#also Winston deserved a happy life outside of his work

[spengnitzed]

another missed casting opportunity:

Rashida Jones as an upcoming mayoral candidate, who is sympathetic to the ghostbusters.

big reveal at the end: her last name is Zeddmore.

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 18X04

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

I didn’t hate this episode, but I didn’t love it either which seems to be a reoccurring theme so far this season. I enjoyed seeing Addison back, but I wish they’d gone deeper and we’d seen her interact with characters other than Amelia. I loved the conversations that she had with Amelia, but I wish they'd gone farther with it. I also wish we learned more about how her step-daughter Angela is doing as her storyline was left in a weird place when Private Practice ended and I'd love to have seen some follow up there. I would have also loved for her to have met Scout, Link, Leo, Teddy, and Owen. I was hoping Amelia would make her godmother to Scout the way Addison made her Godmother to Henry and I'm sad that didn't happen.

I liked Addison and Amelia’s conversation about the pandemic, but I was a bit confused when Addison said she heard about Meredith being sick with COVID and had prayed for her. Does that imply that Addison heard from other people and her and Amelia weren't talking during the pandemic? That doesn't make much sense to me. I got what Amelia was saying about her and Link, but I'm confused as to why she still hasn't told Link that she doesn't want more kids and she knows he does which is apparently why she doesn't want to get married? I'm still unclear on what Amelia's opposition to marriage is about at this point.

I’m also confused as to why we didn’t see Meredith introduce Jo to Addison in this episode as they briefly met in the previous episode and it seemed like they were setting something up there. She also didn’t meet Carina which was odd considering that Carina came to Grey Sloan with her ground breaking study and Addison is the country’s foremost neo-natal surgeon. You’d think Carina would make meeting Addison a priority? Speaking of which, I’d love to see Carina stick around and mentor Jo some more. They've spent a lot of time talking about Jo switching to OBGYN but not a lot of time actually showing her switching. I think Carina could be a great mentor to Jo and I miss the mentorship relationships on the show so I would like to see it.

I think Webber’s new teaching method was a success overall as Levi really shined as did Dr. Khan. I'm glad that they are using Dr. Khan's experience to help the other residents. Something I didn't get when Koracick was in charge was why he assigned an experienced vascular surgeon who was retraining to scut work. I like that under Webber the hospital is using the resources it has more effectively. I think it was good for the residents to get more OR time, but I'm a bit confused as to why Bailey was upset with Helm and called what she did a mistake afterward. I don't really see what Helm could have done differently given the circumstances.

I was sad that Owen and Winston’s patient Roy died and how hard Noah took it and how he pushed Owen away and refused his help. I think Owen will eventually be able to get through to him, but it will take some time. You can see how much helping veterans who have been sickened by their exposure to burn pits while serving means to him and it's an important cause to advocate for with his study. While I've never been an Owen Hunt fan this is an important story and I'm happy to see Owen having a storyline outside of his messy love life. I liked seeing Owen and Winston interact more in this episode. I also liked that Hayes is getting to know the other characters more and that Owen invited him out for a beer at the end of the episode.

Speaking of the Hunt family, I feel bad for Megan and Farouk now that we’ve found out that Farouk is sick again and will require surgery. They've both been through so much and deserve happiness. There was some great acting in the scene where Hayes told Megan that Farouk would need surgery, but I was so distracted by the thought that they might be trying to pair those two up that I couldn't really focus on the scene. The idea of the two of them together is nauseating to me. Same with Hayes and Jo. I'll never like it. I'll always hate it. And if the show actually winds up going that route, I'll never forgive them.

Likewise, I totally hated the end scene with Meredith and Nick. They spent two whole seasons setting up Meredith and Hayes and now they just expect us to get on board with Meredith and Nick because Scott Speedman was suddenly available? Yeah no. That’s not gonna happen. This pairing disgusts me. It’s stupid, nonsensical, and such an insult to fans who have stuck with the show for all of these years. Nick just isn’t an interesting character. He has no real personality, always comes off like he’s either a jerk or totally out of it, and I don’t feel any chemistry whatsoever. The whole thing feels completely forced and out of the blue.

I didn't really have a favourite scene or part this episode. This season has been so lacklustre for me. If I had to pick, I'd say the scenes between Addison and Amelia and as a runner up the scenes in the OR with Levi and Khan. The pacing for me still feels off and the music choices have been really weird this season. It's like the music doesn't match the moment. The music is upbeat but the scene is sad or emotional. Towards the end of the episode it was hard for me to hear what Addison and Amelia were saying at the elevator because the music overpowered the dialogue. The pacing, editing, and music choices really need an overall.

Until next time!

[drakewalkerfantasy]

The Last Goodbye (Tatum x F!MC)

Summary: The second goodbye of two friends doesn’t hurt any less. The first goodbye of two lovers does hurt even more. The issue is he doesn’t want to leave, and she doesn’t want him to leave either. But will they admit it to each other? Or will they pretend that it’s okay and that he must to follow his dreams even though it hurts them both as hell.

Words: 2944

Rating: PG

Warning: a lot of heartache / memory of death / loss

Authors notes: Dear anon, thank you so much for the request. I really hope you will enjoy this. I’m not particularly happy how I wrote Tatum’s POV, but I just couldn’t think of anything else even after multiple times rereading this. Sorry if this is not what you expected.

A/N 2: Please let me know if still want to be tagged and what I can improve, I really want to improve my writing and make it even better. Also sorry for all the mistakes in my writing I hope at least it readable (couldn’t ask my husband to proofread)

Tatum stood outside Claire’s door listening to the person on another side of the phone call he just received. His heart thumped rapidly, while the words finally sank in, echoing in his head with persistent consistency. He never thought that these words, the words he wanted to hear for months now will become a burden and he will need to deal with the consequences of his earlier rush decision. The one he made even before he saw Claire... before his old, buried feelings resurfaced with a new-founded strength... before their first kiss and the last... and before he knew that she is in danger not only from some paparazzi, but in actual danger and all he could think of now was that he needed to protect her at all cost. Not to run to another part of the planet like a coward far away from her, but to stay by her side like a man.

Distantly, he could still hear Winston speaking. Heard him vaguely, describing the opportunity he will get with the transfer, but all he could think was Claire and the taste of her lips. The unforgettable taste of the peach lemonade on a summer's day. And all he could wish for was to stay only to keep her safe.

“...Are you taking me off Claire’s security detail?” Tatum finally managed to squeeze through the overexcited chattering of Winston. “No, sir. That’s... I mean...,” tried to say Tatum, but Winston interrupted him every time when he tried to say more than a couple of words. God... thought Tatum closing his eyes in irritation. This guy speaks even faster than Claire, and I thought she is a chatty one. The small momentary smile appeared on his face before quickly disappearing, when he thought of the girl he didn't want to say goodbye to... The memory of their last goodbye flashes in front of his eyes, drowning out the chatter for a while.

He steps closer to her. Her hands in his, his head bent down and he presses his lips just to the corner of her's, lingering there for a moment longer. And he knows that it’s goodbye. Wanting to be brave enough and kiss her fully. But knowing that if he would do that they both would pay the price and he wasn’t brave enough to risk her happiness. He used it all just to come here... he risked it all just to see her for the last time. So instead he hugs her firmly as if he knows that he will never come back..

The red lilies still in his hand waiting to be laid on his mother’s grave. The white roses placed on the grave of Claire’s dad. And his hands wrapped tightly around her waist, watching at two graves next to them. Two lives that were lost and he has no illusions that this will be any different. Her face is buried in the crook of his neck, feeling how she crumbled in his arms, and her body shook with tears. Wishing to be brave enough to stay. Wishing to keep the promise, he never made.

“That’s great. Thank you,” said Tatum absentmindedly pulled back from the memory, knowing that there is no point to argue. Hoping that Claire will be able to change their mind, if she will want him to stay... that’s it... thought Tatum, if she would want him to stay. 

He sighed, pressing his forehead to the wooden door before softly tapping at it and entering her bedroom with a heavy heart, feeling as if it would break in half from a single sight of Claire. So instead he lowers his gaze at the floor, not able to meet hers, knowing that she would see straight through his stoic facade in a matter of seconds.

“Come to say goodbye?” said Claire, and he could hear the hurt and pain in her voice, that she desperately tried to hide, but it was so evident in her eyes that he couldn’t miss it, when he looked up.

“How did you...?” asked Tatum, the shock clearly written on his face, while his heart skipped a beat.

“If you don't want me to hear your private phone calls, don’t take them right outside,” Claire said, averting his piercing gaze.

“It wasn’t private. I had no idea Winston was planning a reassignment for me,” confessed Tatum. It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t a truth, at least not the whole one. He should have told her before, should have confessed how desperately, the first two weeks, he wanted to go back. He hated it here at first, but then... but then that damn almost a kiss, the slightest press of her lips to the corner of his, after he walked her back to the State Dinner at Dionne’s Estate, and he knew that he was a goner. And he also knew that the look of pain, and loss, and fear would have broken him. The fear he saw before, five years ago. The fear of losing him as she did her father... the same as he did his mom.

“Do you think someone found out about us?” The question breaks through his thoughts making him snap to reality.

“As far as I’m aware, no one knows,” said he, musing if that is why they were sending him away, but quickly shaking this thought off. She doesn’t know about the reassignment request, reminds he himself. And he knows despite everything that he deserved the promotion. The issue is... he doesn’t want it anymore. The silence hangs between them, after he finally speaks, confessing that he requested it a month ago, and it hurt as hell, when he looked into her eyes, the moment after confession.

“Are you that unhappy as my head of security?” asked Claire, the hurt in her eyes deepens even more, making them look like pools of dark chocolate with shots of aged intoxicating whiskey.

“I’m not unhappy, Claire. I filed that request back when I was first assigned here, back when all I could think about was returning to the military career I’d worked so hard for.” sighed Tatum, wondering when was the exact moment when his dreams have changed, when the young boy finally grew up leaving behind his dream. Wondering when he realised that this is exactly the place where he wants to be. His eyes meeting Claire’s looking how realisation downs on her and her eyes softens, becoming a tiny shade lighter than they were before, but her words aren’t what he expected to hear and they are a complete opposite from what he wanted to say.

“And this is your chance to do that. To follow in your mom’s footsteps...,” she murmured stepping closer to him. Her eyes locked with his, mesmerising him, captivating, and he wants to scream... to tell her that this is not what he wants... not what he wishes for. At least not anymore... not after he walked into her life again. Not after she stormed into his, attacking him with the damn crown, making him pin her to the ground losing himself into her deep chocolate eyes. But he cannot say a word. His head bends slightly giving her a nod, as if admitting the lie she just said. Not a lie... but the truth, that just stopped to be it, unbeknown to her.

