#(his heart just *does something* when he sees neil in tears | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swampthingking · 1 month

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can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back

and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah

and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends

edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)

Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.

Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.

“Drew?”

Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.

“Drew,” Neil said again.

Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.

Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.

“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.

“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.

Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.

“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.

“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.

His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”

While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.

“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.

“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.

“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.

Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.

“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.

Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.

“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”

“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Aaron asked.

“I’m drunk.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”

“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”

This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”

Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.

“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.

“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I am,” Neil complained.

“No, you are not.”

“I am.”

“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”

“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.

To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.

“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”

“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”

“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.

From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.

At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.

That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.

Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”

“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.

And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Aaron hummed in response.

“I don’ hate you.”

“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Aaron said again.

“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.

“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.

Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.

He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.

But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?

“Aaron,” Neil said.

“What,” Aaron said.

“It’s okay if you hate me.”

“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”

Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.

“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.

He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.

“Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.

Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.

Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?

Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.

The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.

Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.

Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.

The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.

Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.

That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.

Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.

The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.

“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”

Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.

“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.

The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.

Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.

For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.

Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.

“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.

Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.

Aaron smiled at that instead.

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miraclesabound · 7 months

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Just What You Needed

Summary: Your ex finds you while you're having a night out to yourself at The Bear. Thankfully, the staff, including a particular waiter with blue eyes, help keep you safe.

Pairings: Past F!Reader/M!OC, Richie/F!Reader, pre-relationship

Warnings/Tags: Past abusive relationship, attempted kidnapping, assault, Neil Fak being a brief badass, canon-typical language, mention of police, mention of alcohol, Reader getting nickname privileges, first kiss, plans for a first date. Set after Season 2

@grogusmum, @nolita-fairytale, @foreveraimingtowardsthesky, @phoenixhalliwell, @cinewhore, @pettyprocrastination

It's a sultry September night, and as your heels clack along the pavement, you breathe in the warm air. Taking a walk is just what you needed today, even if you weren't already on your way to have dinner at The Bear. Coming to the restaurant in question, you open the door and walk in.

A smartly dressed blonde woman greets you at the host stand, and when you give your information, she brings you to a table close to the door, where you can still enjoy the breeze as the door opens and closes.

There are amazing smells and sounds all around you, and you're thankful for the menu so that you can parse what you're noticing. After maybe two minutes, you hear someone walk up, and you can't help smiling when you see him.

You've never been to this place, you don't know any of the staff - but something about your waiter (he introduces himself as Richard) immediately puts you at ease. After making sure you have a bread plate, he runs through the menu and the specials list for you. His blue eyes are alight with his obvious passion for his job, and between those eyes and his fitted suit, he's making a delightful impression. After reviewing your options, you decide to get a soup appetizer to start and then you'll have a steak entree.

You've just finished your soup when you think you hear someone yell your name outside. You look up, and your heart pounds when you see your ex, Graham, peering into the window. What on earth is he doing here??

Graham throws the door open and storms past the hostess, who does her best to stop him, but he shrugs her off like she's a fly bothering him. He zeroes in on you, and you can smell the alcohol fumes off of him. "Where the fuck have ya been?" he slurs.

Even in your fear, you're infuriated at his assumptions. "Been???" you hiss. "We've been broken up three months, where I've been isn't your concern."

"We're gonna have a talk," he says, and before you can stop him, he grabs your arm and pulls you to your feet. With your heels on, you teeter, and you worry you're going to wrench your ankle. Where the hell is Richard??

Richie is in the kitchen with Neil waiting for your entree to come up when he hears you scream for help. Running out, they see you getting pulled away, and that the man who's grabbing you is swatting at Natalie when she tries to get in and help.

Richie wants to tear the guy apart, and Neil must see it in his face, because he puts a hand in front of him. "Dude, you can't catch another assault charge - I'll get the guy, you help Nat with the girl, yeah?"

No one can get to you and Graham, and you're genuinely afraid that he's going to take you somewhere and hurt you or worse. Suddenly, a large blur knocks into him, and when you stumble, two sets of arms catch you around the waist, helping you sit down. You realize it's Richard and the hostess helping you, and a large waiter who must outweigh Graham by at least a hundred pounds currently has him in a headlock. Other staff members have come out of the kitchen, and you see someone with a phone out, hopefully calling 911.

Richard taps you on the shoulder and you look at him, focusing on the sapphire flame in his eyes. "Hey, talk to me - is your arm ok?" he asks.

You roll up your sleeve and wince - you can see bruising. "Better wait for the paramedics," you tell him. You look back over - the big guy now has others helping him and you can tell they aren't going to let Graham get anywhere near you again.

"Think you could stand to eat? Your steak was just about ready before this all went down."

You nod. "Yeah, that sounds good - and maybe I should get another gin and tonic while I'm at it."

"I'll get those for you," the hostess says, "and I'll tell Carmy and Syd what happened. Cousin, you got her?"

"Yeah, Nat, I do." As Nat (you wonder if it's short for Natalie or Natasha) walks off, you find yourself leaning heavily on Richard's arm. Thankfully the police and paramedics show up quickly and it's clear who the aggressor was.

Richard stays by your side the rest of the evening, even when you know he must have other tables he's looking after. You worry that the other diners may resent you, but whenever you look around, anyone who sees you offers a look of sympathy.

Carmen and Sydney also come to check on you, and you promise them that you don't blame the restaurant for Graham attacking you. That said, you don't argue when Carmen tells you he'll comp your meal. The last thing you want to do is seem ungrateful, especially when so many people came to your defense.

After a luscious dessert, you figure it's time to get on your way, but when you tell Richard this, he says, "Tell me you're not walkin' home??"

"Richard, it's fine, I live close," you insist. "And the weather's still nice."

"Call me Richie," he says. "Please, sweetheart, humor me? We can get you a cab, no problem."

You've always liked the name Richard, but you can see now that "Richie" suits your blue-eyed friend much better. "Ok, Richie."

He helps you up and walks with you to the cab stand, hailing the first one that rolls up and arranging the payment. "Think you'd be willing to visit us again?" he asks. "I can promise it would be more calm."

You smile and kiss his cheek. "Well, Nat would have my reservation info - so let me know if something opens up?"

"Sounds like a date, sweetheart."

Once you're on your way, Richie heads back inside - and if the others see the faint print of lip gloss on his cheek, they keep their thoughts to themselves for once.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #richie the bear

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thespineoftherighteous · 1 year

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more more bloopers (p. 3)

it's a huge group scene of both the Foxes and the Ravens and Nicky's actor says something to crack everyone up and Riko's actor puts the back of his hand up to his mouth to cover his chuckle and it's the most out of character thing ever

Matt's actor is supposed to glance up at someone coming into the room but makes direct eye contact with the camera

Dan's actress trips on this one line so many times to the point where she throws up her hands and goes "just recast me"

remember that Andrew's actor has to smile manically for a huge chunk of the show. so there are sooo many times when- especially in like very tense/aggressive situations- he turns to someone with this massive dead grin on his face while dropping the most intimidating lines. if you think there aren't SO many bloopers of the others breaking because of that...

Neil's actor is doing a scene in a classroom where he's supposed to be zoned out staring out the window and you can see the shift in his face when he goes from acting zoned out to actually intently staring out the window. and he squints outside for a good second and then whispers: there's a pigeon fighting a dog out there.

Andrew and Kevin are supposed to be in a heated conversation in which Andrew uses Kevin's full name. but Andrew's actor accidentally says "Kevin DAD" instead and cracks everyone up

then from somewhere in the background one of the others goes "more like Kevin DADDY" and everyone groans and Kevin's actor goes "hush up now"

Andrew's actor has his exy racquet slung over his shoulder (as per Andrew) and in the scene he turns away from someone after a conversation but in one take he accidentally smacks his brother in the face with the racquet

one of the monsters commenting on how squished the four of them are on the couch and the other three collectively push against him together to make him as uncomfortable as possible

Seth's actor has to swear a lot and after one particularly profanity-laden line, Nicky's actor raises his eyebrows and looks down, shaking his head, and goes "naughty naughty boy"

it's a group scene and it's all serious and shit but then Reene's and Dan's actors happen to look up at the exact same time and make eye contact but because it's so unexpected and their faces are all furrowed they immediately break (and then pointedly avoid eye contact for the rest of the takes)

the camera's rolling but they're just fooling around and Matt's actor (who can beatbox) and Neil's actor (who can't rap but does so anyway) put on a little performance and wrap it up with a "much love *finger hearts* album dropping next month checkity check it" (Renee's actress applauds)

and from then on it's a (very serious) running gag for the rest of the show that the two of them are a hip-hop duo. the entire cast plugs them in interviews and on their social medias and on set etc etc

just. Andrew's actor pretending to stab everyone all the time (he admits at one point that he very frequently is threatened with having his prop knives confiscated)

it's a scene where Neil's actor jogs over to join Andrew but on his way he trips. badly. properly eats shit. but it's fine, he just pops back up very professional and makes it to his mark. neither actor cracks up but then they're also? not saying their lines? their faces are straight but you can tell that they're putting their entire energy into not laughing and it's pure silence for like ten seconds and then both them and everyone behind the camera start dying. Andrew's actor is in tears

Katelyn's and Aaron's actors are making out and her hair gets in his face so when he tries to say something he starts plucking at his mouth and he's like "hair" and she's like "oh shit sorry sorry" and then they're both trying to help him and he's like "don't worry about it. tastes like strawberries"

Allison's actress pretending to give the camera a tour of the girls' apartment but it's in character so she's just lightly roasting Dan and Renee

also. it's not a blooper but a few of the actors giving a tour of the photos wall (most of which is real pictures of the cast) and they end up getting lost in the memories and forget to actually address the camera. it turns into them just pulling each other and other members of the cast around going "look look do you remember this day" and wow that's cute as shit

coach's actor is in a scene with the monsters but he forgets which twin he's supposed to address so after he says most of his line he stops abruptly because he doesn't know which name to finish his sentence with and there's a pause until Aaron's actor goes "...Aaron..." and Coach's actor goes "YEAH. Aaron"

Dan's and Neil's actors just finished having a heart to heart and the scene is supposed to end with her giving him a small reassuring smile while he looks conflicted but appreciative. except there's no "cut" so they're looking at each other for a good minute until they both slowly look over to the camera in sync with their eyebrows raised and start giggling

the twins' actors are Canadian and regularly make fun of each other when they accidentally put an "eh?" at the end of their lines

Matt's actor is always moving or dancing and there's. plenty of footage of him going from serious to goofily breaking out into a dance the second someone calls cut

(the edits.)

it's a running gag that Dan's and Nicky's actors are cursed so that when they have scenes together props break. pictures fall off the walls, racquets fall apart, buttons pop off costumes etc etc

it's a scene where the monsters are having a conversation outside, right next to the car because they're about to leave somewhere. and after they've shot the conversation Aaron's actor jokingly goes "SHOTGUN" and proceeds to scuffle with Neil's actor in the parking lot over the seat

a scene of Neil's actor doing homework in the dorm but the notebook he's "using" has been around for months and has acquired scribbles and doodles and shit from the whole cast. after they call cut he holds up the notebook to the camera to show all the nonsense and, in his normal accent, says "can you believe this kid. what a slacker" which becomes a meme

Allison's actress powerwalks into a scene but once she gets to her mark she completely forgets to say her line and then goes "oh- shit. i was so focused on not tripping in these fucking heels. forgot to talk" as she goes back to redo the take

Renee's actress is Australian and there's this one blooper where she's sparring with Andrew's actor and he accidentally trips over her foot. she plays it off like it was intentional and goes "yeah bitch. Aussie power"

Andrew's actor leaning on his racquet and then his brother kicks it out so that he falls completely

they're shooting outside and a truck passing by in the background honks its horn, ruining the take, and Dan's actress turns in it's direction and goes "do you WANT TO FIGHT? HOLD ME BACK, [Matt's actor], HOLD ME"

God bless

#sigh. i have more #this is hardly edited. 'pologies #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #so so far ive got. kevin actor is irish. renees actress is Australian. the twins are canadian. neils actor is british #hate that i accidentally made kevin and neils actors have kevin and neils ethnicities i dont like that #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #aaron minyard #matt boyd #nicky hemmick #dan wilds #allison reynolds #renee walker #david wymack #aftgtv

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sweet-villain · 2 years

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In This Moment~ B.H

Summary : Billy refuses your help and tells you he doesn't love you, and you walk out and end up at Scoops Ahoy

" I don't need you're god damn help Y/N! Just leave me alone!" Billy shouted standing the corner, starting at the dresser with his fist to his side. Some of his curls plastered to his forehead, covering those blue iris you love so much to look at. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were red, dried tears streaming down his cheeks.

He had come to you in comfort telling you how Neil got angry for Max running out the window when he was suppose to watch her. He told Neil had a date with you but Neil has called you just one of Billy Hargrove's whores.

You hated his father and wished you could take Billy away but he was stubborn.

" Please" you took a step towards him. His body shook and in the corner of his eyes, he saw you take a step towards him. He had shut down as soon as he crawled through your window and refused you to touch him.

He refused your help.

" Billy, I love you. Please let me help you, let me get the first aid kit and we can just lay in bed after. Do you want me to hold you?"

Billy gritted his teeth, " No!" he shook his head. " I don't love you,I never did. You were just a good lay and comfort, time to time"

Your eyes brim with tears as you step back from him. Billy watched the hurt in your eyes, he saw the tears. All he wanted was to tell you he was lying to you. He does love you. Besides his mom, you were the only person that ever loved him and now he was going to lose you.

He already did as he watched you grab the hoodie that was on your bed and watched as your feet carried you out the door, down the steps and he winced hearing the front door slam shut.

Billy collapsed on his knees on the ground of your floor, sob escape his body as he grips the rug of the carpet in his hands.

You slam the door shut off your car and wiping the tears with the back of your hand as you started the car. You stared at the window of your house knowing that Billy was still there. Why? You didn't want to care as you sped off towards Start Court mall.

Ice cream had it's way of helping the pain.

You parked the car in one of the parking spaces, hearing the laughter from kids, giggle from the girls as they talked to their boyfriends. You had noticed Carol with Tommy on the side of the entrance of the mall. You hadn't noticed them casting a look at you seeing you run past them. You didn't care.

Steve was serving a customer some ice cream and Robin is in the back when you came walking through the doors with your hands in the hoodie of your pockets looking down at the ground.

" Welcome to Scoops-" Steve didn't even finish his sentence when he paused to see who was in front of him. You. His gaze soften as he asks, " Are you okay, Y/N?" you raise your head to meet his caring eyes. He gasps seeing the red tears in your eyes, the trembling lip and you only wore the red hoodie you were wearing when you were feeling upset or angry.

How does Steve knows this? Because he has seen you lash out at people when you wear it or cry more times than he can count on his whole hand.

" No" you mumbled. He sighs fully knowing it's either Billy, the shit head who did something or your parents. He knows how your family treats you, it's why one of the reasons why you and Billy got along. He understood.

" Here" Steve pushes your favorite ice cream towards your way. He gave you more scoops than he usually charges a customer. You were his friend and he cared. Robing peeks from the back and sees it's you.

" Alright, dingus what did you do this time?" Steve looks back at her, and shakes his head. " It's not him, Robin" you tell her. She looks back at you and frowns seeing the redness in your eyes, the puffy eyes, the red hoodie, the trembling lip and hears the sniffles.

" Who did it? Who do we have to beat up?" a chuckle escapes from you and you shake your head. " It's not worth it, at least ice cream will mend a broken heart for a bit" you took the ice cream, thanking Steve and dropping the cash on the counter. He pushes the money back to you, " Not today."

You put it back in your pocket, sending a small smile to Steve as you find a table to silently eat your ice cream. The door opens a few minutes later and it's like all the air has sucked in when Billy steps into Scoops Ahoy.

" You're not wanted here, Hargrove" you freeze hearing Steve call out Billy letting you know that he was here. You sent one look to Steve telling him to get Billy out of here.

" I didn't ask you, Harrington" Robin scoffs and adds, " Idiot, you need to leave." Billy doesn't listen as his eyes roam around the room until they find the familiar hoodie and the familiar set of hair, yours with head down eating some ice cream.

He knows you pretty well where you go if your upset even though he and Steve aren't on good terms, he tolerates Steve because your friends with him. He does it for you.

