#christy/neil

[darsynia]

To bring you back to us:

Christy and Neil - pick one (i couldn't choose)?

10 ...desperately

12 ...in grief.

26 ...as an apology

Please and thank you!

Sneaky sneaky, I like it! I touched on all three, but the grief is wrapped up before the kiss. I'd been struggling feeling like my icky holidays had nuked my ability to write on my longfic of these two, and this did help me feel better about that!

TERMS OF SURRENDER

Pairing: Christy Huddleston/Neil MacNeil Length: 2,358 Rating: General audiences Summary: (set during 'Green Apples,' in a universe that mixes the book and the series)

Neil thinks about the loss of his wife and child as he listens to the harmonica's gently hopeful tune of healing. He decides it's finally time to let go of the past and fight for the kind of future his feelings for Christy promise.

Terms of Surrender

The sound of a harmonica was one of the things Neil had missed in Scotland. It hadn’t occurred to him to bring one, but even if he’d had the funds, there wasn’t anywhere to play it that didn’t feel awkward and out of place. Truthfully, he had felt awkward and out of place, but his time spent quietly observing and learning at home had been quite useful abroad. Neil had integrated well, so well that he’d come home more Scots than Cove.

That thought made him think of Christy. As an outsider, her approach had been wildly different from his; where he’d stepped back and sought a niche, she’d charged ahead to forge her own. He couldn’t help but admire her spirit. Neil had come home changed, but Christy had changed his home. Without permission and without vitriol she’d gently but firmly established herself in Cutter Gap as someone with a heart twice as big as her stature, cheerfully taking the good with the bad. If he’d known then what he knew now, he’d have held himself back, been more… guarded around her.

As with so many of the important things in his life, Neil had realized this too late.

That realization was made all the more complicated on a day such as this, as they fought back a disease that threatened to take the lives of children he’d helped bring into the world. There was only so far a man could push away thoughts of the lives he couldn’t save, to say nothing of the apologies he’d held back until he was out of time.

That old familiar guilt struck a discordant chord with the mournful harmonica, enough to force a rueful chuckle from his lips. After all, he owed an apology to Christy, and this time he didn’t have the luxury of locking himself away until his reflection looked different enough to forget the needful.

Neil stood slowly, loath to disturb the delicate tableau of hopeful survival going on in the quarantine room. He remembered seeing Christy step out of the building looking distressed, but given his contribution to that expression, he’d focused intently on his notes in hopes that she’d avoid disturbing him.

Margaret would have called him a coward. “Apologize or don’t, Mac, but don’t pretend you’re taking the high road!”

His late wife’s admonition spurred Neil to walk around the schoolhouse, his steps curving him away from some hard truths and toward others. She’d hated the darkness of the mountains and loathed the quiet that seeped into a person’s bones to linger there. In a sense, loving him had dimmed Margaret’s fiercely fragile light until she’d run out of energy to fight off the disease that killed her. There was no making peace with that. 

He shut his eyes and tipped his head into the light breeze to clear his mind. When he opened them again, Neil saw the dim outline of a figure ahead of him, along the treeline where they’d been collecting firewood. It was Christy. The lanterns leading to the outhouse were just bright enough to see that her fists were clenched at her sides, and her head was tipped back, just as he’d just done.

“There’s solitary, and then there’s lonely. You can be lonely without being alone.”

Those words had haunted him since his wife had said them less than a month before her death. They’d sliced like a scalpel those first months, festered like a wound that refused to heal by a year’s time, before finally burrowing down to ache like a mended bone before a storm. Tonight was the first time he’d seen them as anything but hurtful; his wife had been many things (selfish, sensual, miserable, mesmerizing), but she had always been insightful. How had it taken him this long to realize what she’d really meant? That they could have been solitary together. That Margaret hadn’t needed to be lonely, if he’d been able to teach her how to share his solitude.

Neil stood in the silent shadow of the schoolhouse, his thoughts whipping around like a willow in a windstorm. There was a very clear reason why he was thinking of Margaret right now, and the truth of that scared him. It was the last clammy fear before the fever broke, the surge of adrenaline before closing a wound. He was letting her go, making space.

The thought was as presumptuous as it was intimidating.

“The apology, Mac. Don’t be an ass.”

Neil walked toward Christy slowly, shoring up his mental fortifications for the coming conflict.

“Battling it out with your god, are you?”

Christy shot him a look that he couldn’t discern in the half-light. “No need to poke fun, but yes. I don’t need to part the Red Sea, just pray hard enough for God to pass over this building without taking anyone.”