And instead of refuting her words, he just confirms what she feared. “They’re offering me a promotion. A big one. I didn’t expect it.”

“I guess people just don’t say ‘no’ to that sorta thing, huh?” she said. Her voice slightly cracked, but she smiled anyway even though he could catch the glimpses of glistening tears welling at the corners of her eyes, while she looked to the ground. Making him feel all the pain and all the loss she felt.

“Just a month ago this news would’ve meant everything to me. But now...”

“Now?” asked Claire. Her eyes met his, and he could swear that he could hear how her breath hitched from the intensity of his gaze and from the hope he wasn’t ready to give her.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” after a moment of silence admitted Tatum, knowing that here was no way he could hide it from her.

He could feel how his heart ached looking at Claire across the room, too far away and not too far enough to miss how her body stiffened. Knowing that she wanted to cross the room and to kiss him hard... fiercely. The same way he wanted to kiss her.

His gaze dropping to her mouth, noting how her teeth dig into her bottom lip, not missing the slightest shake in its curve, but in the midst of this, missing the most important message her eyes send him... that just like him not wanting to leave her, she didn’t want him to leave either. Both restraining themselves from saying what they really wanted.

“You should go. I want you to go,” whispered Claire in a barely audible whisper, and he could swear that he felt how his heart broke and the sound of shattering pieces deafened him with pain. She wants him to go, he thought. His fists clenching, and despite how badly it hurted he still forced himself to smile softly and to ask her the next question, as no matter what, he still cares for her deeply.

“What about you?”

“The rest of the security team will keep me safe,” she shrugged, stepping a bit closer, slowly closing the distance between them.

“CoCo...,” he muttered, also taking a step in her direction, their gazes locked, not able to look away, while he continued to speak. “I hate the thought of letting you down,” he tries again, hoping that she will ask him to stay, that she wants him to stay. Hurting so much, that he misses another glimpse of pain flashing in her eyes covered by determination just a split second later.

“You’ll only let me down if you abandon your dream career for me,” said Claire, taking another step closer.

“So... you’re saying I should go?” whispered he, another step closer to her.

“Yes. You should be keeping thousands of people safe, not just one... me,” whispered Claire. Her eyes stinging with tears, but she blinked them away. Her gaze holds his, while he finally takes a deep breath and nods, as if admitting defeat.

“Then this really is goodbye,” said Tatum, taking the last step closer to her. His heart thumping loudly, and his fingertips brushing against hers.

“Right now?” blurted Claire, and he could feel how her hands started to shake against his, just slightly, but enough for him to feel it.

“The reassignment is effective immediately. Winston’s already sent someone to cover my shift,” admitted Tatum, the pain aching in him. And he would want to look away, but he cannot force himself to do that. His eyes locked with hers, feeling enchanted by her, mesmerised. Feeling that he cannot resist her anymore... needing to kiss her for the last time.

Their hearts heavy, taking that last tiny step toward each other. Trying not to imagine anyone else standing guard outside Claire’s door... not wanting to imagine anyone else.

Feeling how his breath hitches, when Claire put her hands on his shoulder, drawing him into a kiss. He doesn’t resist, his arms circling her tightly as if holding for the dear life, not wanting to let her go.

And he kisses her softly despite the firmness of his grip. His lips flutter against Claire’s, and he pauses, raising a hand to stroke her cheek, the three little words ready to leave his lips, but he pushes them back, knowing that they would hurt them both even more.

“Just... don’t forget me,” said Claire. Her voice came rough and raw... and desperate. And he fears that she will ask him something else he cannot give her or promise, but she doesn't.

“Never did, never will,” whispered Tatum against her lips. His voice like a gentle caresses to her shredded soul... like a soft whisper of meadows on a windy day. His way to say I love you, when the words are failing him.

And he kisses her with all the passion of a man who knows he’ll never see her again. His tongue sliding against hers, trying to memorise every single thing about her. Her taste, her scent, her touch. Kissing her fierce and sloppy, hard and rough. The way it would hurt and bruise her soft lips. The way it will make her remember him and never forget. The selfish kiss of a man who dies. The last kiss of the man who lives. And he could feel the taste of salt blossoming across their tongues, the mix of his and hers. Not able to tell for certain which of them shed the first tear.

Claire’s arms wrap around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, while he squeezes her lower back desperately, pressing her body as close as possible.

Finally, he pulls away, trailing his hands along her sides as he reluctantly releases her. Trying to memorise her every curve. To remember her every dip. His heart aching knowing that this is goodbye. Not knowing if he would ever come back or will he be brought in a metal casket with honours... but it isn’t a death he is afraid of... oh no... the fear that he has... the one that he desperately tried to push back from the moment he got off his phone call was the fear that something will happen with her and he wouldn’t be here to protect her. The same way as he wasn’t there during her first attack near the lake.

Finally Tatum takes a step back. His stoic expression belying the sadness Claire sees in his eyes. The sadness and fear, but in the midst of this she still misses the most important message in his eyes: he doesn’t want to leave her...

“Well... I guess I should be going. Paperwork to file and all that,” finally said Tatum with a sigh, reluctantly walking to the door, when he turns to her for the last time, watching how the last drop of tear falling from her eyelashes.

“Yeah. I’ll... see you around,” finally whispered Claire.

He opens his mouth to respond... wanting to tell her that it's unlikely, but he closes it before resolutely walking out of her room without another glance... knowing that if he will look back, he may never leave. His heart aching, and his pulse thumping loudly.

And he does not look back as the sight of her standing like that is achingly familiar and he knows that the single look at her will hurt as nothing else did. He saw her like that, all these five years ago. Him walking away, while she stood at his mother’s grave, looking at him with the teary smile, watching him to walk away from her life as he was doing now. Hoping against the hope that he will be lucky again. Her hands wrapped around her waist, wishing it didn't hurt so much this time. But it did hurt the hell even more.

The next day, it didn’t hurt any less. His every movement was followed by the memory of her tears and the pain he saw in her eyes the second before turning to leave her bedroom. So opposite of the picture of her hidden in the depth of his duffel bag, the one that will accompany him wherever he will be sent. The chocolate eyes with the wrinkles of laugh around them and the teasing smile forever captured on the white paper, so opposite from tears and pain in her eyes that will be ached in his memory.

He numbly took his duffel bag checking his carefully hidden treasure before walking to meet with his commanding officer in Dean’s office. His thoughts solely on Claire, while he listened to his orders. The tears in her eyes and the shake in her fingers. The way she looked at him. And the way she kissed him, while he kissed her in return. The soft caresses of their lips before turning into inferno.

He hoped, while on his way to Vancross's private airport, that when the reality will settle down it will hurt a little bit less and that he will be okay... that she will be okay. But it still hurt the same. And he knew that no matter how long time will pass it still will hurt the same, no less… probably even more.

His heart thumping loudly, singing a sad melody, while the image of her following his every move throughout the airport. Her eyes, the colour of the warm coffee and childhood memories. Her soft lips, that always taste like a peach lemonade on a hot summer day. Her smile, the one that warms him every time, whenever it reaches her eyes. And her voice, the telltale melody of her emotions storming inside of her. The one way of telling how she really feels. And the one that he can hear even now calling for him, with the notes of panic and hope colouring it.

His steps falter just slightly, while he walks to the gate, reliving the events of the past month. Their first meeting and their goodbye... their first kiss and their last... their scandal and their escape. And the way she didn’t wanted him to get hurt, same way as he would do anything to keep her safe.

He shakes his head, when he hears her again calling for him in desperation, piercing through his fogged mind, reaching out for him. And he is almost sure that he hears things, until he hears his name called for a third time.

“Tatum wait!” He hears, and he stops dead, slowly turning to face Claire.

Tagging: @choices-bound​​​​ @jamespotterthefirst​​​​ @mercury84choices​​​​ @k2624​​​​ @thefrenchiemama​ @choicesreal​​​​ @starrystarrytrouble​​​​ @boneandfur​​​​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​​​​ @sophxwithers​​​​ @ramseysrookiex​ @suitfer

[jcmorrigan]

more Blakeworther headcanons!! i want you to go ham with em too!! :D

Go ham, huh? So...I probably went the opposite direction of what you wanted or expected. But I just read “Our Coffin Is a Twin-Sized Bed” (Blakeworth fic, REALLY ANGSTY) and I loved it but it also made me very depressed. Anyway, it put the idea of CHARACTER DEATH in my head, and so I’m like...what if you took Vincent, Victor, and Albert, and you have an AU where each one of them dies, and how would the other two react?

Except I want to have my cake and eat it too. That prompt on its own is a bit...disheartening. So I had to treat myself by saying that each time, the death was actually a fakeout, and whoever “died” turns up just fine later. Which made for extra reunion headcanons!

Get ready for: the one where each one of them “dies” and the other two grieve in their own special way, only for the “dead” to have been fine the whole time

VINCENT

·      They were setting up bombs in a facility owned by Myers, hoping to bring down one of the bigwigs – possibly Monseiur M himself – in the explosion. Albert and Victor finished their rounds, then came back outside to wait for Vincent. Vincent radioed that he was almost finished – and then the whole building went up in smoke.

·      It took Victor and Albert a few minutes to process what had happened. He…he had to have gotten out, right? There’s no way Vincent would die on this mission.

·      But he doesn’t show up.

·      Watching the conflagration, agape and wide-eyed, Victor and Albert reach out to draw each other closer, hoping it just isn’t what it looks like.

·      Eventually, there are sirens, and they have to escape back to the mansion.

·      Albert finds the nearest piece of furniture he can sit on, sinks down, and starts sobbing. It doesn’t help that this is HIS house they’re living in, this is HIS chair Albert’s crying on, and he’s not even here.

·      I’m not actually sure if Victor’s eyes have tear ducts, but he is similarly distraught. He sits down beside Albert, trying to reassure him, “We’ll be okay. He’d want us to keep going. We’ll…we’ll be fine…”

·      His voice cracks. He can’t deal with this. Now he’s holding onto Albert not only for the sake of comforting him but of getting comforted.

·      They rattle around Vincent’s house for the next few days, utterly depressed. Everywhere they go, every corner they turn, they’re reminded of the spaces where he’s not.

·      Albert is caught talking to himself – and berating himself in a bad imitation of Vincent in order to simulate their arguments. Victor can only listen for so long before he’s too emotional and has to leave.