Billy slides in the opposite side of you watching as you eating some ice cream off the spoon not bothering to make any eye contact with him. He deserves it and hates himself for acting like asshole.

" I lied" he says finally, he had to otherwise he would burst in tears right there and that's not something he wants to do in front of Steve Harrington. He wouldn't hear the end of it.

You stopped eating the ice cream and lock eyes with him as if telling him you were listening but you were still pissed at him.

" I lied to you when I told you I didn't love you"

" You were a real ass about it" He nods. " I'm sorry, doll. The anger got the best of me and my mind kept telling me that you'd leave me"

You sighed dropping the spoon not caring if it fell or not.

" I told you many times before Billy that I will never leave you, but this time you did it yourself. You made me leave. You hurt me. Words hurt, you know? I'm not someone you just have sex with Billy, I listen to you, I hold you, I help you look for Max when she runs away or stays with her friends, I go to parties with you, we do almost everything together. Yet, you don't see that I love you with all my heart. Hell, even Steve over there wanted to jump you knowing right away that you were the reason I am here"

" Harrington's got nothing on me" he shakes his head, he reaches out placing his hand with his palm up waiting for your hand. But when it never comes, he feels tears prickling his eyes.

" Doll, please forgive me.." you stood up from your seat and faced him.

" Not right now Billy, I appreciate you come looking for me and trying to fix this. But, I can't do this right now. I need time and I need to be away from you"

He looks up at you with his tears streaming down his cheeks. You move a piece of his curl out of his eye, placing a kiss on his cheek and as you walk away, he grabs your hand.

" Please" he begs you. Not caring if anyone was watching. He needed you.

" Billy" you say, watching him shake again but with sobs. You sit down next to him and wrap your arms around him as he leans into you. The only thing you can do right now is hold him and try to calm him down.

#billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #jewls writes

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billys-pretty-babe · 8 months

Text

Piece of You

Pairing : Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary : Billy had gotten into a car accident on the main street of Hawkins. No one besides you, Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers know about it considering you're his emergency contact but he needs surgery.

Warnings : Swearing

Word count : 1,346

A/n : My lovely friend came up with this idea 💙

You remember getting the phone call, your mother speaking to you with urgency. She was with him at the hospital, she was assigned to his room, she had to legally call you considering you were his emergency contact. You nearly left the house with two different shoes, tears in your eyes.

She didn't tell you over the phone his condition but you could hear how shaky her voice was and that was enough to tell you that it was bad. You rushed out of the house and sped to the hospital with no regard for your own safety. As soon as you made it, Jim and Joyce stood with your mother, Joyce's own eyes teary as you walked over.

You listened as Joyce told the story of how she was standing in the window of Melvald's, taking down the banner when she saw Billy get t-boned by an eighteen wheeler. You knew she was hurting, as a mother to two boys, one being Billy's age along with yours. "I ran over to him as fast as I could, Hop was with me in the store. He was awake and he was in so much pain, my momma heart hurt to see him in so much pain and to hear a teen curse that much." Your mother softly laughed at that.

"Oh trust me, I know." They both softly laughed. You tapped your mom and she looked down at you, "Come on, let's go see him." You nodded and followed her to his room as she opened the door, doctors and nurses in the room as they injected things into his IV. Your eyes grew teary. "Does Neil know?" She shook her head, "You're his emergency contact, Neil can't know unless Billy tells him, it's against HIPAA." You nodded.

"Is he gonna be okay?" She sighed and pulled you outside, to the break room as she sat you down, going over his injuries. "Something happened to his liver and we can't get him a new one right now." You nodded, "Can't he live without it?" She shook her head, "His blood won't clot properly if he doesn't have one." You nodded.

"Does he need a completely new one?" She shook her head, "They have to remove some of it, it was damaged in the accident." You nodded, "Can I do it?" She bit her tongue, "We'd have to test your blood type. I don't know his but I know yours." You nodded, "Do you have his wallet?" She nodded and looked through the bags with his things and handed it to you.

You searched through it and looked at the little card, something he had from school when you all tested for your blood type. You handed it to her, showing her your own. "I just need your permission for me to do it," you said to her. She held your hand, "Do you absolutely want to do this?" You nodded, "He'd do it for me." She nodded, "Okay, let's get you ready then." You nodded and followed her back to Billy's room.

She talked to the doctor, pointing at you and nodding. You were given a gown and your own room. You sat up in the bed as a different nurse came inside, making conversation with you as she connected you to a vitals machine and sticking an IV in your arm. A doctor walked inside, the same one that was with Billy.

He went over the procedure with you, making sure you still wanted to do it and you nodded and signed the papers and your mom walked in and signed off on the consent form. "Her OR is prepped, let's go ahead and take her. He's already in his." The nurse nodded and unlocked the wheels as she pulled the bed. You remember getting into the cold room and a mask going over your face but that was it.

Billy's ears pulsed loudly, making his brows furrow and he shivered slightly, the room cold. He jolted up before groaning in pain, his heart rate going up as the machine beeped at him. He looked around, the room was dark, the moonlight on the floor. He had no idea where he was and why he hurt so badly.

He went to move his left hand but he couldn't, something was blocking it. He looked down, seeing the black cast on his arm and the smell of rubbing alcohol hit his nose. He found the button and hit it as a nurse walked inside and he recognized her face, a slight smile on his face.

"Does she know I'm here?" Your mother laughed and nodded, "Sure does, she's in the room next to yours." He furrowed his brow, "She wasn't in the car." She shook her head, "She wasn't," she sat down in one of the chairs, "she was your emergency contact and you needed some of your liver to be removed but it was too much for you to be able to regenerate on your own. She donated you part of her own liver so she's recovering in another room." He processed her words.

"She did that for me?" Your mom smiled and nodded, "Sure did. That's how much she loves you." He nodded and lifted his gown, the blanket covering his lower half as he saw the scar under his pec. "Do you remember what happened?" He looked back at her, "A little, I don't remember much after I was hit." She nodded, "You blacked out from the pain, Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper were there with you." He nodded.

"I remember that but nothing afterwards." She nodded and rubbed his hand. "I can see about putting her in here with you so you're not stuck talking to the wall." He laughed but quickly regretted it as he groaned, holding himself. She left the room and came back around fifteen minutes later, your bed behind her as you were still asleep as another nurse pushed your vitals machine.

Your mom moved the curtain that was used for privacy so Billy could see you. "Does my dad know I'm here?" Your mom shook her head, "I don't think so. We can't legally tell him but Jim may have told him you were in an accident." Billy nodded and the two nurses left the room. He looked at you, looking down at his scar once more, knowing you now sported the same scar on your body. For the first time in his life, someone cared that he lived, someone loved him enough to save his life.

Recovery was long and hard for the both of you, him more than you considering he had broken bones but now it's been nearly two months since the accident, his hair had slightly grown back out in the spot they had shaved to get glass out of his head. Now, the two of you laid in your bed, Billy shirtless as usual and you in a simple shirt.

"Can I see it?" You looked at him, "My pussy?" He laughed, gently pushing your head away from him, "The scar." You nodded and pulled the right side of your shirt up, showing him the elongated scar, as it matched his completely. He brought his finger down to it, gently tracing over it. "I still can't believe you fucking did that." You hummed, "I wasn't gonna let you die, they couldn't find a donor. I'm luckily a universal donor." He nodded, "Thank you." You smiled, "I'd do it again, but for the love of God, don't make me." You both laughed.

He held onto you tightly and kissed your head, "I'd do it for you." You nodded, "I know, thank you." He nodded and rubbed your scar. "Looks like we're stuck together." You laughed, "I don't think I'd have it any other way, B." He smiled and kissed your head and nodded.

"Good, I wouldn't either, just maybe without the near death experience part." You both laughed and for the first time in both of your lives, you believed in true love.

#billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things billy #william hargrove #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove

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masivechaos · 1 year

Note

🪐i'll try everything once- matilda by harry styles and neil perry🫶💌

Matilda ✧˖*°࿐ neil perry x gn! reader

Warning/content: hurt to comfort, talking about having kids, mention of having a bad childhood, au where neil lives ha, my English

w/c: 0.7k

masterlist/ dead poets society masterlist / navigation / taglist

There were a lot of things you loved about Neil Perry. The way he smiled, how generous he was, when he scribbled little notes on your hands when you were working. And mostly, how brave he was. He was the most courageous person you ever knew. And the craziest thing was he didn’t even realise.

But he was also scared. Scared he was going to great the same pattern as his father, that he was going to fail as a dad. He grew up not knowing what showing love was, so how could he possibly be a loving father? That seems impossible.

So when you expressed your wish to have kids with him, you didn’t expect it to start an argument. He told you he could never be enough and he would never want to have children because of what he went through. And you were hurt, you knew that wasn’t his intention but there was a little part of you that felt like he didn’t want kids with you.

Frustrated and not understanding each other, you went to bed, your back facing his. But as the hours passed, your mood cooled down and guilt started to eat you. Neil was finally opening up about the repercussions of his childhood and all you found to do is taking it personally.

You turned around, biting your lips, not wanting to disturb him but the urge to apologize was stronger. He was tensed, and it was all your fault. “Neil?” you whispered, hoping he was open to communication.

After a minute of silence that felt like an hour, he moved and faced you. You could tell he was hurt, and it seemed like he cried. He didn’t speak a word, and slowly, you drew your hand to his face, letting him time to let you know if he didn’t want physical touch.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, letting your forehead fall against him “I didn’t try to understand you. I was selfish.”

That was all it take for him to let go of the tears he was holding “I’m not mad at you,” it surprised you, he had all the reasons to be “I’m mad at him.”

It was crazy how the man that was supposed to have Neil as the first person in his heart still had an impact on his son years after moving out of the childhood household. Neil actually was even in denial of the treatment he received until you made him understand, you didn’t want to accuse anyone, but the way his smile would always fade after talking to his family just stayed in your mind. But he always told you his problems weren’t so important as if he refused to be in pain in front of anyone.

As his lover, you made sure he understood what was happening to him, that he could let it go, he could stop talking to them, it wasn’t his fault.

“Why couldn’t you be a good father? You’re the kindest person I ever met. Your past does not define you. You can start a family who will always show you love.”

Neil hoped you knew how much he needed to hear this. But something was still wrong, his mother truly loved him and he knew it, she just wasn’t brave enough to stand up for him. And he felt a little guilty “Mom always told me the best gift I could give her was a child. But I don’t talk to her anymore, she won’t be there to see the little baby me.” He knew he cared more than he should, but he couldn’t help it.

“Neil,” you chose your words carefully “you don’t have to be sorry for doing it on your own.”

All of a sudden he broke into tears. Years of suffering he could finally externalize. He got closer to you, curling into your chest, like a child. You wrapped your arms around him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, trying to calm him down as much as you could. “You can let it go”

⋆ ★ neil perry taglist: @cauliflowertree @moonlitmeeks @toindeedbeag0d @mad-elia @juneberrie @mystic-writings @natashxromanovf @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @spookydarkwitch @duxpuella @innerloverpainter @vancitycharlie @venussflytraps @diorgirl444 @dori-and-gray

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myrddinmirror · 4 months

Text

The Lost Treasure Theory

A far-fetched detective investigation in ten parts. Conspiracies, secret places, mysterious signs… and a missing treasure.

Introduction

Let's imagine the first season as a heavy rock that stands firmly, and the third season as something that is hidden in the fog. The second season turned out to be strange, with many hints, vaguenesses, mirrors (in which everyone sees something different) and lines hanging in the air (some people call them Chekhov’s guns). I like to think of it as a wobbly rope bridge connecting the first season to the third. It is stretched over an abyss, at the bottom of which the sharp stones of fan kinks and fetishes await, it is strewn with glass shards of the spectator's hearts, and anyone who steps on it will inevitably slip on wet traces of tears of those who tried to pass here before. The wind of unbridled fantasies coming from the ocean of theories shakes this already unstable bridge, making the task of preserving the mental equilibrium and the ability to reason almost impossible for any impressionable traveler. My investigation rests on very ephemeral grounds, so I try to hold on as tightly as possible to the nearly invisible railing that Neil handed out for us. I cling to any available clue, trying not to fall into the abyss, and after each careful step I freeze for a while and catch my breath. Everything around is hidden in mist.

Part 1. Conspiracy

Let's take a closer look at the scene of Gabriel's trial (1).

-I see. You're casting me down to Hell. Well, I accept my fate. Sometimes an angel just has to say, "Guys, enough."

Gabriel is absolutely calm. This is not at all sudden for him. He was ready for the Fall and doesn't mind. Why? Because Beelzebub is waiting for him in Hell, everything is fine. Probably, the couple agreed in advance that they would not stay in Hell, but would immediately escape when they had no other choice.

-You are not going to Hell.

We look closely at the changing expression on Gabriel's face as the Metatron reads out his sentence.

He's nervous, he thinks fast. And judging by how quickly he figured out what to do, he's not as stupid as he seems. Or he already had a PLAN thought out in advance for such a case.

-These clothes are tailored. Can I keep wearing them?

It would seem that this is not the most relevant question right now. But he pursues several goals at once: a) to distract attention (see, I’m an idiot and only think about clothes) b) we know that he has a Fly in his suit c) he guesses that they will answer him, and he needs an excuse to materialize the Big Box and not arouse suspicion.

-Well, I'll just need to take off my clothes and clean out my desk, then. I'll be right back.

We can feel the relief in his voice and he smiles again. Now let's move on to the final conversation with Beelzebub (2).

-You. Thank you. -Silly, silly angel. Why? -I was coming to you, but… I… forgot.

Looks like they actually had a plan. Why does Beelzebub give him the Container Fly? They could not help but realize that sooner or later either their relationship would be detected, or he would be punished for refusing to start Armageddon. The fly was part of the plan. Most likely, "Thank you" was said precisely for this gift. But if Beelzebub assumed that Gabriel would reset his memory, then what does "Why" mean? Why did you come to the bookstore? Why didn't you come to me (as we agreed)? "I was going (was going to go) to you, but my memory was already in the fly, so I forgot where I had to go".

(1) 12:47 Ep.6 (2) 28:10 Ep.6

Part 2. The box is heavy - the box is empty

Naked Gabriel with a box in his hands walks down the street to the bookstore. We are clearly shown that he did not arrive in the elevator that materializes in the Dirty Donkey (1).

Is that a hint that he was somewhere else on Earth before he came to Soho? Let's remember. Let's fast forward to Gabriel's first conversation with Aziraphale (2):

-My arms were aching 'cause I had to carry that box for so long.

Where he was? Why did his hands hurt? One fly doesn't hurt anyone's hands. One fly doesn’t need a BIG box. At first, I had the idea that someone stole "the thing" from the box while it was outside the store door, but this is not the case. If one looks closely at how Gabriel carries it one can see that he barely holds it in his palms (3).

Later he throws it at the front door (4) and it is quite obvious that it is empty and light. Well, let's move on to Gabriel's escape from Heaven (5):

14:50 - he puts a matchbox with a fly in an empty box, leaves the box under the camera and goes somewhere 15:07 - he is undressed and carries the box easily (i.e. it is still empty, so he did not put his clothes in there, for example) 15:10 - he is in front of the elevator, reaching for a matchbox with a fly (his memory is still with him), and the box already seems heavy, he has to hold it by the bottom.

He pulls the fly out, losing the matchbox. 15:18 - he is in the elevator, elbowing the Earth button. He's holding the box with both hands, and he's gripping it with his fingers because it's obviously HEAVY.

While he is going down in the elevator, his memory resets, since Saraqael does not see him on Earth. 15:32 - it turns out that Gabriel does not have a desk, so he could not take anything from it. Whatever he put in the box is not his personal belongings. So he took something, then forgot about it, then… lost it?

