#absolutely wanting to strangle Neil (even more so than usual) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

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27, 7 and 8! Andriel or Kandriel my love❤️

kandreil my love because it just freaking works

7. “I’m not jealous.”

8. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

27. “What’s going on here?”

Kevin wasn’t stupid. He could tell when Andrew and Neil were at odds; it was clear when put in contrast to how in-sync they usually were. They made it obvious, with Andrew going on his drives alone and Neil not following him up to the roof, neither of them wriggling their way into the other’s bed the instant they thought Kevin was asleep. It was clear in the way Neil latched onto Kevin instead. He threw himself into their night practices while Andrew sat silently in the stands, but he also tailed Kevin throughout the day, seeking him out instead of Andrew in any pockets of free time.

He wasn’t stupid, so he could also tell that Andrew was ignoring him, and he knew this must have been why.

But he also wasn’t very brave when it came to them. Which meant he took longer than he should have to do anything about it.

Cornering Andrew wasn’t a smart move—anyone who knew him knew this. Kevin might have been upset with him, and a little bit pissed off, but he didn’t have a death wish. No, he knew Andrew was avoiding Neil more than Kevin. So he’d wait until Neil went off somewhere and simply left him and Andrew in the dorm alone.

It came about much quicker than expected, but that was fine. It was manageable. Kevin was still prepared. He would approach this calmly. He’d be straightforward, and fairly blunt, as was his usual, but he wouldn’t let Andrew rile him, wouldn’t let anything under his skin, as was his usual. He’d be perfectly calm, and perfectly civil.

He sat himself down on the couch, looked at where Andrew was smoking on the desk by the window, and blurted, “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” in a manner too harsh to be civil and too nervous to be demanding.

Andrew looked over at him slowly, brow already arched. “What?”

Kevin took a deep breath. He’d have to run with it now. “You’re jealous, and that’s why you’re mad at me as well.”

“Who’s mad?” Andrew retorted.

“No, you’re not getting away with that. I know when you’re ignoring me, and I know the difference in you having a bad week and you being an ass.”

He clamped his mouth shut as it grew too snappy, but Andrew simply stared at him. It could have passed as bored, if that eyebrow wasn’t arched even higher than before. Kevin swallowed and tried to get onto the track he’d set before his mouth ran away from him. He’d get this out, and he wouldn’t let Andrew ignore him or bully him into thinking he was overreacting. They might have got off on telling him he was a drama queen even more now that he had the tattoo to match, but he was one of few who knew Andrew was worse, and that was enough to remind him he was just in calling the blond out.

“I don’t know why you’re fighting with Neil, but you don’t get to take it out on me,” he said firmly. “Neil’s im—my friend. I won’t apologise for spending time with him because you’re having some sort of hissy fit.”

Andrew’s mouth twitched, but he swiped a hand over it and his expression was blank once more. “You think I’m jealous—” he said slowly, “—because Neil is spending time with you?”

“Yes,” Kevin insisted.

Andrew flicked ash of the side of his cigarette and cocked his head, sweeping his eyes over Kevin in a way that suggested he was amused. “Why?”

Kevin opened his mouth, closed it again. Why what? “Huh?”

“Why would I be jealous—“ oh yes, definitely amused now, “—of your lovely friendship?”

“Because…” Kevin blew out a breath. “I don’t know, Andrew. You’re dramatic. Stop trying to brush me off when I know you’re ignoring me, and it must be because Neil’s coming to me while you two are fighting.”

Andrew considered him. He stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill and tossed it carelessly over the edge, then pulled the window closed and twisted to face Kevin. His examination made Kevin feel twitchy, but he valiantly kept himself still, and eventually Andrew hummed.

“Not because of your ridiculous crush on him, then?” Andrew said flatly.

Kevin blanched. “My—what?”

Andrew tsked, rolling himself off the desk and strolling over. He planted himself in front of Kevin with an unimpressed look. “You didn’t want me to treat you like an idiot. Return the favour.”

“Andrew, I—“ Kevin trailed off. What could he say? I don’t know what you’re talking about? Andrew would probably pull a knife on him.

Because of course he wasn’t an idiot. Of course he knew. He’d probably known all along.

Kevin was blushing, for heaven’s sake. There was no point in even attempting to lie. The last time he’d lied by omission to Andrew, he was rewarded with hands around his throat.

The reminder made him flinch, and Andrew caught it. He took a step back, eyes flashing as he noticed Kevin’s trembling. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kevin,” he said, a little too sharp for a comment Kevin thought was meant to be comforting.

“I wouldn’t,” Kevin stammered. “I mean, I know that it’s not—I’d never—“

“Christ, stop,” Andrew sighed, flicking a hand in the air as if he could bat Kevin’s nonsense away. “You’re hopeless.”

Kevin, indeed, continued to be hopeless. He was gaping like a fish, nothing but air going in or out. “Andrew,” he simply managed. It sounded pleading.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I’m not jealous.” Before Kevin could fumble for something to respond with, he added, “And I’m not mad, you imbecile. Clearly I knew. I would have already disposed of you in your sleep if I was going to.”

Kevin made a strangled noise, and Andrew added, “But I’m not,” so Kevin nodded.

“And you won’t…” Kevin’s eyes widened. “Does Neil already—?”

“Neil is less than hopeless,” Andrew said. “If you don’t tell him he’ll never get it. You really should help him along.”

This was too much. Maybe it wasn’t anything at all. Maybe Kevin was dreaming, and this wasn’t happening, and Andrew was plotting his sleepy death right now in the real world. That seemed more likely. There was no way it was possible for Andrew to not only be accepting of Kevin’s affection for his boyfriend, but encouraging.

Then again, Andrew was nothing if not a contrary, defiant little creature.

He seemed amused again in the face of Kevin’s disbelief. “Maybe you are just as bad. If you want me to treat you like you’re smart, you’re going to have to do better than that. Tell me, why do you think Neil and I are ‘fighting’?” he air-quoted.

That made Kevin frown. “He stormed off a moment ago. He has been all week. And you’ve been grumpier than usual, and you aren’t doing any of the usual things together.”

“Pay a lot of attention to that, do you?” Andrew mused, still absolutely toneless. Before Kevin had a chance to defend himself, he continued. “You think it’s my fault.”

This was not a question, which was good, because Kevin would rather not answer. Which, of course, was answer enough.

“You don’t think,” Andrew prodded, “that Josten is having his own little crisis and blaming me, and clinging to you for any specific reason?”

Kevin was gaping again.

Andrew wouldn’t let him have a break. He tacked on, “You haven’t considered that I am not jealous because I also know your pathetic crush extends?” Kevin choked again; Andrew rolled his eyes again. “I am not blind, Kevin.”

“But you don’t…” Kevin couldn’t get the words out. It was ridiculous, because all he had to do was stand up, and he would tower over the other man. But for once, he didn’t feel small and meek because he felt he was in danger. After the work the Baltimore incident had made them put in, Kevin almost felt safer around Andrew than he had before. It very well might have been his affection tainting his opinion, but he didn’t much care. He knew what he was in for—who he was in for, and he knew that they were not safe in any conventional way, but that he was best off with them.

He’d given them his back all over again, and he hadn’t worried about it. His heart was an altogether different matter.

Andrew stepped closer to him again, gazing down at him with the same look he often gave Neil, when he thought the redhead was being particularly dense. “Oh, but I do.”

No. It didn’t count. Kevin hadn’t even finished the thought, so Andrew wasn’t confirming anything. He couldn’t even know what he meant. They were likely on completely different wavelengths.

But Andrew was leaning over Kevin now, bracing a hand on the back of the couch, and all of Kevin’s rational arguments fled as he short-circuited.

“Andrew,” he breathed, going for warning and ending up wavering.

Andrew, predictably, ignored him and leaned closer, his breath brushing Kevin’s face, until the door burst open.

The clatter of Neil’s shoes, and then his keys, was unmistakable, and Kevin felt panic rise in him as the steps drew closer and Andrew still didn’t move. He simply looked over Kevin’s head as the footsteps stopped abruptly.

Kevin squeezed his eyes shut.

“What’s going on here?” Neil asked. Then, harder, “Leave him alone, Drew.”

It was utterly backwards. Kevin was at fault here, even if Andrew was the one still leaning in. Neil should have been throttling him, like Andrew should have done already. Instead he was defending Kevin against Andrew, but still using the man’s shortened name as an endearment, measuring the middle ground effortlessly. Even if he was incredibly off target.

Andrew simply rolled his eyes at him. “I’m not threatening him, idiot.”

A beat of silence. “Then what are you doing?”

“Not sure yet.” Andrew’s gaze flickered down to Kevin again, and he seemed much closer than before. Kevin swallowed; Andrew smirked. “Kevin seems to like it, though.”

“Andrew,” Neil bit, a warning and a question.

Andrew gripped Kevin’s chin between thumb and finger, and dragged his head around to face Neil. “Look.” Andrew’s thumb tapped his bottom lip, and his breath hitched. Andrew raised a brow. “What does it look like to you?”

Kevin looked at Neil for the first time in this dream (nightmare? Who knew where it was leading) and found himself breathless for another reason.

It was a recent development, and it wasn’t. Kevin had always known Andrew was attractive, had always appreciated Andrew’s talent, had always confusingly, blindly desired Andrew’s presence. He had always admired Neil’s fire, had always known he was capable of great things, had always held him in a place in his heart he hadn’t realised had been occupied since they were children. He hadn’t thought about kissing them until recently. Or at least, he hadn’t realised he wanted to.

Now, seeing that exact fire in Neil’s eyes at Kevin’s defense, as well as his horrendously worn t-shirt and disgustingly bright shorts crinkled and sweaty from his run, Kevin knew he wanted to kiss him, and he knew it wasn’t a surface thing.

And Andrew knew it just as well, smug bastard that he was.

Neil only needed a moment of looking at him to say, very eloquently, “Oh.”

Andrew snorted. “Finally come to terms with it, have you?”

Neil glared at him, but Kevin couldn’t have been mistaking the blush creeping into his cheeks. Neil’s smile was slow as he looked back at him, and somewhat shy, and Andrew heaved another sigh and moved away to plop himself down on a beanbag. It meant Neil was watching him instead, and the odd, crazy crevice of hope that had been opening in Kevin started to cave, and then Andrew was waving Neil at him impatiently.

“Well?” he prompted.

Looking between them, Neil hesitated. He settled on Andrew long enough to ask, “Did you…?”

Andrew wordlessly shook his head.

“But, I can?”

Andrew raised a brow. “Ask him.”

Kevin was lost. But Neil was turning to him, and Kevin would always pay attention to Neil, no matter how begrudgingly. So he was listening very intently when Neil simply asked, “Kev, do you want me to kiss you?”

This elicited a noise that may have seemed tortured, and Neil took a step back, eyes widening. He shot Andrew a betrayed look, and the silent communication that passed between them was lost on Kevin, who was sure this had gone beyond a dream into a blackout-induced fantasy. He must have fallen dramatically off the wagon, and now he was completely out of it and his brain was running away on its own as a misplaced attempt at comfort.

Then Neil corrected himself. “Wait. Can I kiss you? Because—I think I’d like to.”

Andrew was right. Kevin was blind, and an imbecile, and worse than hopeless, and he could do nothing but give a jerky nod.

Neil’s face lit up, and then determination was mingling with his apprehension and his face was an inch away from Kevin’s and Kevin was demanding, “You think you’d like to?”

Neil jerked back.

“Fucking idiots,” Andrew grumbled. “Yes or no, Kevin.”

“Well, yes—“

Neil kissed him, and Kevin could not have dreamt this. No matter how much alcohol-aided imagination he had, the soft touch of Neil’s lips compared to the rough texture of his hand against Kevin’s cheek was too heavenly to be magicked-up. It was heart-wrenchingly real. Andrew’s eyes on them was just as heavy of a weight.

Kevin was only beginning to get the hang of himself and reciprocate whole-heartedly when Neil pulled back. His blue eyes were dark as he roamed them appreciatively over Kevin’s stricken face, and then he glanced at Andrew.

Looking for approval, Kevin realised, and followed suit.

All amusement was wiped from Andrew’s face. His eyes were just as dark as Neil’s and even more intense as he watched them, and in combination with Neil’s touch it stirred something low in Kevin’s gut. He pinched his own thigh discreetly and his blood thrummed at the nip of pain.

“I might,” Andrew said, dragging his gaze slowly to Kevin’s face, “be a bit jealous.” He used a foot to nudge Neil, who simply huffed, out of the way, and then he hooked that same foot around Kevin’s ankle and gave a deliberate tug.

Kevin descended into gleeful laughter, and felt only more elated when it meant Andrew was forced to come to him for his kiss.

Prompt List

#kandreil #aftg #tfc #this specific beginning for them is probably overdone as it is but i still love it so here we go #prompts

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magniloquent-raven · 3 years

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more trans billy fic! read my first two here and here (not necessary for context, but they are technically a series)

(cw: talk of past suicidal thoughts/suicide attempt)

billy's never been with anyone who didn't ask about his scars.

if it wasn't their opening line—fake concerned bullshit, trying to get in his pants by pretending to care, it only worked on the days he was feeling especially low—it would always come up later. some people's idea of good pillow talk. like the fact that they'd stuck their dick in him meant they were entitled to his life story or something.

once, a guy made it a whole three weeks before he asked. he'd picked the dude up at a bar and kept around because he was good with his hands. then kicked him to the curb because he was shit at minding his own business.

everyone seems to think him wearing low-cut shirts that leave the twisting ropes of scar tissue over his heart on full display means they're allowed to pry.

everyone except steve.

they knew each other for months before they started dating, and he never brought it up. and now. he's seen all of billy's scars and he hasn't asked about a single one.

and billy's starting to wonder if he wants him to.

they're laying in bed together one morning, the sun streaming in through half-drawn blinds, dappled on the bedspread and lighting up the honey coloured highlights in steve's hair.

hair that's tickling billy's nose, but he can't bring himself to move. not when steve is so comfortably draped across his chest, breath warm against his collarbone, fingertips absently trailing up and down, caressing his side.

another first for billy, truth be told. he didn't date much before steve—wasn't really the boyfriend type—and the people he did date never did this. never wanted to just...exist together in an easy silence, sharing soft touches with no intent.

it should make him antsy, the stillness, the quiet, but he's found himself enjoying the lie-ins just as much as the mornings he coaxes steve awake with lazy kisses and a thigh pressed between his legs.

on really good days he gets both.

but today...today steve's lips trail down billy's chest, following the sunburst lines of scar tissue, and. billy stops him. with a hesitant hand on steve's shoulder. and steve looks up at him, a question in his wide brown eyes.

"you've never asked," he says after a moment, holding steve's gaze but shifting nervously.

"asked?...if you want to—oh god, did you not want me to—shit, billy, if you aren't in the mood you can just say so, i—" steve starts to pull away, scrambling, looking absolutely mortified, but billy shakes his head immediately and pulls steve back to his side wrapping his arms around his waist.

"not about that, jesus."

a relieved sigh ruffles his curls, and steve relaxes into his embrace, "alright, then...what?"

billy chews the inside of his cheek. "the scars, steve. you're not even a little curious?"

there's a pause. "what? i mean, i thought, uh...guys like you usually get, like, surgery right?"

"...you thought—" billy chokes on a strangled noise that's almost a laugh. "what, that i got my tits hacked off with a chainsaw or something?"

steve snorts against his shoulder, smushing his face further into the crook of billy's neck with a groan, "maybe? shut up. i dunno how it works, okay. didn't figure it was polite to ask." he shifts his weight around, wriggling into a position that lets him look at billy's face without detangling their limbs.

"ahh, country club etiquette, shoulda known." billy smirks at steve's eyeroll. "next time just ask, baby."