·      “You promised me you wouldn’t do this,” Victor says as he kneads a bedsheet between his fingers.

·      Eventually, the two of them hold a small service. They construct Vincent a grave out back in the yard. Each says a few words –

·      Victor: “I still don’t regret it. Not a day.”

·      Albert: “If you think I wanted to win our rivalry this way…you were wrong. I’d give anything to have you back.”

·      When behind them they suddenly hear “If I’d’ve known you two would get this morose, I wouldn’t have bothered to plant those explosives in the first place.”

·      They turn around, and…he’s here. Vincent’s here, looking quite grumpy.

·      “I thought it would be fairly obvious that I wasn’t dead. You two really went all out on this?”

·      Albert: “You’re not an exact replica with Vincent’s memories, are you? Actually, I have no problem if you’re an exact replica with Vincent’s memories.”

·      Victor and Albert run to him, embrace him tightly. Vincent’s rolling his eyes because these idiots got themselves worked up for nothing – but he’s lying if he says he isn’t really, really touched by how much they missed him. He’ll have to be careful not to make them worry in the future.

 VICTOR

·      Assassins have the mansion surrounded. Victor urges Albert and Vincent to go on ahead without him. He’ll catch up. But first he has to buy them time.

·      Albert and Vincent head to a motel three towns over – only to hear that the mansion was cleared out, then raided by authorities, and after the cyborgs were put down, no living people remained in the house.

·      “No,” Vincent says. “He’s fine. He’s FINE.” And he won’t hear otherwise.

·      Not even after a week.

·      Albert is starting to grieve, but Vincent keeps yelling at him, “STOP! HE ISN’T GONE! YOU’RE BEING AN IDIOT!”

·      Vincent is angrier than Albert has ever seen him in his whole life. The more days go by that Victor hasn’t turned up, the edgier Vincent’s mood gets.

·      Albert has to lock himself in the bathroom if he wants to cry it out.

·      But he also knows enough about psychology that he knows Vincent has to be dying inside. “Vincent, you need to talk about what happened.”

·      “You’re not even a real psychologist. Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

·      At one point, it gets so bad that Vincent locks Albert out of the motel room and refuses to let him in, no matter how much noise he makes.

·      That’s when the notes start showing up. The door’s definitely locked, but Vincent finds notes around the motel room that definitely weren’t there a moment ago.

·      “I love you. ~AK” “I’m worried about you! ~AK” “Vincent, talk to me. ~AK” “I know many fates worse than death. Do you want to push me that far? ~AK” “Please, Vincent, I need you. ~AK” “Fine. Die alone. ~AK” “I take back my last note. Don’t die alone. I love you. ~AK”

·      So eventually Vincent lets him back in, and Albert suggests, one final time, to have Vincent sit through a legitimate therapy session. No Dream Eaters, no tricks, no shell game. And Vincent agrees.

·      Vincent lies down on the bed. Albert sits on a chair beside him and starts asking questions – about Victor, about the memories they had, about what Victor means to them both.

·      Vincent slowly recalls their entire history – laughing, crying, smiling. And by the end of it, he’s outright sobbing.

·      “How can someone who was such a big part of our lives be gone, Albert?”

·      And in a historical first, Albert actually lies down on the bed to cuddle Vincent, stroke his hair, and tell him “I miss him too. So much. It’s okay. Just cry.”

·      Eventually, they get a message from Winston, saying he has some important information and “cargo” to trade to them if they meet at a rendez-vous point. So they agree. Albert and Vincent head to the alley around midnight to find Winston and…a man in a black hood.

·      He throws back the hood. It’s Victor, whose metal eyes are twinkling. “Miss me?”

·      All of Vincent’s psychological work is undone; he just says “I knew you weren’t dead.” Albert, on the other hand, TACKLES Victor at unprecedented speed and pins him to the street.

·      Once Albert lets him go, Victor goes up to Vincent, and the two of them hold each other’s gaze. They kiss, briefly. That’s all they need to put closure on this.

 ALBERT

·      He doesn’t come home from a walk one night. Instead, a Dream Eater shows up and hands Vincent and Victor a letter.

·      “My beloved Victor and my frustratingly wonderful Vincent, if you are receiving this letter, it means you are not likely to see me again in this lifetime. I have run afoul of enemy forces, and, well, I’ll finally get to see what murder looks like from the other side. I want to thank you for the laughter and tears you both have given me, and for the good times and the bad. I hope you’ll remember me fondly, or at least as a memorable nuisance. With all of my love, goodbye. -Dr. Albert Gerald Krueger”

·      This is a joke, right? Victor’s convinced it’s a joke, and Vincent insists this is exactly the kind of prank Albert would find funny…

·      Until a month passes and he hasn’t come back.

·      Vincent takes a stance: “We never needed him. It was always just you and me from the start, Victor. We can return to our roots. He was always just an extra.”

·      Victor: “I know you don’t want to admit you miss him, but that was heartless, Vincent.”

·      The two of them end up fighting, sleeping on opposite sides of the mansion for days.

·      Victor tries to drink the pain away. (It happens in all three of these scenarios, actually, but this one’s plot-relevant)

·      One night, he wakes up at three and decides he’s not drunk enough. So he shuffles down to the bar and…there’s Vincent? Already drinking?

·      Victor decides to bite; “What’s all this for?”

·      Vincent turns to Victor, and Victor can now see he’s been crying for a while. “I can’t keep this up much longer, Victor. The two of us were happy before he broke in…why can’t I be happy? Why do I still miss him so much? Why can’t I just function?”

·      Ah. Now Victor knows it is definitely about Vincent not wanting to admit he misses Albert or even liked him. Because here’s Vincent just distraught without Albert.

·      Victor sits down by Vincent. Pours himself a drink. “We can’t erase him, but we can dull the memories for a night.”

·      It’s a miracle they don’t die of alcohol poisoning that night. They toast Albert’s memory, and at one point, Victor, a little out of his mind already, just poured a whole bottle of brandy on the floor in his honor.

·      Then, a couple days later, they’re trying to figure out how they’re going to break this to Taylor. They’ve avoided Taylor for so long so they didn’t have to bring this up.

·      There’s a knock on the door. Vincent gets up with trepidation, gun in hand because he’s not sure who it’ll be. Victor follows, ready to throw down.

·      The door swings open…

·      Albert: “I apologize. I didn’t think I’d be gone that long.” And he’s smiling like he’s just a couple hours late, not a whole month and change in which the other two thought he was dead. “What did I miss?”

·      There’s a silence as Victor and Vincent gape. Then Victor breaks into a wide smile; “Alb – “

·      Vincent DECKS ALBERT IN THE FACE.

·      Albert, on the ground, says “I deserved that.”

·      Vincent: “How could you do that to me? How could you tear me apart? How could you make me so empty inside over someone like YOU? How could you make it hurt so badly to love you?”

·      He’s getting rather emotional, a tear or two falling, and Albert realizes that Vincent actually…missed him. And the immense potential for blackmail this will bring.

·      Victor steps forward to help him up off the ground. Pulls Albert into a too-tight hug in the process. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

·      Then they head inside because Albert kinda needs an ice pack for the eye Vincent hit now.

[magics-protector]

Run

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader 

Warnings: Implied Cannibalism, Language,mentions of manipulation, Car Chase with Guns, mentions of an affair between the Reader and Will

Summary: The Reader was Hannibal’s wife. She thought she was in love with him but it was all Hannibal’s manipulation. After Hannibal’s arrest, the Reader seeks comfort in Will but it doesn’t seem that Hannibal is willing to give up his wife that easily.

Every little sound - no matter how small it was - made Y/N’s skin shiver.

She sat in the living room of her home - surrounded by her dogs - well, they were Will’s dogs but when she moved in, they became her dogs. Winston had his head on her lap, some were on her feet. 

It was 3 in the afternoon and she was waiting. Will had taken the rest of the day off to spend it with her. Not at her request however - normally, Y/N would have to remind Will that his mental health is important and that even he needs a rest. No, this time Will took time off willingly and Y/N had no idea why.

Resting her hand on Winston’s head, after thinking of Will for so long, Y/N’s mind became flooded with memories of how she met him. 

It had been three years before back when Y/N Graham was Y/N Lector. Back then, she was the wife of one of the most respectable psychiatrists, Doctor Hannibal Lector, before the truth of Hannibal’s ‘outside life’ was revealed. They met completely on accident; Y/N was on her way to drop off some papers at her husband’s office and Will was leaving a session with Hannibal. They bumped into each other and Y/N dropped her papers. That’s how they became friends but as the months went on, Y/N started to question her relationship with Hannibal and soon after, she went to Will for comfort. They had to be careful about everything they did together. That was until Hannibal was convicted of being the Chesapeake Ripper. Y/N must have cried for at least four hours and after that, was nothing but an empty shell. Her husband - soon to be ex - was a murderer and a cannibal. Her stomach was empty but still she felt the bile rise in her throat. Nothing would shake the feelings that Y/N had - knowing that she had, by technicality, eaten people for years. 

The memories made Y/N sick so she forced her mind to Will, which made her smile. Will had always been there for her - helped her through her divorce, through her emotions. It was no wonder and to no one’s surprise when they announced their engagement. 

Y/N Lector became Y/N Graham and never looked back. 

The sound of the front door opening drew Y/N from her thoughts and she smiled, as all the dogs ran for the door. Will entered the door with a wide smile; so much had happened to him and now, he has that happy ending he always deserved. His dogs. His house. And his wife. 

He looked over to Y/N and smiled, setting his bag down and walked over to her, pulling her in. 

“You seem happy.” Y/N smiled. 

Will rested his forehead against hers, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. “I am.” He leaned back, pulling back from her and grabbing her hand. Without a word, he started pulling her towards the door and out to the car. 

Y/N giggled. “Where are you taking me, Mr. Graham?” 

Will opened the passengers door, bowing slightly as he did so. “That’s for me to know and you to see, Mrs. Graham.” 

Y/N giggled and stepped into the vehicle. Will closed the door behind her and ran around to the otherside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A simple drive through the city was what Will knew Y/N needed. He knew she had been in her head the past week. The anniversary of Hannibal’s incarceration was approaching and no matter what Will did, Y/N always seemed to be haunted by her memories and the manipulation Hannibal put her under. 

Taking her hand in his, Will maintained his focus on the road. The lights of the city streets were always something Will knew would calm any of Y/N’s negative moods. He also planned a little dinner in his classroom for her - Y/N loved to visit Will’s classroom while he worked. 

The low rumbling of the music slowed raised heart rates as Will ran his thumb over Y/N’s hand. 

