not saying i’d prefer it if neil was going full rowling and claiming that they’re both canonically straight, or some shit. i’m not saying the relationship is worthless if they’re not making out. i’m just saying… i guess the bottom line of what i’m saying is: purposely dialing up the gay subtext in order to appeal to fans of the relationship without making it canon is literally the definition of queerbaiting. even if you repeatedly state that it won’t be canon, it’s still baiting. you’re using the relationship to reel in viewers who will be grateful for those table scraps because we’re in no position to complain, right?

and it is different from other baity ships, in my opinion, because it is a genuinely very well-written love story. like the only example of baiting i really have expertise on is probably bbc sherlock, and that is different. it’s different because neil knows how to write a love story, and he knew he was doing it, whereas moffat does not know how to write a love story, and he wasn’t trying to. he was just trying to write a weird friendship with a wacky homophobic remark thrown in once an episode, to appeal to fans who would gnaw at that bone because we were starving. 

neil, on the other hand, has dangled a picture of a feast in front of our eyes and it’s like… it’s good art, it’s just not good food. it’s good writing, it’s just not good representation. and i, a gay fan, feel alienated and invalidated by the fact that he knew that was exactly what he was doing. it’s just a bit of a cop-out, is all, and i’m a little disappointed in how he’s handling it in his interactions with the fandom, but that’s not new. 

[goddamnit-minyard]

Guys.

I really don't think i'll ever be able to Stress Enough how much people should read the In the Company of Shadows series, specially the AFTG fans.

Why? Well, if you really miss the glorious but painful days of reading the AFTG series and going through the journey of Andrew and Neil learning to live their lives and realizing that there's more to it than just surviving; if you miss the brilliant, raw, and unique build-up that those boys had, both in their own lives and in their capacity to care and just love someone else and believe in them; and overall the jaw-dropping emotional rollercoaster that those books were, well, let me tell you,

In the Company of Shadows is all that, but in steroids.

Honestly, there's nothing that will ever compare to what i felt while reading AFTG. And honestly? There shouldn't be. The capability of a book to depict its own originality is a priority to me. But at the same time that reading ICOS is a whole new experience that fills me with whole new questions and answers that blend into actual, invaluable, new life experience, it is also extremely familiar to me.

Just the way Sin has been treated his whole life. How he's judged as nothing more than a weapon with its own twisted, psychotic mind instead of a trigger, just because he always could and chose to use his skills against unstoppable evil. How even though he had millions of reasons to do so, the fact that everyone looked at him like they would spit on him and sentence him to death because there was nothing worth understanding in him, nothing worth saving, made him actually believe he was the Monster, the psychopath, the crazy kid who left his therapist in a vegetative state (it was because she drugged him and sexually harrassed him while asking, during his alleged therapy session, disgusting questions about what his mum used to do to him when he was even younger that then, but who cares?) that everyone sentenced him to be. How he suffers from insomnia from fear of his own twisted and terrifying nightmares, which are actually just memories, and fears even more the thought of his only loved one ever trying to wake him up because when people wake him up, bad things happen. Or just snapping one day and hurting him because that's what monsters do.

How said loved one, Boyd, the thin, delicate-looking, blonde and long haired boy, was the first person to not flinch the slightest at the knowledge of it all. How Boyd and only Boyd stood fearless in front of Sin's worst bursts of violence because he knew Sin would never hurt him, rightfully so, as he was the only one who dared to see below the surface, actually believing there was gold behind it instead of corrossive madness.

How these books' substance, the way they make you question the line between moral and immoral, how they make you believe in people and make you care so incredibly much about the wellbeing of those misunderstood around the world, and hope that they find their own Boyd if that's what it takes for them to realize how much they actually deserve it.

How they make you appreciate the word Junkie in a way no one would ever understand because in these books, Boyd was called Junkie because he found something worth living for so much that he couldn't get away from it: the feeling of control over something, of responsibility, of having the power to decide whether it all went to shit or succeeded because of him; because that's a thing to get high on for someone who used to do little more than surviving the day like Boyd did.

How all of this resonates with the most amazing series i've ever read (and i know it does for you too) while being completely different at the same time, is what blows my mind. And i can fucking swear to you: it will blow your mind too. It will bring back all those feelings you had for All For The Game in the craziest, most emotionally impactful way possible.

And if you haven't read the AFTG series, well, it will blow your mind anyway.

Oh and please tell me if you will check out these books because of me cause that would make my whole week thanks

[gellyopal]

Saturday Afternoon 4/6

M. Russell Ballard

Started with a joke about being released from his current calling (presumably by death)

Happiness may avoid us in life through natural disasters, unemployment, poverty and so on. The gospel can give us peace. Your life can have purpose and meaning by learning how dearly God loves you.

Satan’s purpose is to bring misery and endless woe to man, sin and transgression is how he does that. He worries that the spiritual purposes in the recent policy changes may be lost in the excitement the changes caused.

2 hour church is supposed to help us be refreshed by learning the gospel at home. It’s a wonderful way to find peace and happiness. “Thy joy may be fulfilled by rejoicing and prayer” Let’s not complicate the simple changes.

The true, pure, simple gospel is the saving doctrine of Christ. Through atonement all man kind can be saved by obedience.

The two great commandments: Love the Lord with all thy heart, mind and soul, and Love thy neighbor as thy self; provides a way to experience peace and joy.