(1) 14:18 Ep.1 (2) 19:00 Ep.1 (3) 14:08, 14:30 Ep.1 (4) 14:57 Ep.1 (5) Ep.6

Part 3: Insurance and a Reliable Plan

So what the Archangel took was not his personal item and hardly a souvenir. It’s something really important. Realizing that with the memory cleansing he would essentially lose himself, Gabriel had to take something to protect him. What about emergency insurance? In case you get caught? Crowley, if you remember, had holy water as an insurance against Hell - a demon-threatening thing that can both save and destroy. What could be so useful and possibly so terrible to other angels that Gabriel could take with him? It could be either a very powerful artifact, or it could be an important dossier, like compromising someone from the Archangels. There is a lot to speculate about, but let’s start with the fact that, as in a good detective, authors always give the viewer some clue. What is so important, so significant in the series that you might consider a good prize for an Archangel on the run? I think you have already guessed that I mean the Book of Life. Gabriel and Beelzebub had a great plan. They were supposed to meet secretly while they could, and then run off with the Book. If Gabriel had been brought down to Hell, it would have been easy, and in case of force majeure, he had a fly. It is obvious that both the Archangel and the Prince of Hell are well aware of the punishment of erasing the memory. A fly is a container for memory, a gift that matters. Of course, the plan did not involve any bookstore. Who in their right mind would entrust themselves and the Book of Life to the "traitor" whom you just recently ordered to be killed? It is also obvious that it would be very unwise for a naked Archangel with a big box to take the elevator down to the hall of Hell. Therefore, the plan was very simple: Gabriel gets to a familiar bar in Scotland, Beelzebub learns about his disappearance and goes there. Then they go off into the sunset together. Happy End. However, in the world of Good Omens, nothing can go according to plan. As they say, watch your hands. The Almighty again lays out three cards. And now the boy… I mean, the Book is lost, and the fugitive is missing. How did this happen? Let's think about what Gabriel had left when the fly reset his memory in the elevator. He still has an idea of himself ("I’m me. I just don’t know who me is") and he still has his angelic powers. Angels can feel love. He forgot Beelzebub, forgot the bar, and when you don’t remember anything, you get instincts. Angels have no instincts, so he was led by a sense of love. Very strong, truly great. He might have ended up in Tadfield, but Adam is still powerful(1), so Tadfield is closed to outsiders. And where else in Britain there is a knock-down love? We all know where (2). Gabriel came to the bookstore, Aziraphale, whom he vaguely remembered (3), opened the door, and for lack of a better one, the Archangel thought that it was him he was going to (4). An ordinary cock-up, as Crowley would say.

(1) 10:37 Ep.1 Crowley sits on a bench reading the Tadfield Advertiser. On the first page is a large article "According to voters of latest: "Best Village in England" poll Tadfield really is the loveliest place to live." And on the blue background: "Entirely perfect weather AGAIN for Tadfield".

(2) 20:25 ep.1 "You’re funny. I love you." A farting song emerged from the overfed zombie, and confessions emerged from Gabriel. Overflowed, too much love. (3) 14:57 Ep.1 "Hey you!" (4) 17:07 Ep.1 -You don't recognize me? -No. Sorry. -Then… why did you come to my shop? -I don't know. I just thought I should. You know what it's like when you don't know anything at all, and yet you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person? … I had to come here and give you the thing.

Part 4. Lying or not?

I’m no brain scientist, but when Gabriel comes to the bookstore, he’s acting like a real memory-loss person. You believe that he doesn’t know who he is, where he is, or what he’s doing here. He has the reactions and behavior of a curious child. At the same time, he has a vague sense of anxiety, as well as a vague sense of recognition of Aziraphale, and it all seems quite natural. However, at some point I began to think Gabriel was lying. To begin with, he suddenly stopped having questions, he no longer asks: who am I? How do you know me? Who are you? What the hell is going on here? A person who has lost his memory is only interested in bookselling and gravity, seriously? Review the episodes listed. Don’t you think the same as I think?

-And now I will make a noise when I move around (1).

He is the outspoken troll of Aziraphale, grins and walks away, very pleased with himself, it is clear. Not a child, but a smug bastard.

Aziraphale talks to the Archangels on the street in front of the bookstore (2). The door swings open and Gabriel appears, loudly and joyfully declaring that he is Jim, the bookseller's assistant. Why would a memory-losing person who knows he’s in danger of something terrible, rush out into the street so loudly in front of strangers? Maybe because this is Gabriel-with-memory, who, of course, recognized the visitors, realized that a hidden miracle of great power had been created, and now just checks the boundaries? When the miracle passes the final test (Michael does not recognize Gabriel at point-blank range), he mocks the angels:

-What about me? Uh, guys, shouldn’t you keep a close eye on me too?

Typical Gabriel's insolence and self-confidence.

There is an idea that you cannot punish an angel outside of Heaven. After all, in the first season, Aziraphale had to be kidnapped first and then executed. This means that Gabriel, who has regained his memory, must realize that on Earth, with all his powers, he is practically invulnerable. This is indirectly confirmed in episode 6, when representatives of Hell and Heaven demand that the escapees be handed over to them. It would seem, here they are, punish on the spot. With humans, by the way, there is no such problem, only Crowley’s intervention saves Maggie and Nina from immediately turning into salt pillars. But maybe Gabriel is just a very brash son of a bitch.

There are also more obvious signs that the fugitive is okay in the head:

You can't fool Crowley that easily (3). He listens very carefully to Gabriel’s nonsense and says:

-Ah, you can do better than that. Come on, think! Think hard!

I think at this point, the Archangel realizes it’s better not to push Crowley, he "shines" his eyes and pop out a biblical phrase. Think about it, if ALL his memory is in a fly, where did this piece come from? Well, the trick was a success, and they are leaving him behind.

The prophecy of the Second Coming (4) is coming out of Gabriel. Is this a conscious attempt to warn? Or a random trigger on the word "tempest"? The only thing that’s clear is he’s got his memory back.

Conversation with Crowley (5):

-You have no idea of trouble you’re causing, do you? -No. Or yes. Or… no. -Year. I’ll tell you something Jim, or Gabriel. If any harm comes to Aziraphale because of this, I will…

And Gabriel is listening. VERY carefully. And he looks like he understands everything.

Crowley arrives in the Archangel’s room (6). The demon openly attacks. Gabriel is frankly nervous. When Crowley says that Aziraphale was not at the execution, Gabriel surprisingly asks "He wasn’t there?". Not the kind of reaction you’d expect from someone who doesn’t know what you’re talking about, is it? And it’s no less strange when Gabriel almost jumps out of a second-floor window. For a person, with or without memory, these are guaranteed injuries (the floor is high, and the bottom is asphalt), and the act is absolutely senseless. The archangel is not in any danger of such a jump, but it is a great way to avoid a very unpleasant conversation. Crowley then demands that Gabriel remember. He replies:

-I don’t have my memory. -Well, where is your memory, then? -In a matchbox. No, I took it out, first. And I put it in the box and brought it here. And it’s everywhere.

First, how do you know all this? Second, what do you mean, everywhere? It’s not in the fly anymore? You don’t want to admit you already got it back, do you?

I have an idea why the memory (partially) might have leaked back into Gabriel's head. And also why he’s not in a hurry to get away from the store when Heaven is already on his heels.

(1) 06:25 Ep.2 (2) 12:45 Ep.2 (3) 20:54 Ep.2 (4) 38:45 Ep.3 (5) 41:35 Ep.3 (6) 14:20 Ep.5

Part 5. Memory Leak

If we consider ourselves sufficiently convinced that the Archangel is no longer as unconscious as he wants to appear, we will have to look for some moment when his memory may have returned. The first assumption. Several times we see that Gabriel tried to catch the fly, and that it often circles around him. The interaction with it may have caused a partial leak, but we’re not seeing any specific episode. Second assumption. It was a side effect from "the tiniest, most insubstantial, fractional, half a miracle". The chair Gabriel was sitting on was on a portal to Heaven. Crowley, Gabriel, and Aziraphale were holding hands, and the miracle was directed at the Archangel, so that a huge power passed right through him. I mean, some kind of electroshock therapy. And immediately after the miracle there was such a dialogue (1):

Aziraphale: Good news, Jim. Nobody’s going to notice you. You’re safe here. Crowley: While we figure out what’s actually going on. Gabriel: I think I know what’s going on.

And I think your memory is partially coming back to you, but you really need to keep it a secret.

In Ep.6 we see what memories actually return to Gabriel from the fly, and there is nothing about the Beginning nor about 6000 years of service as the Supreme Archangel, and only briefly the events of the Armageddon't (2). Gabriel truly remembers only the most dangerous, most well-encrypted moments of his life - his relationship with Beelzebub. Everything about their feelings and the alleged conspiracy, including the theft of the artifact. Why did he not leave the bookstore? Because he did not remember the reasons why Heaven sought him, he did not remember Beelzebub. But he knew that he was in some terrible danger. And where should he run? Here he is protected, cared for - but only as long as he pretends to be a helpless fool. However, there is one thing that is so powerful in itself that it affects Gabriel even when he has forgotten about it. The Book.

(1) 41:50 Ep.1 (2) Of course, maybe this doesn’t matter, the authors just didn’t have enough timing, but we agreed at the beginning that we would consider the script well thought out, right? If it is written poorly, then such theories make no sense at all.

Part 6. Hide a tree in the forest

So, it’s not even matter if Gabriel remembers something about his previous life or not. The catch is that the Book disappeared between the memory erasing in the elevator and his appearance in the bookstore (i.e. this piece is not recorded in the fly), and this period remained with Gabriel only in the form of vague sensations. He carried the box somewhere for a long time, his hands hurt… the rest is unknown. When the Archangel walked along Whickber Street, the box was already empty, so there is no Book in the store. However, if you don’t know or remember this detail, you might think it’s there. It’s a very logical decision to hide a book among books, right? And guess what? There are at least three person looking for the book in the series, and all three of them think Aziraphale has it somewhere. The trap of the obvious. Let’s start with Gabriel. Yes, he doesn’t remember it, but he’s looking for it. I don’t know why. Perhaps it would be appropriate here to recall Octavo (1) and other Terry Pratchett grimoires with the ability to strangely influence people. There are two things in the series that indirectly indicate this search. First of all, a very strange thing Gabriel found himself doing in the store: placing books by the first letter of the first word in the first sentence (2). Occupation, at first glance, the most absurd. But! Aziraphale’s permission allows Gabriel to open all the books without raising any question or suspicion. He doesn’t remember what the Book of Life looks like, but he obviously recognizes it when he starts reading. The second point is the dialogue about gravity (4). Yes, here again, we’re paying attention to the fly, but at the beginning it’s about the books not staying where Gabriel puts them. Maybe it’s a hint like, "I remember putting the book in the box, but now it’s gone, where could it have gone?"

(1) Octavo - A Magic Book that the Creator himself has forgotten on Discworld. It contains the Eight Great Spells, which have their own consciousness and are designed to help the Discworld in important situations. The book is located in a specially sealed room in the basement of the Unseen University's library chained to a lectern, for safety of the browsers, not the book. The wizard Rincewind who had once accessed the Book, read it, and one of the Spells, the Change Spell, settled in him, preventing Rincewind from ever learning any other magic. (2) 06:05 Ep.2 -What exactly are you doing? -I thought I'd make the books easier to find, so I thought if I put them in alphabetical order… -By author? -What's "author"? (3) No, I was shelving the books by the first letter of the first sentence. (3) He really may not know this, because the only book he knows has an obvious "author". (4) 16:17 Ep.3 Gabriel drops the book on the table. Crowley says it's gravity, it needs things to stay where they are ("So things would stay where you put them, not just drift off".) -But it doesn't stay where I put them. It goes down (5). Except for flies, they go up. (5) It is still possible to speculate a little bit that the book dangling in space near Crowley when he launched the nebulae was the Book of Life, and it certainly did not fall anywhere. This idea is interesting because it could suddenly take off in the third season if Neil decides to somehow develop the plot about the Book.

Part 7. Saraqael

The second investigator is Saraqael. She’s the head of Heaven’s security, an angel who needs to know everything but prefers to stay in the shadows. She is so underhanded that Gabriel has difficulty remembering her name (1). I believe that she was the one who provided the compromising images of Aziraphale from the Earth in the first season. And unlike the other Archangels, she immediately recognized the Metatron in human form (2) .

Neil wrote (3) that Saraqael does some secret things in the second season, and is also an angel you do not want to mess with. I would point out that it is she who executes the sentences like erasing memory or turning humans into salt pillars, i.e. she has real power and authority in Heaven. We are not shown what "secret things" Saraqael does, which means that it is not about some covert actions per se, but about motives. The secret motive is to find the lost Book of Life without anyone in Heaven or Hell knowing it was missing. Besides, the Book’s disappearance is extremely enough to force her out of the shadows. Saraqael doesn’t seem to believe for a second that Aziraphale himself performed a powerful miracle, and it is she who sends to him an inspector, and in fact a spy: a naïve angel who sniffs out at the bookshelves all the time. It is possible that Muriel reporting to Saraqael separately on everything that’s going on in the bookstore. When Crowley sneaks into Heaven, Saraqael spots him, but doesn’t stop him. Why? Because she’s running a similar investigation herself, and it is extremely important to her that the insightful demon notices something interesting. Much more important than just turning on the alarm. Saraqael prefers to keep her mouth shut for the last general conversation, but she listens very carefully to what others have to say, and I think she will give us more surprises in the third season.

(1) 27:52 Ep.6 (2) from 34:00 Ep.6 (3) answering questions

Part 8. The Metatron

It will be very funny if in the third season it turns out that the Voice of the Almighty all this time was the only positive character from the side of Heaven all along and sincerely wished good to our angel and demon. In the meantime, we can assume he’s the third investigator on the missing artifact. No proof, of course, but there are some observations. The Metatron, entering the bookstore, hears Michael's threats to erase Aziraphale from the Book of Life and gets very, very angry (1). It can be assumed that it was precisely the words about the Book that enraged him, and not about the actual powers of Michael, because in fact, she really is now performing the duties of the Supreme Archangel. What if the overreaction is caused by the fact that he is aware of the loss and absolutely does not want to draw attention to the Book once again? By shutting Michael up and sending the angels to Heaven, he shuts down the discussion about the Book before it even begins. He asks Muriel to stay ("except the dim one"), saying: "I may need you". That is, at this point he is not yet sure that his plan will work. Of course there is a plan. Many say that the Metatron thought to separate Aziraphale and Crowley, because on Earth they are said to be a danger to Heaven. And supposedly he was sure that Crowley would refuse the offer. But isn’t it much more dangerous to give Aziraphale enormous power? What if Crowley agreed? No one set the condition that there is only one attempt. What if the demon suffers a few days alone and changes his mind? Since the Metatron was watching Aziraphale, and he openly mentions it (2), then he must know that Crowley ALWAYS returns to the angel. So, it seems to me, the plan was exactly the opposite: to drag them both to Heaven, where firstly they would be under constant control, and secondly, they would have neither the time nor the opportunity to endlessly wander around the store. It is for this case that the "naïve" Muriel is needed, who, as it turns out, just successfully addicted to reading books (3). She remains the "caretaker" of the bookstore, but at the same time she can carry out a "stocktaking", and no one will ask why she is scouring the shelves so diligently? When the Metatron returns for Aziraphale and discovers that Crowley has refused, he seems more vexed than satisfied (4). And then he asks: "Anything you need to take with you?" and glances quickly towards the bookshelves. When the angel answers "No", he makes a strange sound (5). I think this could be a test - does Aziraphale know something about the Book, is he hiding it in the store? Maybe he will somehow give himself away now? No? Well, we'll look without you. There is one more thought. As the Metatron takes Aziraphale away to talk, he glares at Crowley (6). Many have decided that he has something personal against the demon. Perhaps, but we have not yet been shown anything that could serve at least a hint of reason. But if we assume that the Voice of God is looking for the Book, and Crowley is one of the few who knows what it looks like, because with its help he "launched" the Universe (7) (not the fact that this is the same Book), then the look becomes clear: the Metatron may fear that the demon has pocketed it or is ready to pocket it for himself on occasion.

(1) 33:56 Ep.6 -You're talking utter balderdash. I mean, complete piffle! You don't have the authority to do anything like that. … Right, you, you, you, back to Heaven, spit, spot, not another word. (2) 42:28 Ep.6 (3) 40:23 Ep.6 -What's that you're holding, Muriel? -I'm reading a book. -Excellent! What a perfectly splendid thing to do! (4) 47:47 Ep.6 (5) 48:19 Ep.6 (6) 36:14 Ep.6 (7) 01:13 Ep.1

Part 9. Secret place

Do you remember in Part 3 of this theory, three cards were mentioned on the Almighty’s gaming table? The first card is a bar with a jukebox in Edinburgh, a secret rendezvous between Gabriel and Beelzebub, a place where the conspiracy was ripe and where the memory-deprived Archangel with the heavy box was likely to come. The second card is a bookstore in Soho, a place of strong love, where the Book could be so safely hidden if someone brought it there. And now the time has come to reveal the last card - the place where, perhaps, the Book of Life was actually hidden. I’ll start a bit from afar. As Gabriel drank hot chocolate on the first day of the rest of his life, he said to Aziraphale:

-I'm me. I just don't know who me is. But you know me. You recognized me. -I know someone who LOOKS like you. -That's probably me then. I think that's one of the main ways you can tell (1).