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” Y/N tilted her head with a smile. 

Will held back a chuckle and shook his head. “It would ruin the surprise.” 

Y/N just chuckled and shook her head. She gazed out of the window when something caught her attention and she frowned. “Hey, Will?” 

“Hm?”

“I think we’re being followed.” 

There was a black vehicle behind them, it had started tailing them when they got to the city. But, it seems two more had joined in. 

Will looked through the rearview mirror and frowned. He signalled left to see if they would follow and sure enough, they did. He looked back again, a thought rising in his head. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed his phone to Y/N. “Call Jack. Tell him what’s happening. He’ll know what to do.” 

Y/N nodded, taking the phone from Will. She quickly dialed Jack’s contact. It rang out for a moment until he answered. 

“Will?” 

“Jack?” Y/N tried to keep her voice as calm as possible. “It’s Y/N. Listen closely, Will and I are being followed by three SUVs. What should we do?” 

There was silence - well except for the muffled sound of Jack giving orders - on the other line for a moment until Jack spoke again. “Alright, we’ve pinned your location and here’s what you’re gonna do. Put me on speaker.” 

Y/N did as she was asked. 

“Alright, Will, can you hear me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Take the left on Rosemund and Parker. I’ve got four cars barricade the entrance to base, you’re gonna go right in between them.” 

Just as Jack was giving orders, the heavy sound of gunfire rang out. Bullets flew from the other vehicles towards the Grahams. 

Will whipped around and back. “Shit.” 

“Will, what’s going on?” 

Will ignored Jack’s questioned to look over at Y/N. Her body was shaking like crazy as she looked over to Will with a petrified face. 

“They’re firing at us.” Will said calmly, trying to ease Y/N’s tension. 

Y/N blocked out any voice or any sound that wasn’t Will as she looked out the front windshield. She could feel Will slam his foot against the pedal and it was like time had no more meaning. What seemed like hours of gunfire and Will stressing became minutes once the FBI base and Jack’s barricade came into view. Will steered them in and Y/N watched the barricade close behind them. 

Once they were safe, Will bolted out of his door and ran to Y/N’s side. He opened her door and pulled her close, whispering words of comfort as Jack walked up. Will looked up at Jack and nodded. 

Jack nodded back. “Do you have any idea who that could have been?” Will asked. 

“Not until we question them.” Jack pointed to the barricade where six men were being led away by police. 

Y/N started to mumble something that no one could hear clearly. Will leaned down. “What was that?” 

Y/N looked at Will with blank eyes and her skin became a sickly green color. “It was him.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A man stood in the shadows watching as Will Graham comforted his wife. 

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. It rang for a moment before another man picked it up. 

“It didn’t work. In fact, I think it pulled them closer together.” 

“No, it did work.” The man on the other line said. “This was just a reminder.” 

“A reminder?” 

“To remind Y/N that she will never get away from me. She is my wife after all.” 

[athenaquinn]

Way Down We Go || Orion & Athena

TIMING: Midnight-ish, October 19th into October 20th LOCATION: Quinn Household, Harris Island PARTIES: @3starsquinn & @athenaquinn SUMMARY: It’s just sibling bonding time. CONTENT: Emotional and physical abuse mentions, Physical abuse, Death (please ask either of us if you’d like a summary!)

It was late, at least for most people. Orion had always been a bit of a night owl, often getting caught up in books or video games and staying up until three or four in the morning. Rio had gotten caught up with his friends, taking advantage of the day to have the only normal birthday that he had ever had. It had been nice, amazing even. But he knew that he had to be somewhere. He didn’t owe it to her. Maybe she didn’t even deserve it. But Rio felt the obligation regardless. Twenty one was a big number, and Rio had spent the last twenty with Athena by his side at every birthday. It had been a tradition. The two always stayed up until midnight together on their birthday. Rio was running late, but his own house wasn’t far from the Quinn family’s house. He glanced at this phone, 11:45pm. He still had time. He shoved the phone in his pocket and snuck through backyards, creating his own shortcut to get to the back of his family’s house, and spotting Athena immediately. She sat perched on the roof. Her dark figure contrasting the starry sky around her. Rio tossed his bag in one of the bushes and climbed onto the banister of their back porch, using that as a makeshift ladder to help him pull himself up onto the roof. Ten minutes now. Rio crept across the rooftop, careful to keep himself balanced and steady. The last thing he needed was to sleep and fall off the roof. Injuries aside, that would definitely wake up his parents. “Hey.”

She was twenty-one. Which meant that her brother was, too. She couldn’t remember when the tradition had started, but she also couldn’t remember a time when she and Orion hadn’t climbed onto the roof. Stayed up until midnight, spending the last moments of their birthday with one another. With the only other person who had been there from the beginning, and even before. However, she had yet to hear from him today. Had yet to hear from him in weeks. That didn’t stop Athena from climbing onto the roof all on her own. Some things were tradition for a reason, and she wasn’t about to break that, even after everything that had occurred in these past few months. So up she went, and she’d been sitting for a good half-hour, the chilly evening causing her to wrap her fleece more tightly around her body. Checking her phone, she bit her lip. Wondered if maybe this was all for naught. Then she heard a noise and turned her head, making out a familiar shape creeping toward her. “You came.” She answered simply. Hoped he could see the relief in her eyes. She turned away for a moment, before turning back to him, holding something small in her hands. “Chocolate-based mini raspberry cheesecake. One of your favorites.” She paused. “Happy Birthday, Ri.”

This made Orion feel far more nostalgic than thought he was going to. He hated it. He needed to be done with this family, for good. And that wasn’t going to work when he kept running into Athena and forced into conversations with her. Out in parks, with Winston, even with Ariana. He couldn’t do this anymore. “Happy Birthday,” Rio repeated back to her, glancing down at the cheesecake. That stupid cheesecake. Of course she remembered that and would think to bake it. Because despite everything, Athena knew Rio. It made no sense, how someone could know so much about a person and yet never understand them. “Thanks.” He stabbed a piece of the cheesecake on his fork and took a small bite. It tasted incredible, but Rio felt sick to his stomach. He finished the bite before offering the fork to Athena. “Listen, we need to talk.” No yelling this time or crying. Rio wasn’t going to lose his cool like he had in the training room or that night in the park. He didn’t know how to break the news to Athena without her freaking out, but he knew screaming wasn’t going to fix anything.

“Tradition.” Athena replied. “Even if you hadn’t come, I had to. Had to bake something for you.” She hadn’t even thought that he might not come until she’d ended up on top of the roof. “You’re welcome.” She stabbed a small piece of the cheesecake with the fork and took a careful bite. Though it had been months - six, just about - since her brother had left their home, it felt like no time had passed. Perhaps it was childish, but she still had dozens of photos of the two of them in her room. Some out, framed or stuck to the walls, and others tucked away in favorite books from when they’d been little, hidden in her sock drawer. She knew that she had to protect her brother, but in recent months, she had started to wonder more if she needed him more than he needed her. Even the thought felt sour on her tongue and his voice brought her out of her thoughts again. “Okay.” She set the mini cheesecake down on the roof, careful to balance it so that it didn’t slide off. “About what?” She glanced over to him, blue-grey eyes wide and more than just a bit apprehensive.

Orion didn’t know how to ease into the conversation. But as apprehensive as he was about Athena’s response, he wasn’t afraid of the confrontation. He knew this was the only choice he had left. Or he would never be able to fully let go. So it was better to just dive right in. “I can’t do this anymore.” He shifted his body, his knees pointed towards Athena even though Rio refused to look anywhere else but the stars. “Any of this. I can’t keep running into you and getting angry. Or being afraid that I’m going to run into mom and dad at the store.” He wasn’t sure that Athena would ever understand or accept what he was saying, but he had to try to explain it as best as he could. “I’m exhausted. All the time. I’m so tired of being afraid to see you guys. I have never been happy here. I’m finally happy. And I can’t let you guys take that away from me.” Rio’s hands were resting on his knees and his grip tightened as he spoke. He hated this feeling. “I’m done being afraid of you. I’m done being afraid of mom and dad. I’m just done being a Quinn.”

She didn’t even process what he was saying for a moment. Once she did, she shook her head. No. “You don’t have to.” Athena pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Counted down from ten. She could feel the roof under her fingertips. Focused back on her brother. “Please.” Her voice was quiet. Not angry, for once. She missed him too much. Could never shake the feeling that something was wrong when he wasn’t around. Even though they hadn’t slept in the same room since they were little, just knowing he was around made her feel right. “Are you leaving town?” She blinked at him. Let her hands fall to match his position. “What will you be, then? You can’t just get rid of the name that easily.” Her head was spinning. Was this the only reason why he’d bothered to come by? Yet somehow, and she wasn’t quite sure how, she was able to fight off the desire to snap at him. “Is there - can - can we please just have this night?” Her grip tightened on her knees. “I want to - you should be happy with me, too. I’m your twin.” She wasn’t going to cry. She didn’t cry.

The pain and pleading actually came as a surprise. For once, maybe this wouldn’t end in a fight. She wasn’t going to be happy with the way things ended, but maybe it wouldn’t end with her yelling at him. He wasn’t willing to compromise with her and coexist with them anymore. He felt complicit. He wouldn’t let himself be dragged down by it. “No. I’m not leaving town. But if I see any of you… I can’t talk to you.” That was the simplest way to phrase it without having to explain the pit in his stomach that formed every time he saw them in public. “That’s why I’m here though. We have until midnight, one last time. Just like tradition. To say goodbye.” Rio definitely couldn’t look at her now. A quick glance told him that they were both in the same position, holding onto their knees and he quickly readjusted, leaning back and using his palms against the roof to support his stargazing. “We’re not happy, Athena. We never have been, have we?” Sure, they had times that they were close to the feeling, but their relationship had always been built more on co-dependence than genuine care for the other. “You love me because you feel like you have to. But I don’t think you’ve ever really liked me. Not for a long time, at least” It all seemed so obvious to him now, looking from the outside. Rio couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he genuinely liked Athena. He only knew that of his family members, she was the hardest one to let go.  “You’ve resented me my entire life. For what I couldn’t be. Just like I’ve always resented you for who you are.” The words felt acidic coming off of his tongue, but he didn’t mean them to hurt like he had back at the park. This was the reality that Rio had finally seen. “I will never be happy if I’m part of this family. I can’t pick and choose the parts I don’t like. We’ve all been complicit. And I can’t be complicit anymore.”