"okay." he worries at his bottom lip, brow furrowed, gaze darting between billy's face and his chest. he puts a hand over the worst of the scarring, palm flat over billy's sternum. "so..." his voice is soft, suddenly, hesitant, "what happened?"

he expects regret. irritation at himself. shame. he expects to feel himself closing off, second guessing his decision to invite the questions. but.

he covers steve's hand with his own. lets out a breath. lays there and feels nothing but the warmth of steve's body next to his, and a slight twist of trepidation in his gut.

"i was kind of. a fucked up teenager," he starts, and grimaces. "used to jump into any fight i could find. and when i was eighteen...i stumbled across...something. all i know is there was some little girl about to get kidnapped or worse, and i. well. i blacked out most of it, but. she got away. and i woke up in a hospital a few days later all..." he pauses, and gestures vaguely at his chest. "and there were all these people tellin' me it was a fuckin' miracle i survived, but..."

his blinks away the tears threatening to fall, turning from steve's wide-eyed concern, but steve puts a gentle hand on his cheek and guides him back. "but what?" he murmurs, brushing curls away from billy's face.

but he never wanted to wake up in the first place.

but every time someone told him what he did was brave he just got a little angrier, a little more bitter.

but no matter how much better staying at the hospital was, away from neil, away from max, always trying to be his sister, no matter how many times he told himself his life was better now, he still felt hollow and lonely and...

he's never talked about it. any of it. not with the shitty hospital-mandated therapist they assigned him when he was still bedridden. not with the psychiatrist he went to a few years later when he was trying to get prescribed testosterone. not with any of the friends he's made here.

he doesn't know why the hell he decided digging up this particular skeleton was a good idea now, but he can't exactly rebury it at this point.

steve's hand is warm and solid and his thumb keeps softly rubbing his cheekbone and making his heart flutter. and he supposes that's the why of it. love has made him an idiot.

he sighs. leans into steve's touch. "i hated it. all of it. there was this article in the local fucking paper and everything, about what i did, calling it heroic. and people constantly telling me i should be grateful to be alive but i didn't want to be." his breath catches in this throat, voice breaking, "i didn't save that kid to be a hero, i did it because i wanted to die."

steve makes a wounded noise, low in his throat. "billy..."

"i don't anymore," he says quietly. "i—it hasn't been that bad in a long time."

there's a moment. a pause. a silence that has billy holding his breath as steve watches him with a pinched frown, his eyes shining with unshed tears. and then he shifts, slips a leg over billy's and rolls on top of him, rustling the sheets and knocking the air from billy's lungs.

it takes billy a second to realize what's happening, that steve's buried his face in the crook of his neck again, but this time hugging him with his whole damn body.

"...steve?"

"m'sorry," he whispers, muffled and quiet, breath hot against billy's skin. "sorry i wasn't there."

billy's heart clenches. painfully, bittersweet, swooping like he's been dropped from a great height. he tightens his hold on steve's waist. "you're here now. and i'm okay." he pauses, and turns his face to rest his cheek against steve's dishevelled head. "better than okay."

steve hums. kisses his collarbone. slips his hands more securely under billy, wiggling til his palms are squished between billy's shoulder-blades and the rumpled sheets. "you're sure?"

"yeah, pretty boy. i'm good."

"...good enough to make me pancakes?"

billy snorts. "i can't when you're laying on top of me, steve."

"lies. i know you can lift me."

he snorts again, dissolving into helpless giggles that entirely ruin his ability to respond with a clever retort. steve lifts his head and meets his eye, smiling softly. he presses that smile to billy's mouth.

and they have their pancakes. later. much later.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #trans billy hargrove #a raven's writing desk #just to be extra clear yall there was no mind flayer in this universe but he still has the big yeah-that-shoulda-killed-you scars

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psychdelia · 3 years

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season 3 but instead of billy, neil was flayed.

he had been acting... off the last couple of weeks. distant and withdrawn, completely the opposite of how he usually is with billy.

he first notices the difference in behavior when the abuse stops. maybe he gets home late for dinner and instead of the usual stern look he gets before a smack when max and susan go to bed, neil just smiles all big and wide, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before he welcomes his son home.

then neil starts coming home later and later, giving susan some bullshit excuse about work and overtime and she eats it right up. chooses to believe that he’s somehow morphed into the perfect husband and father overnight. on top of that, he smells like bleach and chemicals and his eyes seem so dead. billy can tell what the guy is thinking or feeling through one look at his expression, but now he’s just eerily blank.

so billy follows him on 4th of july, surprised to find himself in the starcourt parking lot for the second time that day - he dropped max off earlier to hang out with her shithead friends, but it’s past closing hours so she shouldn’t still be inside unless she’s at the movies, the only part of the mall that remains open late. he watches as neil marches into the mall, fists clenched at his side. billy has no idea why neil is even at the mall so late when he should be at work or wherever he’s been going and lying to susan about. so, he follows him in.

he doesn’t know what to expect, but seeing his little sister and her gaggle of friends screaming as neil gets closer and closer to them. squinting, billy can see black veins crawling their way up neil’s neck, discoloring his face and eyes. he jumps when he hears the first bang, the sound of a firework exploding way too close for comfort.

then he spots it. the huge slimey alien being that screeches when the first firework hits it, then second, third, and so on.

and like. what the fuck.

his eyes must be as wide as saucers as he stares at the thing, gangly and screeching with every hit, trying to swing at anyone it can reach. he doesn’t have time to process what the actual fuck he’s looking at when he hears someone yell his name. max.

“billy! BILLY!” she screams, absolutely terrified. “DO SOMETHING!” she demands.

immediately, his eyes search for fireworks. looking up, he finds harrington on the second floor in matching work uniforms with a girl - buckley, his brain distantly provides. they had the same ap literature class. the fireworks get louder and louder along with the monster. he eventually finds a small kiosk set up for the 4th, so he follows suit and grabs his lighter, blindly throwing at the monster as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. his father approaching a girl around max’s age with a maniacal expression on his face, eyes about to burst out of his goddamn head. he hears the kids screaming in protest to no avail. pretty soon, they run out of fireworks and his dad’s got this girl beneath him on the floor.

he’s about to intervene when the girl lets out this piercing scream, almost louder than the shadow, and suddenly his father is thrown up in the air then launched right at the monster. he’s caught mid-air by a tentacle - wait a goddamn second are those human body parts??? and teeth????? - right in the center of his chest. billy flinches, watching in horror as his father screams in pain before he’s dropped onto the floor, head smacking the tile before he goes limp.

it feels like the world goes still for a second, everyone standing still, eyes wide and mouths open in shock at the scene before them. distantly, he hears the monster screeching, but his eyes are locked on his father’s body - torn open and bleeding out. what eventually brings them all out of their stupor and back to the real world is the same girl standing and screaming at the monster, merely feet away from the thing. her hand is shaking in the air, nose dripping with blood as the monster’s screeches grow quieter, its body shrinking. soon enough, it hits the ground just like his father. limp and silent.

billy just watches the scene unfold, his mind racing yet completely blank. he knows he should move, grab as many little shits as he can and run, but he’s stock still, unable to process what he just witnessed. ironically, it ends up being the kids who run to him first.

“billy,” max calls as she reaches him. “billy!” she grabs his shoulders, shaking him until he acknowledges her. “billy we have to go. now! come on billy let’s go!” her hands are shaking as she grips his shoulders.

he blinks a couple of times before he nods once, then again.

“shit!” he hears harrington yell, footsteps approaching them as the two teenagers run down from the top floor right before it comes crashing to the ground. soon enough, the mall is falling apart, the ceiling caving in.

billy finally kicks into action, wild eyes and expressions matching everyone else’s as the teens drag the kids out of there, the group sprinting outside in time to watch the mall crumble to the ground with his dad’s body trapped in it.

he doesn’t know how much time has gone by when ambulances, fire trucks and police cars appear. he’s stuck in place as parents reunite with their children while paramedics check on everyone, wrapping heavy blankets around them. billy manages to sneak off to the side, hiding behind an ambulance. he spots max with sinclair and susan, harrington with buckley, girl and boy wheeler close to the three byers, accompanied by the police chief.

billy’s alone, he realizes. he looks back at the mall, now in flames and taking his father down with it. his hands and legs begin to tremble and he’s sliding down the side of the ambulance, unable to breathe as he hits the floor. hugging his knees to his chest and holding his head low, he takes in short breaths and ends up wheezing, unable to get enough air into his lungs. he doesn’t realize he’s crying until his vision is blurred and cheeks are wet. he’s hyperventilating and is pretty sure he’s about to black out.

billy’s alone.

everyone here has someone and he doesn’t.

his mother left and now his father is gone and he doesn’t, can’t understand why. yeah, neil was abusive and cruel but he was all billy had left. he lost his friends, the ocean, his life the second neil ripped him away from california and dragged him to a state where he knew he’d get hurt if neil caught him with a boy again like in cali, except this time he knew it wouldn’t be just neil pounding on him for his “sickness.”

billy misses his mom. wants nothing more than to be held and comforted by her. to hear her soft voice as she sings or hums or shushes him as she rubs his back and plays with his hair and kisses his head and tells him everything’s going to be alright.

except everything’s not going to be alright and now he’s sobbing silently, soft whimpers and harsh wheezing being the only noise leaving his body.

with the rest of the world tuned out and only hearing his own choked sobs and sharp breaths, he flinches when he feels the hand on his shoulder, trying to scramble away from it.

“hey,” the soft voice says. “its okay. hey, kid, it’s okay. it’s just me.” she immediately pulls her hand away, holding both up to prove herself as unthreatening. “just me.” she repeats gently.

billy slowly raises his head, eyes and cheeks red and blotchy and puffy and wet. he finds exhausted, sad brown eyes looking over him.

“oh, kiddo, you look like you’ve seen hell.” she sounds motherly. “c’mon, breathe with me. take deep breaths, okay? count with me.” she encourages as she kneels down to his level. “deep breaths. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, breathe. in and out, just like that. you’re doing good.”

pretty soon, his wheezes and rushed breaths even out. he takes his first deep breath of fresh air, releasing a shaky relieved sigh.

“you must be billy, max’s brother. i’m joyce, jonathan’s mom.” she introduces, except neither of them are in the mood for small talk. “i, uh,” she sighs. “there’s a lot we all have to talk to you about,” she sits down beside him. “but that can wait,” she assures. “until you’re ready.” she adds on quietly.

he stares at her a couple seconds before he breaks again, a strangled loud sob ripping its way through his chest and out of his mouth. he doesn’t even think about it before he launches himself at her, fully prepared to cry to this woman he’s barely met yet spent hours knocked out cold on her ground only after breaking one of her nice plates.

she - joyce - seems to have the same idea because as soon as he starts crying again she’s opening her arms and reaching for him. they meet halfway in the middle.

“it’s not fair.” billy chokes out, trembling in joyce’s surprisingly strong arms as she holds him upright. “it’s not fair.” he repeats, louder yet more broken.

“i know, sweetheart.” she nods, rubbing circles on his back with one hand, the other gently running through his hair. “god i know.” she sighs and, poor woman, it sounds like she’s been through it. he vaguely remembers hearing about her sons - zombie boy and creepy byers. his brain isn’t processing enough to connect any dots just yet.

“she-she just left,” he holds onto joyce tightly. “she left and now he’s gone.” he cries. “he’s gone.” he repeats, again and again. “they all leave. why do they all leave?” he asks weakly.

joyce’s heart breaks for the boy shaking apart in her arms, using her last remaining strength to hold him upright and provide any comfort she can. she can’t help but look around, searching the crowd for anyone who might be there for him. she frowns when she finds everyone’s eyes on them yet no one making any moves to approach. she wishes she could hate them all a little bit for it, for leaving him alone. letting him feel alone and unwanted. unlovable. she knows the feeling and it’s the worst.

“well, blondie, looks like you’re stuck with me now.” her attempt to make him feel less lonesome seems to work, just a little, if the way he squeezes her for a second is anything to go by. “i don’t give up. i don’t leave. i promise.” she kisses the top of his head, gets the scent of hairspray, cigarettes and ash.

over the top of his head she finds steve harrington still watching them, a distant look in his eyes. he seems conflicted, staring at billy with wariness as he bounces nervously from foot to foot, holding the blanket hanging loosely around his torso.

he seems to make a decision when billy releases another sob at her promise, striding over and draping his blanket over billy’s shoulders. he goes out of his way to tighten it around him, making sure it’s comforting and cozy around his trembling figure. he hesitates once again as he goes to walk away, fist clenching and unclenching at his side before he looks back to billy with sad, tired eyes and rests his hand on the blonde’s shoulder, squeezing just once before he walks away. the same hand is nervously flexing at his side once again.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #this is not good nor accurate by any means do not expect much pls #crybaby billiam rights #i love love love joyce and billy #and i hate neil hargrove so this works out lol #fuck u neil #rip neil but i’m built different #anyways i had a bad day and cried so i projected and made billy cry 😌☺️#this hc has also been in my mind for a while and i knew i wouldn’t write it for ao3 so here it is hdjsjsj #joyce byers #my writing

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whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

Smoke & Mirrors - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: You know me too well

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: The mission. And some blowing off steam after that.

warnings: alcohol mention, some violence, language and other explicit things, 18+ and I MEAN IT EVEN MORE THAN BEFORE

author’s note: I need to thank @vaneilla for planting the karaoke scene into my head. I found her choice of song absolutely glorious, and it evolved into... oh, see for yourselves.

As for everything else - I don’t even know.

4k words, bloody hell.

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

___

“Thanks for nothing, Wheeler.”

She looked up from her tablet only to see a completely resigned Ives faceplanting on the couch in front of her. As she raised a brow, her glance drifted to The Protagonist pacing back and forth next to the window.

When TP noticed the question in Wheeler’s eyes, he sighed. She realized that Ives must have filled him in already.

As if he could read her thoughts, the boss said, “Apparently, they’ve been at each other’s throats all day”

“You’re both damn lucky you don’t have to deal with their bullshit out there,” groaned Ives into the pillows.

Wheeler shook her head and a corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smile.

“A little patience, guys. It's all going according to plan."

Ives muffled huff was enough of a comment, but TP stopped his pacing and shot her a confused look.

"How so?"

Wheeler bit her lip. It took her one minute around them in the canteen to guess what had happened. But if that somehow wasn’t obvious to her colleagues, she was in no place to share the information.

Of course, for a second she was tempted to say “oh, they fucked”, just to watch Ives’ and TP’s reaction, but she knew better than to do so. Moreover, she had a weird feeling that those two morons would start being weird around them, and that wouldn’t help in the slightest.

“Trust me, they are close to figuring it out. And then-...”

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

You rushed to the next cover, sending a round into a merc running in your direction. As you slid behind a crate and started reloading your rifle, the rest of the squad slowly made their way through the abandoned apartment complex. How all those mercenary groups kept getting their hands on inverted materials was beyond you, but as the boss was trying to figure it out, it was up to the ground teams to secure the cargo.

"What's with the silent treatment today?" Neil’s voice rang in your earpiece.

Your eyes quickly located him at the other side of the corridor. Even from a distance, you could see his raised brow as he glanced at you right before heading into the next room.

"I'm focused on the mission,” you scoffed, checking out on the team before moving further ahead. “You should try that one day."

As soon as you entered a new location, a bullet whizzed past you and your reflexes kicked in. A quick shot and you spun on your heel, hiding behind a pillar.

Meanwhile, Neil glued his back to the wall. As another merc walked past him, he disarmed them in one swift move, tossing the gun away.

"Nah, I’m good,” he said casually. You watched him as he ducked under a fist flying at his face and threw a kidney punch himself. “Multitasking."

You snorted, quite amused, jumping out of your cover to down two more men coming in. You caught Ives’ murderous glare as he moved past you, motioning you to keep up the pace. Nodding, you followed him into a staircase.

"I must admit, not hearing your voice almost made me forget how annoying you are,” you huffed through comms to Neil. Ives shot the merc waiting for you around the corner and you moved up. “And as I don't believe you can actually stop being annoying,” you continued, taking a position at the door, “but how about you don't talk to me ever again instead?"

You heard footsteps behind you and as you looked over your shoulder, you saw Neil standing right there with his pistol cocked in his gloved hands. He leaned in, a smug grin plastered on his face.