“Now who’s poking fun?” Neil said. He moved to stand beside her, both facing the fathomless expanse of forest. “I’ve always thought that story was particularly unfair; punishing the children for the sins of the fathers.”

“That’s not too different from feuding, don’t you think?” There was a tightness in her voice that was entirely his fault, top to bottom.

“Maybe I should walk away and start over,” he said, shoving at a small branch with his foot. “I’d come over here to apologize.”

Her silence lasted long enough for him to look over. Christy’s body language was armed for war, but her words were more shield than sword.

“You couldn’t have known about my sister. I’m a stranger, and it looked like I put your patients in danger.”

“You’re hardly a stranger, Christy. Despite my temper, I know you’ve only ever done your best to keep them safe, educated, and happy,” he countered. “I was wrong to shout at you.”

“You--” she broke off, arms dropping to her sides. 

“What? Did I just deprive you of a fight? I’m sure we can find something else,” Neil teased lightly. He opened his mouth to elaborate, but Christy jumped in to interrupt.

“Don’t! Let me savor the moment.”

The amusement in her voice cut straight through to the depths of his heart, as though his years of defenses and baggage were insubstantial in the face of her warmth. 

Christy turned to walk back toward the schoolhouse, and it was in the shock of those feelings that Neil caught her as she pitched sideways toward him, hissing in surprised pain. Immediately he set her hand on his shoulder and knelt down, finding her boot tangled in the ends of the branch he’d nudged earlier. That realization had him swearing under his breath.

“Is it bad? My ankle doesn’t feel--” Christy cut herself off, her voice pinched with fear.

“I was reacting to the culprit, not your injury. I’d tried to kick that branch out of the way. You’ll be fine after a few minutes, it’s just a wrong step.”

“So you swept me off my feet?” she whispered, finishing the sentence just as he straightened back up. The action slid her hand from his shoulder down to his chest-- and they stood with her words hovering between them like a heated breath in the deepest winter.

The lamplight lit her stress-mussed hair in soft gold, edging her features as if she were in an illuminated manuscript. Christy’s eyes were wide as she stared at her hand on his chest, perhaps as shocked as he was that she hadn’t pulled back. Just at that moment, a curl slipped free, and before he realized what he was doing, Neil tucked the soft lock behind her ear in an unmistakable caress.

The sound of her sucked-in breath shot adrenaline straight to his heart.

“I should--” she started, eyes still fixed on their point of contact. With the barest stroke of her thumb, she finally lifted her hand. “I should go. Will you promise to get some rest? I’ll take the first watch.”

The blood rushing in his ears spoke of the many things unresolved between them, and Neil reached out to stop her with a clumsy hand. “Wait--”

Christy pressed her eyes shut, her lip caught in her teeth. He longed to see the nuances of her expression-- was she annoyed but hiding it well? Blushing? Fearful?

“Hold still for a spell, let your ankle rest?” he offered. He didn’t move his hand, and she didn’t move away to dislodge it. For once, he didn’t hear the derisive tones of his conscience mocking those choices. Christy was hesitating, so he added, “I haven’t properly apologized.”

This prompted her to open her eyes and look at him. Whatever she saw there made her sway just slightly in his direction.

Maybe it was the stillness of the night, the hope of healing, the exhaustion from fighting so many things with so much of his strength, or perhaps it was the lightness of his finally untethered heart, but whatever the true reason was, Neil succumbed.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see you for who you truly are, Christy. Your heart is bright enough to light the whole Cove, and I’m grateful to be touched by it.” He released her arm and turned his hand to brush the backs of his fingers against her cheek, then moved to walk away before he ruined both of their reputations.

Christy stopped him, not with words, but with an action that meant so much more: with surprising strength, she caught his hand, pressing his palm to her cheek. Then she did speak, and he was lost.

“You’re the coal that keeps us burning, Neil.”

The distant sound of the harmonica faded in the space between her action and his stuttering heart. Would John Spencer tuck the instrument into his pocket and make his way to the outhouse? Had he been interrupted by one of the children crying out for their help?

Stepping close, Neil set his other hand on her cheek and said, “I owe you more than an apology, Christy, even more so for this.” Dipping his head, he kissed her, meaning for it to be brief, a promise, not an end unto itself. He was foolish, forgetting her determination to never yield when she could persuade instead. Her hand moved up into his hair, burning a surer path than any bullet meant to stop his brain from functioning.

