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maddyjones2 · 1 month

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On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

#good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #neil gaiman allegations

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allfortheslay25 · 3 months

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Pls loredump Abt ur new all for the war au

THE MOMENT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!!!

everyone keep up it’s a doozy☝️

TW: mentions of abuse, torture, human trafficking, assault, murder, and lots of violence ⚠️

Some facts to keep in mind: Based on a draft for a novel I am working on, despite Milo being in this AU it is not 100% based on the Milo fic and has some changes to adhere to my novel, this novel is fantasy with light magic aspects and more godly mythology aspects (so not everyone can do magic cuz it’s more like witchcraft or godly blessings/curses), Neil is sort of intersex (or at least a version of it in this fantasy world) This also isn’t the full story, I left some stuff out because I don’t think I can get through every microscopic detail

The war started when Palmetto country was harassed for the last time. The Moriyamas had sent another army to pass through, use their resources, and bully their citizens. So Palmetto decided enough was enough and declared war. It was Kayleigh Day that accepted and decided to fight back (otherwise the Moriyamas would have closed their boarders and just ignored Palmetto)

David Wymack was in charge of the Palmetto army and fought a long and hard battle against Kayleigh and the Moriyamas defenses. Eventually, they’d met in person and become frenemies. Kayleigh was pregnant with Kevin and after many interactions and conversations with Wymack, decided the war wasn’t worth it. She didn’t want Kevin to grow up surrounded by meaningless bloodshed.

The Moriyamas did not stand for her decision. She started this, she has to end it. They tasked Tetsuji, her closest friend and family, to kill her. Tetsuji did so and raised Kevin as one of his own (alongside Riko) Kevin was told his mother was assassinated by the other side and her war is now his.

So Kevin trained hard, studied war and battle strategy, and worked to finish what his mother started.

Along his journey to becoming the ‘hero’ the Moriyama empire needed, he trained alongside Riko who he considered a brother, and was given two friends; Nathaniel, a young boy belonging to a war driven family aka the House of Slaughter who were well known battle strategists, and later Jean, a teen belonging to a wealthy family aka the House of Pride who were known to own lots of ships and traveling resources.

Nathaniel was always promised to Tetsuji’s unit since his birth. Riko let Kevin have him so Kevin could make a warrior out of him. And, after all, what’s Kevin’s is Riko’s and what’s Riko’s is always Riko’s.

Jean was betrothed to Kevin when he’d completed his first mission. Kevin assumed it’s what Jean wanted since the Moreau family has always been stuck up about letting other families marry into theirs. Their children are picky and if Jean was his fiancé, it had to mean Jean chose him. But Kevin was oblivious to how little Jean mattered to his family.

Nathaniel grew up with Kevin as a brother figure and a mentor. They trained and studied together and snuck away with Riko and Jean to get into childish shenanigans. But every weekend, Nathaniel would need to go home for Wesninski family training where they’d torture him. It was meant to train Nathaniel in interrogation, both how to survive one and how to conduct one. On his first day back, the Moriyamas would hurt him so that he wouldn’t forget to fear them too. Kevin was just as obvious to this and assumed Nathaniel was just very weak and prone to injury.

Eventually, when Nathaniel was 13, he and Kevin got into a fight about how distracted Nathaniel had been these days. He’d kept sneaking off to hang out with some secret friends of his or to follow Riko around. Kevin assumed Nathaniel was purposely getting sloppy and tore into him. Nathaniel had definitely been getting away with those other soldiers, content to let them treat him to food and (appropriate)entertainment in the town. It was an escape from Kevin’s pressure on him and Riko’s abuse behind closed doors (which is why Nathaniel was often following him around)

Kevin said some things he didn’t mean and told Nathaniel to be at the training grounds for night practice or else. Nathaniel left to hang out with the soldiers so he could vent about Kevin’s attitude. He meant to show up for night practice but the soldiers had held him hostage and assaulted him until morning.

Nathaniel had Wesninski training the next day and was gone for two days and an extra day with the Moriyamas abuse. Before he could attempt to go to Kevin, Riko had locked him in his room as punishment for not seeing Riko before he left. When he was finally let out before the next week started, Kevin had to be fuming.

Nathaniel went to Kevin to explain or make up for his absence but running into Riko reminded him that even if he reported it, the soldiers wouldn’t even get a slap on the wrist. Nathaniel was property and if Riko didn’t care that they’d touched him, neither would any other Moriyama. So he showed up to the training grounds to lie about his whereabouts and it set Kevin off.

Kevin laid into him about his sloppiness and hit Nathaniel where it hurts. Kevin decided he had enough and Nathaniel wasn’t cut out to be a soldier so he quit as his mentor. Nathaniel of course had argued back and twisted the knife (metaphorical) into Kevin as a final word. They got into a bit of a tussle in which Kevin slice Nathaniel across the face as the final ‘we’re done’. Nathaniel left the castle grounds for some space and hid away for a week when he’d realized something was wrong. He was pregnant.

Knowing what the Moriyamas would do to him and how they would have decided to use this to their advantage, Nathaniel decided to leave the country. He changed his name and disguised himself (with the help of his mother) so he could go to Palmetto. Renee, a solider who helps people escape from the war and settle down into Palmetto, picked Neil out of the crowd instantly. They had to test him since being pregnant allows extra comforts and resources and many people try to fool them for it every day.

Neil was kept under constant watch by Andrew, a fellow soldier and friend of Renee’s. They talked every day, Neil never giving up any information and doing his best to take scraps of info about the war from Andrew. Eventually, Neil was far along enough for a doctor, Abby, to examine him and prove he was with child. The information wasn’t a blessing to Neil and only made him more bitter and hostile towards the Foxes (soldiers of palmetto tasked with guarding the farms that those with pregnancies stay at) Neil was allowed privacy but that was a favor from Andrew after Neil gave him a truth.

Neil had planned to use the comforts provided for pregnant ppl until Milo was born and he could just give him up and move on with his life. Andrew knew and because no one asked, he never told any of the other Foxes. Andrew would give Neil reports about the ongoing war, they’d play their truths game, and ofc Andrew would just do his duties as a guard.

When Milo was born, Neil decided to keep him, afraid to end up alone in this new country. While recovering, Neil could not stand the Foxes reckless and messy teamwork during battles and provided them with better plans and instructions while in bed rest. Dan was eager to let him since his plans worked and made sense. When Neil recovered, he enlisted and Dan took him under her wing to train him to replace her.

Word got out about this new strategist of there’s and how ruthless he was. Kevin had not been out on the field (he’s one of few people allowed to switch back and forth between battlefield fighting and hq strategy) but Riko had.

Riko one day stormed back into hq to rant about Nathaniel being the new strategist. Kevin didn’t believe it and didn’t think it was a funny joke since everyone had assumed Nathaniel was dead. Kevin instantly geared up to meet them on the battlefield and fought him, using Nathaniel’s old habits to get him on his back and unmask him. Kevin was relieved to find him alive but confused as to why he was fighting for palmetto.

Neil kicked Kevin’s ass and told him to go back home, deciding to retreat for now. Kevin followed his lead in his state of shock. A week later, he received a note from Nathaniel to meet him by a certain lake they used to hang around as kids. There, he explained that he was no longer Nathaniel and he would not be coming back to the Moriyamas. They argued, Kevin begged for him to come back, he told him that the Moriyamas killed Mary for hiding him and her last words were that Nathaniel died, Nathaniel did not mention his assault or his son but threw his abuse in Kevin’s face before they calmed down and talked about nothing. Sunrise came around and Neil left.

Kevin had hopes of convincing Neil back and confided in Jean about his struggles. He told Riko to forgive Neil and naively hoped they could all just go back to normal.