He wanted to get rid of her. She pushed aside the thought of her parents for a moment - for all that she did care for them, they were never her number one priority. Her number one priority was sitting right next to her, with a changed position in his body now. Athena shook her head. “Well, good. You still have the school year to finish, you know.” She didn’t know what to say to him. “Fine.” She glanced down at her phone. 11:50 pm. Ten more minutes. “I don’t know.” She answered his question, honestly. That was what she owed him, right? Besides, if he was going to write her out of his life, what did a little honesty hurt? Though she had always been the most honest with him out of anyone. Perhaps in part because he simply knew her, and so some things that she had to tell others in order to be honest, he’d known for forever. “I thought - sometimes I thought we had been.” She wasn’t going to cry. She could only think about how maybe, somehow, some small part of her understood why Orion didn’t always want to hunt. She didn’t understand it completely, but she hadn’t known about Ariana at first, and she’d felt so safe with her. Athena shook the thought out of her head. “I love you. I - I do.” She let her legs fall into butterfly position, fingers grasped around her ankles. The same position she used to resort to at times when the two of them were playing as children. “We were supposed to be the answer to everything. That’s what mom and dad always said.” Her breathing felt heavy. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you.”

This was probably the most sincere the two had ever been with each other. Orion didn’t know if that made things easier or harder. “Maybe we were. When we were younger. Honestly it’s too hard to tell.” Rio liked to believe that before everything fell apart, the two had genuinely cared for each other. That their relationship was built more on love and understanding than their parent’s sick and twisted sense of duty. Athena repeated the sentiment. That she loved him. Though she didn’t sound exactly confident as she said it. Their love was built. Either by a sense of duty or as a defense mechanism against the abuse they had endured. Probably a mixture of both. But it didn’t matter the cause, only that continuing to pretend like it was anything different was toxic, and it was holding Rio back. Both of them back, if they truly wanted to be honest. “That wasn’t fair of them. They never had any right to decide that for us.” Rio didn’t have the energy to get into an argument with Athena about their parents. But for once, his voice wasn’t shaking. This was the calmest he had ever been talking about them. It only made him more confident that he had made the right decision. “We are being held back by them. And by each other. I deserve better than the abusive environment I was forced into.” Rio raised a finger, trying to stop her before Athena had the chance to say anything, “And that’s exactly what it was. Whether or not you want to admit it. We’ve been abused. And tortured. And groomed by our parents and by you. My entire childhood was taken from me because of this family. I’ll never get that back. And it’s bullshit. But I refuse to let mom and dad take anything else from me.”

“I guess it is.” She gave a small shrug, though she could admit that it may have been true. Though she could only think back to her dream with that fae, how somehow she’d conjured up a time when the two of them only wanted to speak to one another. When the two of them would choose to stare, wide-eyed, at anyone else. Athena sighed again. “They are our parents.” Her voice wobbled. “We are supposed to listen to them.” It was a rote phrase, practically. One she’d been saying ever since she was little. She found that she wasn’t trying to argue, though - just stating something that she’d heard again and again. Something she’d always taken as fact, because what reason did their parents have to lie to them? “I guess.” She clasped a hand over her mouth as he held up his finger. He’d gotten so confident since they had properly spent time together, and part of that sent a ripple of pain through her chest. “They just wanted what is best for us.” She shook her head, but it didn’t sound right, for once. She could think back to shortly after her brother had run away when her parents had burned something against her skin because she’d been too distracted and missed a punch. “Can we - can you come inside one last time? I know that this is it.” I don’t want it to be. “But maybe, for old times’ sake? Mom and dad are dead asleep. I just - I have one last present for you.”

Orion had heard the phrases before. So many times. Repeated by his parents. Repeated by his sister. Repeated by himself. But they rang empty now. They had for a long time, honestly. Even his sister’s tone seemed unconvinced as she said them. But it wasn’t enough to erase what he had been through. It couldn’t be enough, or else he would open himself to the hurt all over again. “Look, I really don’t want to fight with you in this, okay?” She could scream those words at him, wake up his parents or the whole neighborhood for all he cared. It wouldn’t change anything anymore. “I think we’ve known for a long time that this was coming. I don’t have the energy to fight or argue about an inevitability.” But it truly didn’t seem like she was going to fight him on this. Maybe her invitation inside was a trap. To beg or plead with him or even wake up their parents. But she honestly just seemed desperate. “Fine. Yeah. One more time.” If Rio had time, he could do one last sweep of his room. Get a final goodbye of the place and family that had failed him. “Let’s go.” Rio didn’t want to waste anymore time. He hopped up from his spot and headed towards the window that led into Athena’s room. He remembered the feeling of sneaking into Athena’s room at night and crawling out on the roof well. It still hadn't quite clicked that this was the last time the two would be doing this together.

“I don’t want to fight with you either.” Athena paused, biting her lip. “It’s just - well, it is what it has to be.” She didn’t know what she was going to do without him in her life. Even in their lowest moments, he had always been a constant in her life. Always there, and she wasn’t sure how to process the fact that pretty soon that might not be the case. “It didn’t have to be.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Even though she knew her brother wasn’t listening. It didn’t stop her need to say those words, though. They were supposed to be together, always. But he agreed, and that was all she could ask for, sometimes. She pulled open the window (she’d managed to have it down to a science after all these years) and dipped inside, waiting for her brother to follow her. Once he was inside she offered him a careful smile. “I just wanted - well, it’s just nice to be here with you. So thank you.”

Athena’s room hadn’t changed much. It was almost like he had never lived away from them at all. Yet everything around him felt different. This place didn’t hold the same weight that it used to. It felt more like an unpleasant memory than a prison. This wasn’t Rio’s home anymore. The thought actually made Rio smile. “Yeah, well I can’t stay too much longer.” Rio answered, glancing around the room and opening the door as quietly as possible. “Let’s go downstairs.” Rio whispered. He led the way, remembering breaking in here with Blanche to take the car keys back. Just as Rio had assumed, his parents didn’t do anything about it. The only thing worse than letting their son win a battle was having their neighbors and coworkers know about their crumbling family. Rio discarded the now empty plate in the sink and glanced around the kitchen. In the corner, the door leading into the operating theater stared back at him. “God, I hate it here.” Rio hopped onto the kitchen island and reflected, “I’ve always hated this stupid house. And all these stupid decorations. We’ve all been lying our entire lives. To the town and our neighbors and each other.  Even to ourselves I guess.” Rio knew he had lied to himself for a long time. Something told him that Athena had been the same way. “I’m so tired of lying.” He knew he couldn’t stop, knowing what he knew about the real world, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Rio wasn’t sure how long Athena and him sat in the kitchen together, but he snapped back when he heard a noise. “They’re up.” Rio’s mind jumped to attention immediately, but a voice behind him made his breath catch. “A little late for that, isn’t it Orion?” He heard his mother’s voice and tensed immediately, too frozen in his spot to jump off of the counter or turn around to look at her, “Disappointing that your senses are still so lacking. I had hoped you’d at least spend your time away learning something useful to this family.”

Almost without a word, Athena followed her brother downstairs. If they truly did only have a few moments left together, she knew that she’d do anything he asked. Almost, at least. She looked up at him as he hopped onto the kitchen island - flashing back to the dozens of times that the two of them had both been up there, watching their mother bake something or their father cook some new dinner that some co-worker at the hospital had told him about. “It,” isn’t all so bad, “well, we always had our rooms. I distinctly remember us finding some fancy way to design our bedroom back when we shared one.” We’ve been lying our entire lives. Athena squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn’t true. Well, outside of what was necessary. It was dangerous to out what they were, for risk of retribution or something else. “I -” me too, sometimes. I want to be understood. But before she could finish her sentence her brother’s words indicated that he had heard something that she could not - yet. Until their parents came in and she could spot them over her brother’s shoulder. A hand instinctively (though she did not understand why, it was just their parents, after all) went to brush lightly against his knee and she flashed a smile at her mother. “Sorry, I was talking so loud, you know?” “I believe that to be untrue, Athena. Don’t defend your brother’s missteps. The two of you are hardly three years old any more.” Their father nodded, a firm hand placed on their mother’s shoulder. Silent, which had always set Athena just a bit on edge. “I just had to give him something, that’s all!” Her hand was now more firmly placed on her brother’s knee. Glanced at the clock. 11:55 pm. She had five more minutes.  “Didn’t mean to wake you! I know you’ve both got busy days tomorrow.”

There was a flurry of emotions swirling inside of Orion. Fear, anger, remorse. The combination was enough to make Rio dizzy and sick to his stomach. It felt like gravity, pushing down against him and refusing to let up, cementing him to the spot on the countertop and keeping him from fleeing like he wanted to. For what it was worth, Athena was maintaining her cool. She was good at it. Rio’s body language was a messy mixture of many things, but cool was not one of them. His facial expression was set in a deep scowl, but his body was turned away from his parents and he could feel his arms shaking. “You didn’t mean to wake us, but it’s hardly for our own benefits, now is it?” His mother held a condescending smirk on her face. A symbol of the triumph she already felt. She was celebrating something, but Rio couldn’t be sure what it was. But he had some guesses. Seeing that all too familiar grin made the hairs on his arms stand on end and the various scars and burns across his body all ache at once. “But look at that, our whole family is finally reunited after all this time.” Sure, as if that was something that Linda Quinn was actually concerned with. His father spoke up from behind her, that same unfamiliar sincerity in his voice that had been present at the hospital, “What she means is that we’re happy that you’re back. How have your wounds healed?” Ironically, that fake concern made Rio even angrier. The cold, ruthless attitude was something that Rio was used to and could deal with. But whatever this act was? It felt wrong and made Rio uncomfortable. “This isn’t my home. And I’m not staying.” Rio finally spoke, anger apparent despite the trembling in his voice. “Don’t raise your voice at us.” Linda’s tone was sharp and unforgiving and Rio flinched despite himself, “Why would you be in any rush to leave? You want to get back to that house you’ve been staying at down the street? With Ricky and Winston is it? How come you’ve never invited us for dinner?” All the anger deflated within Rio, replaced instead with a growing sense of shock and terror. She knew about them? How did she know that? Did she know about Ricky being a selkie? About Rio and Winston dating? Both put them in danger. His eyes must have widened, or face paled because suddenly his mom was laughing, “You think you could just disappear and we wouldn’t check in on you? You can’t hide from us Orion. You are our son. You belong to the Quinn family.” Rio couldn’t speak for a long time, too scared to make her even more angry.