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Mathias Held

Seek learning by study and by faith. He and his wife were searching for more truth. Missionaries found them. Using logic they looked at the church and saw the many positives. They were hesitant trying to learn everything, using the fruit of the Church to understand. Through the relationship with the holy ghost they were prepared to be prompted to accept conscious baptism into the church. They had a relationship with God and knew he would continue to guide them.

The logical perspective (eye) in addition to spiritual perspective (eye) gives us the vision we need to navigate through life. Many people are not aware that the second perspective (eye) is so vital for moving around and through life.

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* Neil L. Andersen *

“What is truth?” is painful to the secular mind. *Weird scream from the audience* Protagoras to Socrates said, “What is true to you, is true to you. What is true to me is true to me.” We know that there are eternal truths that are past, present, and future applicable. Truth shows us to eternal life and only comes through Jesus Christ.

Doesn’t matter if we are rich or poor, popular or unknown, sophisticated or simple our mortal quest is to strengthen our faith in Jesus Christ, keep his commandment and to choose good over evil. God’s truth goes far beyond medical and scientific discoveries.

Things of God are not discernible unless a man has the spirit of God. Like some art needs one specific perspective, spiritual things can only be understood from a spiritual perspective.

**LET’S LOOK AT THE PROCLAMATION OF THE FAMILY THROUGH THE EYE OF FAITH.**

Hinckley said they felt the need to warn us in light of the temptation to be like the world, in a time where deception is increasingly passed as truth.

Male and Female made in image of God. Each spirit is a daughter or son of God. This is eternal and we aren’t accidents. All worshiped god before this life. In ways we don’t understand our spiritual growth in pre-mortal life affects us here.

We declare the way life is created is sacred. Plan encourages husband and wife to bring children into the world and we should protect fetuses. We cannot pick and choose parts of the proclamation for us to believe. Some people instantly doubt the prophet, that’s always been there. However the prophet will think on questions. All questions will be answered with patience and an eye of faith.

Prophets are tools to answer/ resolve sincere questions. They also see the adversary’s future moves against us. 

The world likes to walk away from the Lords standards. Chasity, abortion, marriage between Man and Women. Recounts followers of Christ all leaving him. Then Christ asking his disciples if they will also leave him. He has a gay friend who hasn’t married and chooses to be an active member. He is sympathetic to those who choose to ‘break the law of chastity’ To please God, faith patience and diligence are needed. Law of man move outside Laws of God. Lady is older and not married and chooses not to focus on it. God does understand you, even if Neil cannot. As you seek God and keep his commandments you will have burdens you can carry and will fill you with the spirit of the holy ghost and shine approval on you. Nothing that makes us unable to have the spirit with us are worth even thinking about.

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Takashi Wada

Being baptized is entering the straight and narrow path. Nephi reminds us that feasting the words of Christ will tell us all things we should do. Good seed having been planted will bring good fruit. Laws of God increase our ability to receive revelation.

We need to rely on the holy ghost in the future if we want to get through it. The words of Christ can be used to lift us. We should reach out and share our faith. After 35 years his mother went to church and decided to accept baptism. When we feast and break bread with Christ, our eyes are opened. You can feast any time and have your worth and value confirmed.

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David P. Homer

Starts off with a funny joke about not giving his talk. An airplane experience had an alarm saying the plane needed to move one direction, but the more experienced pilot was made aware another plane was taking off and made more appropriate decisions to avoid collision. Sometimes we try to fit between two opinions, or we could chose convenience but it doesn’t give us a direction or doesn’t give us solutions. Relying only on our own thoughts can lead us to an intellectual stupor.

8000 ft up in the air doesn’t have enough oxygen for us to breath and is the death zone. The spiritual death zone also exists. If we spend too much time in faithless places well intended voices will deprive us of the spiritual oxygen we need.

Korihor said things such as parents and prophets teach foolish traditions designed to limit freedom and perpetuate ignorance. That commandments are restrictions and we should be able to do whatever we want. Belief in God was caused by a frenzied mind and we should be able to see God.

He was popular and caused contention. When brought before the judge and high priest he demanded a sign. When he was struck dumb he realized he had been fooled and lamented about the truths he had always known and had thrown away.

Spirit speaks to people in different ways, and even the same person different ways at different times. We find God’s voices when we pray, study scripture, attend church and temple, engage in faithful discussions, and in general conference.

In a world of many voices God’s voice can be found.

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Jeffrey R. Holland

John the baptist chose to call Jesus by recognizing his role as the sacrifice. Adam and Eve remembered they needed to make sacrifices when they left the garden. Without knowing why, they did. The symbolic lamb was sacrificed and expressed understanding of the atonement and death of Jesus Christ.

This didn’t work well. The remorse needed with the death of the lamb didn’t even prevent Cain from killing his brother. After the atonement the symbolism changed from the blood of a lamb to a broken heart and contrite spirit. Therefore, repent and be saved.

With increased Gospel learning in the home we need to remember to offer our sacrifice to the Lord on the sabbath. We need to remember why we dress and groom where and how we can. We always extend late passes with love, however if your ox is in the mire every Sunday you should sell the ox or fill the mire.

By commandment we gather for the most universally received ordinance in the church. While we need to bring our broken hearts, we should remember that everyone else there has a broken heart they have brought too. While we take our crust of comfort and water of compassion we should think of them. We should think of all the non-members and their suffering too. You can look anywhere and find someone with pain too heavy to carry and distress that never seems to end. Bring more tears for Christ’s sorry and more pain for His grief as we unite as a Church each Sunday.