Flash forward to Tetsuji having a mission for Kevin. Kevin, eager to prove himself, agreed to kill an enemies son. Tetsuji tells him to slow down before explaining that it’s a baby and not only is it a child, it is Nathaniel’s one and only son. Kevin begs and tries to convince Tetsuji to see another way, that Milo won’t be a threat, that they can’t do this to family. Tetsuji reminds him that Nathaniel is a traitor and no longer family and that if he cannot complete this mission, someone else (possibly Riko) will. Tetsuji does this to Kevin because he wants to ensure that Kevin is a Moriyama and just like when Tetsuji was ordered to kill a sister (Kayleigh) Kevin must kill a nephew (Milo)

Kevin suits up and heads to the farm where Milo lives, sneaking in with the help of the Moriyamas and a token Neil had given him in case Kevin ever wanted to escape to Palmetto (it was a coin with a fox on it that he’d flash towards any guards at the boarders, and they’d let him in) At the farm, Kevin loses his resolve because of how much Milo just looks like Neil. Kevin had first met Neil when he was three years old at a Wesninski banquet, that’s when Riko had gifted Kevin with the honor of training him. Neil moved in with them when he was eight years old, and started his physical training at 10. Kevin couldn’t fathom killing Milo when all he saw was Neil’s infant face at that banquet.

Kevin instead kidnapped Milo and taken him back to the Moriyamas castle where he begged Riko to convince Tetsuji to let them keep him. Riko had agreed instantly with ulterior motives to raise his own Wesnisnki weapon. They tutored Milo in battle strategy and while Kevin was away on the battlefield, Riko would hurt Milo.

Neil had gone to torturing the Moriyamas ppl to find information about Milo’s possible whereabouts. It had gotten bad enough that the Moriyamas were willing to just toss him back to Neil or even kill him to get rid of the evidence. Riko had a dumbass plan to send an infants mutilated body back to Neil with a threat. Kevin actually believed it to be Milo and had a mental breakdown about the loss until Riko revealed it was all a trick. Kevin began to realize how much of a monster Riko actually was.

Meanwhile, Neil stopped torturing the Moriyamas citizens and instead just started burning down their villages. At first, it seemed like a ridiculous act of grief and the Moriyamas opened their kingdoms city borders for the homeless to reside in temporarily. Once all of their ppl were in one place, Neil broke into the castle and gathered all the Moriyamas to make them beg for mercy.

Kevin was the only one to beg for forgiveness and accept any punishments Neil had to offer. Kevin hadn’t known where Riko hid Milo at the time and didn’t know if he should admit that Milo was in fact alive (after all, Kevin didn’t even have proof) when the Moriyamas made halfassed apologies for Neil’s loss, he told Kevin that he was an idiot and needed to stop treating Neil like a child. Then Neil set the entire city on fire as his men slaughtered as many women and children as they could. Kevin was forced to watch from a window and listen to the people’s screams as the city burned and bled. It was the first time Kevin saw Neil as a monster.

Neil then castrated the Moriyamas, killing Kengo and Ichirou and taking Tetsuji’s hands. Kevin was the only person unscathed because Neil knew how Kevin has the worst case of survivors guilt. Riko was the only person who escaped, hiding away until the next day when the fires died.

Tetsuji was meant to make Riko king now. He first ordered Kevin to kill Milo as a last act of vengeance and fear that Neil would discover the truth. Riko taunted him about it and went to sleep like a baby for his coronation the next day. Kevin almost did kill Milo before deciding to instead kill Riko in his sleep. Kevin took Milo and returned him to Neil’s men.

On his long journey to palmetto (now that the city is burned and the borders are back up Kevin must take the long way) Jean’s spirit follows him, talking to Kevin as he begins to believe he is going insane. He didn’t want to believe Jean was dead but it was the only answer. Tetsuji and his advisors slaughtered Jean for killing Riko. They didn’t bother investigating and brutally murdered him. Kevin eventually is able to return Milo and wanders between the borders, unable to return home or go to palmetto.

Neil later forgives Kevin (after a very long few years) and helps him connect with Wymack. While Kevin talks to Neil about his plans, he avoids the war and Neil never tells him that Tetsuji hung himself and the throne now belongs to Kevin. The war is coming to a close and Kevin needs to let it end before he can claim his title. Except, while Kevin is helping a few ppl escape to Palmetto, Milo (who is a teenager by now) tries to kill him, driving Kevin farther from both kingdoms. It’s why he never gets the news about the end of the war or Neil and Andrew’s brutal deaths.

Injured and weakened, Kevin tries to help as many people as he can as they all make way to palmetto. Crossing the river, Kevin is too injured from Milo’s attack to fight the ripples, causing Kevin to fall and bust his head open on a rock. Kevin drowns until he finally bleeds out.

As for Neil and Andrew, they were still on the war front the day the news of the end came. Neil was asked to help some villagers nearby their camp. He was tricked and captured and the villagers burned him alive for a day and a half. Nearing the second day, Andrew received word about Neil’s kidnapping. He was leaving their tent when he’d had a heart attack and died. Andrew was purposely poisoned so he wouldn’t avenge Neil’s death.

The only survivor of this story was Milo, who had trained himself for his parents war, who was tortured just to end it, who was kidnapped and separated from Neil, who didn’t even get to fight in it. Milo lived to tell their tale and was forced to face it alone.

The end.

#aftg #all for the game #art #doodles #fanart #neil josten #andrew minyard #oc #milo josten #all for the war #miloverse #Kevin day #the Moriyamas #jean moreau #riko moriyama

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multiverse-menagerie · 11 months

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I've had this buzzing around in my head since Neil posted something about Asrarion liking kids and hhhhhhhhhhhh may I please request your headcanons for the bg3 guys as dads, I am begging you

gnawing on this actually thank u

Astarion

his child/ren are his entire world. his partner is still like no.2 but the kid/s will always be no.1

its an Ordeal for vampire spawn to have children, so i think that'd make Astarion even more likely to devote himself to being the best father he could be

is absolutely the type to be like "this is my partner and our child/ren, they're way to good to be talking to you but alas"

he's the soft parent too, Astarion finds it so hard to punish his child/ren. both from fear of going too far and due to how much he adores them

dress up with dad days. Astarion with small, messy pigtails.

Halsin

daddy Halsin for real -wiggles eyebrows- (im sorry)

the type to load everyone up and go camping for however long, teaching the kid/s how to live off the land or showing off his wildshapes to entertain them

unwavering support for his child/ren (and his partner) - he tries his best to instill a sense of justice in his kid/s and respects any decision they make, assuming they can offer him a good reason

Halsin and his kid/s would Absolutely play little "pranks" on his partner, but its very harmless, silly stuff to make them laugh

his kid/s often begs to sleep with "bear dad", and who would he be if he declined?

Wyll

i honestly think Wyll is meant to be a "girl dad" lmao but he'd adore any child

he'd grown up with a (mostly) good dad who'd taught him swordplay and other practical skills and I think Wyll would want to do the same for his child/ren

he is So. Patient. willing to hear his child out about why they broke the rules, why they're acting out. He knows that sometimes there's a good reason for what looks like a bad decision

Wyll is the bedtime parent; he tells stories the best, according to the kid/s. sometimes Wyll will drag his partner into helping him out fun scenes

makes sure to have dinner with his family everyday, regardless of what type of life he's leading. they're the Most important thing to him in the world

Gale

stay at home, soccer dad vibes

is (surprisingly?) content to let his partner go off and adventure or what have ye, while he stays home with the kid/s, sneaking in some reading or experiments once they're asleep

is All In for his kid/s extracurriculars. of course he'd be happier for more ~magical~ endeavors but even if the kid is learning sword-work or some other physical thing, he'll be there to cheer them on

maybe pushes his kid/s a little too hard in regards to studying/school. Gale works hard to reign in his expectations - he knew how hard it was on himself, why do that to his kids?

the way his kid/s will have the most ostentatious vocabulary. but they also think its funny to mimic him in an even more over-the-top way bc it makes Gale's partner laugh

#baldurs gate 3 x reader #wyll x reader #astarion x reader #halsin x reader #gale x reader

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emry-stars-art · 1 year

Note

Question: how long does medusa neil takes to grow?