“No, it is not. I am aware of that.” Athena could feel her voice wobble for a moment. She hated this. Hated that for some reason the way her mother was talking unsettled her. That wasn’t what was supposed to happen. “I didn’t want you both to feel frustrated.” I wanted a moment alone with my brother. She couldn’t very well tell her parents that, though, could she? Her hand hadn’t moved from where it was on her brother’s knee. He was here. He was safe. She was safe. Of course they were safe.  “I’m sorry.” She almost whispered. “We are together! That’s,” she didn’t dare look at her brother, though she willed him not to hate her, “great! I was just telling my brother about how much we’ve missed him.” Her free hand found her brother’s hand and she gave it a small squeeze, the same way he used to do to her when she woke up from a nightmare years ago.

Before she could respond to her father’s comment, her brother was jumping in. His voice wasn’t nearly as gentle as he had been with her, even though Athena wasn’t certain she could consider his tone to be especially gentle. Her mother’s next comment surprised her. “You’re…” she glanced over to her brother, tears threatening to spill over onto her face. The thought that her brother might be living with Winston had crossed her mind as a consideration half a dozen times, but never enough for it to have stuck. Somehow that hurt more than she wished for it to - especially because it meant that he had been so close. So close and she hadn’t been able to tell, hadn’t worked that out. “Busy, maybe.” She found herself saying. “Don’t speak to me right now, Athena.” She shook her head. “He’s, he didn’t mean it, okay?” She blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears come. “What did I say?” Linda snapped, and Athena felt herself shrinking, almost, despite the good three inches she knew that she had on her mother. It certainly didn’t feel like that right now. “What’s up with you, Athena?” she took a glance over to her husband, before looking back to Athena, taking a few steps towards the twins. “You know better.”

The longer Orion sat there, the larger his rage built. Hearing his parent’s speak, those tones of voices and curt responses that he had heard his entire life used to strike so much fear in him. They still did, obviously. But things had changed since then. Rio was not meant to be a Quinn any longer. Athena grabbed onto Orion’s hand, but he was too focused on his parents to register it. All of this was wrong. Coming here had been a mistake. All he wanted was for it all to be over. To be done with this family. But his mother exposing Rio’s life like this, keeping track of him, was proof that Rio had never really escaped at all. Even now, he was still under their thumb and watchful eye. Knowing this only made Rio angrier. “Stay away from me.” Rio pulled his hand free from Athena’s and jumped down from the counter. “From us.” Rio reiterated, trying to acknowledge that the things that had happened to Rio had happened to Athena as well. “I’m not that same, terrified kid that I used to be. I’m not just going to cower down from either of you anymore.” He wished his voice sounded as confident as the words themselves did. But he still meant them. “Orion. Sweet, naive Orion. Why must you always insist on disobeying us?” His mother again, speaking from behind his father this time, “It’s this sort of behavior that forced us to take such drastic measures before. You remember your eighteenth birthday fairly well I’m sure?” It felt like an anchor had dropped in Rio’s stomach, clearly he was familiar with it. “Linda-” his dad began, but his mother cut him off quickly, “Don’t be dense, James. Orion is a smart boy. I doubt this is news to him. We tried for so long. Taught you everything we knew, prepared you for the world. And how did you repay us? By spitting on our traditions and treating your own family like garbage. You betrayed us, Orion. We tried again and again to change your mind, but eventually we had to accept you for what you were. A failure.”

Orion had known this for a while now. The revelation coming to him months back when they had forced their former teacher to attack Athena and Rio. Even then, the words were heavy on Rio and crushed him. His only family had tried to murder him, and now they had finally admitted it. “So you tried to use me as an example, right?” Rio asked them, not bothering risking a glance back towards Athena. She had never believed him before, but he had a good idea that she was finally starting to put the pieces together, “It was two birds with one stone. You get rid of me. And you use my death to fuel my sister.” Honestly, it had been a smart plan, almost full proof if they hadn’t underestimated Athena. The look on their faces told Rio everything he needed to know. His mother smiled, nodding in agreement as Rio spoke. His father was harder to read, but his refusal to speak or deny anything saying more than enough. “You’re both monsters.” Rio actually chuckled, so disgusted by the entire situation that the laughing just bubbled out accidentally. “We kill monsters, Orion. That’s what we’ve been trying to teach you.” His dad spoke up this time, but Rio waved him away. “That’s such a bullshit excuse to hide behind!” Rio raised his voice and took a step forward, “Being hunters. Protecting people from dangerous creatures. Killing threats. You know I’ve never agreed but I understand why it exists. This has nothing to do with that. You guys tortured us. You broke us down and tried to mold us like we were clay or something. You didn’t kill out of duty, you killed because you enjoyed it.” Rio balled his fist but eventually let it relax, opting instead to use his hand to point at his parents, “You tortured people downstairs. Took them apart because their insides fascinated you.” Rio stuck his finger towards his dad before swiveling to his mom, “And you. You hunted for fun. Forced innocent people to suffer. You didn’t kill threats, you killed children and mothers. You’re both-” before Rio could even process the movement, his mother had closed this distance between them and grabbed onto Rio’s wrist, twisting it with a sudden, painful snap. “Linda!” His father called out immediately and making a movement towards Rio, but he pushed away from the both of them, letting out a sudden gasp of pain grabbing at his arm to try to support his wrist. “Don’t you dare point that accusatory finger at me. We raised you to know better than that. You want to parade around with those monstrous freaks? Fine. Then we will treat you just like we do them.”

Her stomach hurt. Athena couldn’t focus on what was going on, not entirely. Her family had never behaved like this. It was times like this when she wished that twin telepathy was a thing. When the two of them had been little, the both of them had seemed to often understand one another without even speaking, but she had started to figure that perhaps that had to do with the fact that they had possibly been close then. Her brother jumped off the countertop and she found herself searching for his hand but it was too far away. A quick glance at the clock on the stove told her that it was just after midnight. Which meant that their birthday was over and which meant that she was about to lose her brother forever. She could hear her brother half-yelling and she pressed her hands against her temples, the noise practically overwhelming. Even though it shouldn’t have been. Even though it should have been fine, because she could handle anything. That was what her parents had always told her, anyhow. That she was born to be something better, something more than anyone normal. She had been gifted with special abilities. A divine gift, her parents had cooed to her numerous times throughout the years. A gift like that comes with an obligation, she could hear them saying, one that we know you will do brilliantly in. Her mother’s hands carefully running through her hair, wrapping Athena’s tiny hands before sending her to their home gym. Somehow, hearing their mother’s words calling her brother a failure made her fists clench, this time. She knew that she’d heard it before. Heard it in the same sentence that came with praise for her. Be more like your sister, Orion. She succeeds in everything she does, and what do you do?

Her brother’s words only served to make her body tense up more. An example? Athena shook her head. There was no way. Except when she squeezed her eyes shut she could still see the day of their eighteenth birthday crystal-clear. How excited she had been, going into the family gym. It was one of her favorite activities, and so it had only made sense that they would do something like that on their birthday, especially one as significant as their eighteenth. Except then there had been a werewolf and she remembered the grins on her parents’ faces, the brief feeling of confusion, the panic when the creature had gone after her brother. The blur until she found herself standing over her brother and the wolf, silver pipe in hand, the wolf dead on the ground. She remembered wanting to cry, to hug her brother, but refraining. As she looked over now, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so quiet. There was too much happening all at once for her to jump in and say anything, despite the fact that she usually considered herself good at doing just that. Her brother’s words were almost too much. Maybe being away from all of them had somehow made him more confident, no matter how much that pained her, no matter how much she hated the very idea that anyone else could have helped him more than she could. Molded us. No. That wasn’t right. “They wanted to -” but she didn’t finish her sentence because her mother was grabbing her brother’s wrist and she felt herself wince at the snap. “Mom!” She screamed, suddenly, drawing the attention of both her parents, the previous silence now broken. Nobody hurt her brother. Whatever they had done during training was different. “What did you do?!” She moved in front of her brother, her eyes narrowing. “He’s not a monster! Never has been. He’s,” dumb and a terrible hunter, “different but he’s not a monster.” She could practically feel her mother’s rage on her, “Now, dear Athena, do not speak to us that way.” Her father’s gaze was there now too, but she didn’t back down. “Stay away from him.” Before the sentence was finished Linda’s hand was against Athena’s jaw, grabbing it tightly. “Don’t tell us you believe anything your brother says.” Athena gave a half-hearted shrug and Linda’s grip only tightened. “My dear, perhaps we should just leave them be,” she could hear her father’s voice, followed by a curt “No.” from her mother. “Naughty children are meant to be taught a lesson.” She turned back to Athena. “I suppose there is a first time for everything. We shouldn’t have let you dream of leaving town for medical school. This must’ve all gone to your head. Your brother’s ideals and ideas too, it would seem. We thought you were better, even when we’d accepted his failure.” Athena focused her gaze right on her mother. “I am meant to always protect others. That includes my brother.” With that, Linda shoved her to the ground, her hip catching the kitchen counter as she fell. “I do not wish to teach you a lesson, my darling daughter, but you understand, don’t you?”