I think you know where I’m going with this. There’s one place on Earth Gabriel loves more than anything else combined. The place where he spent his hours admiring (2) what he held most dear in the world. If an angel can be attracted by a feeling of intense love, then, of course, for Gabriel it will first of all be a monument to himself in the Edinburgh graveyard. It’s scary to imagine how many total years he spent there. An egoist and a narcissist, to whom could he entrust the most powerful and dangerous artifact? Obviously, only to himself. The statue is mentioned 3 times in the series (3). And it's also in the opening credits. I don’t believe that all this is just for the sake of one joke against Gabriel. In part 4 of the theory, which talked about the possible restoration of the fugitive Archangel's memory, or at least about some flashes of enlightenment, I deliberately kept silent about one more episode. It happened at the moment when Aziraphale called Crowley from Edinburgh right from that very graveyard and happily reported on the hard work done. Among other things, he said, "Do you remember the statue of Gabriel in the graveyard? I’m looking at it now." An unnecessary detail, what does it have to do with the bar? None, but Gabriel heard these words, and we are shown how he, seemingly in deep thought or even in a stupor, suddenly reacts (4). Does it really matter? God knows. Now you have to ask: but we don’t see any Book at the statue, where exactly could Gabriel have put it? We are given two clues. First: the statue either has a large cross in its hands, or it doesn’t.

Given that the statue is not CGI and the props were installing it in the graveyard, there’s very little chance it’s a mistake. It looks like a sign. Just look at this:

Cross marks the location of buried treasures, right? There is a second clue. We’ll talk about that in the final part of the investigation.

(1) 16:46 Ep.1 (2) 24:45 Ep.6 (3) First time in 1827: Crowley showed it to Aziraphale (09:01 Ep.3). Second time: Aziraphale comes to Edinburgh to investigate (34:03 Ep.3). Third time: Gabriel showed it to Beelzebub (Ep.6). (4) 35:20 Ep.3

Part 10. Ben Gunn

In one of the posters for the series, Treasure Island is in a stack of books to read.

If you remember, there was a map with a cross. But when the pirates arrived at the designated place, the treasure was gone. Some clever guy (by the way, "retired" by his side) solved the puzzle, dug up and hid the valuable prize. We know that Aziraphale (our "retired pirate") is brilliant smart. Not knowing why the fugitive Archangel was in danger, he could draw his conclusions from the facts he had. So, Gabriel has a box in which he carried something heavy for a long time. He is in danger from Heaven - for what? Because he stole something very valuable. Jim looks with frightening enthusiasm at the books in the store, strange for the Archangel, who earlier called a book just a "material object" (1), right?

Knowing what artifacts are in Heaven, it is not difficult to deduce what was in the box. Further, having analyzed the dialogue with Gabriel ("I’m me"), knowing his love for himself, remembering the statue (namely, one of the most exciting episodes in Aziraphale’s life began with it) and getting a CLUE in the form of a song from the Edinburgh bar (the statue is located right there!) the angel only had to go and check his hunch. We have a hint. When Aziraphale leaves the Bentley in Edinburgh, he has a briefcase (2). What could he have stored in it? He puts a pen and a notebook in his pocket. From his pocket he also takes out a portrait of Gabriel (the briefcase is on the floor at this time). Aziraphale didn't spend the night at a hotel and doesn't need a change. Apparently the briefcase was empty. The angel leaves the bar with a briefcase and we never see it again. And so he stands at the graveyard and looks at the statue. He looks strange, thinking about something (3).

Why did he come here? This place has nothing to do with the bar and the song. He could have called Crowley from any other location. Showing a moment of nostalgia is very expensive for extremely limited screen time. Therefore, all this has a separate meaning. By the way, at this moment there is a cross on the statue, but there is no briefcase with Aziraphale (4).

But it seems there is a FRESH HOLE in the ground right next to the statue (5). That second clue.

Well, here’s the thing: Aziraphale found the Book, took it, put it in the briefcase and hid it on the same graveyard in a crypt we know. Exactly the same way as Ben Gunn hid the treasure, moving it from the original location to the cave. The crypt is the perfect hiding place. No one knows about it (except the Masons?), but it is a very memorable place for Crowley (the demon immediately recalls the story of Wee Morag as soon as Aziraphale SPECIFICALLY mentions the surgeon). It is extremely dangerous to take the Book to London: the Archangels are trampling around the bookstore, and on his way to Edinburgh, Shax broke into the car. Right now neither the angel nor the demon needs the Book, but it is easy to take away if needed (6). I have no doubt that Crowley KNOWS where the Book actually is. This alone explains his absolute calm when Michael proceeds to a direct threat to immediately apply the "Extreme Sanctions" (7). And the Metatron, who at that moment enters the bookstore, sees and hears everything.

He can't help but realize that both Crowley and Aziraphale KNOW. That’s one of the reasons why he’s so alarmed and casts such a stiff stare at Crowley, who is calmly lounging in a chair. He knows, but he can't do anything yet. The big game is just beginning.

(1) 00:48 S1Ep.2 (2) 21:22 Ep.3 (3) 34:02-34:08 Ep.3 (4) 36:37 Ep.3 (5) 36:54 Ep.3 (6) Neil mentioned that Aziracrow can move between locations by miracle, they just don’t like to do it because they’re used to imitating people. (7) 33:41 Ep.6

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens theory #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable fandom #goodomens #gomens #gomens 2

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alloftheimagines · 2 years

Text

billy hargrove | the sauna test

masterlist | ko-fi

words: 3.1k

warnings: 18+

spoilers for season three "the sauna test", mentions of abuse and violence, flayed!reader, brief references to sex

prompt: Could you possibly do a billy x reader but the reader is controlled by the mind flayer or something among those lines. I kinda imagine it like s3 and billy noticed you acting weird and so did everyone else. So they come with the sauna test and billy is their when they do it obvi. He doesn't like the idea of the sauna test but does it for your safety. If they are able to get the mind flayer out of her, he starts comforting her and giving her affection. But I would like one like that if you could. Basically just a Billy x controlled reader :)

It starts with you standing him up. Billy had been waiting for you. Wanting you. But you never showed, though you’d arranged to meet up in your special, secret place, an abandoned cabin on the edge of town, after work last night. And he isn't the damn type to let a girl waste his time, but you aren't just any girl to him. Before, it was always the chase that kept him in the game, but he’d worn you down well before graduation… and he's still drunk off you even now. He isn't supposed to be. You’d never named this anything but casual, and he's too stubborn to ask you to take the next step, though he knows you aren't seeing anyone but him.

At least, he thought you weren't. Now, a niggling worm of insecurity has grown inside his stomach. He’d never admit to it. Never let it show. But it hurts, because you were the one thing he had. The one thing he could trust. And for the first time since the first time, he doesn't know where he stands.

You come to the pool the next day looking… different. Your face is waxy, a light sheen of sweat coating your forehead. You keep your face turned to the tiles while you teach your swim lessons, as though you can't stand the sun. Billy saunters in fully intending to give you the cold shoulder just like you had him — until he catches you on your way out of the changing rooms, half-staggering over your flip-flops and sweating through your swimsuit.

“Hey. Where were you last night?” He grabs your wrist, a silent plea for honesty, or perhaps reassurance, which he hates. Despises. He should have been stronger than this, but you make him weak.

“What?” You observe his curled fingers as though you’ve never seen them before — and when you look up at him, his breath hitches. Your eyes are bloodshot and your skin is burning through his palms.

“Whoa. Are you sick?”

“I’m…” You frown, then make swallowing look like hard work. His insecurity quickly becomes concern. Heart-thundering, terrifying concern. “No. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fi —”

“I’m fine,” you snap, tearing your arm away so quickly he steps back, surprised. And that pisses him off. Because he’s really trying, and you’re not even apologising. You’re not even looking at him. You’re not you, and he can’t stand that. He remembers a time before his father’s abuse was normal. When he’d get home from school and Neil would ruffle his hair, ask him how his day was, but then later Billy would leave an action figure on the floor or ask for ice cream one too many times, and everything would change. Neil would snap. Billy would be yelled at, and then later, beaten. And he’s been terrified of that happening ever since. He can’t trust kindness because he was shown how quickly it can disappear.

But he trusted you. Out of everyone in the world, he trusted you. You’d always been gentle kind, but you’d also match his attitude when you needed to. Keep him on his toes, with no ill intent. Even the sex is gentle with you most days — you usually beg him to slow down unless he’s been teasing so bad you lose all restraint, and it doesn’t take much convincing when he wants to feel every second, every thrust, every beat of your hearts syncing.

He doesn’t know what’s changed. Only knows it feels like a sword tearing him asunder. Slicing through the space between you, where all of the most important parts lie.

“Y/N…” he begs lowly. He hopes it doesn’t sound as pathetic as it feels. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head. Your voice is so empty, so cold, that he wants to shiver. “I gotta get back to work.”

“What about last night?”

But you don’t reply. You keep walking. And he lets you because he’ll be damned if you take his power now. He takes a few deep breaths in the corridor, blinking back his tears defiantly. If you want to be cold, he can be colder.

So he rolls back his shoulders and walks back out to the pool, and he doesn’t spare you a second glance for the rest of the day.

***

You don’t show up to work the next day, and only then does he let his worry overpower his pride. Because he knows how badly you need the cash, and the more he thinks about it, the more unsettled he feels about the way you were yesterday. You looked… sick. Not you. Even your voice was hollow. Maybe he should have worked harder. Done more. Made sure you weren’t at least running a high fever.

So when the pool closes, he goes to your house. It’s empty. Not even your parents are home. That leaves him feeling even worse. He misses you like hell already. Misses hearing you laugh. Misses your smile. Misses the smell of your perfume in his Camaro. Misses the shitty music he sometimes lets you play. He misses being buried inside of you, savouring every moment he has with you, because it’s the only peace he’s ever known. And now all he knows is pure, searing anxiety.

***

Max and Eleven come to him that night. They ask Billy if he’s seen you. If you’ve been acting differently. He demands Max gets out of his room at the mention of your name — until she says she thinks she knows what��s wrong with you. He doesn’t believe it at first. Monsters are human, and nothing beyond that exists for him. He can’t imagine a creature worse than his dad, and certainly not one who could possess you.

But then they tell you how they found you with Heather’s family, and he realises Heather didn’t show up to work today, either. It doesn’t make sense to him still. He doesn’t want to believe it.

***

But he has to believe it. The next day, you reappear at the pool. He finds you in the showers in your swimsuit, the water so chilly that it creates a draught in the peak of summer. And he’s certain that Max and El are just kids playing make-believe, but he has to know for sure.

“Y/N?”

You don’t move beneath the stream of cool water, and he takes a cautious step closer. “Look. I don’t know what’s going on with you but…” He bites his lip, so used to holding back anything that might reveal how afraid and alone he feels inside. But it’s you, and he has to try. “I’m worried. I’m really fucking worried. Maxine is saying you’re possessed or something, which is fucking ridiculous.” He waits for you to laugh, but you don’t. You don’t turn around at all. You keep your head bowed, your back to him, and his heart aches.

He takes another step and notices a black, bruised wound on your arm. It curls into your veins like snakes slithering beneath your skin. “What happened there?” He dares to put his hand under the water in an attempt to touch it, but he draws away when he finds it's like ice. He curses under his breath and turns the knob to shut the water off. “Jesus. What the hell are you doing? It’s freezing.”

Still nothing, like you’re not there at all.

“Y/N?” His voice rises with panic and he places a hand on your shoulder, desperation taking hold. The moment he does, you snap back to life — only it’s not you. You slam him against the damp shower tiles with far more strength than he knew you had, your eyes empty. Cold. Gone. He searches desperately for any sign of you; that dimple at the corner of your mouth, that wrinkle in your nose, the blush in your cheeks. None of it is there. Behind the rivulets of water running down your face, he doesn’t recognise you at all.

This isn’t just the cold shoulder, he realises. Something is wrong. Really fucking wrong.

He doesn’t fight you. He couldn’t. Even now, he’ll never hurt you.

“Angel, c’mon,” he pleads instead, his fingers looping around the wrist pinning him to the wall. “What’s going on, huh? You’re not you.”

“I’m something better,” you whisper, pressing down harder. “And you will be soon, too.”

“You’re not going to hurt me.” His voice wobbles, betraying his doubt. If his own father could hurt him, anyone could. But he has to believe that you’re better than that. That you’re nothing like Neil. He has to believe that you’re still in there, wherever ‘there’ is.

For the first time, he wonders if Max was telling the truth. This isn’t sickness. This isn’t a fever. You’re looking at him like you don’t know him.

Like you’re possessed.

“What’s happening to you?” he asks. “Whatever it is, let me help.”

“You can’t help me,” you say. “I don’t want you to help me.”

He tries to pry your hand away when it gets tighter around his neck. “Please. Let go. Let’s talk about this.”

“He wants you to join him.”

His blood goes cold. “Who? Who does?”

“It’s easier this way, Billy. No more pain. You’ll be stronger. Better. Nobody will be able to hurt you again. Come with me. Let me show you.”

He shakes his head, a tear rolling down his cheek. He can’t find you. He can’t find you anywhere, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Until Max’s voice echoes in his mind. This “Flayer”, the monster… it doesn’t do hot. Heat weakens it. That’s why your shower was ice cold. It’s why you were sick in the midday sun.

He doesn’t think. With his free hand, he turns on the shower closest to him, setting it on its highest setting. Water sprinkles down on the both of you, steam curling around you. You recoil, your grip loosening, and he takes the opportunity to turn on the next shower and the next, until every single one pours scalding hot.

“No.” You lick your dry lips, bracing yourself desperately against the wall. “Turn them off. Turn them off.”

But he can’t. He can’t let this thing take you. So he yanks you away, guiding you quickly down the hall to the sauna room. It’s still warm from the last session — warm enough to keep you weak. He pushes you in and locks the doors, reaching for the thermostat and hiking it up to its hottest setting.

He knows he’ll never forget the sound of your screams. You’re banging on the door, trying desperately to get out, pleading. He almost sets you free, but he can’t. He can’t. So he presses his forehead to the window pane. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he says, trapping a sob of his own. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t know how to help.”

“Let me out,” you beg. “Please let me out!”

But he can’t, so he doesn’t. Instead, he calls Max.

***

By the time the kids get here, you’re on the floor, covered in sweat. He sits on the other side of the door, his knees to his chest, listening to your incomprehensive babbles. He barely looks up at Max. “What now?”

“Please. Billy, please!”

He stiffens. It’s the first time you’ve said his name. The first time you’ve sounded like you. He hauls himself off the floor without thought to find your hands clasped, your face splotchy and body shuddering. He did this. You’re in pain, and it’s his fault.

“Please, Billy. I love you. I love you so much. Please let me out,” you say. It's the first time you've used that word, and it stings that it's not really you.

“I can’t do that, angel,” he murmurs, placing his hand on the glass. “Not until I know you’re my Y/N.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your face crumbles, but you’re looking at him, your hair curling into your eyes from the heat, and he sees you again. Finally, you’re on your way back to him. “He made me do it. He made me do all of it. I didn’t want to. I swear, I didn’t want to, Billy. Please let me out. Please.”

“I know. It isn’t your fault. It’s okay.”

“No. No, it hurts. It hurts, Billy. You’re hurting me.”

He flinches as though your words are a fist.

“You promised you’d never hurt me!” you scream, and he stumbles back as agony, guilt, roils through him. “You promised!”

He did. The first time you asked about his bruises. He told you about Neil and you told him about your grandpa. How he used to hurt you and your mom even in adulthood. He kissed your knuckles; promised he’d never do that to you. Promised himself that he wouldn’t be like his dad.

He thinks of his mom then. How she must have screamed this way at his dad, once. He bites down on his own tears. They're seeping down his face now.

“Let me go!” you scream.

His resolve weakens. His fingers hover over the door handle.

Max stops him, pushing them away. “You can’t. She’s trying to trick you.”

“She’s in pain,” he argues.