Like, taking the hands as Andrew's, is it more of a "whiplash because I was petting this baby a month ago and it's now Big" situation or "wait what you're telling this hot mer is that tiny cute thingy I'd found around as a teen?" one

Ok ok so I had just put out “Andrew finding baby jelly neil would be really cute” as like a fun little side thought but now I REALLY LIKE IT AND I WANT TO PUT IT IN THE TIMELINE

so to answer this question: physically? A Sea Nettle mer like Neil I’m going to say takes about 17-19 years to reach physical maturity/full size (which in jellies is pretty far removed from mental and emotional maturity, jelly brains take a good while to develop because they start with so little)

So this. This is what I’m deciding thank you so much @snazzy-jas-z-is-a-fan-of (which counts as your second option, dear galacticvampire)

And it looks like this:

@exy-is-sexy medusa admirer 🥰

So Andrew always comes back to the beach (fisherman’s son, they’re there a lot) and always gets distracted going to a specific tide pool housing this little thing he found. Aaron thinks it’s really cool too, their dad is too busy with work down the beach and is happy his kids are entertaining themselves while he gets ready for the day. Of course, yes, he tells them. Very good, finding such a mer in these waters. (He thinks it’s kids being kids. No one’s seen a jelly mer, they’re kind of believed to be extinct if not simply legends. But a little imagination is healthy.)

Then one day, Andrew checks the tide pool and finds it empty of the tiny jelly. It’s nowhere in sight, he looks all over the nearby waters and in any grass or rocks it could have gotten caught in. Nothing at all.

Maybe by the time he’s taken over his family’s fishing business, Andrew has convinced himself it really was in his imagination. His memory serves him well but if he’d convinced himself it was real back then, that would be what he remembered now.

Until he finds a monster washed up on his beach.

(A shot of the process under the cut)

IT DOESNT COME ACROSS IN THE PANEL. BUT I CANNOT PROPERLY EXPRESS TO YOU HOW TINY THAT SECOND NEIL IS. literally I think that is the single smallest thing I’ve ever drawn. Look at this

That’s me sharpening my 0.3 mechanical pencil to get it small enough to draw the eyes. I just need everyone to know this because I think it’s so stupid and funny. And we all love tiny baby jelly Neil and it doesn’t get ANY tinier than this folks

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alexaloraetheris · 1 month

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Lookie what I got in the Tumblr classifieds today:

I was sceptical, but it's a real article. You can find the full thing here. It's by Igor Goldkind, Neil's publicist at one point (for Violent Causes), so even if the bias wasn't immediately obvious, it's also clearly stated.

And it literally starts off like this:

Off to a great start, we are.

This bit made me question the legitimacy immediately:

I'll summarize the rest: he talks about knowing Gaiman since the 80s, how charismatic he is, how he introduced him to a lot of big names, how he was 'ahead of the curve when it came to gender sexuality' (the article is also full of typos and general grammatical errors) in making Sandman. He goes on and on about how much of a positive impact Gaiman has made across many demographics, emphasizing trans people.

Once he's done singing Gaiman's praises (80% of the article), you get this:

Ah. Calling the women attention seeking whores and saying rape isn't real if you're in a relationship, couched in very nice terms. Classic.

Then he does something I should have seen coming:

'It was all a misunderstanding, folks, can we just apologize to each other and move on?'

He acknowledges he made mistakes, and that he tries to fix them and move past them, and yet refuses to entertain the idea that Gaiman might have done anything out of malice, and anything he did do, couldn't warrant being dragged through the public like this (I agree with him on that for different reasons).

He ends with this:

(I have admittedly cherry picked the parts that stood out to me, read the full article for context)

Thoughts:

So, start to finish, this has the air of damage control. I did get the feeling Goldkind was sincere, though maybe he's just a better writer than I give him credit for. Maybe this is his honest to god oppinion. If he's really that close to Gaiman, I can believe he simply doesn't WANT to believe his friend capable of something like that. To be scrupulously fair, when I first heard the accusations (and about the Tortoise Media that published it) I at first assumed it was an antisemitic attack against an openly Jewish author, because come on, accusing THE Neil Gaiman of SA?

Nobody wanted to believe it.

The denial stage didn't last past the second publication. This guy is still there, I think, and is hoping it will blow over if everyone apologises and shakes hands on stage.

Too late for that buddy.

#neil gaiman #igor goldkind

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twiixr4kidz · 7 months

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PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE ANYTHHING FOR YOUNG NEIL!!🙈🙈🙈😁😁😁 maybe like boyfriend headcanons :3!!

YESYESYES i love young neil he's so severely underrated

young neil bf headcanons!!

he's the silliest goose you ever will meet

most of your date nights will consist of either playing video games or watching movies

he doesn't mind if you wanna do something else though!! if you wanna go out for like, pizza or something, he's totally onboard

he infodumps to you about the legend of zelda and there is nothing you can do to get out of it

he gets a little nervous in public sometimes (he's kind of a hermit) so he clings to your side like a little kid

he's either holding your hand so tight his knuckles turn white or he's fidgeting with the bottom of your shirts

neil isn't necessarily shy though

if a creep is trying to get in your pants, he will literally start a fight wherever you are

he also talks a lot since he feels so comfortable around you so he'll probably just ramble about silly things that pop into his head

i hc him as a total stoner (sorry not sorry xD) and i can imagine he'd always invite you to shmoke with him if you were feeling up for it

and if you're not, he won't force you at all

one thing about neil is that he is very easily entertained

if you want to get him into your favorite show, just put it on and he'll eat it up

he LOVES. LOVES LOVES LOVESSSSSSS when you borrow his close

you're sleeping over at his place and you forget to bring pajamas?? whatever, he has an extra hoodie for you to wear

his eyes won't leave you for the rest of the night

he's not the biggest cuddler at first but when he realizes you like it, it begins to grow on him

sometimes neil will sneak up behind you and he'll stick his freezing cold hands up your shirt just to scare the shit out of you

he thinks it's hilarious

he loves you so much, but he also loves getting on your nerves

#young neil #young neil x reader #scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim vs the world #scott pilgrim takes off #spvtw #spto

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autistic-crunchwrap · 3 months

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I watched all of The Bear Season 3 and I have so many thoughts... SPOILERS BELOW

TL;WR: It was not all bad... There were high points and low points for sure, and I did enjoy the high points! but the stress and chaos this season brought was not worth the few and far between moments of goodness we saw.

First, the good:

Liza Colón-Zayas. Oh my god. A true standout, as always. If her episode doesn’t win her an Emmy, I will be fucking furious. Ayo also deserves an Emmy for directing that episode. Every second of the episode was beautiful and moving and added significantly to the overall plot and character development of the show (as every episode of a 10-episode season show should… but more on that later)

Abby Elliot, I love you. I am a Nat Berzatto stan through and through. Ice Chips was my favorite episode of the season. AE’s chemistry with Jamie Lee Curtis is unmatched. I was so genuinely touched by this episode. This episode was family therapy for me, I think. Thank you Abby Elliot, very cool.

Richie gets some great family time with his daughter and Tiff this season, and it’s genuinely so good to see him continue to grow and support his family even when it’s really hard for him. I see how hard he’s trying and I love him for it.

Ted Fak gave some really great energy that really worked this season. Him and Neil were consistently funny and entertaining to watch. I enjoyed their bit about haunting that came up several times throughout the season

JOHN FUCKING CENA being a Fak was an INSANE choice but I loved it. This show has gone off the rails and goddamn it I need more John Cena immediately

Joel McHale is back and as bitchy as ever! I love the havoc he wreaks on Carmy. His line from episode 10, “I don’t think about you” (paraphrasing, I’m not going back to watch it for the exact quote) made me gasp watching it. If Carmy wasn't such a prick, I would feel bad, but Season 3 Carmy deserves the shit Chef David deals him.