Orion’s mind was overcome by the rush of pain in his wrist. He had tripped while stumbling backwards away from his mom, and only kept himself upright because the countertop had been there to stop him from falling. Athena had stepped between him and his mother, but Rio couldn’t hear what they were saying, the pain was too distracting. What was Athena doing there? Stopping his parents from getting any closer to him? Asking if she gets the next hit? Rio knew that wasn’t true, even if he wanted to think it was. Was his mom planning to finish the job she had started on his eighteenth birthday? He hadn’t figured out their game yet. If they had tried to kill him two years ago, why hadn’t they just tried again? Rio hadn’t been especially resilient. It wouldn’t have taken much to finish the job. Athena was good, but there was no way she could ruin their plans forever. So what had made them stop? Not that Rio was especially more resilient now, but he had definitely made a few leaps forward in terms of self defense. Rio couldn’t focus again until he heard Athena smack against the edge of the counter. The smell of blood hit his senses in an instant, and Rio finally snapped back to reality. His mom, standing over Athena’s body staring down at her with an exaggerated look of disdain on her face. His parents were used to Rio being a failure, but Athena too? This must have been their worst nightmare come to life. “What’s your big plan here?” Rio questioned, “You plan on taking out both of your legacies right here? That doesn’t make any sense.” Rio was talking, but mostly to himself. As he spoke the gears were turning in his head. “You have no right to speak on this matter. I am keeping this family under control. Like I always have.” Though his mom spoke to him, her eyes were still on Athena. She kept her voice controlled, but the truth was so obvious that Rio actually managed to laugh. “Holy crap. You’re completely losing it. You call this control? You have no play anymore. Your secret’s out. No matter what you do here, you’ve lost the trust of the only kid you were proud of. Your legacy has completely crumbled.” Rio shouldn’t be as happy as he was about this news. He knew what the unravelling meant. If Rio didn’t get out of here, his mom might actually kill him. But could he just leave Athena behind? Before, Rio never would have imagined Athena’s life would be in danger, but his parents had been backed into a metaphorical corner. Metaphorical because it was very clearly which side was backed into a corner right now.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me.” His mother spat. She reached over, her hand easily finding the knife rack despite never averting her eyes from Athena. She slipped it free, the whistling sound of the metal was a shrill and powerful noise against Rio’s senses. Rio’s entire body tensed. Was this it? He glanced around, looking for anything that he could use to protect himself. He wasn’t willing to just accept his fate anymore. Not like with that werewolf. He was different now. If he could deflect the knife, he may buy enough time to get over to the knife rack himself. His mom was more skilled, far better with a weapon than Rio could ever be, but Rio had the element of surprise. His entire family looked down on him, belittled him and treated him like he was some defenseless, useless rat. He wasn’t going to deny that he wasn’t as strong or as skilled or as violent as the rest of them, but people underestimated him. That was powerful. Although Rio wasn’t the target apparently. Linda was leaning down, knife pointed towards Athena as she bent over her body. “Hey!” Rio’s body kicked into action, stepped forward, kicking out at Linda. She was too quick, obviously, and grabbed his leg mid swing, her free arm raising the knife to either stab down at Athena or into Rio’s leg. Without option, Rio went for the only opening he thought might take his mom for surprise. He leaned forward, pulling the closest thing he could find off of the counter, the overly priced and needlessly heavy wooden cutting board and swinging it across, smacking it against his mother’s head and knocking her off of Athena. The room froze for a long moment, everyone seemingly processing what had just happened. But when his mom made a motion to get up, Rio acted again, pulling the cutting board upward so it connected with her jaw and knocked her backwards again. The knife fell from her grasp and clattered against the floor. He could still hear his mom breathing, but she wasn’t trying to get up again. Finally, the room was quiet. But it didn’t last long. That silence was soon broken by a screaming, the angry cries of his father. Rio had only just glanced towards him when the man collided into him, the cutting board slipping from his fingers. His dad shoved him against the counter, his hand closing around Rio’s throat and squeezing tighter and tighter. “What the hell have you done, Orion? I tried. I tried to give you a second chance and this is how you repay me?” The man was furious, more emotion present in his voice than Rio had ever heard from him. But Rio could only respond through choked attempts at breaths. The more Rio struggled, the stronger his father’s grip became. Until a loud buzzing noise filled Rio’s ears and the edges of his vision blurred. He could hear his father now, but the words seemed jumbled and the volume came in and out. “I tried…. Should have killed…. Useless….”

She could feel the cut against her hip before she could feel her shirt growing wet. She ignored it. Work through the pain. Was her mother going to hurt her? Athena wasn’t sure, she couldn’t even focus on the idea of that. Her parents had always adored her. She had never heard anything but praise from them, for as long as she could remember. She was the goal, the golden child. She still was, she told herself. None of this meant anything. She was still good, she was still ideal. She had to be, didn’t she? Athena had had nightmares about a scenario comparable to this throughout her life. Nightmares she pushed aside, because they never could have meant anything. Her head hurt and she couldn’t focus on anything. She could see her mother standing over her. She could hear her brother’s words, even if some of them came in muffled. Take out your legacies, she could hear her brother saying. Part of Athena couldn’t believe everything that she was hearing, her palm pressed against her hip. She’d never heard her brother speak up so much, never heard him take quite so much of a stand as he was now. She wanted to agree with her mother, to say that everything was okay, that she was supposed to keep everything in control, but the words wouldn’t form. “Mom, it’s…” she began, but her mother was too focused on her brother. I’m supposed to help him. She thought to herself, except that although her mother was speaking to her brother, her gaze was still focused directly on Athena. She wondered if her Rio was just going to leave. He had said that he wanted no part of this family, and this would be an easy escape. Except that he was doing the exact opposite, not leaving, his voice only growing more heated. Though she didn’t have nearly the same hearing skills as her brother did, even Athena could hear the sound of the knife coming out of the knife block and she felt her throat go dry again. Unable to move from where she was lying, even though she knew a dozen ways to get a knife out of someone’s hand. More than a dozen, probably.

But she didn’t need to use any of those because all of a sudden there was a horrific sound and she saw her mother fall over. A good daughter would be rushing over to her, to attend to any injuries her mother might have had. Athena wasn’t sure that she was a good daughter right now. Wasn't sure if her parents would have considered her one ever since she befriended Ariana, ever since she had seen her as Ariana, and not a monster. She found that she couldn’t bring herself to regret that at all, that Ariana’s presence in her life was one of the best things to come out of this year so far. Her mother was on the floor and her brother was holding a wooden cutting board and the knife that had been in her mother’s hand seconds ago had skidded across the floor, about a foot away from Athena. She didn’t register at first that her father had her brother pushed against the marble countertop. Her mother was breathing still, so she was okay. When her gaze shifted and she spotted her brother, she felt herself spring up, everything suddenly registering more than ever before. Her father with his hand over her brother’s throat. Athena grabbed the knife from the floor. She didn’t have to think twice. If her brother was in trouble, she was supposed to help him. Even if he didn’t want her help, she’d gotten him out of trouble countless times over the years. “Get off of him,” she found herself saying as she approached her father and her brother. “You’re going to kill him.” She watched her father turn to face her, a cold smile present on his face. “Defiance must be punished, Athena. You know that as well as I do. Regardless of who it is from. You can separate your emotions from what is going on. It is why you would have made a good surgeon.” She didn’t even pay attention to the past tense, didn’t focus on whatever that might imply for her because her brother could hardly breathe right now. “I said get off.” She glared up at her father, her hip still throbbing. Twirled the knife between her fingertips before she stabbed him just below his neck. His hand loosened from around her brother’s throat and she stabbed him again, as his blood began to soak through his pajama shirt and he pressed both of his hands against his injuries, sinking down onto the ground. Athena held onto the knife tight, eyes wide and facing her brother. “He - I - he was going to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen.” She felt her chest grow tight. “He’s - I -” she didn’t look over to where her father was. She could hear his breathing. She had his blood on her hands, literally. “Ri. I - he was going to kill you.”

Orion’s vision had almost completely blacked out now. He had been knocked out before. Both from a hard blow and from being choked out. Both at the hands of his family. This wasn’t like that. His father’s positioning was different. His grip was not cutting off his air, but threatening to crush it entirely. His father was choking the life out of him. Or, he was until suddenly that pressure let up and Rio could breathe again. He celebrated by wheezing, taking heavy breaths to try to force air back into his lungs. It took a moment before his vision began returning to normal. He was doubled over, his broken left wrist dangling against his stomach as he gasped for air. Once he could finally focus, he finally realized why his father had let go of him. “Holy-” Rio gasped, taking in the view of his father lying on the floor, pool of blood soaking the kitchen tiles. Just beside him, Athena was standing. She looked more terrified than Rio had ever seen her. She clutched onto the knife like it was a lifeline, the blood dripping from it onto the floor. “You… stabbed him.” Rio stated, his voice sounding distant even to himself. This was all too much to process. Rio didn’t know how this had all happened. His mother unconscious, his father bleeding out on the floor and his sister… his sister looked like she was moments away from completely losing it. “Athena…” Rio began, speaking as quietly as his voice would allow, “They’re going to kill us.” She knew it too. He knew she did. Even if she didn’t want to believe it. “He’s alive. And she will wake up. And they’re going to kill us. We have to do something.” They needed to call 911 and leave. Or leave and call the police on their way. Or… Rio knew the last option. But he couldn’t suggest it. Still, it hung in the air between them. The only real choice that they had. The only means of truly avoiding their wrath.

“What?” Her brother’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I - he was going to kill you.” Athena shook her head. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t look over at either of her parents. Her head was spinning, which couldn’t be due to her injury. She’d need to bandage it, but it wasn’t dire enough to cause her dizziness. “I had to.” Eyes still wide, she finally looked over to where their father was before she snapped her gaze back over to her brother. “They…” her voice trailed off, weak and quiet. She didn’t have a hundred excuses at the tip of her tongue. “They - I - we’re - no.” She said, settling on the simplest sentence that she could. “I - yes. I..” she squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could, as if willing this all to go away, despite knowing it wouldn’t. Her parents, always tending to her injuries before her brothers. Praising her for everything she ever did, even if half the praise came in the form of putting her brother down. “We do. We -” Her heartbeat was racing. She knew that her brother would hear it, but she couldn’t get it to stop. “I - no.” She backed away from where their father was, toward her brother. “I did that.” She looked at her father, who she could hear murmuring. Sounds of pain. She was supposed to help him. He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her brother. She was supposed to help him. Athena pressed her free palm against her face, working to ease her breathing. “Ri.” She let her hand drop. Looked over at him. “They’re going to kill us.”

They both knew it. They had gone too far and now there was no going back. Their parents wouldn’t forgive this. They would recover and they would be furious and they would take that anger out on the two of them. Slowly. Painfully. Without remorse. The thought was enough to make Rio sick, his body shook from the fear. But for all that fear, there was just as much rage building inside of him. No. This wasn’t okay. They had been brainwashed since birth, forced into a lifestyle neither of them had asked for and beaten if they disobeyed. They had been played like puppets their entire lives. Rio was done. He wasn’t just going to sit around helplessly waiting for his parents to cut the strings. “It’s okay.” Rio finally said, turning towards Athena. He walked towards her slowly and carefully, careful not to make any sudden movements. He wasn’t sure that she could handle it right now. “You know what we have to do.” But she couldn’t do it, Rio knew that much. Of all the heinous things that Athena had done because of her parents, this was the one that she could not cross. The one thing that Rio had the upper hand in. Now by her side, Rio reached out, finding her fist, curled up and gripping the bloodied knife tightly. He grabbed her hand first, trying to do so as gently as possible with his broken left wrist. The pain was still there but it felt dull now, washed away by the adrenaline rushing through him. With his other hand, he grabbed onto the knife. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to do anything. I have your back this time.” Rio had no idea how he was staying so calm. Not when his blood boiled beneath him with anger. Anger that they were in this situation in the first place, that his parents had ever treated them the way they had and expected to get away with it. Worse even, they expected gratitude. Rio slowly slowly slipped the knife from Athena’s grasp and once it was free, he turned back towards his father who was still on the floor, clutching at his wounds.