“And so is he. Because it’s working. He’ll say anything to make you stop because he wants to take all of us. We can’t trust anything she says.”

You crawl to the door, standing so you’re face to face through the window. You press your hand to the glass, leaving a handprint in the steam. “Please let me out, Billy. Please. I love you. It’s me. I love you.”

“Soon. I’m going to let you out soon, angel. I promise.” He meets your hand on the glass, meeting your eye.

And Max is right. There are still shadows there, though they’ve dissipated slightly now. That thing, whatever it is… it’s still there. Still controlling you.

He sees it when you begin banging frantically on the door again a moment later, screaming like there’s not an ounce of sanity left inside you. You're going to hurt yourself, head ricocheting off the door over and over.

“Talk to her,” El says. “Remind her.”

He frowns, raking his hair out of his face. “Of what?”

“Who she is.” Her round eyes are full of fear, but she’s the only one who looks like she knows what’s happening, and he forgets that these are kids claiming you’re possessed by a monster for a moment. He forgets everything. He just wants you back. "She has to remember."

So he begins softly, shakily. “You remember the first time we met? You were sitting on the hood of my car like you belonged there.” You’re shakes become faint shudders as you look back at him — listening. It’s working. “I knew then. I was smitten. And then I tried to flirt with you at that party and you ignored the hell out of me all night just to tear down my ego. It worked, too. All I wanted was you, and it was pretty clear you didn’t want me, and that killed me.” He smirks sadly. “But I wore you down, didn’t I? Even went to that dumb school dance for you.” He bows his head, tears clogging his throat. “It was because… because I missed the ocean when I moved here, and somehow, you felt like waves. Invigorating. You made me want to swim when I was sinking, and you always understood me, even when I acted like a jerk. I hated that at first. That you could see right through me. Now, I love it. I love you. And I’m begging you to come back. Fight it, Y/N. For me. For us.”

Your pleas stop. So do your sobs. You’re completely still as you stare at Billy through the glass, the only movement your tears and beading sweat.

"Keep going," El orders.

He sees you there. A glimmer of hope ignites in his chest. “That’s right, angel. Come back to me. Remember the way we danced after graduation? We drove through the night, found a quiet place to watch the stars, and just danced to my damn car radio. Remember that?”

A slight nod.

“And when you found out you got into college. I was so fucking proud. My girl is so smart. I just wanted to tell everybody you were mine that day. Every day. But I love having you to myself. I love taking you to that old cabin and being alone with you. Nothing can touch us, Y/N. Not even this. We’ll always be stronger. You’ll always be stronger.”

“I hurt people,” you whimper. “I hurt people, Billy. I did awful, awful things.”

“It wasn’t you, angel. It wasn't you."

"What have I done?" Your fingers curl against his, and then you sink back to the other side of the sauna, curling your knees into your chest on the floor. Your chest heaves with strained breaths as you tilt your head up, exhausted and limp, and all he wants to do is be with you. Hold you. He reaches for the lock.

“Billy —”

“I trust her. I have to trust her,” he says, turning the lock quickly. “Keep it locked until I say so.”

A hesitant nod. He opens the door, and you barely flinch, as though the life has been sucked out of you. Cautiously, he steps in and closes the door behind you, giving Max a look of reassurance before approaching you.

“I’m right here,” he says, lowering to the floor beside you.

Your throat bobs. “I’m so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

He shushes you, knotting his fingers through your damp hair. You close your eyes, nestling into his chest. “Don’t be sorry, angel. Just stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”

“Okay.”

So the two of you remain in the sauna for hours, until you’re both sure the Flayer is gone. Until you’re both sure you’re you again. And your sniffles and sobs break his heart, and he’s terrified you’ll turn on him again, but he stays with you anyway — because he never had a choice before, but he does now. And he chooses you. He will always choose you.

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xtrafluffyteddy · 2 years

Text

Unexpected visitors

Pairing: Eddie munson x reader, Steve harrington x reader, Billy hargrove x reader

Mentions: cursing, comfort, minor injuries, happy ending

Someone shows up at 3am

This is part of the home for wayward souls series

I may make a part 2 to this if y’all are interested

You grumbles as you climbed out of bed pulling on your robe to go answer the door as your walking down the hallway you catch a glimpse of the clock that reads 2:30am “Jesus who’s knocking at this fucking hour” you groan and turn on your living room lamp before opening the door “what do you-“ you begin yelling only to soften when you see max standing there “max what’re you-“ you stop when you notice she’s crying her tough girl persona dropped “oh sweetpea” you usher her inside taking off your robe to wrap her in “have a seat I’ll be right back” she just nods and sniffles as she sits down

You grab the first aid kit, and something hot to drink as well as a small snack for the redhead who’s now curled up on your couch tucked away in the farthest corner. You can’t help but feel your heart break at the sight “max” you say softly kneeling in front of her “what happened how’d you get here?” You take her hands gently looking them over for any signs of a fight concerned at the fact a 14 year old is walking by herself through the sketchy parts of town “I walked” she mumbles barely audible still clutching your robe “sweetpea it’s 2:30 in the morning why are you out this late” you ask with nothing but concern as you look over face for any signs of a fight again taking in the cut on her cheek bone and slight bruising around her eye “I didn’t know where else to go” she whispers brokenly looking up at you with wide tired eyes.

You take a deep breath and keep your calm as you begin cleaning her up “well I’m glad you came here instead of someone else’s place” you blow gently on the cut on her cheek so it doesn’t burn so bad after the alcohol wipe “what happened?” You question as you hand her the warm drink then begin to clean up “Neil came home drunk he’s been doing it a lot since Billy left” she began wiping the tears that began falling again “he took it out on my mom this time” you can only imagine what happened “I tried to defend her” she finishes to tired to go into detail you just nod and frown “okay then sweetpea I’m gonna go grab you some clothes then you can go take a warm shower how does that sound” you give her a small smile as she nods and starts to get up “just leave your dirty clothes on the floor I’ll come get them later”

You lay some of your old clothes that don’t fit anymore on the bathroom counter for her as well as some warm towels you had tossed in the dryer “call me if you need anything” you ruffle her hair gently then bonk your forehead against hers before closing the bathroom door behind you.

“What a fucking coward” you growl as you begin making the pull out couch bed for her to sleep in “hitting a little girl what a piece of shit” your to caught up in your rage cleaning to hear Billy and Steve walk up behind you “sunshine?” Steve calls tentatively flinching back when you turn sharply to him “shit I’m sorry Stevie” you calm down and take a deep breath as you squeeze past them to grab some blankets from the closet “who’s in the shower honey?” Billy questions looking towards the closed bathroom door “Max is” Billy looks at you surprised “max? What’s she doin here it’s like 3am?” He helps you grab one of the heavier blankets tossing it on the pull out bed “Neil hit her im guessing” you bite your lip shaking your head so you don’t have to think about it again “he what?!” Steve pretty much shouts “cool it momma bear we need to stay calm for her we will handle it in the morning” you whisper sternly as you hear the water shut off

When max comes shuffling out in one of your shirts and some pajama pants she’s surprised to see Billy and Steve standing behind you worried looks on their faces “are you okay” Steve questions arms crossed over his chest “I’m fine Steve I’m just tired is all” Max mumbles as she shuffles to you handing you her dirty clothes “why don’t you go get some rest hm?” You help her to bed tucking her in even though she insists she can do it herself but doesn’t stop you “goodnight max we love you” you press a soft kiss to her forehead as you flick off the lamp the boys following you to your room

Billy had been silent the whole time thinking about Neil hitting a defenseless Max I mean max wasn’t his favorite person but no kid deserves to be hit for defending a parent “what if Neil shows up?” Steve questions as he flops down on your bed “we will handle it accordingly “ you stare calmly “and by accordingly you mean??” Billy questions raising a brow his arms uncrossing “I’ll call hopper or I’ll whoop his ass plain and simple he doesn’t he get to just lay his hands on a little girl and think he can just come get her the next morning” you rubs your eyes feeling the tiredness catching up to you “so that means she’ll be staying with us a couple of days until this is sorted” they both nod

Once the two boys had left your room and you were comfortable under your blankets you heard your door creak open “Billy?“ no reply “Steve?” No reply, it couldn’t be Eddie he was on tour with the band “Max?” You sit up your eyes adjusting to the dark seeing the girl standing by the door arms wrapped around yourself “I know it’s silly” she whispered “but can I sleep with you tonight” she shuffles to the edge of your bed arms wrapped around herself “of course you can sweetpea” you scoot over allowing her to climb in and get comfortable while you pet her head humming softly to soothe her “get some rest I won’t let anything happen to you I promise” you whisper smiling as she slips into a peaceful sleep.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie st4 #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie my beloved #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #max mayfield #max stranger things #max st4

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theonevoice · 8 months

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Rumination n. 5 - Is the Metatron the skylark from Romeo and Juliet (and are we going to cry)?

I don't know if someone has already pointed this out, but I think I stumbled upon something regarding the Metatron (may he step on legos for the rest of his eternal existence).

I was in the middle of one my regular cycles of Neil Gaiman Cultural References Game appreciation, thinking of how much Romeo-and-Juliet-like is our ineffable husbands- love story. The parallel is obvious: forbidden love between two members of families in violent open conflict, side characters constantly stepping in and adding fuel to the fire, a masquerade ball (you know, where everyone shows up in different clothes than usual), a secret encounter in the garden... even a nightingale that doesn't sing, because the long-awaited night of love has come to an end and in place of a nightingale now a skylark is singing, and its song tears the lovers apart.

And then it struck me.

In classical, medieval, and romantic immagination, the skylark is the symbol of the Triumph of Good over Evil, and many cultures consider it a messenger from the gods. Are you seeing what I'm seeing?

Look at how Percy Bysshe Shelly describes the skylark:

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; [...] Like a star of Heaven, In the broad day-light Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight, [...] Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

Am I spiraling, or does it ring a bell? A metaphisical bird "like a cloud of fire" (reminder that the Holy Spirit, alternative form of God's voice, is canonically depicted in art as a bird, often a flaming one) that speaks "from Heaven, or near it" (like as God or almost, remember "you are the voice of the Almighty in the same way as a presidential spokesman is the voice of the President") and pours mezmerizing melodies from above. A bird that cannot be seen but only heard, as if it was pure voice, that scorns the earth and can mysteriously entrance you with spellbinding promises that are better than "all treasures that in books are found."

And who is casually popping up early in the morning, after the long-awaited night of love and dancing (and occasional demon smiting) has come to an end, singing a mesmerizing song (the offer of restoring Crowley to his former angelic status) that is better than books and silences the nightingale, if not the Voice of God, harald of capital-G-Good, freaking Metatron himself?

My friends, I want to trust Neil Gaiman when he says that everything will be ok but, in perfect "it must get worse before it gets better" style, I am afraid that we are going to witness a nearly Romeo and Juliet double death ending that will scare the living daylight out of us.

Maybe Juliet-Crowley (Juliet is the one who wants Romeo to ignore the skylark, remember?) will be threaten with a permanent imprisonment in Hell (like the forced wedding of Juliet with Paris) and will have to fake his own death in order to leave his old lot behind once and for all, possibly involving fake holy water in place of Friar Laurence's fake death potion. Maybe a fatal miscommunication (I don't need to explain why miscommunication is plausible in this scenario) will lead Aziraphale-Romeo, coming back from Heaven (where he went after almost declaring war on the opposite side, much like Romeo went to Mantua after killing the Capulet Tybalt) just a moment too late and incorrectly informed, to believe that the love of his life is gone for real and to contemplate his own death, possibly throwing himself on his own flaming sword or willingly stepping into hellfire.

I will be honest, I can see Neil Gaiman pulling a shakespearian move on them (and on us). And, as someone said just before a bomb fell on a certain group of people in 1941, it will take a real miracle for them to survive it.

#good omens #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens thoughts #go 2 speculation #go2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #aziraphale #crowley #romeo and juliet #shakespeare #the metatron #metatron #good omens theory

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biillyhargroves · 2 years

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established harringroveson but Eddie has no idea about the Upside Down, is blissfully unaware of the secret world beyond Hawkins until July 4, 1985. he gets a call from a frantic Steve, barely coherent, all Eddie can make out is Billy and hospital and come now.

“What did the bastard do this time?” Eddie asks, already assuming the worst, sure that Neil has something to do with this. He’s rushing around his room, pulling on his shoes, searching for his keys, tangled in the phone cord as he hustles with his heart in his throat.

“No,” Steve says. “No, it’s not — it’s — just get here. I’ll explain everything. Just…I need you here.”

Steve’s voice cracks. He sounds so young and small and scared, and Eddie assured him that he’s on his way, slams down the phone and bolts out the door, peels out of Forest Hills like his damn life depends on it. He makes it to the hospital in record time, is confused as hell to see Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers looking like they’d crawled out of hell, Robin Buckley spaced out beside a bruised and battered Steve Harrington. Eddie thinks the doctors should be working on him, realizes there’s already stitches threaded through his brow when he steps closer. Steve rises to meet him, practically falls into Eddie’s arms.

“What the hell happened?” Eddie asks, hands roaming, prodding at Steve, lighting over the ugly bruises painting his jaw, his eye. Steve just shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, over and over again, as much for himself as for Eddie. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Eddie knows it’s a lie, but he placates Steve, will deal with him later. His hands grip Steve’s biceps, holding him up, and he asks, “Where is he?”

Steve raises his eyes, looks at Eddie as if for the first time. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He swallows thickly and there are tears in his eyes and Eddie wonders if maybe he doesn’t quite want to know what’s happened to Billy, if perhaps the news is worse than he’d expected. But he needs to know. He has to.

“Steve,” Eddie says, squeezing Steve’s arms. “Where’s Billy?”

“He got— he’s…he’s in surgery. They won’t— they rushed him back there. I haven’t seen him, I can’t—“ Just like he was on the phone, Steve speaks disjointedly, confusedly. Robin quietly points them toward a bathroom down the hall and Eddie pulls Steve into its quiet privacy. He guides Steve to the bank of sinks, uses a damp paper towel to dab at Steve’s cuts. Steve cries, silent tears slipping down his face, and Eddie brushes them away with his thumb.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, even though he’s lot share if this is true. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I have to tell you what happened,” Steve says eventually, and Eddie nods, says okay, braces himself for whatever bomb Steve is about to drop. “It’s going to sound crazy,” Steve says.

“Try me,” Eddie says, his forehead resting against Steve’s, one hand on the back of Steve’s neck, holding him steady. Steve tells him everything, about the demogorgons and the Russians and the Mind Flyer, and it does sound crazy, but Eddie drinks it all in, doesn’t interrupt, let’s Steve tell the whole story before he lightly brushes Steve’s temple and asks, “How hard did you hit your head?”

“I’m telling the truth,” Steve insists.

“Baby,” Eddie says softly, smoothing Steve’s hair, frowning when Steve meets his gaze with a stony seriousness Eddie has never quite seen before. He falters, quietly says, “Come on. This sounds like a D&D campaign.”

“It’s not fucking D&D,” Steve snaps, and he pulls himself roughly away, starts pacing the length of the bathroom, hands in his hair, chest working overtime, near-hyperventilating as he says, “Billy was— he was dying, I watched it happen, that thing just— and he— there was blood everywhere, and he was— I though he— it’s real, it’s fucking real, and we almost lost him, we might still lose him, and I should have…I couldn’t protect him, I should have protected him, I should have been there.”

He’s crying again, tears flowing freely, his face screwed up in frustration and fear. Eddie crosses to him in two easy steps, pulls Steve into his arms, whispers, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. Come here.” He holds Steve against him, offers quiet assurances until Steve settles.

“I’m scared,” Steve whispers. “We can’t lose him.”

“We’re not going to,” Eddie says with all the conviction he can muster. He’s still not sure if he believes all of this, not until the next morning when they can finally see Billy. He looks so small in his hospital bed, tubes and wires crawling over him— one jammed down his throat, an IV jabbed in the crook of his arm, machines beeping and chiming all around him. There’s no blanket on him. His skin is sickly pale, his veins dark and protruding, and there are thick bandages covering nearly every inch of visible flesh. Max had given them the rundown: the surgery had lasted hours, ruptured organs sutured, broken bones set; he was in a medically-induced coma, pumped full of painkillers and antibiotics.

Eddie and Steve take up two chairs at Billy’s bedside, one on either side, each of them holding Billy’s hands.