"And lose that spiteful edge to sex we have going there?" he teased quietly and chuckled as your eyes widened at the audacity.

Wishing you could just shoot him in return, you turned away and entered the corridor. Ives waited for you at the door to another unfinished apartment and as soon as you reached him, he blasted through it, while Neil and his team took the door at the other side of the hall.

"We, and I cannot stress this enough, do not have anything going there, blondie," you uttered through gritted teeth, sweeping through the rooms.

Sharp laughter resonated in your earpiece.

"Sure sounds like someone needs round two, though."

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the events of that late evening in the locker room. Neither of you has mentioned it for the last couple of days, and you kinda hoped it would stay that way. Not that you could ever erase it from your memory. And the worst part was, there were moments you were no longer sure you would ever want to.

A movement in the corner of your eye.

That confusion might keep you up at night, but with daylight, you came back to your senses, and a little remark was not enough to cloud your lightning reflexes while you held a gun. A shot echoed through the room and another merc dropped to the ground.

"In your dreams," you scoffed on your way back to the corridor.

"Funny you should say that…"

You noticed Neil walking into the line of fire in the last second.

“Watch out!” you shouted, grabbing him by the vest and pulling him back inside the apartment. You shoved him against the wall and pressed your forearm to his chest to keep him in place as the round meant for him cut through the now empty hallway. While the rest of the team returned fire and pushed forward, you caught a glimpse of fear in the blue eyes just before Neil managed to compose himself. The corner of his lips twitched into a nervous version of his usual half-smile.

For fuck’s sake...

“Well, this brings back fond memories,” he panted, raising an eyebrow.

You flashed your teeth and pressed him to the wall even harder.

“Shut up and focus, goddamnit, or I swear I will let you walk straight into the next rain of bullets,” you fumed.

Your serious glare made Neil gulp and nod slowly. You took a step back as you exhaled shakily.

Readjusting the rifle’s strap, you shook off any remains of panic from your system. Neil watched you with an indecipherable expression on his face as he reloaded his pistol. You met his eyes, just to make sure he was good to go. Finding there what you were looking for, you smacked his arm lightly and ran towards the sounds of combat.

You joined your squad, focusing on providing support as you closed in on the final location. Neil rushed to the front of the action, and even from afar you could see his moves got more vicious, every blow and shot landing now with deadly precision. For a second you wondered what exactly got triggered inside of him back there.

Whatever that was though, it wasn’t enough to hold his tongue for too long.

"Hey, at least now you had a chance to slam me against a wall."

You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically, already regretting saving his infuriating ass.

“You know, I daydream about strangling you more and more often every day.”

A few shots later, the all-clear sounded through the earpiece. You moved to secure the exit as Ives checked the contents of the crates in the back of the room.

Neil took a position right next to you, eyeing you curiously.

“Is it a threat or a promise?”

Seeing the familiar roguish sparks sent your blood boiling.

You narrowed your eyes, letting a sly grin on your face.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“You two either kill or fuck each other already,” huffed Ives, walking by you with the most done expression you’d seen on him in years. “Whatever you decide, please keep it off comms, eh?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to blush furiously. Neil’s failed attempt at stifling an amused giggle wasn’t helping in the slightest.

As you finally looked back at the bane of your existence, he tilted his head, biting his lip before speaking up again, and somehow you knew exactly what he was about to say.

“I’m up for whatever.”

You groaned.

...yep, that was it.

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

One of the teams’ unwinding rituals included going to the nearby pub for drinks and karaoke. You weren’t the biggest fan of singing in public yourself and no amount of alcohol could change that, but you never skipped the opportunity of watching your squadmates getting shitfaced and pouring their hearts out through the mic. That night was no different, and even though you were taking it easy with drinking, the rest of the crew was already deep in the party mood.

You watched Wheeler singing Black Velvet from your spot at the counter. You used to spend much more time together, but she’d got designated to leading inverted teams and you got stuck at Ives’ squad. Not that you were complaining.

You always had good banter with him, and even the unfortunate beginning of your relationship wasn’t enough to change that. You ended up being good friends and you knew he always had your back no matter what. Even when he was absolutely tired of your bullshit.

You cringed at the memory of his comment earlier that day.

And because the universe wasn’t done with tormenting you just yet, you felt Neil’s presence next to you. You turned your head and glanced at him, ready to meet his aggravating stare. To your surprise, you found him standing there with his eyes fixed on his drink instead, evidently having an internal battle with himself.

Neil noticed your puzzled expression and took a big sip from the glass before looking at you. A sheepish smile on his lips was something new, and it only made you even more confused.

“Hey,” he said, raking the fingers through his hair. “Thank you. For earlier.”

“Don’t mention it,” you huffed, frowning slightly.

“It’s nice to know you have my back, just in case.”

You were annoyed that he was making such a big deal out of it. But there was something in the blue eyes that softened your gaze and you gave Neil a reassuring smile.

“Of course,” you said and cleared your throat. “Besides,“ - a corner of your lips twitched - “I couldn’t let you get killed in such a stupid way right under my nose, I wouldn’t want it to taint my next eval’.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No other reason?”

“Like what?”

You regretted asking the question as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course, Neil’s eyes lit up in response and he smirked.

“You would miss me.”

"Ah, there it is," you snorted, fighting the urge to punch him. "For a moment I was scared I was starting to like you, thanks."

He chuckled. “Oh no, we wouldn't want that now, would we," he teased, leaning your way with a roguish smile.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the heart fluttering in your chest.

Neil hummed and downed his drink. A mischievous spark in his eyes suddenly made you nervous.

“What now?” you asked, dreading the answer already.

Neil’s expression was nothing but innocent.

“I believe it’s my turn.”

You watched him make his way to the mic. Letting out a deep sigh, you shook your head.

That man was going to be the death of you one day.

You finished your drink and joined the rest of the team in the booth right in front of the makeshift scene. As soon as you sat down, a familiar song started and your widened eyes darted at Neil, who was just casually adjusting the rolled-up sleeves of his striped shirt.

...it must have been a mistake.

His wicked grin as he met your horrified gaze was enough to tell you he knew exactly what he was doing.

He started singing with no hesitation, smiling to himself.

Under the lovers sky

Gonna be with you

And no one's gonna be around

Neil’s eyes fixed on you and he raised a brow. A small incoherent noise escaped your mouth, luckily drowning in your squad’s encouraging whooping.

If you think that you won't fall

Well just wait until

'Til the sun goes down

You met Wheeler’s amused look over the table.

“Why is he that way?” you whined, hiding your face in your palms.

Underneath the starlight, starlight

There's a magical feeling so right

You could hear the smile in his voice and you forced yourself to glance back at Neil.

it will steal your heart tonight

Catching your eyes again, he winked, making you exhale sharply in response.

You can try to resist

Try to hide from my kiss

You thought about the way you evaded his kiss at that locker room and your chest tightened at that memory.

Don't you know, don't you know

That you, can't fight the moonlight

He knew the song by heart, and you couldn’t wrap your head around that fact.

Deep in the dark, you'll surrender your heart

But you know, but you know that you

And by the way he commanded everyone’s attention, you saw it wasn’t his first performance.

Can't fight the moonlight. No

His voice was clear and he was definitely having fun up there.

You can't fight it

...too much fun, if anybody asked you.

It's gonna get to your heart

He walked up to the booth and a spike of panic flashed in your brain.

There's no escaping love

He made his way to Ives, a mischievous grin lighting his face.

Once the gentle breeze

Neil ran a finger along your friend’s bearded jaw, leaving Ives frozen in shock.

Weaves a spell upon your heart

Neil turned to you and your breath hitched as you realized what was about to happen.

No matter what you think

A few steps more.

It won't be too long

He stopped right in front of you.

'Til you're in my arms

He leaned your way, putting a finger under your chin and tilting it up gently.

Underneath the starlight, starlight

He moved even closer, his eyes wandering along your features.

We'll be lost in the rhythm so right

The emphasis on the last words combined with the look on his face made your mind go blank.

Feel it steal your heart tonight

...that was clearly his plan for the night, huh?

You forced yourself to start breathing again as Neil chuckled through the next line.

Bloody hell, you hated the effect he had on you.

You caught a glimpse of a smug smile before he turned away. Leveling your breath, you watched as he stepped back on the stage, hoping he wouldn’t have any other stupid ideas.

But Neil seemed to be satisfied with what he’d put you through and just continued the song.

He even aimed for one of the high notes, scrunching his nose and giggling as his voice wavered for a second, and you couldn’t stop your lips from curling at the sight. There was something endearing in his joyful demeanor out there, and you wondered how many sides to him you had yet to discover.

Before you had a chance to get too soft, he finished singing and looked at you again. The dark shade in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

You needed another drink. Stat.

At least he had enough decency to let you collect yourself before he joined you at the bar. Neil ordered a vodka tonic and leaned his back against the counter, eyeing you curiously.

“So?”

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head. “For a second I thought you might start dancing on the counter."

He laughed at the reference.

"And for a second, I thought about doing that,” he said, reaching for his drink. He smiled slyly at your amused snort and continued, lowering his voice slightly, “but I didn't want you to lose your mind. Or faint, for that matter… I want you conscious for later."

Neil took a sip from the glass, savoring the effect of his words on you as you stared at him with a slack jaw.

"You want me--"

"Yes."

You blinked rapidly, composing yourself. The last thing you needed was to give him the satisfaction of making you flustered so easily.

But you couldn’t resist playing his game even for a moment.

Just to see if he would back down.

"And what is it exactly that you think it's gonna happen later?" you said, taking a step in his direction.

Neil raised a brow, turning your way. His gaze flared up as he searched your eyes for your intentions, moving even closer to you.

"Spoilers.”

"Riiight,” you smirked. The rising temperature between the two of you was slowly hazing over your mind, making your breath shallow as you taunted, “Or maybe you're all talk."

The throaty chuckle sent the heart racing in your chest.

"Want to try me?" he teased, grazing his knuckles against your bare arm, and it took all your resolve not to tremble at the sensation.

The pulse pounded in your ears as you took his drink from his hand, finishing it in one swing. You looked into his eyes, dark and yearning, and a corner of your lips curled.

"Well, no need to wait 'til the sun goes down', anymore."

“Blimey.”

A few moments later, you found yourself in an empty restroom, tugging at Neil’s shirt until your back hit the cold wall. His wicked grin widened at your eagerness as he grabbed your waist with one hand, running the other one through your hair. You splayed your palms on his heaving chest, moving them up to his neck to pull him closer.

Neil tilted his head and leaned in to kiss you, but just as your lips were about to meet, your whole body tensed and it was enough to make him stop instantly. He pulled back to look at you, concerned.

"What's wrong?” he asked in a husky voice.

You huffed, frustrated. At your own reaction. At him suddenly being all gentleman about it. And at yourself again, for not appreciating his concern.

But it wasn’t the right moment to talk about it, and you were pretty sure he would be all weird about it if you didn’t say anything.

"It's just--... “ you hesitated, your mind rushing to find any plausible excuse. As you finally found one, your face lit up and you nibbled at your bottom lip, staring at him challengingly. “Don't you get all soft on me now, blondie."

You almost squirmed under his predatory gaze. Neil brought his hand to your throat, and as his fingers wrapped around it, he leaned to whisper to your ear.

"Suit yourself."

When his teeth grazed your earlobe, you gasped, feeling the feverish heat rushing through your veins. His mouth trailed down your neck as he moved his hand higher, tilting your chin with his thumb just before he brushed it against your lips. You shut your eyes and bit back a moan, feeling Neil smiling and then he ran the tip of his tongue along the crook of your neck.

All of the sudden, you heard voices on the other side of the door. Before you could react, Neil grabbed your hand and pulled you into the stall at the farthest corner of the restroom, turning the lock and pinning you to the wall again with your wrists above your head.

You exhaled sharply as you spotted the roguish sparks in his eyes.

As some people entered the restroom, Neil stroked your temple with his nose and breathed, “Looks like we need to keep quiet.“

You swallowed hard and shuddered, the pulse thumping in your ears.

Still keeping his fingers wrapped around your wrists, his other hand wandered down your body slowly. He studied the way you melted into his touch, taking pleasure at the sight of the animalistic need that clouded your eyes. The last coherent thought left your mind when you felt his hand sliding under your dress, grazing against your thighs, higher and higher, and you bucked your hips, silently urging him to keep moving.

Neil’s lips parted slightly and he leaned in, kissing your neck just as his fingers trailed under the hem of your panties right to your pulsing core. You threw the head back against the wall and your thighs tightened involuntarily as if to prevent him from backing away now.

“Christ, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet,” Neil chuckled breathlessly to your ear and yanked your underwear down your legs in one swift motion. Securing the grip on your wrists, he palmed over you again, moving his hand back and forth, his digits pressing against your folds firmer with every stroke and you let out an inaudible gasp, feeling the fire at the pit of your stomach growing by the minute.

But when his thumb started rubbing circles over your clit, you buried your face in the crook of his neck to stifle a cry ready to escape your mouth any second now. Without skipping a beat, Neil gently tapped his foot on the side of your shoe and you instantly followed his suggestion, spreading your legs for him. He hummed in approval, slipping one, then two, fingers into you, and you sank your teeth in your bottom lip as the sudden bolt of pleasure seared your every nerve.

Neil picked up the pace, curling his fingers inside you just right, and a quiet moan built in your throat and you nuzzled your face into his neck even further; the spicy scent of his cologne ingraining in your hazed mind with every shaky breath you took.

Feeling you getting closer to the edge, Neil let go of your wrists and pushed you back on the wall. Cupping your face with his free hand, he pressed a thumb against your mouth firmly. You panted heavily as he kept tracing your parted lips in almost the same rhythm as his fingers slid in and out of your throbbing core. You closed your eyes as the fire from the pit of your stomach almost consumed you.

And just when you thought that you couldn’t take much more, you felt the pad of his thumb grazing against the tip of your tongue at the same time the other one flicked your clit. Your mind went blank and you sucked on his finger, trying to muffle a whimper.

“Good girl,” Neil breathed into your ear. “Now come for me.”

And so you did, your every particle dissolving into a blissful pleasure roaming through your body wave after wave.

When you regained your senses, you were greeted by the self-satisfied grin you knew all too well. You scoffed and shook your head, too much of a mess to form a coherent comment. You listened for a second, trying to figure out if there was anyone outside, but it seemed that you two were alone, at least for now. Then your eyes wandered down and your mouth watered at the sight.

Without thinking twice over it, you palmed the bulk in Neil’s trousers, looking up to meet his gaze.

The hint of surprise mixed with the sheer hunger in the dark blue eyes made your racing heart skip a bit.

"Are you sure?" he rasped, placing hands on your waist.

You nodded, your fingers already fighting with his belt.

"Stop talking."

Neil raised a brow, amused.

"Maybe you should ask nicely."

You looked at him in disbelief and turned towards the stall’s door, huffing, "Maybe I should leave you like this."

Neil wrapped his arms around you.

"Mhm," he murmured into your neck as he squeezed your breast, his other hand sliding down your body.

"Fuck--" you gasped as his fingers pressed to your clit again.

His throaty chuckle vibrated on your back.

"What was that?"

You moaned, rolling your hips to brush against him.

"...please."

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

You dampened a paper towel to clean your smudged makeup.

"Wanna grab something to eat?"

You glanced at Neil’s reflection in the mirror, watching as he tucked the shirt in his pants.

"You're reading too much into this,” you tried to make your voice as casual as possible.

"I wouldn't dare," he laughed, joining you by the mirror. "What if I promise not to talk to you unless you ask me to?"

You mused over it for a moment, staring at Neil’s attempts to fix his messy hair.

"And if you break the promise?"

The blue eyes met yours and lit up.

"I'll let you punish me however you see fit."

You scoffed.