Olivia Coleman. That is all.

"You can go fuck" is my favorite Bear quote, especially when Nat says it

Always happy to see Will Poulter as Luca. His lil mullet is adorable and I love him. I hope he and Syd connect even more in Season 4

Pete asking Syd if different foods make different levels of noise was the funniest bit the whole season. Protect Pete at all costs.

Now for the bad…

Where’s the fucking character development??? Carmy and Syd in particular felt very stuck this season. The whole season is very stuck in the past and pays a lot of lip service to 'working through your shit'... but no one ever works through their shit this season (save for Richie, sort of) and it annoyed the hell out of me.

The whole first episode felt like a waste of time. Almost no narrative development, 20+ minutes of montage and fancy shots of cooking? Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the food porn in The Bear. I live for that shit. But the narrative went NO WHERE in Episode 1 because of how much fancy cooking footage was there instead. Gurl, get on with it. I’m bored.

There are several secrets being kept this season. Syd being offered another (possibly better) position and never talking to Carmy about it, Cicero not telling Carmy that he's now broke and can't help pay for the restaurant anymore, and the details of the restaurant review being kept a secret from the audience (and the characters) for most of the season. And like, we just never really get any payoff from it?? We barely see the restaurant review at the end, Syd doesn't tell Carmy about the other job, and Cicero doesn't tell Carmy about being broke. We ended the season where we started. Re: a waste of time!

Another waste of time was the slight of hand/magic trick theme thing they tried to do but didn't fully develop. I was confused as to what the point of all that was, but it was never fully resolved. Don't give me that 'to be continued' shit because you didn't tie up your loose ends this season. I know bad writing when I see it.

Cicero was especially difficult to watch this season. More antagonistic than usual (which, fair, The Bear is a very expensive shitshow) but it makes a big deal about saying he wishes he would've shown up for the Berzatto kids more, but for what purpose? He says this twice, only for it to be revealed to the audience that he's basically lying to Carmy about having money. Bad writing makes this character more scummy than I think he needs to be.

The Claire subplot went absolutely nowhere this season. I think the only time we actually see Claire in present day (and not just in Carmy's blue-tinted 'Supercut' by Lorde memories of her...) is when Neil and Ted Fak are fucking with her at work about Carmy. She was a major trigger point for Carmy this season, but he never does anything to make amends to her, which I found strange considering there's a WHOLE EPISODE about Carmy "considering apologizing." Shut the fuck up. Apologize to her or don't, but she is not haunting you, Carmen. Goddamn.

Speaking of Carmy never apologizing, this season is SO full of callbacks to previous seasons and makes such specific references that the audience is expected to remember, but there are giant plot holes and references that are all but forgotten. The "I'm sorry" sign that Carmy taught Syd to do on the line when they're upset at each other is never brought up once this season, which feels lazy. Carmy did that sign when he was being an asshole last season, and it felt like that was missing. Also, some of the motifs this season just didn't make sense to me.

Finally, Carmen Berzattto is a grade-A asshole the whole season. Like, just a massive prick with no character development, no arc, no interest in healing or working through his shit or connecting with other human beings in really anyway, and honestly? He was antagonistic and demanding and harsh in a way we've never see him before, and I don't think it was for the better. I understand that it's because he's lost this humility and is turning into Chef David, which is the worst thing in the world to Carmy, but he shows 0 remorse for being an asshole this season. Him 'not being able to say sorry' isn't a good enough excuse for how truly grating his character was the entire season. I didn't enjoy watching him on screen. My favorite moments this season were the ones where Carmy was no where to be found. I loved Carmy in Seasons 1 and 2, but I wanted nothing to do with him this season. That's just bad writing.

PHEW, that was a lot! Okay my loves, thanks for sticking through all that. Please let me know your thoughts and hot takes too!! Anyway, stan Natalie Berzatto, and pick up some fucking C-folds, yeah?

#the bear season 3 spoilers #the bear season 3 #the bear tv #the bear fx #carmen berzatto #syd adamu #natalie berzatto #richie jerimovich #neil fak #fak attack #syd and carmy #sydcarmy #carmy berzatto #the bear #the bearblr

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copperbadge · 4 months

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Sam, I must know what sort of things Gerald blogs about on his Tumblr. How old or active is his account? Is his identity a secret?

It's actually a reference to an older post where @dignitywhatdignity pointed out there was no way Ger wasn't on Tumblr. :D Reproduced my response below -- first, Photogram:

I can picture Jerry’s Photogram in my head very clearly because I’ve had to research the children of rich people and their fucking obnoxious instas, and Jerry’s is probably equal parts expensive cars, club glam, and scenic vistas, but mainly because that’s like…what you do. It’s just kind of the done thing, like wearing a shirt when you leave the house.

Update: Gerald's photogram has shifted radically -- he still treats it as a Thing You Do but especially now that he's a dad it's a lot more Parenting Lifestyle stuff. Because a few of my friends have had babies in the last two years and I had to research the babies my fictional characters were having, the algo now thinks I have baby fever, so I get a lot of Parent Influencer content, and I bet Gerald does a lot of sly fun-poking at that stuff. Like, posting a photo of a bottle warmer and a bib-washing tabletop machine with commentary like "You cannot buy any of this in the shop I don't have, but if you're going to buy one stupid thing as a parent, buy the bib washer. Not a single shirt you own will be unstained but the bibs will be immaculate."

They don't post pictures of Serafina, though -- there are a couple of official portraits for PR reasons but day-to-day that shit is locked to friends and family only. (There are special websites for this, I have friends who use them, it's pretty neat.) The only time random candids of her are out there are usually when someone snaps Michaelis toting her around Fons-Askaz with her cousins -- the "King Emeritus and Royal Ducklings" are becoming a very familiar sight. At least once a week Michaelis takes Noah and Joan out for an afternoon in town with Sera in a snugli and the twins in a stroller. Don't ask him about his stepson and grandkids unless you really want to hear about them.

Meanwhile he also definitely has a secret super-weird tumblr and nobody can figure out if he’s roleplaying or shitposting or what when he posts stuff like “The family groupchat is all well and good until it starts heavily impacting local politics.” Are those horses really his or is he just visiting a barn? Is that…a photo of a plate full of appetizers at “My cousin’s latest house party” with Angela Merkel in the background? He certainly has some strong feelings about Princess Diana and equally strong feelings about Tsar Nicholas. Why is he one of only three people the official Eddie Rambler tumblr follows?

Gerald's tumblr has also slowed down since the diagnosis and becoming a dad, but the content is still random as hell and more authentically wild than his photogram. Again, no photos of Serafina, but it's very evident that whoever is running that particular tumblr has had a kid, or is pretending they have. He gets asks accusing him of faking shit for clout and every time he does, his response is simply to write the ask on a sheet of paper in longhand and photograph it in front of a famous European landmark and/or political figure.

Alanna tolerates this because it does keep him out of mischief and sometimes he takes Serafina with him to whatever landmark he's visiting, and she gets to have a quiet apartment to herself for a while.

(”Eddie Rambler’s on tumblr?” someone asks, and someone else replies “Name me one other TV chef brave AND stupid enough to be on tumblr” and then you realize it is in fact the official Eddie Rambler tumblr saying that.)

Eddie doesn't post to his official Tumblr anymore because he rarely has time and doesn't need to do the self-promotion, but Katie in Communications checks his inbox once a week and brings him the most entertaining asks to respond to. He's currently hovering somewhere around the level of Neil Gaiman in terms of "Famous people who are inexplicably on Tumblr."

Ultimately there develops a running joke that Jerry’s tumblr is run by either a) an upper-class vampire (rude) or b) the elected king of a micronation on the Mediterranean coast with a name nobody can spell (super rude!)