Despite every passing second marking the time between now and disaster if he didn’t pull back, Neil deepened the kiss, his arm banding around her waist to lift her up, ever so slightly. Then, with the reluctance of a victor forced to leave the spoils of war behind, he stepped away. His whole body buzzed with anxiety and pleasure, but he knew he’d overstepped badly.

“Forgive me, I-- I’ve held that back for quite some time,” he admitted. “When you brought me dinner, I must confess--”

“Oh! Please believe me, I had no idea, or I would never have presumed to take advantage like that.” Christy interrupted, her voice thick with regret. “Fairlight suggested the way to persuade you was through good cooked food. I suppose I failed there, as well!”

Neil took her hand and clasped it with both of his. “Your campaign for Dan Scott had me at your feet. When I realized that was all you’d come for, I was ready to send him to the devil, and the Mission too. The truth is, I’ve fallen for you, Christy. Hopelessly so.”

She lifted their joined hands to her lips. “I’d barely let myself think of such things, but when I dream… you’re always there, smiling at me, quarreling with me, teaching me--”

“Reality is hardly ever that idyllic,” he cautioned. Neil dislodged his hand from hers out of propriety, but inwardly his defenses were being dismantled, one uncertainty at a time.

“Only you would consider arguing with me idyllic!”

“Any time spent with you is a dream, I’ll freely admit that.” He grinned, adding, “If ye wish to prove it’s real, we can go on until I win an argument. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“You are insufferable,” Christy grumbled.

“Would it make it worse if I told you how lovely you look when you’re cross with me? It was all I could do not to--

“If you say something about sweeping me off my feet, Neil MacNeil, I’ll--” She stopped short, clearly realizing that he’d prompted exactly the kind of cross reaction he enjoyed.

“Do I need to?” Neil started, but a bobbing lantern light near the schoolhouse caught his attention. Thinking quickly, he moved to pick up some of the cut wood and branches near where they’d been standing, nodding to Christy to do the same. By the time Fairlight made it around the corner, the two of them were almost to the outhouse.

“Doc find you screamin’ at the sky, then?”

“Bargaining, more like,” Neil said. “I think it ended on a truce?” He turned toward her, selfishly needing to see her indignation.

Once again, she bested him.

“Victory,” Christy asserted. “I had a talk with God, and he sent me a sign of healing.”

Neil angled his arms so that a small log fell off, allowing him to hide his expression as he picked it back up. Thankfully, the two women had resumed their walk back to the front of the schoolhouse by the time he stood up. Healing! Her innocent audacity took his breath away, as always. There was a lot of rebuilding to be done, all of it in the harsh light of day, but he was intensely grateful for that temporary bubble of solitude they’d been able to find in each other.

The thought had occurred before the significance dawned on him, and Neil stopped short, stunned.

Healing. It was something he’d fought to achieve for others his entire life yet somehow was gifted without warning or design, in the middle of the night during quarantine, no less! This new beginning was fitting, he supposed, and like all beginnings, there would be a lot of adjusting to be done for both of them. 

They’d be able to do it together.

[zilmart]

"I am hope"

Insta | Twitter

[gloriousgwendolinechristie]

The Los Angeles Times has chosen Sandman Vs Lucifer for Epic Battle of the Year for their Envy Awards 2023!

[pinkponyclubb]

so... in an attempt to make my best friend watch the sandman, i created this powerpoint

in conclusion... please watch it

links to the memes i used in the presentation:

Anthropomorphic Personification

Everyone vs. Dream

Mr. Brightside

Comfort Character

[staff]

tumblr tuesday: endless fanart

Welcome to the smallest atom of the tiniest bubble resting in the top layer of the tip of the ominously large iceberg of breathtaking fanart you've created so far in celebration of the Sandman's Netflix release. Very good.