...but then a corner of your lips twitched into a half-smile.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet x reader #neil tenet #tenet #robert pattinson #neil tenet fanfiction #tenet fanfiction #the protagonist tenet #ives tenet #wheeler tenet #neil tenet imagine #neil x reader #smoke & mirrors #tags hate me

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

Text

Trigger/Content warning: Clear mentions and remarks of Neil being a real fucking abusive asshole.

And Steve being supportive and kind to Billy as he struggles

There was no roar of the engine, no deafening music blasting out the windows, or dramatic entrance this morning.

Billy stomps through the halls of Hawkins High, collar popped and shoulders raised, face hard and mean, daring anyone to fucking say a word. He pushes and shoves through the gawking crowd, their eyes blown wide in shock at the rough buzz cut that his dad had forced upon him this morning.

Neil caught Billy enjoying the view in his mirror again, and decided enough was enough, that he wasn't gonna have some faggot strutting around in his house. And grabbed the trimmer.

It's rough and uneven, but not a single long curl left on his head.

And when Steve sees it he's... terrified and worried. Eyes just as big as everyone else, mouth gaping, but his heart stops beating. He's convinced that Billy's going to beat him up; a way to blow off steam and relieve some of his justified anger in an unwarranted way. They were just starting to get along, finally comfortable enough to smile and laugh together, when his asshole dad had to go and ruin Billy's life more.

There's so much unbelievable pain in those ocean blues, life hanging on by a string there.

But Billy averts his gaze. He visibly turns his head away as he passes by Steve standing at his locker.

And that hurts just as well. A pang of the heart, like a needle piercing through with red hot heat. He's been beat up, broken up with, hunted by demo-dogs, yet this pain is by far the most intolerable one that Steve has had to suffer through so far.

But Steve's a fool in love. So he follows along the cleared path where students are quick to murmur and gossip as soon as Billy is out of sight.

Turns a corner just to see guys sprinting out from the bathrooms.

And he finds Billy alone, trembling, knuckles turned white where he balls up his fists, shoulders still high and tense and he-

It sounds more like a bestial roar of madness, than that of a man brimming with rage, as he bares his teeth as wide as he can at his own reflection in the greasy mirror.

Then there's blood, as his fist collides with the glass and shatters it.

“Billy!” Steve's shocked to his very core.

“Go away...” There's no resemblance of aggravation in Billy's voice.

He turns his back to Steve, head hanging low and bleeding hand pulled to his chest. Every step he takes seems so uncertain and weak, as he slowly retreats further into the bathroom.

“Billy, please,” Steve speaks with the softness of angels, and he takes far longer steps.

“Steve,” his voice cracks and splinters. “I'm asking you to leave me alone.”

“I'm sorry Billy, but I cannot do that. You're hurt.”

Billy puts a hand to the tiles in the corner furthest away, fingertips digging in to the crevice between white. Tries to stay standing all he can, but his quivering knees give out, and he lands with a thud on the ground, hunched over.

“Fuck, Billy-” Steve runs to him and slides onto the floor.

He has absolutely no clue as for what to do, but he has never wanted to hug and hold another person more than now. And when he hears the first sob bumble out, his palm touches down on Billy's back that stutters with every breath.

And unsurprisingly, Billy flinches away from that touch.

Steve feels like a huge asshole immediately for having touched Billy without even considering... “I'm- I'm sorry Billy, I'm so so sorry, is there anything I can do? Anything at all?” He feels a knot strangle him, his heart so uncertain of everything.

“Don't...” Billy snivels, “Don't go...”

Every time Steve thinks his heart can't break any more for him, another piece gets chipped away. “I'm not leaving you. Ever, you hear me, Hargrove?” he tries for a smile, not that Billy can see the kind gesture. “I'll stay here with you for as long as you need me.”

It takes less than a second for him to finish talking, before Billy whips around and throws himself at Steve, knocking him on his back, Billy on top; crying and pressing his face deep into Steve's chest, soaking up his expensive polo with tears and blood.

And there's nothing else in the world to do, but for Steve to hold him. He wraps his arms around his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling, careful as to not accidentally touching his... his head. Fights to just stay quiet, say nothing and let Billy empty his lungs and tears all over his chest.

Even when the school bell rings, they stay like this. For several arduous minutes, they stay like this. And when Billy's lamenting turns to quiet weeping, they stay like this.

Steve never stopped holding him, continuously rubbing gentle circles into the back of the denim jacket, never pausing.

Billy takes a deep breath. “I hate my dad.”

“That's very understandable,” Steve responds quietly.

“I'm so... unhappy.”

“I know.”

“I can't go home, not after this...” Tears well up so easily now, and they spill onto the striped fabric again.

“Then don't.”

Billy huffs a dejected laugh. “And where would I go? I don't have anyone but my shithead dad.” His hand closes around the polo.

“That's not true – you can come stay with me. I've got plenty of space.” Steve doesn't even need to think about that for a second.

And although he can't see it, he feels a smile form where Billy's pressed against his chest.

“Yeah? In that big haunted mansion of yours?” Billy feels... pathetic, utterly worthless, completely devoid of value. But lying here on the floor with Steve, he could maybe feel... hopeful.

Steve smiles too. “Yeah, and don't worry, you'll have your own room, and we've got three bathrooms and a giant kitchen. There's space for you.”

There's space for me, the answer to a thought Billy hadn't had the courage to ask: Will I be in the way?

Silence falls on them after that, as Billy thinks thoroughly about what to say next, and Steve waits patiently for him to be ready, finger still brushing his back.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? You don't have to be here...” And Billy's ready to burst into tears again as cruel thoughts bubble up from the tar that is his anxiety.

“Because I love you,” Steve says as if it's a well known fact to the world, as if he's said it before, as if he means it.

Billy has never turned his head this quickly before, angles it so that his chin rests on a pec, as he looks up at Steve.

And Steve looks right back.

“And when you love someone, you're willing to do absolutely anything for them.”

Being speechless doesn't come easy to one Billy Hargrove, but there's a first time for everything. Wide eyes, blue and wet, stares in disbelief, eyebrows curved like as if he has a question that he can't find words for.

“You still love me without my hair?” his voice hoarse and barely even a shell of his usual bravado.

“Your looks have nothing to do with the way I feel about you.” Steve smiles affectionately and lovingly.

Another first. Someone willing to love Billy when his charming looks have been tarnished, and his badass reputation destroyed, no doubt.

But maybe times are changing. Maybe there won't be a need for that crude wall to be up anymore.

“Come on,” Steve whispers, “let's get you to the nurses office with that hand, and then we can... do whatever you want.”

They stand up together, and Steve gently wipes Billy's face clean of tears and sorrow.

“Sorry about your shirt...” Billy mumbles and brings his not-bloody hand to touch at the stained fabric.

“It's okay.” Steve takes the hand into his own and kisses the back of it. “I'll just buy a new one, it doesn't matter.”

And he doesn't let go of that hand ever again.

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jexnmcrexu · 4 years

Text

Lullaby

This is my piece for the Forget Me Not Zine (Link to come)

Enjoy!

Read also here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664813

The first time it happened, Neil was staring at the bunk above him. He’d temporarily moved into the monsters’ dorm after figuring it’d be easier to keep an eye on Kevin and go to night practices without having Matt wait up for him every time. He saw Kevin’s mattress shift, felt the bunk shake as Kevin climbed down, heard his feet hit the cold tiles-- and still he was startled when Kevin softly called his name.

Neil turned his head a little and looked at Kevin, focusing on the shadows splayed across his face, making it look all sharp angles and moonlit green eyes.

“Yeah?” Neil murmured.

Kevin stayed quiet, rigid, his discomfort evident in the way his fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides. Neil understood immediately. He shifted on the bed, moved closer to the wall, and lifted the blankets in the empty space.

“C’mere,” he said. Kevin hesitated a few seconds more, and then gingerly got under the covers in the spot Neil offered. He laid on his back, staring at the bunk above them. Neil moved to mirror him, but turned his head slightly to the side to be able to look at him. He looked tired, and there was a trace of something dark in his eyes.

“Was it him?” Neil asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Kevin didn’t turn around or reply, but his breath hitched, and Neil noticed. He decided that was answer enough, so he turned his back to Kevin, closed his eyes, and tried not to think.

---

When Neil woke up, the bed was empty. They didn’t talk about it.

---

It happened again, though. This time, Neil woke up with a start, confused, reaching under his pillow and finding it empty. His heart climbed up his throat as he desperately tried to remember where he was. He fought the panic down as a slightly strangled “Mom” left his lips, then he felt a hand in his hair, pulling slightly, grounding him, and he thought, Andrew. He took a deep breath as his vision cleared and he turned his head around, only to find Kevin looking at him with a deep scowl.

“You’re not Andrew,” Neil said stupidly, breathing hard. Then he remembered where Andrew was, and he flopped back down on the bed. Kevin disentangled his fingers from Neil’s hair slowly, and moved from his kneeling position on the floor to sit at the edge of the bed.

“No,” Kevin said simply. Neil looked at him, the familiar scowl and the tension of his shoulders, and something eased in his chest. He closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them again, Kevin was looking at him with an equally familiar intensity. “You were screaming.”

Neil took another deep breath. Nathan had been there, and so had Neil’s mom. He decided he didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m fine,” he said. Kevin glared at him, but Neil ignored it.

Kevin seemed to hesitate for a second, and Neil waited him out. Kevin looked more exhausted than usual, and Neil couldn’t figure out what had-- oh.

“You miss him,” Neil said, staring hard at him.

Kevin pressed his lips together tightly. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Andrew.”

Kevin stayed quiet, and that was all the answer Neil needed. It made sense, he thought. Andrew had been Kevin’s rock for almost two years now, they’d been practically attached at the hip, and now Andrew was gone. And, Neil suddenly remembered, Kevin wasn’t used to being alone.

He looked at Kevin, hard, and Kevin stared right back, like he was daring him to say something, chin jutting out slightly. The gesture made Neil’s palms tingle with something like excitement, but he wouldn’t be able to explain why. He made a decision and moved back in the bed in silent invitation.

Neil thought he saw Kevin’s shoulders sag a little bit-- with relief or defeat, he couldn’t tell. This time, when Kevin got under the covers, Neil didn’t turn his back to him, but settled with one arm under his pillow and the other tucked close to his chest. Kevin looked at him for a moment longer and then settled on his back, slightly stiff. Neil closed his eyes and didn’t dream anymore.

---

It became a habit after that, and Neil couldn’t say he minded. He was used to sharing a bed with his mom, and even after a year and a half of sleeping alone, having another body by his side eased him a little bit. Kevin seemed to be sleeping better, too, if the receding purple under his eyes was any indication. Aaron and Nicky had even stopped questioning it, instead deciding to ignore it-- or, in Nicky’s case, make an inhuman effort to keep his mouth shut after the look Kevin gave him when he asked, “What was that about homosexual athletes again, Kevin?”

They didn’t really talk about it, though. Neil didn’t know if it was because they didn’t want to, or because they didn’t need to-- the reason why they were doing it was obvious. Kevin had always had someone beside him, be it Riko, or Jean, or Andrew. Andrew had left, leaving Kevin alone for the first time in a year and a half, and he desperately needed something, some one to hold on to.

Neil, on the other hand, had started to rely on Andrew and his promise to keep him alive more than he’d wanted to admit. Sometimes the panic and the nightmares became so unbearable he had to almost physically remind himself he’d promised he wouldn’t run anymore.

What Neil and Kevin needed, they’d reluctantly realized, was each other.

One thing Neil had started to notice, though, was that sometimes he would catch Kevin’s eyes lingering on him in the lounge during practice, and then flicking away, a frown on his face. Neil started to notice other things that he had absolutely no business noticing, too, like the heat of Kevin’s leg next to his when they sat side by side on the couch, or the brush of their arms when they passed each other during drills. It was very distracting and set Neil on edge, but he was starting to get used to it.

And then the Winter Banquet happened, and Kevin figured out who he was… and then he left for Evermore.

---

When he came back, he thought things would change. He thought Kevin would withdraw from him the way he did with everyone else, thought he’d have to move back into his own dorm. What else was he supposed to think, after Kevin’s reaction to his appearance and his brand-new tattoo? He’d probably have nightmares if they slept in the same room, let alone the same bed.

That night he went to bed exhausted, bones weary and injuries aching. He was about to give up on waiting for Kevin to join him (why was he even waiting) when he felt a dip in the mattress beside him. His heart sped up and he turned around slowly, watching as Kevin fought something inside himself and finally got under the covers. Neil took a deep breath and waited.

“Tell me everything,” Kevin said finally, voice rough and shoulders tense. So Neil did.

---

Two nights later, Kevin woke up thrashing, a raw whimper escaping his throat. Neil moved away from him, trying to be as unthreatening as possible until Kevin regained consciousness of his surroundings. Once Kevin was still, breathing hard through his nose and hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, Neil moved again, closer to him. He tried to put himself in Kevin’s shoes, tried to think of what he needed, and decided he probably wanted some gentle comfort. Neil wasn’t the best at handling these sort of situations, since his childhood had been as far from ‘gentle’ or ‘comforting’ as it could get, and his years on the run with his mom hadn’t been much better, but he knew he had to do something. After he’d gone to Evermore, he understood more than ever why Kevin was the way he was. He didn’t necessarily agree with the way he handled himself, but he understood. That feeling, that necessity to not think about himself and help Kevin instead, scared him, but he decided to ignore it for now.

Before touching, Neil asked, “Okay?” trying to make his intentions perfectly clear.

Kevin looked at him with a start but nodded. Neil propped his head up on his elbow and sought Kevin’s left hand beneath the covers, carefully touched his fingertips to his scars, tracing each line with a softness he didn’t know he was capable of. Kevin was looking at him intently, but he didn’t move, so Neil didn’t stop. Finally, Kevin relaxed enough to shift and settle back down on the bed, never removing his hand from Neil’s. He turned on his side and his gaze bored into Neil, intent and with a level of intimacy that unnerved him. But Neil didn't back down, staring back all the same. Eventually Kevin closed his eyes slowly and his breathing deepened. It was only then that Neil pulled back his hand and rested his head back on the pillow, facing Kevin. For the first time since he took that plane to West Virginia, his normally reeling thoughts were quieted as he nodded off, watching Kevin's chest rise and fall slowly.

---

Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes they spoke about Andrew, and sometimes Kevin was drunk and loose-tongued, and he’d tell him about his first year at Palmetto, about that time he tried to recruit Andrew, about everything that had changed since then. Neil knew the story from the papers and Nicky and Aaron, and Jean had talked about the reason Kevin hadn’t insisted, but he wanted to hear it from Kevin himself.

“He didn’t care,” Kevin said, and there was a glint in his eye that Neil knew was a reflection of his own. “He was so good, and he just didn’t give a damn. He still doesn’t,” he added, with a hint of bitterness. Neil kept his eyes on him, watched the alcohol-induced droop of his eyelids, and knew it bothered Kevin greatly that he hadn’t been able to get through to Andrew yet.

“He does care,” Neil said, with more confidence than he felt. He wanted to believe Andrew cared more than he let on.

Kevin shrugged, noncommittal. Neil decided to bring up what Jean had told him.

“Why didn’t you insist on getting him to join the Ravens? Why didn’t Riko? Jean said--”

Kevin looked unhappy at the prospect of Jean sharing anything about him with anyone, even Neil, but explained anyway. “Yeah, Riko wanted Andrew to be a pet. He wanted Andrew to be like Jean. He wanted him to be ‘my pet,’ but he would’ve been his anyway. Andrew couldn’t be that. I wouldn’t let Riko have him.”

Neil watched the heat rise high in his cheeks with fascination and decided to leave it at that. He pulled Kevin down beside him by the collar of his shirt, wincing at the sudden sting in his arms. Kevin settled next to him with a huff, prying Neil’s fingers carefully away from his shirt, annoyed at Neil’s carelessness. They were closer than they usually slept, but Neil decided to blame it on the alcohol. He’d noticed Kevin got a lot touchier during nights like this, and he found he didn’t mind too much. Since he’d joined the Foxes, he’d discovered he craved physical contact in a way he never had before-- that he’d never realized he did.