One time Gerald accidentally pocket-posted a blurry selfie to his Tumblr but it was so poorly focused and clearly accidental that a bunch of people got mad at him for violating the privacy of the Duke of Shivadlakia. He had to pretend to have a week-long beef with himself to save face. He eventually got Noah to take a selfie with him, blanked out Noah's face, and then claimed the Duke had forgiven him and here was a selfie with him as proof.

It's a hard old life, being Duke of Shivadlakia, but someone's got to do it.

#shivadhverse

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zilabee · 8 months

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Living The Beatles Legend:

After a lifetime of self-doubt over body issues and inveterate shyness, he simply couldn’t control himself. “Big Mal was a demon for sex,” Tony wrote. “[...] Like sacrificial virgins, a lot of the girls willingly accepted that they would have to do it with Mal to get to John, Paul, George, or Ringo, and Mal knew it.”

“A couple of newspaper friends put on a private show involving several prostitutes for our entertainment, one of them being very pregnant.” As Mal recalled, “It was a little unnerving to have these ladies performing before our eyes with each other in one room, with Brian, George Martin and Judy, and the rather more staid members of the press in the adjoining living room.”

“I was being entertained by a young lady late one evening,” Mal wrote, “when George rushes into the darkened room, stoned out of his mind, tearing the bedclothes off, shouting, ‘My turn next—come on, give us a bit!’” Mal gave way to the Beatle, concluding that “apart from that, I was the one that got screwed.”

By this point, [Lily] wasn’t just finding “silly groupie letters” in his suitcase, but also the occasional stray pair of knickers and other telltale signs of infidelity. She recognized that Mal was being seduced—and had been for some time—by overwhelming forces, impulses with which she could hardly begin to compete.

After her brother returned from the States, June recalled that “Malcolm came home knackered, absolutely shattered from that tour.” [...] Her brother and the Beatles were living in a “totally unreal world—an extraordinary, horrendous, wonderful, terrible place that they were all existing in during that period. And they were all damaged by it. They suddenly could have anything they wanted.”

After sharing a convivial dinner with Victoria’s father, who retired early, Mal (31yo) and Victoria (16yo) returned to the hotel and went up to the twenty-seventh floor. [..] “Mal was very sweet,” she recalled, “and we talked and we talked, and we sort of made out.” And while she was unable to meet the Beatles the next morning to do an interview, she exchanged contact information with Mal. And later that year, the letters from her new pen pal began arriving, elegantly adorned with “this beautiful British handwriting.” *

Eventually, Mal would develop a vital relationship of his own with the Scruffs, although he had his detractors—namely, Carol Bedford, a peripheral member of their scrum and a George aficionado who later claimed that Mal tried to put the moves on her. Apparently, Mal had continued to approach women in the Beatles’ universe in the same transactional manner in which he and Neil had “auditioned” willing fans during the band’s touring years. Another Apple Scruff recalled a similar instance when Mal’s attempts to cozy up to the Scruffs went terribly wrong. Apparently, he had crawled under one of the girls’ blankets and “touched something he shouldn’t have.” With that, the offended Scruff came flying out from under the blanket yelling, “Who do you think you are, Paul McCartney?” **

Since leaving the hospital, [Arwen (21yo)] had reared Little Malcolm in her cramped lodgings in West Hampstead. At some point, around the age of six months, he was put up for adoption, leaving her care lock, stock, and barrel, with Mal’s teddy bear as the baby’s only consolation. Mal’s diary would enumerate lunches and telephone calls with the young woman at various points across 1969, but eventually, Arwen chose to move on, putting the whole painful episode behind her. ***

[For his son's birthday] Mal made a cassette recording in which he offered his sincere wishes for the coming year. [...] But any goodwill Mal hoped to deliver was quickly undone that morning as Gary listened to the recording over breakfast with his mother and sister. To his incredible pain and embarrassment, the tape didn’t end with his father’s birthday greeting. Apparently, Mal had recycled the cassette, and as Gary and his sister prepared to go to school, they heard the unmistakable sounds of Fran fellating their dad. The boy’s only solace was the knowledge that his eight-year-old sister didn’t understand the sounds emanating from the tape player.

[..]for the first time, Fran found herself afraid of her boyfriend, whose darkness had never been more acute. It all came to a head one night when Mal, drunk to the gills, began threatening her with his Colt Woodsman pistol, at one point placing the gun against her head before discharging it into the washing machine. When he sobered up, Mal couldn’t have been more apologetic, swearing to mend his ways and be the boyfriend she deserved.

____________________________________

Another quote under the cut, with trigger warning for rape and attempted suicide - and a few notes about some of it.

____________________________________

June 1964 - New Zealand

At the time, the official story involved a twenty-year-old female fan who, having secreted her way into the hotel, chose to slash her wrists in Mal’s room after being unable to talk her way into the Beatles’ suite. Fortunately, police caught sight of the young woman through a window and broke down the locked door with a battering ram. She was subsequently taken to a local hospital and discharged that same day.

[There are then some bits about how Derek tried to ensure it didn't link back to the Beatles in anyway, and the way the press reported it as "Girl Tries To Die For Beatles", and someone else claiming she'd actually had sex with someone and then got 'hysterical' because she realised he wasn't going to get her in to see the Beatles... but eventually it cuts to the quote from Mal's diary below.]

“On arriving back at the hotel at two in the morning,” he wrote, “I was greeted by a crowd of police and detectives as the elevator doors opened at my floor. On verifying that I occupied a particular room number, they very solemnly escorted me there, where to my horror on opening the door, I found the bathroom and bedroom covered in blood. Apparently, what had happened [was] several people had gang-banged her in my bedroom. She was so distraught, she took a razor blade from my razor and slashed her wrists, but was discovered in time and recovered in hospital. Obviously I was a prime suspect, but I had the best alibi in the world—I was drinking tea with her mother.” ****

____________________________________

* Victoria was 16, and Mal was 31. He wrote with her for a few years and met up with her again several times, and there's a quote where she says she "thought she was in love with him", and another where she was surprised to find out he was married. He's a grown man with a family and it's creepy as fuck that he was leading on/grooming a 16 year old girl - although I think according to the book they never had sex.

** I've bolded a lot of the wording which fucks me the fuck off in that passage about apple scruffs, what a fucking weird piece of writing. Apparently apparently apparently - I don't even think he's using it to suggest it might not be true, I think he's just using it to make it sound a bit casual, oh turns out he was just treating them like shit like he used to! Oh he was just 'cozying up' ??????? The last bit also feels like the girl being able to fight her corner and tell him off is being used to suggest it therefore didn't matter - not to suggest that there were probably lots of other girls who didn't want his hands on them but didn't know how to say no. It's also quickly followed by a quote of another apple scruff saying he took care of them like a big brother and they all loved him. Which is fine. But teenage girls feeling as though the creepy guy who is being nice to them in order to take advantage is just being nice to them, doesn't mean much. It's creepy that he was trying to befriend the young vulnerable girls that idolised anyone who worked with Beatles, you've literally just said he was doing it in a 'transactional manner'.

*** The author used a pseudonym for Arwen - a young woman that Mal had an affair and a child with. He wrote in his diary when the child was born, and visited them, "gifting the boy with an oversize teddy bear from Harrods". Personally I think 'chose to move on' covers an awful lot of pain very glibly. Imagine having to give your baby away after six months, imagine what she went through. It is not a small thing that he carelessly got a young woman pregnant and then offered her nothing.

**** I think we all live in Beatles fandom knowing that the people we enjoy did awful terrible things, but sometimes it's good to confront how bad it was, even if we'll never know who was involved in this particular incident. Or how often it happened to other women. Whether Beatles were involved here or not, they were around this, they were inside it. They were influenced by and friends with horrible people. Imagine writing that in your diary like it's a good joke that you were having tea with her mum while she was going through that, and not how awful that would actually feel if you had a heart. The author adds that this incident affected Mal, saying, "His “demon” persona was still alive and well, to be sure, but there would be perceptible shifts in his outlook as the group’s touring days moved forward." I didn't really pick up on these, so I'm not sure how so.