“Hey, babe,” Eddie says quietly. Billy looks so fragile, and Eddie is so afraid to touch him, but he stamps a feather-light kiss to Billy’s temple and tells him, “We’re here. We’re here with you.” He looks at Steve. In the harsh glare of the daylight, under the unnatural brightness of the fluorescents overhead, the bruising across Steve’s face looks even worse than it had last night. It breaks Eddie’s heart, seeing the two of them like this — so hurt, so broken. He holds fast to Billy’s hand and reaches for Steve with his free hand. “Hey,” he says when Steve doesn’t take it, and Steve’s eyes slide from Billy to Eddie. He clears his throat, slips his free hand into Eddie’s. Eddie squeezes, promises, “We’ve got him. He’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

#harringroveson #steddily #stedilly #stilldie #lex writes fics #i am in a mood tonight my dudes

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ya-like-huey-lewis-and-the-news · 2 years

Text

how the dead poets would prompose…

(pt. 1)

a/n: so my friend promposed to one of my other friends last night and i was like "okay i guess i have to write hc's for this now🙄🙄” so HERE IS THAT I HOPE U ENJOY

also ignore the logistics aspect of this w the private school blah blah blah this is my blog and i make the rules🙈🙈

neil perry:

(yes i used a swing kids gif shut up)

definitely did some sort of surprise musical number

yes, all of the rest of the poets were his backup singers.

and they were all into it too which is surprising

charlie definitely was resistant but enjoyed it the most

regardless of whether this is modern day or canon-time period, he would probably do a rendition of a song by the chordettes or frankie valli and the four seasons, that kind of thing

maybe some billy joel🫣🫣

you can tell how hard they worked on it

it was surprisingly good for a group of unhinged teenagers

mr keating was also there in the corner bc he knew ab it but wanted to see the finished product

neil ends the song on one knee holding his hand out to you like "(y/n)…will you go to prom with me?"

you say yes obvs

he just has the biggest smile on his face

hugs you and picks you up and spins you around<33333

todd anderson:

writes you a poem obviously

tries to keep it a secret, since he doesn’t want any of the other boys accidentally spilling the beans (i love that phrase sm)

most likely only tells neil and has mr keating proofread

even though he does not need proofreading

he puts his entire heart and soul into the poem

like it brings you to tears

this man loves you so much and it’s all on that one piece of paper

he leaves it on ur bed for you to find and once he sees you went into your room he stands in the doorway until you’re done reading

he is very nervous

you turn around and see him standing there

he sees you crying and he feels awful and goes to ask if ur okay

but u just hug him as tight as possible and don’t let go

and that was a mutual agreement that the answer was yes

charlie dalton:

i honestly had a hard time figuring this one out

i feel like he would use some sort of inside joke

like kind of like the teapot in the office

something like that

when he tells the rest of the boys all of them are confused but no one can question charlie's madness

he just knows for certain it will work

mr keating is very proud of his creativity

he’ll probably leave it on your bed waiting for you to find it

…and will also forget he put it there so he is quite confused as to why you are knocking on his dorm room door in the middle of the afternoon

when he opens the door he is simply attacked in a hug and kisses all over his face

he embraces you back and is lowkey giving himself a smirk

you say yes obvs

he is very pleased with how he did!!

you knew charlie was going to ask you, but you could not figure out how

he is quite the wildcard

but as always, regardless of his hamster wheel brain, he was able to show you at least a little bit of how much he loved you :)

thank you so much for reading! i had quite a lot of fun with this lol pls lmk if u want a part two with the rest of them and/or possibly how the actual prom night would go🫣🫣i hope u enjoyed !! have a great day mwah

#dead poets society x reader #dead poets society headcanons #dead poets society #neil perry headcanons #neil perry x reader #neil perry #todd anderson headcanons #todd anderson x reader #todd anderson #charlie dalton headcanons #charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton

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orionsangel86 · 1 year

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So, if you don't mind, I was thinking about that asshole who was rude on your Thessaly post by insisting that Morpheus is meant to be a bad person. I'm curious if you could expand on why you think he's not. I keep going back and forth on my own rereads, especially since the Thessaly relationship and The Kindly Ones writing seem to try and push in a "he IS a bad person" direction. I can't tell if my arguments that "he's just flawed and mentally ill" are fangirl goggles or legit interpretation.

Hey! I don't mind. So when I first got that comment, initially I thought the response was genuine, because it's been a while since anyone has responded to one of my posts in a bad faith way. I frantically tried to wrap my brain around the idea that I had missed something somewhere and that I was supposed to view Morpheus as a "bad person" because even after The Kindly Ones that has never been my interpretation. I then realised the response was just a bad faith troll from an asshole and felt relief that I wasn't wrong.

But I suppose it's all up to interpretation.

The issue is really with what you consider makes a person inherently good or inherently bad. It reminds me of that line in Good Omens:

“It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”

Because I genuinely think this line has inspired a LOT of Neil Gaiman's characters, whether human or not.

I also get a bit wary nowadays when certain sections of fandoms start labelling characters, especially protagonists as "bad" because that causes a slipperly slope into accusations of "if you like this character YOU PERSONALLY are a BAD PERSON" (Example: OFMD fandom and the forever bizarre reaction to the character of Izzy Hands).

Dream is not bad. He is not good either. He is entirely neutral. He may occassionally do things that may be considered bad, depending on your perspective, but he also does a lot of good things as well. How do we weigh him on a scale of judgement? Are we to act as his judge and jury for every decision he makes in the comics? I suppose we could do, if we wished to, such is the fun of analysis, but I think the end result would again depend on the perspective and morals of the individual reader.

But I will at least give my own interpretation. I'm putting on my Anubis hat and weighing Dream's heart against my trusty feather. Let's see how he does. Under a cut as its long.

I personally think that for a character to be labelled as "bad" their actions and motivations must cause harm, whether to individuals or larger groups, without them showing any care or concern for those they hurt, in their pursuit to achieve their goals.

For example, Lucifer in The Sandman is still a "bad" character even though there is a LOT of "Sympathy for the Devil" type of perspective in The Sandman. Ultimately Lucifer is still selfishly motivated. He doesn't care about the souls or creatures that reside in Hell, and he certainly doesn't care about humanity. When he kicks everyone out of Hell in Season of Mists it causes havoc on Earth, and leads to the death of at least one child that we know of. It is implied that he does far more damage than is explicitly shown.

Thessaly, as previously mentioned, is definitely a bad character. She is entirely motivated by her own selfishness. She doesn't give a shit who she hurts, or the damage she causes in her persuit for revenge in Game of You. She is cruel and malicious and yes, also a TERF. She does not show any empathy or consideration for any character at any point, and honestly, even her little speech in The Wake comes across as crocodile tears.

Desire is a more complex character but still falls on the "bad" side of the scale because Desire also shows very little regard for others when playing their games or implementing their schemes. Desire is going to do whatever they want regardless of who might get hurt because like Thessaly, Desire doesn't give a fuck about your feelings. Desire is cruel. This is stated textually. Desire's motivations are also usually selfish. The only time I found Desire remotely redeemable was in Overture. Desire saved the universe. Though it is made clear that the only reason they saved the universe was because they wanted to keep living in it. It's worth noting that even though Desire is very much "bad" I absolutely adore them and consider them one of my favourite Sandman characters.

Now to Dream. Unlike the above mentioned characters, Dream's motivations are rarely selfish. Even in The Kindly Ones, I believe even if you interpret the whole thing as Dream's own elaborate suicide plan (which is only one limited interpretation) I don't believe he ever meant for as many people to get hurt as they did, it's just that he found himself in an impossible situation where things escalated to a point of no return. Also, since most casualties were Dream's creations, arguably he probably assumed that either he, or his successor, would simply recreate them once the situation was back under control.

Dream is a lawful neutral character. He has his rules and he must abide by them because "I contain the entire collective unconscious, without my rules it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed." (I know this is Netflix!Dream talking but I'm still gonna use it cos its such a good line).

The big difference between Dream and the above characters, is simple. Dream cares. He cares about everyone. He cares about literally everyone - the entire collective unconscious of the universe and he is so bursting to the brim with care and love for them that he is buckling under the weight of all that care. It is what is destroying him and it is WHY he is so depressed and so susceptable to making bad decisions on a small scale.

Every motivation of Dream's is for the greater good. When he sees what John Dee did with his ruby, he is almost crippled by the guilt of it. He blames himself for giving the ruby so much power that it could corrupt a mortal that much. He is easily swayed by Constantine to give Rachel a peaceful death, even though at first he doesn't think about it, it's not like he laughs it off and walks away - like any of the above mentioned characters would do. He listens to Constantine and agrees to show that compassion.

When he realises he once again has to kill a Vortex - something that is part of his duty as Dream of the Endless, something that is very much carved in stone as one of his rules, he still hesitates, even though he knew what happened last time and all the pain he suffered because of it. A fundamentally bad character who does not care would not have hesitated in killing Rose Walker.

In Brief Lives, whilst his initial motivations were selfish, he realised that his trip with Delirium to find Destruction was causing harm to others. When he realised that people were dying because of their quest, he put an end to it. He hurt Delirium in doing so, unintentionally, but his reasons for stopping weren't because he was bored, or because he had given up on finding Thessaly, it was because people were getting hurt and he didn't want to be responsible for that anymore.

When you look at Dream's actions on a wider scale, he is a good character. It is only on a more personal level that his flaws start to show through.

Where Dream's behaviour gets bad, it is usually because he has been hurt, and when he is hurt, he acts like a petty child throwing a tantrum. It is when his cruel side comes out, and its when he is most like Desire.

Nada is the most obvious casualty of this side of Dream. She rejected him, he threw a tantrum, and condemned her to Hell for hurting him.

Calliope tells Dream that she believed the "old you would have left me here to rot." We don't know how true this is, even in the comics, but the idea that there once was a version of Dream who might have discovered his ex wife was being frequently raped and abused whilst imprisoned and bound to evil mortal men and refused to help her simply because she left him is horrifying, but as I said, we don't know if it is or ever was true.

Ultimately, on the small scale, all it takes is for someone to tell Dream that he is in the wrong for him to relent and accept his misgivings. Constantine called him out on Rachel, so he did what he was asked to do. Calliope didn't even HAVE to ask for him to free her in the comics, he just showed up and saved her without question. When Death told him what he did to Nada was "shitty", he immediately put plans in place to make it right, even though doing so was risky and put him and the Dreaming in danger.

Even the situation with Orpheus, whilst seemingly harsh on Dream's side, his son told him to his face "you are no longer my father" and so Dream, hurt and with wounded pride, walked away from his son and refused to look back - but he still arranged for the priests to take care of him.

His choice of Thessaly as a lover is messed up, but he was messed up at the time. My view as mentioned in my previous post is that she was a rebound. They make it clear in the comic that he never approved of her murderous ways (and I have no doubt that he would also dissaprove of her transphobia, even if not mentioned explicitly).

In The Kindly Ones I don't view the situation as Dream being a bad person. I view it as everyone else being bad. Dream is caught in a huge cloud of depression and shitty circumstance and he is unable to free himself from that situation, and even when others can sense his desperation and pain, no one actually helps him. Dream's biggest flaw in The Kindly Ones, in my opinion, is not asking for help.

Because he is prideful, because even after all he has been through, he could not shake off that pride. It went full circle, he was back in his glass cage refusing to ask for help. Only this time, the glass cage was his realm, his subjects, his role as Dream of the Endless, and he could not change himself enough to free himself without making the drastic worst case decision.

My hatred of The Kindly Ones as a story, is not because I think it does a disservice to Dream, but because it does a disservice to every other character involved. By the end of that particular story, I hated every character who WASN'T Dream. Because I desperately wanted one of them, ANY of them, to actually help him. To see past his stubborn pride and hold him in their arms and shake him until he saw sense. Because the message in that story seemed to me to be that people are inherently selfish and so wrapped up in their own lives that they won't help you when you need it most. That there isn't even a point in asking for help. So what's the point?

But then I am fully aware that my feelings are complicated and partly projecting onto the characters and the story and well, that's all not really relevant to the point of this post except to ask you all to take my opinion with a grain of salt.

So back to your original question. I don't think Dream is a bad person. He is flawed, he is a character who when pushed to the limit will do drastic stupid things, but then wouldn't we all if pushed to our absolute limit? He is extremely depressed and buckling under the weight of the collective unconscious. All that unchecked emotion carried within him, and it is literally killing him.

So when weighing his heart against the feather of judgement, I think I can forgive him some bad behaviour towards some ex lovers in the grand scheme of all he has done. As flawed characters go, he's hardly the worst, and the feather is still heavier than his heart.

#The Sandman #Dream of the endless #sandman meta #sandman comic spoilers #morpheus #The Kindly Ones #sandman analysis #asks

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millsheat · 1 year

Text

i'm really glad that people behind this adaptation truly care and respect the source material. it does makes me happy that we got neil to team up with someone like craig who's a huge fan of the last of us. however, some of his comments and creative choices sometimes rub me the wrong way.

i absolutely do not think he's doing or saying it with wrong intentions considering how much of respect and admiration he has for neil and the games.

but i'm a little nervous after the last episode. especially when it comes to ellie's character and craig's depiction of her relationship with violence. i agree that some people twisted his words from the first behind the episode video, said he called ellie a psycho or something and ran with it. craig mentioned in the last podcast episode that he does not consider her to be such person.

i know he's probably trying to prepare the new coming fans for the adaptation of the second game and ellie's inevitable descent into her own darkness but the comment about her having a violent heart left me a little confused.

video games and tv series are two different medias, yes of course. however, there are a few significant details that make the character the way they are. ellie is a kid who grew up on her own, without any proper type of parental love and care until she meets joel. she's trying to look tough, when in reality she's someone deeply afraid of ending up alone.

her encounter with david scars her for the rest of the life, changes her character entirely—which is absolutely justified. ellie kills david in self-defense. i like what neil said ages ago—each strike she made there was for each person she lost.

but ellie is not accustomed to violence the way joel is and we see that clearly in the second game when she sets off on her revenge quest. ellie is not built for this and each hit she takes, each strike she makes, it takes something from her.

take the scene with nora for instance. this is a huge moment for ellie's character. she dives into the deepest and darkest places of her soul as she quite literally beats the living soul of her enemy. and then she comes back to theatre, crushed and traumatised by her own actions. she breaks down to tears. that just does not seem like a reaction of someone who has a violent heart.

i know the adaptation is not going to be 100% the same thing, get that. if i wanted a carbon copy, i would play the game. i'm just not quite sure where he's headed with her character.

considering craig's words, i'm wondering how they are going to adapt ellie's descent into darkness that she faces throughout the events following the first game. it's made clear multiple times that she's not like abby nor joel when it comes to violence. she does not have that inside of her.

i believe he cares for the characters. i'm just not sure about his depiction of ellie's relationship with violence.

also, just so we're clear. this is absolutely not a hate post. just wanted to summarise my thoughts regarding this since it's been on my mind for a while.

thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

#the last of us #rant?#bear w me #ellie williams #the last of us ellie #ellie tlou #tlou #tlou ellie #tlou game #tlou show #hbo #tlou series #the last of us show #ellie the last of us #ellie

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lovebillyhargrove · 1 year

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Remorse on ao3

Neil's seeing the dream.

He's on the vast beach

It's a beautiful gorgeous day

Warm sunshine and calm turquoise waters as far as the eyes can reach

Neil's holding his son's body in his powerless arms.

He's supposed to carry him towards the ocean and put him in the coffin, but he doesn't do that

Instead, he sits on the sand, holding Billy's body tight

And talks to him

Repeating same words

Only three words

I'm sorry, Billy

The more he repeats them, the more pain swells inside, tearing him apart.

Neil wakes up with tears on this old cheeks making their way in the intricate pattern of the wrinkles on his skin

He doesn't remember the last time he had tears running down his stern face

They are now.

***

And so, Neil cries every night.

He cries his son rivers.

***

Billy?

Billy, is that you?

Neil hears the front door creaking. He hears someone's footsteps. At first he thinks that his ears are failing him. This is something new. He can't remember hearing the sound of footsteps in his apartment before. Neil is tensing in his armchair. Like a hare's, his ears are perked up listening to the sounds around him. He must listen attentively enough, his life depends on it.

Neil is not afraid for his life. He's dead, he knows it. He just wants peace. He wants out of here, out of this limbo. It is possible that the promise of peace - of anything - depends on the sound of footsteps.