@sunsetagain​:

@alexzajfert​:

@irlplasticlamb​:

@jim-jam-gem​:

@amoneyun​:

@themadknightuniverse​:

@cdy148​:

@beeccoe​:

@khadaj-ballad-art​:

@dr-paint​:

@half-confused-blood​:

@captainskells​:

@lamiasage​:

@7lizardsinacoat​:

@marionettefthjm​:

@hattersarts​:

@electric-meme​:

@mmmo0n​:

@joandraws​:

@0-aredhel-0​:

@johnnyissleeping​:

@wisesnail​:

@hedonistbyheart​:

@hansoeii​:

@lkdosher​:

@winterofherdiscontent​:

@cherrycarat​:

@anabanana-jpeg​:

[ironic--maiden]

Holy fuck, i am so happy rn

[piedalchemist]

[currentlyonstandbi]

Dream putting on his Gareth Pugh designer leather armor before his wizard battle against Lucifer

[theatrum-tenebrarum]

Misunderstanding Lucifer from the Sandman series and why Gwendoline Christie is the right choice (an art historian and occultist's opinion)

I am writing this post as I'm absolutely baffled by the issues people seem to have with the portrayal of the character of Lucifer in the Sandman series. For some reason people find it problematic that the fallen angel is played by Gwendoline Christie, a powerful and androgynous-looking woman, but there is seemingly no problem with Lucifer being played by a black-haired man in the nightclub business (Tom Ellis in the Netflix series 'Lucifer'). Don't get me wrong, Tom Ellis is entertaining and wonderful to watch, but that particular version of Lucifer is neither canon when it comes to the comics nor does it have anything to do with the actual angel Lucifer.

Angels are genderless beings and they have always been portrayed as androgynous in the history of art. Multiple literary sources, including grimoires (books with supposed instructions on how to summon these beings and many others), state that angelic beings as well as demons are able to change their appearance. Many of those forms they might take aren't even humanoid and they can choose not to show any physical form at all. They aren't corporeal beings, the fact that they do take on any resemblance of a physical form is just so humans can understand them better. That's why we've been painting them as human-like ever since the early times of human civilization. What we make to be similar to us is what makes it comprehensible. Portraying beings from other dimensions/realms as human-like but with androgynous features is a way to show they don't belong in the physical dimension, as gender is likely a non-existent concept in other realms of existence. Androgyny of mythical beings, therefore, emphasizes the fact they are different than physical beings such as humans.

Therefore, when portraying an angelic being in art, or in any type of media, making them androgynous is making way for their essence to come through. In a way, the same applies to the way elves are portrayed as ethereal and androgynous since they don't have to be corporeal beings at all, at least when it comes to folklore. I know this opinion might not be understandable to others or it might sound controversial, but I believe that not portraying an angelic being as androgynous and not showing any signs of their divine origin (these include mannerisms that emphasize their etheriality for example, a cadence in their voice that is different etc.) is a huge missed opportunity that might rob these interesting mythical beings of what they are. Not making angels feel like angels beats the point of having an angel character (in a movie, series or video game for example) in the first place.

This is why Gwendoline Christie is the right choice. At a height of 6′ 3″ (1.91 m), captivatingly pale. androgynous with a powerful specific sort of grace and presence - a perfect 'vessel' for the Morning Star. What's more, she understands the importance, complexity, grandeur and the mythical dimension of the figure of Lucifer, as well as the whole 'spirituality' of the Sandman universe which is rather evident from her approach to this role and the interviews she has given so far. I might go so far to say that, even though the Sandman series isn't even out yet (though there is some footage available already), the casting of Gwendoline as Lucifer feels right just as the casting of Lee Pace as Thranduil in the Hobbit felt right and I consider the character of Thranduil to be the best portrayal of a humanoid mythical being on TV. Lee felt like an elven king, moved like an elven king, spoke like an elven king and radiated an energy of the dimension the elven king might have come from (I'm talking about the folkloric 'Otherworld' where elves supposedly live). I feel the same might apply to Gwendoline and Lucifer.

As an occultist, art historian, anthropologist and someone who is rather fond of the figure of Lucifer, I am looking forward to seeing how Gwendoline interprets him. Finally, we might get something completely different from a frequently portrayed 'demonic' side/version of this important mythical character. We might just see the Light Bringer who has not forgotten his divine origin.

- Heidi (@theatrum-tenebrarum)

Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer (The Sandman series on Netflix, out 5th August 2022)

[wednesdayshadow]

Such sweet trauma. But, victimization may be too severe, as I am an all to- willing victim.

[alexzpaintings]

IG / TT / prints

[gloriousgwendolinechristie]

>>Neil Gaiman and George R.R. Martin mention their shared love of Gwendoline Christie (Brienne of Tarth in Game of Thrones and Lucifer Morningstar in The Sandman).<<

[fitzchivalry]

Lucifer Morningstar by @TanyaLehoux

[blemiish]

I am the dark at the end of everything.

[delfranz]

[bea-n-art]

When Crowley takes a wrong turn and ends up in Sandman Hell. What do you think happens next? (I have a feeling it is nothing good!)