#mal evans #beatles books #the beatles #george harrison

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bookshelf-dust · 2 years

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 5,163

warnings: swearing, cops, talk of jail/billy's abuse, neil, fluff and love

a/n: well, here it is. this is the very last part of my very first series. i am very proud of the ending i've created for these two. i like to think i've given billy what he deserved. i'm so grateful for all of the feedback and support you've given me on the previous parts. also, a part of this relies heavily on hopper’s letter from season 3, so that’s that, and then some of his other dialogue. i’ve found that it fit billy effortlessly. i really hope you enjoy this and maybe find some solace in it. i love you all <333

before you read, listen to: time after time by cyndi lauper and/or the promise by when in rome

————

The first night without Neil, Hopper sits in his car outside the house. He promised no one would hurt them. He means it.

Nicky went to high school with both Hopper and Joyce. In fact, she was suspended for dealing them weed under the bleachers at one point. She regrets nothing to this day.

Because of that, it really wasn’t too difficult to have a heart-to-heart with the man, to get him to sit down with Billy. And Max and you. Susan.

Hopper had shown up at the house to speak with Neil. When he arrived, he told you to keep Billy in his room, though that hadn’t mattered. The second Billy realized he might actually get out of this, that he might live without fear of his own father, he buried his face in your chest, tears wetting your collarbones, your t-shirt.

You’d let him get it all out, stroking his loose and frizzy curls, occasionally laying your hands over his ears to muffle any shouting. Billy squeezed you each time you did so.

Even if he was a little hopeful this might work, Billy couldn’t help but think about that night when he was a kid. When his mama left him with Neil.

He’d sat on his bedroom floor, trying to be quiet while his dad showered, pleading with her.

“Please mom, don’t do this. Please come home.”

“How long? How long?”

“I miss you.”

She was the last person he felt safe with, before you. And she’d gone, leaving her boy with him. Trapped. Part of him wasn’t sure this would work out. He’d hoped for so long that his mother would return, and she hadn’t. Neil had dictated everything in Billy’s life so far, so how was it possible for anything to change?

Hopper had given Neil Hargrove one option.

“You’re gonna sign these papers,” he’d said, gesturing at the divorce packet lying on the table, “and I’m going to quietly take you down to the station and expose you for the piece of shit you are. Lock you up for abusing your child.”

Neil had started screaming about how Hopper had no right to do any of this, to barge into his home claiming all of this.

“Sure, yeah, pitch a fit. Like that’s gonna change anything,” Hopper said, entertained by the fact that Neil was acting like the victim.

During one of the intervals where your hands were pressed to Billy’s ears, the hoop in the left one biting into your palm, you’d caught something Hopper said.

“I suggest you shut your mouth before you give me something else to report.” By the tone in his voice, you could imagine that he was inches from Neil’s face.

“You’re a coward,” Hopper had said. “Beating on your kid because your life didn’t turn out right. Well let me tell you something, that’s not his fault. It’s yours.”

There’d been a knock on Billy’s bedroom door followed by Hop’s gruff voice.

“Y/N, kiddo can I have a minute with you?”

Billy had looked up at you, eyes puffy. “I’ll be right back baby, I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You’d pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he’d held onto your hand until it was too far out of his reach.

Shutting the door carefully behind you, you’d looked at him. “We’re taking him away,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really. He signed, so Susan is good to go.”

Hopper considered letting Neil run away, making him just disappear, but he didn’t want to chance him doing this to someone else. He’d already done that once though, hadn’t he?

“I’m really proud of you for helping him through this, kid. You remind me of your mom.”

His hand had been warm on your shoulder.

“If you want me to be honest, he’s lucky this prison isn’t very big. But that doesn’t mean nothing will happen if others figure out what he’s in for.”

You nodded, knowingly.

“Powell and Callahan just got here. We’re gonna be quiet. No lights, nothing. I don’t want to make this worse for Billy. But if he wants to see, we’re going soon.”

“Thank you, Hopper,” you’d said, hugging him. He’d let you. He’d had his fair share of a shitty father as a kid. Helping someone like Billy is something he’d always wanted to do.

Back in Billy’s room, you’d taken his face in your hands.

“Baby, they’re taking him now. Do you want to watch or stay inside?”

His back had straightened. He knew what he wanted, and he told you as much, so you led him through to the back steps, holding his hand the whole time, Max behind you, resting her chin on her brother's arm.

Billy got to watch them shove his father in the back of a police car, hands behind his back.

He was finally free.

————

Susan pawned most of Neil's more expensive things, that way she'd have money to cover bills for a while and have something to put towards the house payment. She hadn't really been trusted with the financials when Neil was around, aside from basic spending. Now that she had two children to look after, she really didn't want to be in a bad spot.

She had a feeling most newly divorced women would use the money to buy themselves something nice, but she didn't see any point in that. This wasn't about her. This was about making a life where Billy and Max could feel safe.

Even if Billy had whined about it to you at first, having dinner with Max and Susan at least three times a week to start was helping. And he would never admit this, but Susan was actually a pretty damn good cook. Whenever she'd prepared food pre-inmate Neil, they'd been kind of shitty. Billy supposed this had been her tiny form of protest.

It's pretty late now, but Billy is sprawled on the couch watching reruns of whatever. He's really not even entirely sure what's happening on tv. He thinks this might be Cheers. It's the fact that he can be on the couch that he's doing it. He doesn't have any particular reason to hide in his room unless he wants to.

He's missed this couch. It's the same one he's sat on since he was a kid. Since his mother was still around. It was one of the few items that made it to Hawkins when they moved.

Susan has the day off tomorrow. She said so at dinner. Hence why she's still up.

Billy hears her footsteps and looks up when she walks into the room. She gives him a gentle smile.

"I'm making Max some hot chocolate. You feel like some? I have marshmallows too, if you want those."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks."

She smiles again and then disappears for a while before returning with a mug that has a six-year-old Max's hand print on it.

Billy sits up and takes a sip. He can't remember the last time someone made him someone other than you or Nicky made him something like this.

Susan sits down a little ways away from Billy in an oversized chair that Max usually claims as her own. The only time anyone else gets to sit in it are in times like these when she's being forced to do science homework with Dustin yapping in her ear. She'd asked for help, not an entirely new lesson. Dustin did not care.

Susan starts to read a book, and Billy almost forgets she's in the room when she speaks.

"Billy?"

His eyes rove across from the television to her over the top of his mug. She sets the book down.

"I just wanted to apologize. For not doing anything to protect you from your dad. I don't really have a reason other than selfish ones, like I was afraid he'd start on me, or Max. I guess I just thought if he got it out things would be okay." She buries her face in her hands.

"God, I'm so sorry, Billy. This is your home, and I came into your life and took you away from where you'd grown up, and I never stopped to think about what it was doing to you. I was only thinking about myself."

“I should’ve helped take care of you. You were just a kid. You’re still just a kid. And I’ve done nothing but let you down. I want to be better. I’m not saying I want to replace your mom or anything, but I don’t want you to feel unsafe or unwelcome here anymore.”

Billy keeps drinking his hot chocolate but he has to hold it with both hands because they’re shaking now.

“I feel like I don’t even know you. And maybe that’s because you didn’t want to know me, or maybe because I just avoided you.”

“I’m just so sorry, Billy. I want to try. I am trying. The both of you deserve so much better and you don’t have to accept this. I just wanted you to know that and that I care about you.”

Billy is quiet and for a moment it scares Susan, but she understands he might not have anything to say. He might not want to say anything. He might be waiting until he can afford to move out of this fucking house.