He's dreading this, whatever this is. At the same time he's feeling as if his heart is overflowing with hope.

He hears dishes clattering in the kitchen. These sounds are familiar. Neil has heard them so many times before. As many as there are sand grains on the sunny beaches of the vast mighty ocean. The ocean that his son Billy used to love. Neil had always been against it, never joined Billy when he went to the beach as a kid, broke his surfboard, took him away from the ocean, from the sun. From freedom. Took Billy away from his life and brought him straight into death's welcoming arms.

Neil hears the familiar voice coming from the kitchen. It is definitely his son's, Neil would recognise it out of a billion voices.

He gets on his unsteady feet, goes to the kitchen, an old lonely man, forgotten by everyone including whatever gods there are.

The clanking sound intensifies.

Neil carefully looks into the kitchen, his breath bubbling in his throat, he's almost smiling, he's so excited, like a little child on their birthday. Maybe the forces that have been keeping him here have decided that it has been enough.

The dishes are clattering and he can feel someone's presence.

He slowly peeks behind the fridge. His heart is about to burst.

Billy ..

No-one.

Again.

Just the deafening silence of being alone for an eternity. For a never-ending forever.

Neil obediently turns around and goes to his armchair with a sunken heart. He knows the drill. He needs to sit down, he needs to rest.

He is so tired.

Exhausted. But he is not angry.

He deserves it, all of it.

He knows he does.

#billy hargrove #neil hargrove #billy and neil #father and child #pov neil hargrove

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theladycarpathia · 1 year

Text

Empty Places Chapter 5 - Manifestation

Back to Chapter 4

“Steve?” Robin shouts and Billy echoes her call, their voices bouncing off the walls. Panic is starting to trickle in, the worry that Steve might not escape these walls. “Steve, stop fucking around! Steve!”

“Fuck!” Billy screams finally, and kicks at the wall. He’s exhausted and heart-sore and they were so, so fucking close. Steve isn’t answering, and that probably means that wherever he is, he can’t.

“Where is he?” Robin asks, looking on the verge of tears. Her hair is mussed and her eyes are bloodshot. None of them have slept or even really eaten for hours. “He was right behind me.”

“Something took him,” Billy mutters, pacing back and forth. Indecision and desperation to find Steve is clouding his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, save for tearing down every inch of this useless, crumbling foundation until he brings Steve back. Screw supernatural forces, he’s never once been without Steve and he’s not about to start now.

“But what? Henry or the other thing?” Robin asks, twisting her head back and forth down the dark hallway, as though she expects Steve to appear. But it's just dark there and it occurs to Billy that they should be keeping an eye on it, just in case whatever took Steve feels like a second and third course.

“Does it matter?” Billy asks in frustration. When he feels like this he wants to scream obscenities, rip down walls, and draw blood, but he can’t do that. Not with the ghost of Neil so fresh in his mind. He doesn’t want to become that. “It’s not like either one is a good option!”

“I’m just trying to figure it out!” Robin shouts, and that’s startling in itself. Robin doesn’t shout. She gets squeaky, she babbles, and her voice occasionally rises to a pitch only dogs can hear but she doesn’t shout. Unlike Billy, she lacks the tightly wound springs necessary for such an act…or she had, until today. “If we work out what took him and why, maybe we can get him back!”

“The ‘why’ doesn’t matter…” Billy starts to say and then stops. Maybe the why does matter. God, they’ve been such idiots.

“Hang on…” Billy says slowly. Something has clicked in his brain, the memory of the dank breath of not-Neil wafting across his face. He’s tried so hard to not think about it, because so much of it was about him. The weak parts of Billy that he doesn’t want his friends to see.

But there was something else that the thing had said. What was it?

“Repression out of the wazoo…” Billy says finally, the words slamming into him. He remembered them because they’d sound so odd coming out of Neil’s mouth. Robin stops pacing long enough to give him a confused look.

“That thing…” Billy explains hurriedly. Jesus, if he’s right, then the monster did take Steve for a good reason. “When it was wearing my dad’s face. It said you guys had your own problems, and then it said Steve had repression out of the wazoo. Those exact words.”

“And that’s important?” Robin asks skeptically, confusion written all over her pale face. Billy shrugs. They don’t have a lot else to work with. Just decades of death, violence and pain.

Or maybe that is something.

The thing had said that Robin didn’t have enough to push down. Robin is an open book, always blissfully, freely herself. She’s gay and, unlike Billy, at ease with it. She wears her quirky clothes, and adores her niche brand of cinema, indie music and queer fiction. She says every word that passes through her mind and loves and hates indiscriminately. She doesn’t push any of it down.

Billy, on the other hand, spent years hiding who he is. He puts on masks as easy as breathing and some days it feels like he’s a Russian nesting doll, a mask hidden under another mask. He hides his identity from Neil and tries to pretend to himself that it doesn’t bother him. He lets boys put their hands down his jeans, steals his mother’s lipsticks, and sticks rainbow stickers over his laptop. He hides, but apparently not enough to be of true interest to the spirits residing in this house.

“I think it feeds off repression,” Billy says, and it’s like puzzle pieces slotting into place. He thinks back to every death he’s ever heard of happening here and thinks that maybe he’s not wrong. Robin’s face still doesn’t untwist and he hurries to explain it to her. “No, listen. It didn’t come after you. Just me and Steve. I get why me, but it seemed really interested in Steve. It said Steve had it as bad as I do.”

“Oh?” Robin says, and doesn’t catch Billy’s eye. Something sinks in Billy’s chest.

“But it’s Steve,” Billy says, in disbelief. “What the fuck does he have to repress?”

“Maybe more than we think,” Robin says quietly. “He doesn’t have to tell us everything, you know.”

Something sharp pierces itself right through Billy’s heart. Whatever it is, Robin knows. She knows, and they both kept it from Billy.

It’s fine. He knows that she and Steve have a slightly different relationship. It’s his own fault, back from the days when Neil was being an absolute shit and he distanced himself from them. Somehow, without him, Robin and Steve had grown together in another way and it shouldn’t hurt so much as it does.

“Right. Fine,” Billy says, stung. He turns his back on her and turns his own torch down the dark, empty hallway. “Let’s go. We need to find Steve.”

“Billy,” Robin pleads and he can hear her hurried footsteps chasing him down the corridor. “It’s not my place to tell!” Billy snorts.

“I said, it’s fine,” he snaps. Which of course means he’s as bad as he can be, trapped in this house, with his best friend missing and keeping secrets from him. There’s always a chance for jealousy with the three of them. Three best friends still leaves an opportunity for someone to be a third wheel.

He just didn’t think that it would mean they’d keep shit from each other.

“Billy, please…” Robin pushes, sounding genuinely upset. “Billy, I don’t mean to…Jesus Christ!” Billy slams to a halt, mere inches before he plows right through the little ghost girl that’s appeared in front of them. He swallows heavily, willing moisture back into his mouth.

“Shit, kid, give us some warning,” he says shakily. He’s never going to get used to how Alice isn’t there one minute and is the next.

Alice merely tilts her head curiously at him. Billy exhales and takes a small step back, choosing to let Robin deal with the dead kid. She may be benevolent but Billy’s pretty done with supernatural things.

“Can you help us?” Robin asks, crouching down to look the little girl in the eyes. “Our friend is gone and we need to find him before we leave.”

“She doesn’t talk, Ro,” Billy says, because he’s not going to count on a ghost to help them get out. For all they know, she could be leading them down to be monster-chow. Steve vanished right after they went down into the tunnels that she directed them to, after all.

“She does!” Robin protests, looking annoyed. “She spoke to me before. I just don’t think she has the energy for it.”

“Ghosts don’t have batteries,” Billy says wearily and checks over his shoulder. Something slinking up behind them in the dark would really be horror movie material. But everything is black and still, no spiders on the walls, no ravenous teeth glinting off the torchlight.

“I don’t think it’s that,” Robin says, sounding thoughtful. “I think she’s being pushed down by the other spirits in here.” To Billy’s immense surprise, Alice nods and Robin beams.

“When did you become the ghost whisperer?” Billy asks curiously. But Robin has turned her attention fully onto Alice, bouncing a little on her heels.

“Do you know where our friend has gone?” she asks eagerly. “Is he still down here?”

A beat. Billy holds his breath. He’s pissed but he wants Steve back. More than anything.

Alice nods and points down the corridor. Robin looks past her ghostly figure, looking apprehensively into the space not lit by their torches.

“What’s down there?” Robin asks and then looks up at Billy. “You were down here before. Did you see this bit?”

“I wasn’t in this section,” Billy says, frowning. The basement appears to be much larger than the house above and he wonders if that’s by design or by some strange dimension twisting logic. He doubts very much that it was down to Andrew Newton. But he certainly didn’t encounter this particular tunnel earlier, and he doesn’t even know for sure if it connects to the original basement. “I don’t know where this leads.” Robin pulls herself up and takes a deep breath.

“I think we’re going to have to find out,” she says.

XXX

Steve wakes up and immediately regrets it.

“Fuck,” he groans and tries to lift his head. Whatever he’s got his face on is cold and slightly damp and smells like the back alley behind Family Video.

He manages to roll over, his head thumping with every movement. Finally, he’s able to lie flat on his back and just breathe. The air here is slightly musty and faintly stale. There’s an odd metallic tang to it, something familiar that Steve just can’t place.

He was in the basement. He climbed down the ladder with Billy and Robin. They were going to get out. But then someone had called his name from the blackness behind them. Something determined to not let him go and he hadn’t been strong enough to fight it.

He lifts his hand and gently probes at his forehead. While doing so reveals a large tender lump, his hand doesn’t come away covered with blood so he feels a little bit better about that.

Eventually his vision stops swaying and he’s able to focus on a familiar rug, fraying at the edges. He’s in the dining room of Creel House.

“What the fuck?” Steve asks blearily. How the hell did he get back up here? He was in the basement and now he’s staring at the old wood paneling that surrounds the room. He’s lying on the same patch of rug he tripped over earlier, just under the portrait of the Creels.

He peels himself off the floor, stopping to lean against the table when his head spins. He breathes in deep through his nose, ignoring the rank smell that he inhales when he does so. Fuck, did something die up here while they were running for their lives? It hadn’t smelled like that earlier.

“Billy?” he tries, his voice coming out as a dry croak. He coughs and tries again. “Billy? Ro?”

No answer.

Steve curls his fingers around the edge of the wood. This isn’t good. It feels like another trap somehow. He gets the vague feeling that trying to get back to the kitchen and the trapdoor again won’t end well for him.

“Alice?” Steve tries, hoping that their little guide can at least hear him, even if his friends can’t. But there’s no sudden ghost appearing in front of him, just the silence of an empty house.

Shit. He casts an anxious look back over his shoulder at the portrait, like he half expects the eyes of Henry Creel to be watching him. He’s going to have to do something. He can’t stay here.

That’s when he notices the other portraits.

Previously, the only portrait in the room was the sole one of the Creels - obnoxious and terrifying, taking up a large space directly over the dining table. But now every available section of space on the walls has been filled. A variety of frames of age, design and size scattered across every wall.

The one to the right of the Creels’ portrait is of a beautiful blonde woman. Her hair is curled around her heart-shaped face, her huge blue eyes sweet and sad. She’s wearing an old fashioned dress of a pale pink color, the collar neat and prim around her long neck.

The portrait to the left is of a middle-aged man with thinning red hair. He has brown eyes and a birthmark over his eyebrow. He’s wearing a brown velour suit that looks like something Steve’s dad had back in the seventies. When Steve looks around the room, every other portrait is the same. Some pictures are photographs, some black and white, some in color. Other frames hold actual paintings, like the one of the Creels. Most of them contain only one person but every so often it holds a couple. One closer to the door has a stern looking man with a burn across the hand that he drapes around his wife’s shoulder. Another has two similar looking women with matching dark skin and full mouths, possibly sisters.

Frowning Steve turns his head back to the portrait of the blonde woman and notices the faint inscription at the bottom of her frame.

Peggy Schaffer, 1948.

Steve’s legs hit the table as he takes a hurried step back. To anyone else that name might mean nothing. But Steve has spent weeks researching Creel House, stared at every newspaper and every name of whoever had once lived here. And in late 1947, the Schaffer family moved in with their teenage daughter, Margaret. She was known as Peggy and she later slit her wrists in the bathtub. She left the water running and the bath had overflowed with red water all the way down the hall.

Open-mouthed, Steve stares around the room. There are so many. The house has existed since the late eighteen hundreds but clearly not every case has been documented. As he wanders around, taking in every name, for every one he recognises there are least two that he doesn’t. He knows the Newtons, Elizabeth, Peggy and Richard. But he’s never heard of Chandra and Meera, Payton and Harry, Luisa and Andrew.

It’s like a strange sort of graveyard, portraits labeled with names and dates of death. Because that’s what this is - the blood that spilled over and over in Creel House. Andrew Newton in 1888. Elizabeth Strand in 1919. Peggy Schafer in 1948. Sebastian Hayes in 1975. Alice Creel in 1986. Isobel Reyes in 1997. Over and over, every person who ever stepped into this house.

Okay, fuck this. He’s getting out.

He bolts from the dining room, intent on reaching the door this time. He doesn’t care what might get in his way.. He’s going and when he’s out, he can open up the cellar door to the basement to find Billy and Robin. He’s pretty sure that they’re still down there, maybe wandering in the same labyrinth that caught him before. They don’t have much in the van that could help but there are tool sheds out back that must have something in that he can use.

But he slams to a halt in the hall. He can hear voices carrying clearly from the living room.

It’s another trick. An illusion. He’d know Billy and Robin’s voices anywhere and these ones definitely aren’t the sounds of his friends. But he goes to look anyway, gripping tightly to the doorframe as he peers around.

It’s Christmas. Before the room had been derelict and dusty and now it’s gleaming with twinkly lights, a massive fir tree taking pride of place in the corner. The mantlepiece bears four stockings, all trimmed with faux fur, and the people that sprawl across the floor passing presents back and forth are the same ones that left and never looked back.

Steve reels. Okay, he definitely hit his head. He had to have done and now he’s suffering from some weird concussion induced trauma that’s giving him hallucinations. Because he knows these people. Their photos are still stuck to every wall.

A pretty Korean woman, with her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, digs under the tree for another present. Her husband - a tall man with curling brown hair and wire glasses - sits on the couch, watching his son run a toy train across the floor. It’s the kind of disgusting family scene that Steve never really had. The matching family slippers. The dog chewing on a toy bone on the rug. The hand painted ornaments on the tree.

“Open this one next,” Mrs Packard says, handing the gift to her daughter as though she can’t see Steve lingering in the doorway. Maybe she can’t, and this really is just Steve’s twisted hallucination.

Their daughter tears into the wrapping paper and judging by the names stitched onto the stockings, her name is Emma.

Emma rips through the wrapping paper the way that kids do, until it’s shredded in pieces on the carpet. But when she tugs open the box, the inside squirms and ripples like a pulsing heartbeat. For a minute, Steve doesn’t quite understand what he’s seeing. But then something small and shiny crawls out onto Emma’s hand.

“Fuck!” Steve shouts, because no one else seems to notice. Mrs Packard is still looking for presents under the three, the little boy runs his train back and forth across the rug. Emma just stares as the mass judders and spills over the cardboard box and her tiny fingers.

Emma turns to face him and to Steve’s shock, her eyes are as black as the shiny shells of the cockroaches. One skitters up her neck and vanishes into her dark hair.

“You’re all going to die in here,” she says simply, and Steve runs.

He’s dreaming. He has to be. He must still be lying in the fucking basement with a concussion and that asshole playing tricks with his head again. None of this can be real.

When he finds Neil Hargrove in the kitchen is the moment he knows for certain that it’s all in his head.

It’s still the Creel Kitchen, strange and caked in dust, sunlight rippling off the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, but Neil and his new family sit around the table, passing over plates of bacon like nothing is wrong. Susan Mayfield sweeps a dead spider off the table top and then sticks her knife in the butter. Steve feels bile rise in his throat as he sees the curled dead legs clinging to the butter on her knife before she smooths it across her toast.

Little Max, Billy’s stepsister, reaches for the ketchup bottle. Steve’s only ever seen a picture of her, all wild red hair and fierce blue eyes. She’s wearing shorts and a striped t-shirt, neat red plaits down her shoulders. She shakes out the bottle and clots of blood ooze down onto the plate instead. Like her mother she doesn’t notice, smearing a piece of bacon into the blood before placing it in her mouth.