Kevin lifted his hand and pressed his fingertips to Neil’s tattoo, making Neil shiver slightly. Kevin frowned, but didn’t pull his hand back, just left it there, his thumb brushing against Neil’s cheekbone. Then he finally let his hand fall, but he didn’t move away. Neil could feel the warmth of his breath on his face, smelling of vodka and mint, and he closed his eyes, letting out the air he didn’t know he was holding. When he opened them again, Kevin was asleep.

---

The night before Andrew was supposed to get out of Easthaven, they skipped night practice to go to bed early. As they settled under the covers, Kevin told him about his relationship with Andrew. He was way more sober than Neil expected him to be to have that conversation. Kevin said they’d been hooking up before Neil joined the team. Why-- if-- they had stopped, Kevin didn’t say, and Neil didn’t ask. He guessed he’d find out soon enough.

According to Kevin, Andrew had made the first move. After Columbia, Neil thought that made sense. They had been out at Eden’s, Kevin was tipsy but not drunk, and Andrew had taken him by the back of the neck, had asked him “Yes or no?” and Kevin, confused but not unwilling, had said yes.

After that, it’d become a habit. Except it wasn’t just at Eden’s, but in the dorm, in the locker rooms, sometimes during night practice on the Court. Kevin’s cheeks blushed a faint pink as he explained, but he didn’t give any other hint of his embarrassment, just kept on telling Neil about it.

And oh, Neil realized, Kevin didn’t think it was just a hook-up. He didn’t say it, he certainly didn’t even imply it, but Neil knew. After years of watching Kevin, and after the last few weeks watching him closely like nobody else did, Neil could tell how much he cared about Andrew, beyond his wasted potential on the court.

When Kevin stopped talking, they laid in silence for a few minutes. Neil could hear the sound of a video game in the living room, and the faint sound of Nicky and Aaron’s voices.

“He’s going to be back tomorrow,” Neil said, searching Kevin’s face.

Kevin held his gaze. “I know.”

Neil nodded and took Kevin’s right hand in his, carefully but determinedly intertwining their fingers between their bodies. Kevin took a deep breath but said nothing. Neil shifted on the pillow they shared, putting his head under Kevin’s chin, a breath away from his neck, and exhaled slowly. Kevin stayed still for a few seconds before scoffing softly and getting comfortable. Neil closed his eyes, feeling Kevin’s rough palm under his own, and remembered his mother's words, his promise that he'd live. It wasn't him and her anymore, nor just him. But still, he couldn't help but think that the Foxes along with Andrew and Kevin were a part of him now. And he'd fight like hell to make sure all of the pieces of him survived.

#kandreil #daysten #kevineil #neil josten #kevin day #andrew minyard #hurt/comfort #fluff #kandreil fluff #all for the game #aftg #forget me not zine #my writing

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fan-art-maker · 3 years

Note

Hi it is very late and I have some headspace questions (mostly unrelated to the ask game) because my brain kicks into overdrive at night. I'm mostly just curious if these things happen, so unless you want to give specific names of alters, you don't need to.

1. Do all the alters share one birthday with the host or do some(or all) have different birthdays? If they have different birthdays, how do you keep track, and do any alters not know the birthdays of other alters?

2. How frequently do the headmates argue? Are there any that just refuse to fight? Any that purposefully start fights?

3. I know the terms 'headmates' and 'alters,' but are there other words that can be used to describe those within the headspace? And are there any who prefer one term over the other(s)?

4. How often does the alter fronting change? It is just related to what is happening around the host, or are there other factors?

5. Are there any headmates that the host doesn't get along with?

6. Are there any alters that you just have no idea the origin of? Like, they just seem to have come out of nowhere?

And one from the ask game: What does the headspace look like?

It’s ken answering these first off Hi.

1. Welllll I mean we obviously don’t ALL share a birthday but we don’t particularly remember everyones birthday either, I know kitty, erid, evan, and me DO share a birthday and maybe this one alter that I know literally NOTHING about who might.

2. It really depends who. Gaz is constantly having to stop others which sometimes ends up in them fighting but it’s better than fires! Max tends to accidentally get into fights but doesn’t try and back down from them either, and Evan, while not around much, tends to try a start things whenever they are around. and Gaz, kitty, get into fights that don’t escalate into much as well as the grandparents(dr coomer and bubby)

3. Well alters, and headmates are the only real common ones I know but certain alters come up with their own, Gaz uses “our idiots” or “the dumbasses,” Kitty(even though they tend to get yelled at) refers to them all as like “head friends” or smth. Leaf usually just calls us “head famly” with the dropped i

4. Depends on a ton of things, Stress, excitement, sadness, or anger all have higher chances to trigger a switch but they can also just happen because someone wants to front and the person fronting is ok with stepping back or if the person fronting told someone they could in “just a bit” but took over a day results in someone tackling or pushing the other out of the way. Like there are a TON of factors.

5. Well besides the fact no one but Gaz actually listens to me and even then she ignores me sometimes I get along with most of the others. I don’t particularly like Evan simply because they remind me of my brother or my parents sometimes which scares me, Benrey tends to just be annoying but now that Tommys here its a bit better, then Max and me tend to fight but that’s kinda universal and I’m also pretty sure he’d strangle someone for hurting one of us.

6. Begonia, tak, evan, new person, Neil, and leaf and maybe nugget? Some of them I know the source of them but I don’t know when or why they’ve shown up. Hell we didn’t even notice begonia for a few days since we kept thinking it was kitty(who had apparently gone dormant at the time) until they were sitting next to each other. There might be more alters I don’t know about as well since no one here tells me shit.

Ask game question: Well I can’t see as much as the others can but I’m starting to see a bit of the outline of it. I’ll mostly go with what the others have said, It’s apparently based off of a room that a large part of my family rents for a week down near the beach including the two bunk beds, supposedly there is actually a beach as well but I’ve never actually seen it since I can’t really navigate the headspace much. There’s two bunk beds, a TON of pillows, blankets, and bean bags, a random desk paired with a filing cabinet which Tak insists is “absolutely useless,” a table filled with papers and leaf seems to have copied our cuddle pile into there(A pile of stuffed animals and a few pillows at the bottom).... I think that's everything? That’s all of what I’ve heard of at least.

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kar3npage · 5 years

Text

Like Real People Do

The Foxes might not be fully supportive of their relationship for a long time, but it slowly becomes obvious that these two sharp boys are incredibly soft for each other. 5 times that Andrew and Neil are soft for each other, and the one time that all of the Foxes see it.

Another 5+1 because I love writing them, and more fluff because I just want Neil and Andrew to be happy. Some of it may be ooc, but who cares? I'm just here to have a good time.

Read on AO3 here

1. The change room is as loud and exuberant as it always is before practice. Kevin was announcing something to the group, though none of them were listening to him, and Matt and Nicky were having a friendly argument over which Hollywood Chris was the best looking. Jack was doing his absolute best to suck up to Kevin, who barely noticed the first year hovering around him. Aaron wasn’t sure what brought his attention to his brother in the first place, since he never was a part of the craziness that usually took over the change room when everyone was in it at the same time. Perhaps it was because Neil wasn’t coming up with any smart comments to Kevin’s speech, or messing around with Matt. No matter the reason, Aaron’s attention was drawn to the corner that held Andrew and Neil. Normally Andrew would be changed already, watching his groups back while they messed around. Today he hadn’t even started changed and Neil was standing beside him with a wrinkle in his brow. Aaron hadn’t noticed a difference in the car, but he wasn’t really paying attention. Plus, he still struggled being able to tell the difference between his brothers different emotions. A part of him hated that Neil was able to read Andrew so easily when he had never gained the skill, and he doubted that he ever will. He caught Neil's eye and raised an eyebrow, tipping his head toward Andrew. Neil shook his head gently. A bad day, then. Aaron moved slightly closer to the corner, until he could hear Neils quiet voice. “You don’t have to be here today if you don’t want to. You know that, right? I’ll keep an eye on Aaron and Kevin.” Aaron held in a scoff. If he needed someone to keep an eye on him, it would be because he was going to murder Neil for his smart mouth, not because he would be in danger. Despite that, Andrew seems to relax a bit at the promise. “What do you need from me?” Neil says gently. He’s half changed already, since he still changes his shirt out in the bathroom. Aaron isn’t sure why, everyone knows he has the scars by now. “Do you want to call Betsy?” Aaron looks up abruptly, waiting for Andrew to pull a knife or something for the assumption that he needed help. He doesn’t though, just slumps toward Neil a bit and shakes his head no. “Okay. Alone time? We can all find a ride back with Matt and Allison.” Neil doesn’t sound pitying or sympathetic, just matter of fact. Aaron is still trying to figure out how Neil knows what to do. He never would have noticed how Andrews eyes seems miles away if no one had mentioned it. Andrew still doesn’t respond, but that doesn’t faze Neil. “Maybe you can set up and organize the bookshelves we got.” To Aarons surprise, Andrew relaxes a bit more and nods. Neil smiles a bit at that. “I’ll keep my phone with me, call me if you need anything. Or Betsy. Or Renee.” Andrew gives Neil a look and he laughs a bit. “Yes, I charged it. I’ll answer if you call.”

There’s a moment where the two have a silent conversation before Andrew grabs closes his locker and walks out of the changeroom.

“Andrew!” Kevin says, sending Neil a frantic look. “You can’t just leave practice!” Andrew leaves, the door clanging behind him. Neil gives Kevin a sharp grin. “Yes he can.” No one is surprised when Jack speaks up. “Just because you’re vice captain doesn’t mean that you get to decide things like that.” If Aaron could get away with strangling the kid, he would have done it ages ago. By the look on Jostens face, he feels the same way. “Yes it does. And if you had the statistics that he does, and had pro teams looking into you already like he does, maybe you would get out of practice every once in a while,” Neil snaps. He will never, ever admit this to anyone, but Aaron thinks that maybe, maybe Josten is actually good for Andrew. He only makes fun of him a few times through practice to thank him.

2. The girls room always feels cozy and calm compared to the rest of the dorms. Renee always decorates it at the beginning of every year and Dan makes sure that everything stays tidy. Maybe that’s why Neil is comfortable enough to go sit in there every once in a while for a haircut and a chat with the girls. Allison will never not be proud of the fact that they’ve been able to get the jumpy striker to trust them enough that she can put scissors near his face without him having a panic attack. Neil is doing better dealing with Jack and the other new recruits than they thought that he would, but he’s still struggling with the constant comments that he’s had to deal with over the past month. Dan and Renee are doing their best to give him advice on how to deal with it himself without Wymack or Dan having to intervene while Allison cuts his hair. Allison breaks in every once in a while to tell him to resort to violence, which makes Renee give her a look of disappointment and makes Neil grin. Allison is nearly done when Neil checks his phone. He reads whatever message was waiting for him, then gives it the smallest, softest smile that Allison has ever seen. It makes her want to hug him. Instead, she just says, “is that Matt? Tell him we’re going for lunch after this.” Neil shakes his head. “No, it’s from Andrew. Look, he sent me a cat video.” He tilts his phone up so the girls can all see the video of a sweet cat being adopted off of the street and taken care of. It starts off as a skinny little mangy thing and ends the video with clear eyes and a soft looking coat of fur. Allison can not imagine blank faced Andrew watching this video in a million years. “That’s sweet Neil. Do you want a pet?” Renee says, smiling. She looks almost smug. “Andrew and I have been talking about getting a cat after grad. It’ll be tough at first, since he’ll be playing pro while I’m still in school and Betsy said that a pet would probably be good for both of us.” There’s a stunned silence in the room. Dan catches Allison’s eye and grins. “Andrew wants a cat?” Dan asks. “We both do, I think.” Neil smiles at the screen again before noticing the quiet that’s enveloped the room. “Why? Do you think that’s a bad idea?” “No! That’s a brilliant idea,” Allison jumps in. “I think we are all just surprised is all. We didn’t picture you or Andrew as pet people,” Renee says gently. Neil looks nervous and fidgets with his phone while he thinks through his answer. “Well, we both thought that it was a good idea for me. To have something that needs looking after, so I don’t have the option of running. And a cat would be good for Andrew because they don’t need as much touch as dogs do. But that isn’t for a while anyway.” Allison tilts Neil’s head up so he looks at her. She understands why all of the upperclassmen have practically adopted Neil, she would kill for the kid if she needed to. Dan looks like she’s going to cry. “That’s a great idea. You better let us name it,” she tells him firmly. Neil laughs while Allison hugs him. “Okay, but you have to tell Andrew that.”

When Neil goes back to his room to grab his coat before they go out for lunch, the three girls smile at each other. Allison hadn’t been fully on board with Neil and Andrews relationship, but hearing Neil talk about the future with hope made her think that maybe Andrew was softer than she realized. They started a bet on when they would get a second cat right there and then.

3. The dorm that Kevin shared with Andrew and Neil was often quiet, so he wasn’t surprised when no noise came from the room when he came home after dinner with Wymack and Abby. He realized why it was so quiet as he walked into the hallway. Neil was sitting on the bathroom counter while Andrew stood between his legs, applying some sort of medicated cream to the scars on his face. Both had a look of absolute concentration on their faces, and neither had noticed that Kevin was back. He was about to leave when Neil spoke. He knew that this was a private moment and he wasn’t invited to be a part of it, but something in Neils voice made him pause. They had spent a lot of time together in the past few years, and Kevin felt almost protective about him. It was the sibling relationship that he had never known before: one that had affection on both sides, one where their arguments never got physical, one where irritating each other was just as fun for the other person. Neil made Kevin want to pull out his hair sometimes, but if anyone else ever said anything bad about him he would make them swallow an Exy racket. “Andrew?” Neil says in a voice that Kevin’s never heard from him before. He sounds like he’s shattering slowly. Andrew pauses what he’s doing and waits for Neil to talk. He’s patient and just watches the redhead while he struggles to come up with the right words. “Do my scars ever… bother you?” Neil starts slowly. “Doesn’t it ever bother you how people stare at us all the time?” Andrew doesn’t answer right away and Kevin has the urge to walk over and yell at Neil to stop being stupid. “This is about the articles.” Andrew finally monotones. That makes more sense. The Foxes had been asked to be a part of a marketing campaign for a new active wear brand. The campaign was hugely popular and successful, but that also means that quite a few naysayers had come out of the woodwork to discuss whether or not Neil’s scars should have been photoshopped out. A few of the articles had been written like they were being supportive (‘Despite the Scars, Starting Striker Neil Josten is still a Looker!’) while others were just plain brutal (‘Should Josten really be the new Face of Exy? We Think Not’). Since Neil rarely payed attention to what others were saying about him, Kevin had assumed that he hadn’t even read most of the articles. “Jack sent a few to me today.” Andrews whole frame tenses for a moment before he turns his attention back to Neil. He puts his hands up to cradle Neils face slowly, then taps the scar on his cheek gently. “I like your scars. They’re yours.” Neil slumps down and closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. Very slowly, Andrew stretches up to kiss the knife scars on his other cheek, then grabs a hand to kiss the burn scars on his knuckles. Kevin decides to spend the night with Aaron and Nicky.