But Billy finally sets his mug down. It’s empty. He looks at Susan and he nods.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I understand. I don’t blame you and I appreciate that you want to try. I want to try, too.”

Susan nods back, a sweet smile on her face. It’s gentle, the look she’s giving him.

Billy does understand though. His being the target of Neil’s abuse prevented both Max and Susan from it. He understands that Susan was afraid of her husband and the man that she might not have known he’d unveil to be. She was scared. He understands.

He’s willing to try. To let her in.

She stands and picks up Billy’s empty cup. “Was it okay?” she asks, “It’s just the store bought kind.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was great.”

When she grins at him she looks young. She looks tired and upset, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it means change. Maybe it means she’s learning. She’s trying.

————

“Wear mine.”

Billy looks at you through the mirror in front of which he’s been primping. He claims he doesn’t like it when you say he’s “getting pretty.” His blush says otherwise.

“Yours?”

He rolls his eyes and puts down the hairspray he was holding. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ cold tonight. Just put mine on. I don’t want you to walk all the way back to your house just to get something I have.”

You snort, making for his closet door. “All the way back?”

He bumps your hip with his, a common you-little-shit gesture.

“Because I live so far away.” You greet the pornstar taped to the thin wood before sliding it open.

“Should be on the right,” Billy says, ignoring your comment and shoving cologne down the front of his pants while you aren’t looking. It’s a habit at this point. Shit, he doesn’t even think about it, and he knows he doesn’t have to impress you.

You push around the clothing hanging in his closet, a couple button-ups, leather, a sweater you’ve never seen him in. It’s this cream color, thick and cable knit. You pull it out.

“How come you don’t wear this?” you ask, holding it up to him. He unsnaps another button from his shirt and your eyes follow the movement even though you don’t mean to ogle.

Billy looks the sweater up and down like it’s grossing him out. “I wore it once,” he tells you.

“Once,” you mock playfully, putting the shirt back into his closet.

Billy’s hands are on your hips in an instant, spinning you around. “I thought you were getting a jacket, not raiding my belongings.”

You stick your tongue out at him. It’s childish and you know it, but you do it anyway. He smacks your ass in retaliation, and you go to squeeze his but he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth so that he can kiss your pulse point.

“Barf.” The voice makes you turn your head, and Max has pushed the door open fully where it had been cracked.

“Hi, Max,” you say, pulling your hand from Billy’s grasp, even if he pouts, and moving to actually retrieve the denim jacket you’d been instructed to wear.

You can feel Billy and Max staring at each other. “What do you need?” he asks her.

“Just came to see if we were planning on leaving today or if I should maybe hitch a ride elsewhere.” She enters the room and sits down on the edge of her brother’s bed.

Billy glances at his watch. “You said to have you at El’s by seven-thirty. We’ve got time.”

She crosses her arms and Billy faces the mirror again. He thinks he’s finished. “Did you even finish packing your bag, shithead?”

You shove your arms through the jacket sleeves, looking at Max. She raises her eyebrows. No, she definitely did not. There’s a flash of red hair as she hops up, and then she’s gone, the sound of dresser drawers being yanked open and shut echoing down the hall.

You start rolling up the cuffs, and Billy reaches for the collar, adjusting it for you. You’re focused on getting your hands free when you feel Billy’s finger lifting your chin up. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you once. He pulls away and you move back in, wanting one more. He obliges, albeit grinning at your eagerness. When you’ve gotten your fill, you kiss his cheek, and that’s the one that makes him blush.

He moves away from you, pulling on his own jacket. “I’m gonna go start the car, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Max let it slip once that Billy always went out to warm up the car before taking them to school. She wouldn’t have assumed it was for her right off the bat, but when she realized he didn’t do that when it was just him in the car, she figured out it was him being nice. Now he just does it for the both of you. You won’t ever say anything about it.

You look at yourself in Billy’s mirror, listening to his footsteps down the hall and out into the living room. You put your hands in the pockets of his jacket, and to your surprise you feel something. It’s not spare change, or a lighter–anything you would’ve expected to find.

It’s a sheet of paper. You pull it out, thinking it might be homework he tucked away or a receipt or something. It’s not, though. It’s notebook paper, and it’s been neatly folded like it was done with purpose.

You sit on the edge of Billy’s bed, and unfold it. To your surprise, it’s a page covered in his handwriting, that pretty, sometimes faintly cursive scrawl. There are some lines scratched out because he used a pen and couldn’t erase. But the thing that catches your eye is the very first line. It’s just your name. It’s a letter. A letter for you.

Your heart starts to race and you find yourself beginning to read, sinking further into his mattress.

There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, it reads.

Feelings. Jesus. The truth is, for so long I’d forgotten what those were. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then I sat with you at lunch, and bought you a book, and suddenly you were part of my life. For the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy.

But, tonight I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like I’m pulling away from you or something. I’m sitting here and I’m thinking about the way you looked at me that first night at the record store. The way you held on to me when I slept over for the first time. I’m not even sure if you remember it, but every time I tried to move throughout the night you whined like you were afraid I was going to leave you. Like you needed me.

But you didn’t know about my dad or that I was falling in love with you then. And I can’t stop thinking about how I raised my voice at you when I came over today.

You pause, realizing when it was that he wrote this. The day he fought back.

And I’ve been afraid for so long that I might turn out like him. That I might be just the same. And I’ve been scared that you might realize that too and leave me behind. But I didn’t feel that way today when you spoke to me like a human being and you wanted to work things out. I’m changing. You’re changing me. We’re changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change. Because there’s a part of me that worries you might still change your mind. The rest of me knows you won’t.

So I think maybe what I’m saying is that when you didn’t know about how I felt or who I really am on the inside that it didn’t feel like I’d lose you. But now I’ve let you in and you can see all of me. And now that you’ve said you love me I really don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose you or want you to go.

But I know that’s naive. To think you’ll leave. That’s not who you are. I know you’d look at me and say that’s not how this is going to work.

My whole life everyone has picked someone else over me. Left me behind. Left me on my own. And I know that’s how life works. It’s moving. Always moving and people change whether you like it or not. But you’ve taught me that change can be good. That it doesn’t always mean people changing their mind about me. About caring about me or that I’m good enough to keep around.

And sometimes change is painful. Sometimes it’s sad and sometimes it’s surprising.

Happy.

So you know what? I don’t think change is bad anymore. I think I’m supposed to learn from it. I think that when life hurts, because I know parts of it are going to hurt and there will be things that always hurt, I should remember it. Because the hurt is good. It means I’m out of that cave.

I just want you to hold my hand while I figure it all out.

You finish reading and fold the letter back up, putting it back where you found it. You hadn’t realized you were crying, but you were, and you spend the next few minutes fixing yourself in Billy’s mirror.

When he returns he thinks you’re the one primping.

“Ready, baby?” he asks. “Max is in the car.”

You turn to him, and he smiles at you. That pretty, pretty smile. You kiss him on both cheeks and then shut off his bedroom light.

“I’m ready.”

————

Billy pulls away from Hop’s cabin after dropping Max off, but he’s quick to stop the car again.

You were quiet the whole way there. Sweet as always, no doubt, but it was clear something was bothering you. He doesn’t like it when things upset his girl.

“What are you doing, Hargrove? We’re gonna miss the movie if you keep this up.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Well excuse the hell outta me, hon’.”

You slap your hands against your face, peeking through your fingers at him in hopes that he’ll go ahead and scold you.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong, baby.” Billy doesn’t have to elaborate. You never seem to have to explain your feelings to him much anymore. It’s like he’s figuring you out, like he understands and knows when something’s bugging you or if you’re hurting.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

You nod, and reach into the pocket of the jacket, pulling free the paper. It’s seconds before Billy sees the striped sheet that he remembers what it is, what he’d left in there.

It all comes back to him, his wrist hurting from pouring his heart out, the relief he felt at putting his feelings somewhere.