Neil sips from his coffee cup before he even addresses Steve. It says a lot that Steve doesn’t feel any fear looking at this man. Billy might, but all Steve has is hate.

“You can’t fix him,” Neil says abruptly, and Steve curls his fingers into a fist. He’s always hated Neil, even before he knew what that asshole was doing to Billy.

“I’m not trying to fix him,” he snarls. As far as he’s concerned, Billy doesn't need fixing. He’s not something that can be fixed, no matter what Neil says.

“He’s not going to fix you either,” Neil says mildly and this time Steve seriously considers stabbing him with one of the knives on the table. This probably isn’t the Neil that Billy saw but this is the one that Steve remembers. The passive aggression, the snide comments, the badly veiled disdain. The man kept his temper in front of guests but only just. Even Steve’s father never spoke to his wife the way Neil spoke to Abigail.

“I’m not asking him to,” Steve says, because that’s not how this works. He has no illusions about it, that being with Billy isn’t going to fix all of their problems. It won’t mend Billy’s trauma, won’t vanish Steve’s insecurities. Relationships don’t work that way, and they shouldn’t.

Neil wrinkles up his nose. For a moment, his hand with the cup in tilts and Steve gets a glimpse of the strange black liquid within. It’s not coffee.

“It doesn't matter anyway,” Neil says, sounding bored. Susan takes a bite of toast, ignorant of the dead arachnid that is mulched into the butter. “You’re all going to die here.”

“You keep saying that!” Steve spits in frustration and Neil smiles.

“But it’s true,” he points out. “You’re never going to get out of this house. You walked willingly into this web, like all of those before you. We’re not going to let you go. You can thrash and fight to escape all you like. But you put your foot down onto the silk and woke us up and now you can’t get out. And you know why, don’t you?”

Steve swallows and it feels like knives all the way down, his mouth is so dry. With a sinking feeling, Steve suspects that it has been true ever since they walked through the front door. The spiders, the door, the tunnel…it all fits.

Which means that it’s all Steve’s fault.

Neil crows in delight and claps his hands, a slow, sarcastic applause. Steve looks down at the stained floor and feels a bitter sting come to his eyes. Fuck. It’s been him all along. He’s the reason that they didn’t get out when they tried the first time.

“Stupid boy,” Neil says, disdainfully. “You’re too far gone. You’re not going to escape. We’re hungry and love makes you weak.”

“It’s not making me weak,” Steve insists, because while loving Billy has made him a lot of things, it’s never once made him weak. “I’m not sure if you’re Neil or that fucker that was in my head earlier but it doesn’t make you weak. And you wouldn’t know because I don’t think you’re capable of it.” Neil, or Henry, or whatever else lives in this house…they’re all the same breed of monster in the end. The kind that Billy fears he’ll be and the kind that Steve knows Billy could never be. Incapable of love.

Neil’s mouth splits open and there are too many teeth crammed in behind his lips. There’s something familiar about the cold, dead look behind his eyes and that’s when Steve knows for sure. This is the creature that’s already been inside his head. This is the spider advancing on the fly bound in the web.

“Love isn’t power,” Neil continues, the cup slipping from his fingers. The black liquid inside seeps across the table and whatever it is, Steve doesn’t think that it’s safe to touch.

The fork suddenly clatters out of Max’s hand and she turns her head to look at Steve. Neil’s face has taken on an expression of fury, like the scheduled program is not going as he would like. Steve isn’t quite sure what’s going on until he gets a good look at Max’s face.

“Run,” Max says, and Steve doesn’t hang around.

It’s only when he’s racing back down the hallway that he realizes that he doesn’t know where to go. He can only go around and around in this house of horrors. And if it’s a dream then he’s really fucked. He doesn’t know how to get out of a dream.

But whatever happened back there wasn’t meant to happen and he remembers Alice trying in vain to keep him on track back in the tunnel.

The living room is empty again, the Packard’s one and only Christmas in this place wiped clean. Steve goes for the stairs, even though he’s not sure what nightmare waits for him up there.

He stumbles into Robin’s bedroom.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters, as he stares down at the three of them from four years ago. Robin in a pilfered sweatshirt, fast asleep on the bed, Cheeto dust still clinging to her fingers. Down on the floor, lying side by side on the spare mattress, is Billy and Steve. The TV flickers on whatever DVD they’d left in, now no longer being watched by any of the occupants in the room.

Mesmerised, Steve steps forward. Billy looks so young here, the faintest hint of a fuller face, before Billy had grown up. His hair is already starting to get longer, the curls clinging to the back of his neck. He’s half asleep, lashes fluttering against the curve of his cheek.

Steve had felt so raw that night. So unbalanced. They’d been friends for eight years at that point and he’s still not sure what it was about this night that made him start to look at Billy differently.

Steve turns to look at the younger version of himself and he can already see it on his face. He knows that it’s going to be a long, hard fall from here but he can’t stop watching fourteen year old Steve stare in awe as Billy breathes.

“I’m going to find a way back to you,” Steve promises his sleeping friends. Because he got them into this mess in the first place. They would have been able to walk out of the front door without Steve and his stupid head. He’s kept it all hidden for too long and he never should have let it get this far. He was afraid of losing Billy and it kept him from even trying.

He should have. He should have rolled over and kissed Billy that first night at Robin’s. He should have kissed him under the mistletoe at Nancy's party two years ago. He should have stopped today after he faced down the fake one and told him that Steve is too far gone on him.

Because that’s the thing. There’s no coming back now. He knows in his heart that he’s going to love Billy for the rest of his life. The fall has been too deep, too absolute. Every laugh, every time Billy fell asleep on his couch, every time he fought with Robin over his lipgloss. His sudden stormy moods, his unwavering loyalty, his incredible spirit. Steve is totally and incredibly in love. Being friends just isn’t enough and he knows it.

“You should remember that for later,” comes a voice and Steve looks up to see the gleam of Robin’s eyes in the dark. Even though she didn’t wake up that night, something has made her sit up now with that grave expression, a puppet pulled by someone else’s strings like Max down in the kitchen. “Don’t let go of it.”

“I won’t,” Steve promises, taking one last glance at this chunk of his past. He knows where he has to go next.

The room across the hall is also occupied but Steve steps in anyway.

“I suppose you meant it earlier when you said it was all fake?” Steve asks, waiting in the doorway. Henry looks up from his drawings. Steve can see from here that they’re the same horrid pictures that Robin found, smears of black ink and red pen across the page. The boy himself isn’t much better than the painting. There’s something strange about the pallor to his cheeks, the discontented twist of his mouth.

“It is,” Henry says flatly. And Steve is inclined to agree, the lie of a portrait of the happy family and the son who wished for nothing more than their deaths. It would have been better for all of the Creels if Henry had been drowned in a bucket after birth. He may not have murdered them but it was still his hand behind their deaths in the end. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“Maybe,” Steve agrees. Maybe that was another part that Henry was picking up on, the one similarity between themselves.

Alice sits on the floor, her legs tucked beneath her pale blue dress. She pays Steve no mind, drawing something in a bright pink crayon. So far, Steve has only seen the painting and the ghost versions of her. This one is painfully real, from the runs in her tights to the flush in her cheeks.

“You killed your sister,” Steve says, repulsed. They’d known it before but they never stopped to consider just how evil of an act that it was. It’s all too easy to see - Henry pulling his sister from her bed, smothering her screams for help, dragging her down into this dark space and slicing her open. A sacrifice, a bargain, an offering.

“It was the price to pay,” Henry says smoothly and the coldness of it all strikes Steve down to his core. “It wanted proof of my loyalty…and that I could follow through on my desires. A trait that you seem to lack.”

Steve grinds his teeth. This creature has chased him all around the house, wearing different faces, and he’s had enough of it. The only thing stopping him from punching Henry Creel right in his smug face is the thought that this is just another illusion.

“Well, I’m glad that you have some restraint,” Henry drawls, his eyes glittering. He looks half mad, this small boy with the intense eyes. Steve’s not really one for believing that whole ‘windows to the soul’ gibberish but he thinks that these eyes are definitely showing something. Like the glint of a predator’s eyes in the dark.

“Did you just read my fucking mind?” Steve spits, a little horrified. He should have guessed and the slow, pleased smile spreading across Henry’s face is enough to prove it.

“Did you think I just killed my sister for nothing?” Henry asks. Alice continues coloring and Steve is pretty sure that this one is just an illusion. Just another ploy by Henry, like the Packards, like the Mayfields.

“No, I got a little something out of it,” Henry continues, as though Steve’s presence barely matters at all. “I told you before. Power is what matters. Not love.”

Love had meant nothing to Henry. Maybe he’d never cared for his sister. Maybe he had and slitting her open in front of the demon was the sacrifice he’d had to make. But Henry has been doing the dirty work for the demon ever since 1989. Playing with people’s heads, learning their fears and desires, and driving them right into an open maw.

If there was indeed a spirit that existed in Hawkins before Andrew Newton ever thought to build a grand manor here, then the demon was trapped by the concrete walls, the slabs of modern steel, all of the brick and mortar. Andrew constructed a trap without ever knowing what he had done. But it didn’t matter. The demon didn’t need to leave anymore, not now that food was being delivered right to it.

Some probably took time. Peggy killed herself a mere seven months after she arrived at the house. If the demon was limited to where it could go in the house, then its influence took longer to get inside Peggy’s head. It was the same for the Strands. It took a long year before Winston snapped and murdered his wife. But after the remaining Creels left the house, the time frame for every occupant got shorter and shorter. Isobel Reyes in 1997 lasted three months. Terry Hatcher survived eight weeks before he threw himself onto the iron railings below. The Packards lived here for five months before they fled. That's a long time to survive with a demon living beneath your feet, with a monster trying to tug on your strings, waiting until you’re ripe. Henry is the anglerfish, the siren luring men into rocks with their songs, the woman in white waiting by the side of the road.

The entity in this house has made Henry the perfect tool. He can pick out every dark thought in someone’s head and then use it to manifest their fears, their desires. It would either propel them to act on their repressed thoughts or eventually drive them mad.

A deeply disturbed boy, obsessed with the murders and spiders, must have been ripe pickings for a demon. They’d lived here for a few months before the disappearances. Did the demon whisper to Henry every night? Trickle sweet nothings in his ear, like poisoned honey, promising him blood and power if he would just drag his sister down to the basement and spill her guts before a demon?

“You’re not wrong,” comes a bemused voice and Steve jerks his head up to the large bay window. Before it had been empty, sunlight spilling in across the faded wood.

The man in front of him doesn’t look much older than Steve. He’s maybe a decade older, long and lean with sharp wrists and high cheekbones. There’s something about his blonde hair, the glint in his eyes as he stares at Steve that’s also familiar. It isn’t until the man tilts his aristocratic chin that it all clicks.

“Henry Creel,” Steve says, stunned, and the man gives him a flash of teeth. Steve turns his head back to the young Henry on the floor. The boy is still dragging thick black lines across the page. There’s something familiar about it and Steve recoils. It’s following him, that same black ooze.

“Well done,” Henry says, and it drips with condescension. There’s still something of the dour little boy in the man standing in front of Steve, but he can’t quite believe that this is Henry Creel all grown up. Henry should be older, a man in his fifties at least. But this man is youthful, with fresh skin and shiny hair, and it sits all wrong in Steve’s belly. It could be another part of his dream but somehow, he doesn’t think that it is.

“How are you…?” Steve begins to ask and then stops. “You never left this house, did you?” The horrible truth is that he already knows, and has started to suspect since Robin came down with that metal box in her hands. Two little children vanished from their beds one night in 1986. They were never seen again until 2022 when three amateur ghost hunters wandered into the Creel mansion. Alice looks exactly the same as she did when she lived here and that’s because she never left.

Henry didn’t either but for completely different reasons.

“So no portrait in the attic then?” Steve asks, and Henry smirks.

“I told you that there were benefits to this arrangement,” he says calmly, wandering a little closer to Steve. He looks like any man you’d meet in the street, with tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt. His polished black shoes click across the concrete and Steve shuts his eyes. He’s not sure what’s worse.

“That’s fucked up,” Steve hisses. Steve would never…could never. Not for whatever twisted immortality that Henry has.

“And instead of being devoured by it, you were the only one to make friends with it,” Steve says and opens his eyes. Henry watches him with interest. There's satisfaction there, and a little bit of hunger. There shouldn’t be such an expression of bloodlust on any human.

“Close,” Henry admits. “I was always different. That’s why we moved here. They thought that a nice little town like this could fix me.”

“Can it fix psychopath,” Steve bites out, unable to help voicing the thought that skitters across his brain. Because there’s something very not right with Henry, something that was rotten long before he walked across the demon’s path.

But Henry chuckles. He looks amused by Steve’s venom, and that doesn’t mean anything good for Steve.

“You failed a little,” Steve probes. “Your parents got out.” But there’s a look of grim satisfaction on Henry’s face.

“Not far enough,” he chides. “And not for long. They both died not long after. Quite honestly, I think that they knew what had happened. It wasn’t something that they could really live with.”

No, they couldn’t have. They’d have known what their son was capable of and they’d never have been able to shake their suspicions. It had swallowed Virginia whole and Victor not long after. The guilt. The regret. The grief.

“What about my friends?” Steve asks, because he has to know. Billy was visited by either Henry or the demon…and if Steve had to make a guess, he’d presume the demon. Billy had wandered right into its hunting ground, and he could guess at what thoughts could be skimmed from Billy’s head. The kind of thoughts that would have made it so easy for it to wear Neil’s face.

“They’re around,” Henry says, looking at his fingernails. This is all routine for him, luring people down to be used as food. He’s more demon than human himself now, never aging, able to pick out people’s deepest desires from their hearts. “We really only needed you. If they’re smart, they’ll leave.”

Steve swallows, suddenly very aware of the lump in his throat. They wouldn’t leave. He hopes to God they have but he knows them. They’ve been a package deal all their lives. They wouldn’t leave him behind.

“Why all this?” Steve asks, gesturing to the room, the children, the dream. “I know it’s not real.”

Henry gives an easy shrug and then waves his hand. The children vanish, young Henry and Alice fading away like smoke.

“Why not?” Henry says, like it’s all a game. That this has just been fun for him, seeing how far he can push Steve. “Besides, I don’t think you want what’s real.”

“So how does it work?” Steve asks, trying to ignore the goose-flesh on his arms. The temperature in the room has dropped, a strange dank air moving through the room as though someone left a window to hell open. He’s on borrowed time now. “I run around this stupid dream version of your house until you eat me?”

“I’m not the one eating you,” Henry says dryly. The bedroom door slams behind Steve and he flinches, before grabbing furiously at the handle. It rattles uselessly, even though he knows there’s no escaping anyway. This is Henry’s domain. Steve has no power here.

“No, you don’t,” Henry says coldly and when Steve turns around Henry is right there, a hand shooting out as fast as lightning to push Steve back into the door. It’s a dream, but he can still feel the press of the handle into his spine, the sharp sting of Henry’s nails against his throat.

A hand curls suddenly into his hair and Steve tries to jerk back but can’t. Henry’s fingers are cold and stiff, a familiar feeling from when he’d worn Billy’s face earlier and caressed Steve’s face like a lover. The fact that this time he knows that it’s not Billy, something not quite human, doesn’t help. His blood still pounds with fear as Henry leans over him.

“It’s been a good while since I was able to use these powers,” Henry confides, still gently stroking Steve’s hair like he doesn’t have his other hand gripped around Steve’s throat. “This was what I wanted after all, what I was promised. Before I was ordinary, human, weak.”

“Get out,” Steve gasps, having to fight for each word against the pressure of Henry’s weight. Henry just smiles, his face horribly close to Steve’s and that’s when Steve realizes that he can’t move. Steve automatically squirms but Henry just laughs and it’s by far the worst sound that Steve has ever heard.

“Would this be easier for you if I looked like Billy again?” Henry asks and Steve shudders.

Henry grins, mouth stretched wide and curls his fingers deeper into Steve’s head. They feel longer, bonier, than any normal digit should, each one like an ice pick against Steve’s scalp.

“I hope you don’t mind me having another little look,” Henry croons, before Steve tips his head back and screams.

Onto Chapter 6

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