4. The sunset is stunning from the rooftop. The reds and oranges start off vibrant, then fade to a soft pink that bleeds up into the sky. It’s one of those sunsets that takes your breathe away, that makes you think that maybe life is worth all the pain for moments like this. Despite the beauty that’s sitting right in front of her, Renee isn’t paying attention to it. Her and Andrew were supposed to be sparring half an hour ago and when he didn’t show up, she came looking for him. Andrew had been irritable all week and Neil had been spending far more time at the court than he should have been. They were both wearing themselves out, and Renee was hoping that maybe she could help. The roof had been her first and only spot to check. Sure enough, Andrew was sitting with his legs over the side of the building, smoke in hand. Neil was sitting beside him, tension obvious in his frame. “I don’t want to force you into anything, Andrew. If you don’t want this, just tell me,” Neil was saying. He sounded more exhausted than angry. Andrew makes a sound that could only be described as a growl. Neil forges on, ignoring the glare he was getting. “You can’t be with someone just because you feel some sort of... of obligation to be with them.” “You think I feel obligated.” “Don’t you?” They stare at each other, Andrews cigarette completely forgotten. “No, I don’t. You aren’t forcing me into anything. You really think I would let you do that?” “You forced yourself to do lots of things you didn’t want to in order to take care of someone.” Andrew gives Neil a blank look. “I don’t do that anymore. You know that.” “I don’t want you to start again for me.” There’s no life to Neil’s voice. The sky is slowly getting darker, but neither of the boys notice. “I chose you. I keep choosing you. That’s my choice, no one is forcing me into anything.” “Why?” Andrew throws the cigarette down and glares at Neil. “Because I’m happy. You idiot.” Neil smiles and Renee can feel one of her own building. The fact that Andrew admitted to having any sort of feeling is a huge step, and she wishes that he would let her tell him that she was proud of him. “Okay.” Neil says. “Okay.” “I’m happy too.” “Okay.” Andrew lights another cigarette and offers it to Neil, who is still beaming up at him. Renee leaves them to it and leaves a message on Andrews phone to reschedule their session.

5. Matt never would have noticed anything different about the crowd for this game if Kevin hadn’t completely frozen when he entered the arena. One thing about Kevin is that he never tried to hide his feelings. Matt knew that it made Neil mad sometimes, but he secretly thought that the other starting striker could have learnt a thing or two from Kevin. Maybe not with the coping mechanisms, but the fact that he admitted that he needed help was a good thing. It didn’t take long for the team to find out that the one and only Ichirou Moriyama was sitting in the crowd at today’s game. No one knew why, since it wasn’t an important one against an important team. Neil refused to react, but he was particularly aggressive right from the start. They created an impressive point gap at the beginning of the game that only grew from there. Even Andrew put in effort when he was on. It was an easy win. Well, physically it was an easy win. Mentally, it obviously wasn’t. Kevin looked like he wanted to vomit through the entire game, and Wymack took him to Abby as soon as they finished their handshakes. No one could tell that it was affecting Neil until they got to the change room. The mood was unusually somber as they got undressed, despite the win. Even Jack kept his mouth shut and changed out quickly. The room was almost empty, with only Matt, Nicky, Andrew, and Neil left before he started to lose his composure. It started with shaking hands while he was trying to tie his shoes. Matt could see him trembling from where he was standing near Nicky. Andrew was there in an instant, watching Neil carefully. For a while all he can hear is the sound of Neil’s panicked breathing. Andrew kneels in front of him and pulls him down to sit on the bench. Matt can still see the frantic look in his eyes. “I can’t do that again,” Neil chokes out, breath still quick and painful sounding. “You won’t,” Andrew says. “I was resigned to it, to dying, but I can’t do that again. I want to live Andrew,” Neil sound desperate. Matt moves forward without even realizing. He can feel his heart break a little hearing about how Neil had been resigned about dying in his first year here. “You’re not going to go through that again. Listen, Neil-listen to me. I’ve got you.” Matt can feel Nicky at his back, both of them watching the scene like they’re watching a car accident that can’t be avoided. Nicky reaches out and grabs his arm for support. Andrew tugs Neil forward so his head rests on Andrews shoulder. Matt can see his shoulder shuddering but he can’t hear the sharp breaths anymore. “Come on, Nicky,” Matt murmurs under his breath and starts to lead Nicky toward the door. He knows that Neil doesn’t want anyone to witness him falling apart, and Andrew knows how to take care of him. Right before they leave the room he hears Andrew say, “Nothing is going to happen to you. I love you.” It’s so quiet that he almost thinks that he imagined it, but when he turns to look at Nicky and sees the other backliners shocked expression, he knows that Nicky heard it too. Matt allows himself a small smile. Neil will be alright.

+1 The airport is always crazy at this time of the year, and Wymack is seriously considering just telling the Trojans that they won’t be able to make it to the game. He’s exhausted already from trying to keep an eye on all of his Foxes and they only just got there. He’s standing in line for coffee with Neil and Kevin, who are currently arguing about something that Wymack isn’t really paying attention to. When he looks at Neil he can tell that he’s arguing just to get a rise out of Kevin. His eyes are sparkling while Kevin shouts at him. Seeing the two boys so out of their shells makes him happy, even though they are helping give him a headache. Wymack barely notices the chaos behind him at first, not until Neil goes stiff and ignores whatever Kevin had just been ranting about. It’s impossible to tell what’s happening, just that airport security has swarmed the area and people are panicking. They seem mostly safe in the little coffee shop where they’re waiting in line, but the rest of the Foxes could be anywhere. They could be caught up in whatever’s going on over there. “Bomb threats,” someone whispers near him, and just like that people start throwing out ideas as to what could be going wrong. Each whispered theory makes Neil go paler. Kevin gives Wymack a frantic look and moves a step closer to him. Neil looks like he’s going to bolt into the crazed crowd. Wymack gently grips his arm to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, and pulls out his phone with his other hand. “Hello?” Wymack can barely hear Dan over the noise behind her. “Dan, are you with the others?” “Uh, I’ve got Matt, Aaron, Nicky, and the new kids here with me.” “Where are Andrew and Renee?” Neil somehow goes even paler than he had been before. He grabs Wymacks wrist and watches him intently. “They went into one of the little shops near our gate, I think. I’m not sure whats going on, did you see all of the security?” “Yeah. Let me know if you find them. And stick together.” “Okay, we’ll meet you at the gate. Kevin and Neil are okay?” “Yep.” Beside him, Neil is clutching his phone to his ear. According to his tight expression, no one is picking up. It’s almost half an hour later and 20 unanswered phone calls to both Renee and Andrew before the insanity slows down and things start getting into control. Wymack grabs Kevin and Neil and pulls them through the crowd to their gate. He spots Andrew first and can tell the moment that Neil sees him, since he pulls out of his grip and runs over to the gate. Andrew and Neil are staring at each other, probably checking for injuries, by the time that Wymack and Kevin have arrived. The rest of the team is surrounding them, all shouting over each other. Allison has started a betting pool about what caused the chaos. Neil and Andrew are the calm in the middle of the storm. “I was worried about you,” Andrew says with more emotion than Wymack is used to hearing from him. “I was worried about you. You’re not allowed to mock me for not answering my phone anymore.” Neil says. Colour is slowly coming back into his cheeks. “We got stuck in the crowd. I’m sorry Neil,” Renee says from where she’s standing by Allison. Neil doesn’t even glance at her. “Are you okay?” he asks Andrew. Andrew nods. “Can I hug you?” Neil asks. Wymack can just barely hear him over the din of the team, and he doubts that anyone else can hear the two of them. Andrew nods. Neil shifts forward slowly, giving Andrew time to refuse. When Andrew’s hands go around his back to clutch at his hoodie Neil sighs and tucks his head into the joint between Andrews neck and shoulder. One of Andrews hands comes up to the back of Neils neck while the other grabs onto the back of his hoodie. Wymack doesn’t miss the money that changes hands when the others see the two boys, but he doesn’t let anyone interrupt them. After all his team has been through, he thinks that they deserve some happiness.

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philosophiums · 5 years

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{god okay finally i’ve finished!!!!! i’ve got drafts of all five parts done and am starting to go through and revise, which i will post as i complete. i could revise three or four more times but like...... don’t have time for THAT. so here’s the neil-in-a-dress au that @microolli has been drawing. hopefully this ends up being even *close* to what you were hoping for}

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Part One: Targeted

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North Carolina’s humidity is reaching critical mass, and every breath of Andrew’s feels a little too much like warm water, like he shouldn’t be letting it into his lungs. Sundown didn’t help cool things off, and the breeze that had been blowing through the cracks in the windows has since choked off and left the three of them treading water. If he’d wanted to drown, he would have picked a better location; even he deserves something classier than a shitty black van parked on the side of some shitty two-lane road, lights off to hide better in the dark.

It’ll storm soon. Later tonight or tomorrow, but this slow buildup of airborne swamp water has to produce something destructive – there’s no other option. He just wants to be happily settled in some air conditioning before the sky splits.

Andrew sweeps his eyes up to check on Aaron beside him, noise-cancelling headphones settled over his head and eyes trained on the screens in front of him, and then he pivots to look at Nicky in the driver’s seat, whose hand is caught in his hair as he tries impossibly hard to stay alert.

Three hours have gone by. Something awful twists in the pit of his gut, instinct letting him know that whatever peace they’ve managed to hold is about to be disrupted. “Check in,” he says, returning to his original position, head down and eyes closed, his hands loose between his knees. He focuses on breathing and listening; those are his only concerns right now.

“One,” Dan’s voice scratches through his headphones, and then, “two,” as Matt follows suit. They’re in the building, the closest to the client, and no matter how much Wymack likes to go on about teamwork and making an effort to participate, this mission is on Dan and Matt’s shoulders. If something goes wrong and the client gets injured, it’s their fault. Allison and Renee count off three and four respectively, and their feedback is clearer because they’re closer – outside the building on the perimeter, sweeping circles back and forth to make sure nothing’s been planted. Andrew thinks it’s a pointless maneuver for only two people, that the gap in their patrol leaves a massive opportunity for anyone, but he doesn’t bring it up. Nicky’s five, which at least confirms that he’s still awake, and finally, from a full state away, Kevin and Wymack check in as six and seven. Aaron doesn’t get a number, both because Andrew’s eyes are on him and because he’s tasked with staying entirely focused on the cameras that they have running – so much so that Andrew’s in charge of the audio from everyone’s microphones and comms.

It’s absolutely pathetic that it takes nine people to keep one man alive when it should require only two, and take maybe four for padding on the wealthier clients. But before last year, Fox Den, Inc. couldn’t even manage with eleven people on-sight. Circumstances changed. People died. Kevin bled his way across several state borders and proclaimed he was staying, and then Andrew was convinced to stay, too. Sometimes, when Wymack bribes Andrew with just the right incentive, the whole plan runs smoothly. But usually they only barely manage to keep their clients alive, let alone unharmed. It’s as if their presence alone causes mayhem to kick up from the dust, and Andrew thinks that they would have better luck killing people for money – especially since right now they tend to get people killed and lose money – but the only time he voiced this, he got glared at and overruled. Maybe they’d manage better if they could work as a team, but Andrew’s more interested in keeping his family alive than the client, so shit tends to fall apart when anything gets serious.

Why Wymack hasn’t fired Andrew yet is really anyone’s guess. Probably because Kevin’s favorite mantra is that Andrew’s full of potential but lacking initiative.

Kevin thinks too much.

The venue they’re casing is a small but high-end party in a public building, the room reserved and vetted for by the property owners. The chatter coming through Matt’s microphone is mundane, if more muffled than normal given the dress restrictions of the event. There’s some money talk – in the way that wealthy people talk about money, which is to say there’s conversation about new business ventures and investments and how “overpriced but worthwhile” education is for their children. The conversation makes that dark lake in Andrew’s chest ripple with his anger, but none of the topics raise anything close to concern. There haven’t been any red flags all evening.

And Aaron hasn’t made any motion yet tonight to signal anything amiss on the screens, and there hasn’t been a perimeter breech that Allison and Renee have found, and there’s been no interruption of new information from Wymack or Kevin.

So, why does Andrew still feel like something’s about to go wrong?

He trusts his gut. “One, circle closer to the client,” Andrew instructs, head still down and eyes still closed. The van dips quickly towards the driver’s side and Andrew’s heart drops with it, but he doesn’t move at all. He assumes that it’s only Nicky turning around to look at him – Andrew hasn’t bothered to give orders pertinent to the mission in four… no, five jobs now.

“Something come up?” Dan asks, tone down as the chatter around her sways in and out of Andrew’s hearing, coming in from her headpiece and her suit mic as a unit of sound that only barely lines up and makes sense together.

Of course, Andrew could tell her the whole truth, which is that nothing solid has come to his attention. There’s no evidence that the job is about to go south. Matt is already close to the client. But the strangling snag of his gut has never lied to him before – so much trauma has tuned him to know exactly when it’s coming. “Yes,” he says, which is enough of the truth to assuage her, and doesn’t elaborate.

“Andrew?” God, Kevin needs to not be talking right now. Andrew’s fists clench between his knees. “Did you notice something? What did you hear?”

“I can’t hear anything with you filling up the radio waves.” And really, what a poor fucking design for this part of the plan, but Andrew stops thinking about how Nicky should be solely in charge of communication when he catches sight of Aaron moving, and that jerky motion drags all of Andrew’s attention to his twin.

His head snaps up, and he watches Aaron’s mouth move in a slow, incredulous way, though he can’t hear him at all given the chaos that suddenly erupts through Andrew’s headphones. He rips them off and drops them, welcoming the bang of silence through his head. With the way Aaron slumps in his chair, there’s no way the client is still alive.

“What the fuck just happened?” Nicky asks, and Andrew would bet it’s into the comm system as well, but he’ll just bog down the channel, since that’s what everyone else is asking, too. “Shit.” He moves like he’s about to bail from the front seat, and Andrew’s not sure if Nicky’s thinking about running inside or coming around the van to join them in the back, but he’s not taking chances.

“Stay put, Nicky. He’s dead.” Andrew says it with a sigh.

Nicky swears again, but he stops acting like he’s leaving.

Andrew’s slow to stand up, left leg braced out so that he doesn’t have to rush to find his balance. It’s been a long night, and it was all for nothing; now all that’s left is figuring out what the fuck happened. Aaron pulls off his noise-cancelling headphones and tosses them to the lip of a desk in front of him, and Andrew takes a step and a half to come up behind him.

“Rewind it,” he says. “Show me.”

Aaron doesn’t move right away, and their synced sluggish responses make Andrew wonder if the damp air has become something thicker without them noticing, or if they’re both starting to wonder what the point of them doing this is. It feels rote, so Andrew doesn’t rush Aaron into moving. Eventually, Aaron leans forward and rewinds the tape.

When the recording starts to play, all Andrew sees is boring rich white people milling about in clean-cut fashion. He finds their client in the upper corner of the main screen, and the middle of the right screen; Matt is half-visible in the main screen and gone in the left, and Dan is invisible in all three. He watches the main screen, sees Dan come in from the bottom, casually slipping through the crowd with a mellow urgency that no one picks up on. And then the client just drops.

No obvious killer.

Well. Shit.

“Again,” he says, eyes staying on the screen even when Nicky decides to scramble between the front seats and join them.

Once more, Aaron rewinds the tape. Andrew delegates them each a screen. “Watch the top left corner only,” he says, because now they need to find whoever killed their client and lost them more money and reputation. They go through until Aaron stops the tape and rewinds again, and again until Andrew stops him. “There.” He points at the figure, the one he noticed last time but this time is sure of.

“How can you tell it’s her?” Nicky asks, leaning closer to the screen as if proximity will make the pixels any more clear, as if it will make the cutting silhouette in the black dress and close-cut curly auburn hair turn around and show her face. “She’s so far away from him.”

As if that hadn’t been Andrew’s first hesitation in picking her out. “Watch her hand,” he says, and moves aside as Aaron rewinds the tape one last time to watch. A second before their client crumples, the woman raises her arm, fingers shaped like a pistol aimed at their client, and pulls it back like it’s been fired. There’s no weapon in sight, but their client dies anyway.

When they get back to Columbia, they’ll have to comb through all of the video footage to look for any other occurrence of the woman throughout the night, but for now they have authorities to deal with, and then Andrew is going to start drinking.

#the foxhole court #tfc #tfc fic #microolli #idk what to tag this as we're here now #my fics

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rumandtimes · 3 years

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I Don’t Trust Atheists on TV

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Winfred Thoroughfare

Assoc. Reasonable Man Contributor

There’s something unsavoury about television personalities in general, but especially those that address the topic of religion. As a reasonable man, I don’t trust religious personalities on television at all, but I couldn’t say that I distrust overt atheists any less or believe in them any more than the commercial evangelists.