You hand it to him. He unfolds it and scans it over. “You read it?” He knows you did.

“Yeah.” You smile shyly at him, and it’s the same smile you gave him that very first night that you came to check on him. Billy wants to kiss you, so he leans over the center console and does; he presses his mouth to your forehead, warm and sweet. His presence is all-encompassing: heady cologne, minty gum. So very Billy. So much like home.

He hands the paper back to you. “Feelings, huh?” he says, his mouth pulling up at the corners.

“Feelings.”

You sandwich your hands between your thighs, taking a deep breath. Your eyes start to water and you can’t help it.

“Billy, I would never leave you, okay?” You were hoping the tears wouldn’t spill over, but it doesn’t matter because your voice fails you. It wavers and you sound fragile, young. And then he’s taking your face in his hands, wiping under your eyes even though there isn’t anything to wipe yet, just soothing motions over the apples of your cheeks, calloused thumbs and warm skin.

He stares at you, his eye contact unbreaking. When he looks at you like that, blue eyes boring into yours, you can’t help but feel a little full. Because he’s looking at you like that. You.

“I know that. I know.”

You nod, and he nods with you, so much that it looks silly, the both of you nodding, and you start to laugh.

“I made you feel that way? Really?”

“Of course you did,” Billy says. “My whole life I’ve felt like I’m like a black hole or somethin’. You don’t make me feel that way.”

Your heart aches for him. For this boy who’s had no one tell him how good he is. Who’s finally let you in. Who’s finally realized he can have better, and that he deserves to.

“I love you, Billy.”

He kisses you on each cheek, your face warm against his lips. He grins and you can feel it on your face.

“I love you too.”

When you get to the movie theater, you do pay for popcorn, and you do hand him the snacks you kept in your bag after you take your seats. Your mother said movie candy was getting much too expensive.

You pop a handful of Sno Caps in your mouth, and Billy opens his mouth. You sprinkle some in his, and then reach for his hand.

He looks down at your clasped fingers while a kid almost faceplants with a bucket of popcorn on the way up the stairs. Thankfully their father caught them first.

“You did say you wanted me to hold your hand.”

“I did,” Billy says.

—————

“Sit still, I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Billy crosses his arms, but it’s hard for him to look entirely brooding when he’s got plum shadow on his eyelids. You stand. “Here, Max, supervise.” You hand her the brush between your fingers, and she snorts at her brother from where she lays across your bed.

You make for the living room, suppressing a grin at the sounds of laughter emanating from the area. Susan and Nicky sit on opposite sides of the couch, watching The Golden Girls and talking about whatever it is that mothers-of-dating-children talk about.

“Mom,” you say, coming to a stop in front of her.

“Hi, honeybee. What’s the matter?”

“Can I use some of your makeup? There’s some things you’ve got that I haven’t and–”

She smiles at you, adjusting the well-loved pillow squished behind her back. “You know you can. Whatever you need.”

Her grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling back just the same. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Playing dress up?” Your mother gives you a knowing look, thinking about the idea you’d had in mind ever since you watched Rocky Horror with Billy that first time.

“You could say so,” you tell her, and then you’re off to raid her bathroom cabinet, pulling free the large and full bag of goodies.

You start to rifle through the corduroy pouch, but decide it’d be easier to take the whole thing with you to your room, so that’s what you do.

When you return, you settle on your knees in front of your boyfriend, still finding it odd that you get to call him that now, even if that is exactly what he is to you. Your pretty, pretty boyfriend. Your boyfriend who’s letting you do his makeup.

Max hands you your brush back, raising herself up on her elbows so that she can watch the show better.

“Hi,” you say to him, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Hi,” he responds, his voice showing all signs that he’s both enjoying this, yet also grumping about the fact that he let you do it in the first place. He settles back on his hands, legs spread so that you can sit in between them and reach him. You pull free both the pencil of thick liner you’d been looking for, and a pot of blush you know to be much pinker than the one you’ve got. Yours has also been broken on multiple occasions so that now it’s just little bits of pink powder sliding around in the pan.

You uncap the liner first, a warm brown shade, clearly freshly sharpened by your mother. “Close your eyes, pretty please,” you tell him. He obliges, lids fluttering shut.

You reach out, and starting to drag the tip of the pencil across his skin, you realize your hand isn’t as steady as you’d like, considering the fact that you’re also half-focused on not kneeing Billy in a place you’re quite sure he’d prefer to not be kneed.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and Billy blinks up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working. Just–” You shove the eyeliner pencil into his hands, and then move from between his legs. You grip his calves and move his legs together, then crawl forwards a little and straddle his lap.

He grins up at you, a cocky and mischievous look. “Comfy?”

“Shut up and close your eyes again.”

“Well you don’t want much.”

You pinch the squish of his side and he swats blindly at your arm. You take Billy’s face in your hand, resting the pinky of your dominant one against his cheekbone. This go around you’re able to drag the liner effectively across his eyelid. A tap at his face signals he needs to look up, and when he does, you do the same to his lower hip. Afterwards, you take a super small brush that Max found and use it to smudge the eyeliner out some, that way the lines aren’t so harsh.

You finish and take Billy’s face in your hands again, turning it to face Max. “Thoughts?”

She taps her chin, though smiling all the same. “Very nice.”

With a little more manhandling, you get some mascara on those lashes of his, though not without a little pleased squeaking in the process. It’s at the blush that you get excited enough to make him laugh. You swipe your brush heavily across his cheeks, and then the tip of his nose, where you’re probably much too generous. You don’t care. He looks so, so pretty, all blushy like this.

“Part your lips.” You say, thumb tugging at his bottom one. You put a gloss on Billy’s lips and almost lose it for good. He’s so gorgeous.

When you finish, you wipe your hands clean on a towel and back up a little ways from him to survey your work.

You clap your hands. “Max, help me. Would you look at this?”

She does, laughing gleefully. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

You look Billy in the eyes, and Max hops up off of your bed to get a better look. “You look so gorgeous, my love.”

He’s thankful for the blush in that moment, because without it you’d see the effect your using that name had on him.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Wanna see?” God, you look so happy.

“Do I have to?”

You bite your lip and Billy pulls it free, taking the little handheld mirror from you.

And, honestly, he thinks he looks kinda hot. You picked a good eyeshadow color, one that makes his blue eyes stand out even more, and he just looks pretty. Just as you’d said.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. You did a very good job.”

He goes to kiss you, but you stop him. “Nope. You’ll mess up my work!”

Billy rolls his eyes and flips Max a bird when he sees her giggling at your enthusiasm and his compliance.

“Can I take a picture?” you ask.

Billy holds up his hands. “Oh hell no.”

“Billy, she needs to document her masterpiece,” Max says, though really she knows it’d make great blackmail. That and she loves how happy the both of you seem. She’d like to remember this too.

“Please?” You give him your very best puppy dog eyes, making sure they’re watery and everything. You know he’ll give in.

“Fine. But you show this to anyone, and you’re both dead.”

You laugh, grabbing for your Polaroid camera. “Who the fuck do you think I’m gonna show? Everyone I know is in this room.”

Billy’s smiles then, and you’re just quick enough to catch it. You get another after you kiss his sparkly forehead. And when you’ve finished, you stick them in the frame of your mirror so they’ll always be there.

That night, after Max and Susan have gone home, you sit in the bathroom to help Billy wash the makeup off, but only when you’d let Nicky see, and she thought he looked stunning. Showstopping, she’d said.

And it’s then, as you wipe the rosy tinge from his cheeks, revealing his freckles once again, that you realize months before this you’d been so alone. You’d ached for a moment like this.

And here you were. So even if the journey to get here had hurt, even if it’d been hard and pushed you to your limits, it’s okay. Because that’s how life works. It hurts sometimes. And that’s okay.

Because the hurt? The hurt is good.

————

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