The Call To Atheism

For an out-and-out atheist to take to the stage and the limelight, they must have some sort of mission. Namely, to sell their book, but on the back of that goal they have a supplementary objective: the destruction of religion. TV atheists usually don’t espouse the benefits of one religion over another and typically hate them all. Their goal is to destroy world religion. But as most of them in the English-speaking circuit come from the United States or England, they usually set their targets for Christianity, making little distinction between Catholicism and Protestantism, but viewing Protestantism as slightly more evolved because it can in certain cases be more secular, and usually making no distinction between Orthodoxy and liberalism, since such a divide is unimportant to the U.S. / U.K. audience.

While they are no worse than idiots spreading religious lies and falsehoods to a closed loop of believers on TV, televisions atheists are often consumed by their particular egos and in propagating the achievement of their respective book. Even atheists who feign humility will go on and on about how humble they are, and take the stage to speak of how they do not care for recognition. The companionship of atheism and egoism is likely, probably because the atheist feels as if there is a thousand-year-old tradition spanning human existence up into the majority of the present population, yet they alone in their limited group of intellectuals have solved the ultimate problem: that the big, existential lie of monotheism does not exist.

Everyone knows it’s not so simple. It is an easy matter to prove that any religious text is demonstrably false, and every religious tradition is inconsistent and inane more often than not. But that does not negate the purpose religious has in society, which is not a historical or scientific one, but a bluntly cultural function that often guides socioeconomic behaviours.

Christianity in the United States, for instance, is a markedly isolationist, greedy, and self-indulgent religion; it exists to justify the biases of the congregant, not to challenge a sense of conformity or growth. While American Christians might take umbrage with that observation, pointing to charitable works by their millions of churches and blanket ideals of amicability, religion in America is more often an economic identity or a regional heritage than a calling to a universal standard, and the threat of hell to the nonbeliever out-levers the embrace of opposing factions to a ubiquitous degree.

The Mormons, who may call themselves the most American sect of Christianity (as they claim Jesus was an American) prioritise charity, discipline, and humility for the congregant — all which could be viewed as selfless virtues. But, of course, the Mormons are also extremely strict about social habits such as embracing all forms of abstinence, and their charity comes as a cloak over the dagger of proselytisation and attempts at conversion. Humility on the individual level may be cooperative, but at the institutional level it plays a part in enforcing conformity and obedience from the top down. Charity comes with expectation, discipline comes with sacrifice, and humility comes with ceding control. While it may be hard for a believer of such transactional and oppressive religion to hear, there are forms of Christianity that ask the believer to give up nothing, and instead revel in what there is to gain in following ‘the one true way.’

While religions are often polluted and poisoned by administrative strangling of the freedoms of their lower communities, all religions at their centre have a commentary about the nature and purpose of life, a narrative on the conquest of death, and a guide to live a happier and better existence. Most people are not blind to the corruption of the global clergy, but are happy to ignore and accept the nonsense in return for the community and spiritual gains, or at the very least, the illusion of these comforts. The evangelist atheists underestimate this along with the capacity of their audience whom they ostensibly hope to convert, and underestimate the mortal terror most people have of death and living a useless life.

To broach this fact, many TV atheists speak to the fact that they don’t care what a person believes or how they find comfort, so long as it falls within the cliche utilitarian principle that it does not harm another person. For these atheists however, that is a hard definition to make, because they are very much building a public profile and a career on exterminating religion because they view religion as necessarily irrational and damaging.

Take the prominent TV atheists, while all of them are somewhat fading as of late: Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris, Stephen Fry, Daniel Dennett, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Bill Maher, Richard Dawkins, and Bill Nye — it is difficult to trust any of them on the topic of religion. Not because they can easily and conveniently poke holes in religious structures, as we all can, a child can grasp the paradoxes and mistruths of a religious story or text, but because they do not offer an alternative set of mind.

Becrying a problem and then failing to point to a solution helps no one. How will religion die? Where is the answer to that question? They avoid this question. Yet, to the TV atheist, questions of god are easy: Is God all-good? Of course not, because the world is a place that is not all-good. Is God anthropomorphic? Of course not, expecting the creator of the universe to resemble humankind is a clear limit of human hubris and egocentrism. Is God real? Of course not, there is no evidence that a god exists, and all religious accounts we have are clearly incorrect, so there is more reason not to believe and remain atheist or at the very least agnostic than there is reason to believe, therefore any god does not exist. Everyone but the deepest and most repressed religious fanatic has asked themself these questions and come to these rather obvious conclusions, and they didn’t need to map it out in a lengthy book to do so. Yet, still, to the vast majority of people it simply does not matter.

If you meet a Christian on the street and become upset that this man could believe in such a stupid, corrupt, and repressive religion as the Christian church, what will you do? Tell him that the church is corrupt? He will respond that the message of Christianity is dependent on Jesus, who is perfect, not the church, which may well be corrupt.

What if you tell him that Jesus did not exist? Or that Jesus was just a man, and not a deity or demigod as the Christians claim? He will respond that it is irrelevant, because the Bible is a narrative handed down through the generations and not a book of current events, and he values the heritage of traditions set forth in the Christian faith, regardless of the perception nonbelievers have of the Bible, and regardless of whether the account of Jesus exactly correct or not the message of Jesus is real, and that is all that matters.

What if you tell him the message of Jesus and the Bible is inconsistent and self-contradictory? He will respond that it is the duty of a good Christian to see the true, all-good message of the Bible by picking out the good parts as scripture, and ignoring the bad parts as a list of examples of traps of sin not to fall for.

Any argument you throw at this man about the history, epistemology, or philosophy of the Christian faith are irrelevant, because all he cares about is the end result: a belief that Christian teachings will guide a good life, and holding an absolution from the fear of death. Atheists can spout off their nonsense as much as they want, but unless they have a good alternative on how to live a meaningful life and how to not fear death, nothing they say actually focuses on the points at hand. And it is these two questions atheists routinely fail to address.

The TV atheist would tell you to live a life that feels good and helps others, and to accept the inevitability and futility of death. Not only are such statements callous and almost entirely incompatible with human psychology, they are easily criticised through quite valid complaints against hedonism and fatalism. Just as easily as religion in practice falls prey to the atheist attack, atheists’ advice in practice also can quickly fall flat. If religion is a lie, it is a lie that helps the individual live their life.

Atheists are brought back to their initial debate: If god (a higher, infinite purpose) doesn’t exist and if believing something doesn’t hurt anyone else, there is no use in changing the world as it is. But religion is an exception, because while it may help the individual, it hurts society, therefore there must always be a separation between church and state. Yet atheists are forced to reconsider the fact that religion is actually bad for society, and if it indeed isn’t at least worse than the alternative, then to consider the problem that promoting atheism actually trips the lines of not hurting others.

If atheists are spreading anti-religious rhetoric because they know religion to be false and consider it useless or redundant, but in so doing break the spirits of religious people, they are causing harm to others with out of a personal grudge or for the purpose of a vanity project. And if it turns out that human beings start to feel hollow and morbid in the broad absence of religion, or a replacement of religion, and the atheists are not able to provide that replacement, then they will have dismantled a potentially essential part of society, not only in transgression of their values of utilitarian freedom of ignorance and freedom of belief, but also to the detriment of many disillusioned peoples’ lives.

TV atheists would tell you that religion actually does not offer people anything, and everyone would be better off without believing in myths and lies, but people believe in existential lies all the time. The whole of human existence is based upon illusion, not least of which the illusions of the senses and the illusions of consciousness. Religion may be false, religion may be stupid, but by the very rules atheists set for themselves about what is acceptable for other people to believe, religion does not cause enough harm to justify an atheist making a highly public profile and international campaign in favour of destroying religion.

Atheism is not the same as education, as, again, many religious people are fully aware of the gaps in their religion already, but they choose to ignore them. That is an informed decision to remain ignorant of a problem, which is very different to being ignorant of that problem in the first place. Atheists setting out to teach Christians the truth about Christianity because they want to look so informed has a reverse effect of making the atheist look foolish and narrow-minded. Once atheists are making arguments about the weakness of religious thought, it is no longer an educational session but is just that, an argument, and if TV atheists are utilitarian as they claim then they should recognise there is no utility in arguing a moot point. Even is a religious person lapses from a religion based on being persuaded by arguments, they might change their nominal identity and retract support for a religious movement, but are their core values and daily routines really all that likely to change. They are the same person, but they just no longer check the “Catholic” box on registration forms, and now they will attend annual atheist book signings instead of attending weekly mass (which one could argue is a downgrade in practical social terms).

Many of the complaints atheists have are also complaints religious people have: Corruption in churches, mosques, temples, and synagogues; Vapidity of religion in politics; Deviation of contemporary religious teachings from the revelation of ancient religious texts; The failure to modernise the message of some religious doctrines on a regular basis. These are not religious failures, but social failures, and as the religious person would be quick to point out, religion is the solution to social ills, not the cause.

An atheist arguing with a believer about society, where religion is the solution to one person and religion is the problem to the other person, won’t get anywhere. It would be much more useful to actually argue solutions. Bill Nye arguing religion in the objective that undermining Christianity would somehow bolster Darwinism was misplaced; he should have stuck to solely explaining evolution rather than argue with someone who refused to listen to what he was saying based on irrelevant defiance of facts. That is not a religious problem — as many, if not most, Christians embrace evolution (not to mention, many nonbelievers refute evolution on baseless grounds) — it is a problem of dealing with an idiot. Tracing the gospel of Jesus will never advance that conversation, because that was not the question at issue, and Nye should have seen through and restrained himself from the red herring. Just because an idiot wants to invoke a “religious exception” to facts does not mean it is worthwhile to focus on the appeal to religion, as the tantrum against facts is the real point of contention.

TV atheists going off about religion in public sounds more like TV religionists than not. They both have a message to sell for their own sake, usually a financial or even spiteful incentive to push those ideas, and are driven above all by an egoism of hearing themselves speak a correction to the flawed masses while reaffirming just how right they are and how their own rules do not apply to themselves. In short, they want attention.

An instance I completely lost all possibility of respect for Richard Dawkins is when he gave a televised speech and took questions from an audience. All the audience were likeminded to him, as you might imagine the kind of draw to a commercial book promotion for a text Dawkins had authored and was willing to sell and sign for a price. There was no ‘reaching the masses,’ only an atheist author playing an atheist crowd, or — as they say — preaching to the choir. One spectator asked Dawkins a moral question, a chance for Dawkins to build a moral philosophy to replace the absence of modern religious guides to life, and that question was, shockingly, if gay incest was morally acceptable and even healthy. Disturbingly, Dawkins agreed with his pervert fan and said that it was okay, specifically for a lesbian mother to have sex with a lesbian daughter, or for lesbian sisters to have a long-term or exclusive sexual relationship.

A perfect example of how TV atheists will say anything to sound contrarian and build up a stir while playing their fanbase, and of how completely devoid of the human condition their thinking is. Having sex with a family member, or against an imbalance of power, is not solely wrong because it could lead to genetic diseases or questions of parenthood as Dawkins assumed. Those are costs to be reckoned after the fact. But it is wrong in the conception of the act because it violates the family structure and destroys the development of a normal and healthy life if a parent views their own child as a sex toy to be groomed into adulthood, and it violates the requirements of happiness and satisfaction in consent if there is a power imbalance in a purposefully mutual relationship.

While the loser in Dawkins’s audience obviously didn’t realise it, there is a need in human relationships to have a bond on a personal level, to have an unconditional bond on a parental level, and to have a familial bond on the sibling level (including cousins). People’s relationships are not just sexual.

Promoting incest in the presence of contraception or homosexuality as Dawkins did in an offhanded comment is disgusting and disturbed, because such a broken system would be harmful to the people involved on a social, biological, and individual level, depriving them of the value of having a family. Viewing each person as a sexual object, and each household as a harem in the process of self-breeding where people have no worth outside of being violated by their close kin, not only undermines the first and most major drive that people have in forming new relationships despite the risk with new people but it also corrodes the safety and security of life at home. There is a reason that most people don’t have an urge to have sex with their family members, and where it does happen occasionally it has never in the history of any human society on Earth been viewed as most normal and best long-term option.

Just because people consent to something does not mean it is good for them, and two lesbian siblings having sex with each other could only lead to disaster (or is likely the product of some previous disaster), no matter whether Dawkins and his acolyte have given them the go-ahead. As pornographic as it might feel to have sex with a sibling to the Dawkins-brand of utilitarian, such a perversion of biology could never compare to the fulfilment of going out into the world and meeting someone who cares for you on a purely sexual level without destroying the deeper relationship you have with a sibling for the rest of your life after the hormones wear off.

Most people know that hooking up with an ex or a co-worker is a bad idea, yet Dawkins is telling people to go for their mom if she’s into it and they bring a condom. And as a biologist, hiding behind the title of biology to push evolution as a trojan horse for atheism, Dawkins should — should — have immediately noted that such a stance is evolutionarily unsustainable if adopted to any real degree, and that it comes off as somewhat homophobic and ill-informed to acquaint doing gay stuff with doing incest and then say it’s cool only because “they can never have children.” Gay people are not black holes of morality, nor are they dead ends of evolution, which Dawkins neither said nor implied, yet that was implied by what he said.

Perhaps tellingly, Dawkins and fan completely failed to understand the fact that sex is a behavioural more than a procreative act — another misconception about human nature Dawkins ironically shares with the church. As a general rule, as well as an absolute rule, say no to incest.

While that’s Dawkins, and maybe people never respected him anyway, the other TV atheists have a repetitive air to their talks of wasting their time (Bill Nye), pushing an ulterior agenda (Sam Harris), going on a pointless rant (Stephen Fry), flattering their own ego (Richard Dawkins), suffocating people with the obvious (Daniel Dennett), being generally unsufferable if not all of the above (Christopher Hitchens), failing to properly contextualise the issue (Neil deGrasse Tyson), or acting out as a contrarian (Bill Maher). If being reasonable is the only goal of the TV atheist, they ought to reason out the fact that religion does play a role in people’s lives, and solving the issues of child rape or poor education or genocidal conflicts are not as simple as saying, “abolish the church,” because the church is a manifest if flawed representation of religion, and religion itself is not responsible for those atrocities.

If anything, religion is a meaningless term — especially in hyper secular and materialist societies like the United States, Britain, European Union, China, and Russia — and especially in hyper dogmatic societies such as Pakistan, Iran, Tanzania, Israel, and Argentina. Religion means whatever the religious person wants it to, and that is not due to ignorance as the TV atheists believe, but is actually by design.

People convert religions, lapse, mutate, and protest their teachings in accordance with their own beliefs. Just because this happens behind the scenes and in silence for most people does not mean the internal doubts and realignments do not take place. And at the end of the day, religion is still there, because people need a sense of purpose and a reason to live their lives, and because most people (unlike the impenetrable exterior of the common TV atheist) don’t want to die — and the concept of death includes aging, being outperformed by rivals, feeling useless, losing a sense of purpose or time, feeling regret over memories, and facing the unknown in both the present and the future.

Religion helps people by telling them lies. Such as in America, American-Christianity telling people everything happens for a reason, telling people that god has an individual purpose for them, telling people that money does not corrupt but instead empowers, telling people that they are guaranteed to live forever in a perfect existence after the first inevitable death which they already know is coming, telling people that they can never be alone because god is always with them, telling people if they do the right thing the right thing will happen for everyone in the end. No one in their right mind could live in a world where they did not believe each of these things were true, regardless if religion is what gets it to them.

Having a handful of rich, famous, and disillusioned men complain about the idiot commoner rejects reality, or complain that the idiot commoner is being scammed by the insidious clergyman, because they just won’t accept that their lives are meaningless, and that there is no plan, and that there is no afterlife, is — frankly — mean-spirited, impractical, dishonest, harsh, and somewhat insane. Atheists may have qualms with the rabbinic tradition, but what is the harm whatsoever in a Jewish person believing that they have a calling in life and suspending disbelief is something challenges that identity? That does not mean that religion cannot or should not be reformed constantly, but the TV atheists need to start asking what is their calling, and what truly does it mean to be religious.

#Atheism #Bill Nye #Neil deGrasse Tyson #Richard Dawkins #Religion

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fmlfpl · 4 years

Photo

Lineup Lamentations - GW11

Our Transfers, Captains, and Starting 11s for the week!

And if you missed it for subscribers Friday My Life episode just came out!

—

WALSH

TRANSFERS:

OUT: N/A

IN: N/A

I'm on a save this week with CHO as a big problem as well as Pukki but no real straight swap seems good enough to make with zero doll hairs in the bank.

Will just sweat the Chelsea team sheet and hope the chips fall in a place that is kind to my fucks.

GK:

Pope (shu)

Pope been naturally pissing me off lately quite a bit. Discussed how annoying he is but Burnley have four good on paper fixtures so hopefully he will be able to get a few points in this run to rectify his standing.

Certainly doesn't feel like the long long term keeper we had all expected when we put him in the GW1 team. At least not to me.

DEF:

Alexander-Arnold & Robertson (avl)

Still going with double barrel Livp fullbacks Trent and R0bbo.

Been absolutely dying for a clean and this weekend is as good as any for one to come in. Even though they have kept an extremely small shitty number of cleans so far they are still both in the top 5 defender point total and I fully expect them to finish 1-2 in that regard come seasons end assuming health.

Fixtures look good outside of the City game so maybe they'll go on a run of cleans.

Lundstram (BUR)

Alongside is Pointstram of course the legend. Great fixture, back at home, get in there ladstram.

MID:

Pretty straightforward quintet here.

Salah (avl) and Sterling and De Bruyne (SOU)

Mo/Raz/Kevin have been in for a while and will probably stay for a while.

Late twitter fuckery surrounding Mo possibly not having trained all week obviously isn't great but whatever fucking fuck it. Hopefully he is fine as Klopp has said he is. Or he's not and life is great.

Hudson-Odoi and Mount (wat)

Double Chelsea children CHO and Mount go to Twatty in what might be a tough game? Idk.

Twatford look so diabolical and horrendous it wouldn't surprise me to see them get put to the sword against a team with actual attacking quality.

They've been a tight ship recently though so who knows.

FWD:

Abraham (wat)

Same two Tammy and Pukki up top as I have had for the past fair bit.

Pukki (bha)

Really not sure how I keep tricking myself into thinking Pukki isn't a huge fucking massive issue but here I am.

Brighton look like an open game so praying to all hell that he pops up with a return. Just even an assist god bless I'd take it. Just do something you Finnish cuck.

CAP:

Sterling (SOU)

Easy Raz this weekend. Really nothing to discuss. He looks prime and ready to tit, home banker, rested midweek, blabhlabhalh. Get in there Razzybaby.

—

ALON

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Aubameyang & Gunn

IN: Vardy & Gazzaniga

Alright so we’re making some progress here. Putting out some fires. Ok ok ok.

Still have CHO and still have Pukki which is BAaaaaddddd feeeeeelsssss baaaaaaaddddd. But it’s ok. At least Pukki will start and CHO hopefully will start should be fine to tide me over.

Next week maybe a hit to get rid of both we’ll see???

Anyway I’m terrified of Aubz hauling now that he’s free from my grasp but whatever he’s a bad pick and Arsenal are fucking bad... Vardy and Leicester are flying and have the fixtures... And as discussed on Friday My Life Gazz and the money just makes more sense for me and my future moves.

Need that $ in the bank to put out the next fires.

GK:

Gazzaniga (eve)

Alright GAZZZZZ.

Everton are Jekyll and Hyde but I feel like they usually score at home so I’m not really expecting a clean here but it’s certainly possible. Would be cool if Poch plays Vert over Davinson that would make it feel a lot better...

Either way hopefully the save points keep flowing and I can keep Gaz for a long time.

DEF:

Lundstram (BUR)

Lundy in a decent home fixture; we take those.

But don’t be tricked into thinking this is a banker. Burnley are good at attacking now, get with the times.

Tomori (wat)

Don’t love this away but really the way Watford are setup these days with essentially two “attackers” (no strikers) and mostly a super conservative bus the clean should be there for the taking really... Just don’t let them counter and don’t give them set pieces and Chelsea should coast to a clean... Easy right?

Söyüncü (cry)

Nice clean fixture for Soy.

Leicester should be able to strangle Palace to death in this one imo.

MID:

Salah (avl)

This ankle rumor shit is so fucking annoying.

Ugh just hoping he’s fine and shit. I’m already very anxious about it.

Sterling and De Bruyne (SOU)

Fantastic players, fantastic attacking team, home banker. Easyyyyy.

Hudson-Odoi (wat)

Give the boy a start Frank. Come on. Pleasaasasase???

This kid is a problem. Bad / unlucky timing that we brought him in when we did but here we are.

A problem for another GW.

FWD:

Vardy (cry)

Feels great to not have to type some bullshit for Aubz in this slot like I have been doing for weeks in a row now.

Vardy is fucking good and Leicester are good and here’s another good fixture.

Abraham (wat)

Tammy is a little bit off the boil now but really he’s still getting chances and he still looks good to me. He was beyond red hot at the start of the season this is just a normal thing.

Chelsea are still super good at attacking and he’s still nailed so get the fuck in there.

Pukki (bha)

I would take a two pointer at this point. Fucking Pukki AKA Mitrovic.

CAP:

Sterling (SOU)

Really really easy cap this week. Like I said on Friday My Life I don’t even hate a triple cap if you’re feeling it... Yeah yeah “everyone will be on him” but also don’t forget: 60.5% of teams in FPL don’t even own him.

Get the fuck in there Razzy.

—

RANDOM SLACKER OF THE WEEK: HOUSE OF KANE (ON WILDCARD)

The words of Random Slacker are not officially endorsed by this website nor any employees of FML FPL LLC.

TRANSFERS:

OUT: WILDCARD

IN: WILDCARD

After a great start that found me peaking around 10k at GW9, I’m now on four big reds and hovering around 100k. Last week I tried to do the mature and steady thing, making no transfers after a disastrous GW 9 (rank 6m). I was *not* rewarded for my steadfast patience, so naturally I kneejerked my WC on Sunday afternoon.

Biggest issues I wanted to remedy were Ota, Pukki, Kun, Haller, maybe-injured Salah, not having TAA, and a worthless bench. Of course it feels bad wildcarding with two frees but here we are.

My general strategy in FPL is to get on the template as quickly as possible, ride it through the holidays, and then slowly and steadily start to spike differentials through the end of the season. The fact that my WC is very similar to the Slack Hivemind’s bodes well in that respect.

The team feels balanced and good for now.

GK:

Gazzaniga (eve)

It was between Ryan and Gazz and ultimately I went with Gazz because he’s cheaper, has better near-term fixtures, and even if Spurs can’t keep a clean, we now know that he can get 12 saves on a good/bad day.

Think he’s also nailed until 2020, being the clear second choice after Hu-god, not to mention that he *happens* to be from the same town as Poch (Murphy, Argentina - population 3,540).

DEF:

Alexander-Arnold & Robertson (avl)

Going Robbo over Trent to start the season was my biggest regret, so he was the first name in my WC squad.

Doubling with Robbo was easy, especially because I’m going without a Liverpool mid. Having these two gives me a chance at cleans and a steady trickle of offensive cover (if such a thing exists).

Lundstram (BUR)

I’ve had Lundstram since GW1 and he’s not going anywhere.

A nailed 4.0 DEF is a season-long keeper, regardless of team, and Lundy happens to be playing out of position *chefs kiss*. Going with him over Soy this week because it’s home and a better fixture than Palace.

MID:

Sterling and De Bruyne (SOU)

I’ve had Kev all season and he’s good. Barring injury, he’s not going anywhere this year.

I’ve somehow been without Sterling all season, and it’s finally Raz time. Very excited to be adding him when in-form and following a string of blanks.

Mount (wat)

Cheap attacking mid on a top 4 attacking team, easy set and forget.

Martial (bou)

I think the top things to look for in FPL are attacking < 5.0 defenders, a nailed 4.5 forward, and an out-of-position mid on a top team.

Gloves ticks that last box with an elite pedigree and unfulfilled promise to boot. Once Rom was shipped out, Tony became a must-own for me. I think Tony will be a captain option at some point this season.

FWD:

Vardy (cry)

Feels kinda bandwagon-y but an easy one to jump on while the team looks so good ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ... He’ll get his goals.

Abraham (wat)

Haven’t had him yet, glad to be here now. Chelsea attack is legit. Tammy is nailed up top. Let’s go.

Maupay (NOR)

My “fun spot” instead of [generic Leicester midfielder] as a fifth mid, I went with Maupay because every year Walsh picks some guy that no one is talking about, and I think it could be Neil.

The numbers are really good, Brighton looks decent, and I didn’t want to miss out on the best fixture of the season.

BENCH:

Söyüncü (cry)

I’ll be playing a 3-4-3 most weeks, with Soy as my first guy in. Cheap and on a good defense.

Rico (MUN)

< 4.5 defender on set pieces on a nominally-attacking side. Easy bench fodder.

Grealish (LIV)

Along with Maupay, Jack’s the other half of my “fun pick.”

When you watch AVL play he’s the guy with his calves on display, doing everything he can to earn a transfer to Man U in the next year or two.

I’m planning on rotating him with Maupay, which is a new strategy for me. Doesn’t feel great to have a ~6.0 guy on the bench every week, but with the fixture pile-up coming, it might be smart?

CAP:

Sterling (SOU)

I haven’t had him all season, I love him, and I finally get to root for him not to blank.

#lineup lamentations

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philosophiums · 7 years

Note

Yoooo you said you had another scene in mind for that Jake au? cause I'd definitely love to hear about it

anon: 10/10 want that aforementioned other scene

Yeah alright alright lmao

part 1 | part 2

Mary’s wrist is burning in Andrew’s iron grip, her pulse thrashing against his palm. Mary is her real name; that was a truth Andrew bartered for, along with a real name for Jake - Neil. It’s not his birth name, apparently, but rather a nickname. That’s good enough for Andrew, a truth he hadn’t been expecting, but one that Neil gave him anyway.

Neil has his hand hovering over Andrew’s shoulder, not touching because he didn’t ask. Andrew can feel the burn of Neil’s touch anyway. At least he’s still standing behind Andrew, where Andrew knows he’s safe and can more or less ignore him. Less, usually. Ignoring Neil is as impossible as ignoring a broken leg.

“You’re lucky you’re not dead,” Andrew tells Mary, quiet and flat, all of his fury boiling in his gut and none of it showing on his face.

Mary stares, struck silent either by Andrew’s quick reaction or his painful grip. Her bones dig into Andrew’s hand from beneath the paper-pale skin her son inherited.

Andrew pulls hard on her wrist, yanking her a step closer. They’re just about the same height, with Mary standing a few inches taller. But right now she’s curled in on herself, body reacting to the pain and trying to lessen it - this puts them eye-to-eye. This close, his threat will carry more weight. “If you hit him again, I will not hesitate to slice you open.”

“You don’t get to tell me -” Mary cuts off when a strangled sound gets caught in her throat.

“Oh, looks like my hand slipped,” Andrew says, twisting her wrist again. “Do I have to repeat myself?”

“Andrew,” Neil says, soft and wincing, a heart attack waiting to happen. “Andrew, it’s -”

“If you say ‘it’s fine,’ I swear I’ll kill you, too.”

As a testament to how fucked up Neil is, he huffs out a laugh. His hand settles on Andrew’s forearm like a hummingbird, bypassing Andrew’s shoulder completely. At this point, Neil’s touch has turned into a wanted item, something that Andrew greedily collects. It’s not needed right now, but Andrew doesn’t flinch away or shake him off.

He gloats in the fact that Neil’s touch is what got them into this mess in the first place, and Neil isn’t shying away from repeating it in front of his mother.

“Let her go, Andrew.”

Andrew doesn’t want to. It’s strange to want anything, but around Neil he wants so much. To touch, to protect, to kiss, to stay with him for as long as he can. It feels like taking, even now that he knows that Neil gives willingly.

His grip loosens, and Mary jerks her wrist free and stumbles back to the other side of the room. Andrew watches impassively as she straightens her spine; always so proud and stubborn, just like her son. The set to her jaw makes Andrew think he might have to repeat his warning, but if she’s too stupid to swallow the information the first time, then she’s not worth the effort.

Neil’s hand slides into the space Mary’s wrist left in Andrew’s palm, and their fingers link effortlessly. No wonder Andrew doesn’t think this thing with Neil will last - nothing easy ever sticks around for long. Andrew squeezes Neil’s hand and then lets go, heading for the door. It was an invitation, but Neil and his newest bruise don’t follow.

The night is rain-dampened and loud. Andrew looks down the street littered with club-crawlers and leans back against the apartment complex, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one. The first inhale hits his lungs with a punch of butane-flavored smoke.

A taxi passes as Neil steps onto the sidewalk, and Andrew stares after it instead of facing his most recent headache. Neil settles beside him and Andrew hates how that settles the riot in his gut. “We can’t leave,” he says, as if Andrew doesn’t already know that. “I won’t just abandon my mother.”

“Your abusive mother.”

“She… it’s complicated.” Neil sounds weary, as if even he doesn’t believe the bullshit coming out of his mouth. Andrew says nothing, waiting for Neil to form words out of the tumble of thoughts very apparently clogging his brain. “She does what she thinks is best for me. Being on the run… you’ve seen it. It’s dangerous. One mistake would be my life.”

Dangerous. Some people who work for Neil’s father had caught up to them two cities back, and Andrew has some new scars to show for the encounter. He likes to think that Neil has a few less because of Andrew’s presence, but Neil still has plenty of his own.

“You could always stop running,” Andrew says.

“You came along because you wanted to run, too,” Neil counters, voice warming as that antagonism brings back the fire in him. “You’re months late if you wanted to call it off.”

Andrew takes one last drag before tossing the butt into a puddle in the street. He finally turns to Neil, reaching out slowly to tilt the idiot’s chin up and to the side. In the low light, it’s hard to make out the mark from Mary’s hand, but the usually pale skin is still red and angry. Andrew touches it lightly, and Neil shivers and catches Andrew’s hand against his cheek.

“It’s nothing,” Neil says, eyelids drooping, breath heavy with thousands of unshed sighs.

“It should have been nothing.” Andrew glances around them again, more leery now of those after them than he was before. “Yes or no?”

Neil hums, and Andrew falls into the gravity the sound creates. “Yes.”

The kiss is short, is just Andrew making absolutely sure that Mary’s backhand didn’t scare Neil away. By the way Neil’s hands grip the front of Andrew’s shirt, he thinks it’s safe to assume that Neil isn’t going anywhere right this moment.

Andrew leans back. “We should get some sleep.” Neither of them let go. They stare at each other from inches away, desire turning Neil’s eyes into oceans. “Neil,” Andrew says, and Neil’s lips turn up at the corners.

Before Neil can say or do something that will keep them out here any longer, Andrew takes a step away. Neil’s hands drop immediately. Andrew doubts that he’ll ever get over the novelty of being with someone who understands and respects boundaries.

“Yeah, alright,” Neil says, and he leads the way back inside. Tomorrow, they’re leaving for Seattle, and it’s a long fucking drive. They’re going to need to sleep if they want to be awake at all when they move into the new place.

For now, though, Andrew is content to follow Neil up the two flights of stairs to their temporary home, where they’ll fall asleep in the same room so that Andrew can continue to keep an eye on Mary and be the first line of defense on the chance that someone broke in.

Neil stops outside the apartment door, where, inside, Mary is most likely flipping a damn fit because Neil isn’t by her side. But Neil doesn’t seem to give a shit. He just smiles at Andrew and leans in, and Andrew indulges him one last time. One day, they’re going to ditch Mary for a few hours and have some time to themselves.

One day.

#the foxhole court #tfc #fn #mine #Anonymous #my fics

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