This was the moment of truth. Orion had the choice to leave right now. He could go home to Winston, call the police and face whatever consequences came after that. Rio didn’t have to sacrifice his morals for these monsters. But he wanted to. Because for once, Rio could finally see the big picture. Just like Alain had said. He thought outside of the single life taken and towards those that could be saved. There was no question here. No other side. His parents were not evil because they were hunters, they were evil because they had abused and manipulated their only children for twenty years. They were evil because they killed for fun and tortured out of curiosity. They had brought nothing to this town except pain and sadness. That was the big picture. Rio knelt next to his father, the man making eye contact with him but unable to do much else. “Can you understand me?” Rio asked him, an eerie calmness settled within his voice. His father didn’t speak, could only nod. “Good.” Rio answered, “All my life, you asked me to be something I’m not. You wanted me to be cruel and ruthless. You tried to hide your intentions behind lies about divine duties and rights. Behind the guise of protecting people. But you wanted to turn me into a cold blooded killer.” Rio’s grip on the knife was so tight he felt like he may have crushed the metal handle as he raised it above his dad’s body. “I hope you’re proud, dad. You finally got him.” With that, he couldn’t wait anymore. Or else he would find a way to talk himself out of it. He brought the knife down, easily cutting down into his father’s chest with a sickening squishing side. And then Rio pulled the knife free and did it again.

She concentrated on her brother. Just as she had all those years ago when he had been the only one who could get her back to sleep. On his hair, how he somehow smelled the same as he had since they were children, his hands. His hands that were on hers now. Athena found her breath settle for a moment when his hands held hers. It was okay. Her head was still spinning but she let Rio take the knife from her. Athena nodded to his words. They made sense, somehow. Even if she didn’t want them to. Even if them making sense meant that so much of what her parents had done was not out of the goodness of their hearts. She’d seen - no, experienced firsthand their anger after her brother had left home. If they woke up now - she didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t think about it. “You have had it before, too.” She whispered. “I owe you for all those nights when we were kids.” Her parents had been in a few of those nightmares, back then. Not all, not a majority, but they had shown up. She’d worked to forget it whenever it happened, instead bounding into their arms in the morning, giving them hugs. Doing even better at training the next day. She didn’t fight against her brother at all, instead letting him ease the knife out of her hands, and watching him was a blur.

She saw him move over to where their father was lying on the floor. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, though it wasn’t a sort of morbid fascination like some other events had been. Other times with their father, watching from a seat in the Operating Theatre. Athena kept her eyes trained on their father. She found that she had no desire to go and help him, even when her brother dug the knife into her father’s chest. Her father had wanted her to be just like him, and she’d eagerly gone along. She’d listened to everything her parents told her without question - even outside of what had been about hunting. She’d let them tell her how to do everything and she’d worshipped them. That was what good daughters did. Athena watched the knife go in again until she caught movement from the side of her eye. Shit. Their mother was moving, their mother was sitting up and rubbing her jaw, and as Athena let her gaze fall over to where Linda Quinn was sitting. Rio didn’t see her yet, and Athena heard her mother gasp, before standing up and beginning to quickly move toward her brother. You know what we have to do. They’re going to kill us. Her head was still spinning but she still had an up when it came to reflexes, and before she could think, Athena was up and had grabbed the crushed and bloodied knife out of Rio’s hands and turned to face their mother, one quick sweep as it cut into Linda’s carotid artery. Critical, and one that wouldn’t let her live much longer. “That’s for everything you’ve done to me and my brother.” She could feel her breath even out now. Their mother collapsed onto the ground and Athena knelt next to her. “You stole my life from me. You tried to kill the only person I have ever truly loved and cared for. You made me hurt him, too.” She flipped the knife between her fingers. “That’s - you didn’t love us, did you?” She could feel tears threatening to fall again. “You told me I’m supposed to help make the world a safer place. It is my divine right to do so, isn’t it? I have two divine names.” She flipped the knife one last time, digging it into her mother’s chest. From what she knew, from what she’d studied, her mother didn’t have much time now. “I’m just doing what you raised me to do.” With that, Athena twisted the knife before pulling it out. Took in a heavy breath before she turned to her brother and burst into tears.

His father was dead. Orion stared at his dad’s body for a long time. Too much time probably, but Rio was in no mental state to be keeping track of the time. He was still knelt over his dad’s dead body. With the knife that had caused it in his hands. It was all so quick. A sudden end that had built up over twenty one years of life just over in an instant. What did this leave Rio with? Was this the closure he had always longed for? The redemption that Rio was never sure he deserved? He didn’t regret his father’s death, knew that only good could come now that he was gone. But Rio had taken that life. Made the decision that he had spent his entire life arguing that he had no choice to make. This had to be different though. Rio had thought through every scenario, got the bird’s eye view. Just like Alain had said, the big picture. In this case, the end had to justify the means. Rio had been so swept up in the moment that he had momentarily allowed himself to forget that his mother was simply unconscious. Rio glanced up at his mother, rushing towards him and knowing that there was no way he could get away in time. But he didn’t have to. The knife was taken from him and suddenly there was more blood. The artery spurt blood across the kitchen, the sight usually enough to make Rio physically sick or even pass out. Tonight, Rio felt nothing. His eyes widened at the sight, but his heart didn’t ache. It couldn’t even flutter. Not for that monster. Athena’s words echoed through Rio’s brain as she cursed at her mother for what she had done to her. To him. To them. But never again. Neither one of their parents would ever get to hurt them again. Their mother collapsed onto the floor and through Athena’s tears, Rio’s hearing picked up, catching onto his mom’s last gasping breaths. The crinkling of her shirt as her breathing rose and fell against it. The blood dripping from the ends of her clothes onto the kitchen tiles. And finally the faint noise of her heart beating, gradually slowing down until finally there was nothing left. His hearing gave out after that. Between the two, there was nothing but the quiet and the sound of Athena’s sobs. Athena and Rio were alone now. Their parents were dead.

[stereogeekspodcast]

[Transcript] Season 2, Episode 4. Acting, Direction, Editing, Screenplay Nominations - Academy Awards 2021

The Academy Awards 2021 are here! Who's up for Best Acting, Best Supporting Actor, Direction, Film Editing, and Screenplay? Who do the Stereo Geeks think should win? We have so many thoughts about this year's Oscars, we can't even pick our favourites. Who do you think should win these categories?

(L-r) DANIEL KALUUYA as Chairman Fred Hampton, ASHTON SANDERS as Jimmy Palmer, ALGEE SMITH as Jake Winters, DOMINIQUE THORNE as Judy Harmon and LAKEITH STANFIELD as Bill O’Neal in Warner Bros. Pictures’ “JUDAS AND THE BLACK MESSIAH,” a Warner Bros. Pictures release.

Copyright: © 2021 Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. All Rights Reserved

[Continuum by Audionautix plays]

Ron: Welcome to a new Stereo Geeks Special where we continue our coverage of the Oscars 2021. I'm Ron. Mon: And I'm Mon. Ron: Let's talk about the acting categories. Lead role (Male). We have Riz Ahmed for Sound of Metal. Chadwick Boseman, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. Anthony Hopkins for The Father. Gary Oldman, Mank. And Steven Yeun, Minari. Your pick?

Mon: Chadwick.

Ron: My pick, as well. I think this is the year for Chadwick.

Mon: Chadwick’s performance in the Ma Rainey film was compelling, outstanding. It's a real shame that he has not been here to bask in the recognition that he's got. He has swept most of the awards in this category. I'm really hoping that the Oscars don't let down his family. He deserves it.

Ron: Chadwick’s performance is a really strong point for the film. It's full of nuance, and really powerful storytelling. And I think the performance Chadwick put in was, in hindsight, made more powerful because of what we know he was actually going through. If you just look at the performance, it does really stand out. There are so many layers to his character, and that can only come out through a powerful acting performance. I feel like Chadwick could have won this category even if it wasn't a posthumous award.

Mon: I think so too. There's a lot of layers to this character, and he really gave it his all. It would have been outstanding irrespective of the year that this film came out, irrespective of the year that this performance was recognized.

Ron: I feel like it's also high time that Chadwick was recognized for his acting.

Mon: I mean, he's been good in everything that he's performed in. The fact that it has to be Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, it has to be a posthumous recognition, that's kinda sad. But he was always good. The legacy of his acting is gonna continue for a long time.

Ron: Absolutely. Talking about the other performances in this category, there are some hits and misses.

Mon: Yeah. I feel like with Gary Oldman in Mank, it’s probably one that we all expected. It's probably also the least exciting.

Ron: I felt like when I was watching Mank, I was watching Gary Oldman play a different version of his Winston Churchill.

Mon: Right? I felt the same way!

Ron: Okay, so it wasn't just me.

Mon: No, it wasn't, man. That was surprising to me because I feel like Gary Oldman is the kind of person who, when he plays a character, he really adds in so many different layers to it, gives each one a unique take, and this one just felt like, copy-paste.

Ron: Yeah, totally.

Mon: I don't think it helps that Mank, in general, is an underwhelming experience. And with the role, as well, I feel like we’ve seen, not only Gary Oldman do it before, but we've seen this kind of role before. The only thing I'll say is that it's not very obviously Oscar-baity, but it's exactly the kind that the Academy likes.

Ron: I actually think this is very obviously Oscar-baity.

Mon: Oh okay.

Ron: Yeah, totally. This is the exact kind of role that the Oscars love. This difficult man who is larger than life, who inspires and cuts down at the same time, that's exactly what the Oscars love. And that's why I actually hated Mank.

Mon: Yeah.

Ron: Because we have seen this character for aeons, there's nothing new here.

Mon: Yeah, absolutely, it's just change the setting, change the saturation point.

Ron: Absolutely. I would happily have swapped out Gary Oldman for Kingsley Ben-Adir in One Night in Miami.

Mon: That one still hurts me.

Ron: I just don't understand how he’s not in this list.

Mon: He's not in this list at all! That's what annoys me.

Ron: One Night in Miami has not got the noms that it deserves. And it's just driving me crazy.

Mon: The other performance which is definitely Oscar-baity is Anthony Hopkins in The Father.

Ron: Same problem that I had with Gary Oldman. Even in the huge, long career that Anthony Hopkins has had, this is not a good performance!

Mon: Right. There was only one scene where I felt like he'd kind of gone outside his comfort zone. There's this scene where he's meeting his caretaker for the first time, and he's sort of trying to impress her, and there's this natural vivacity that he brings, which I don't think I've seen in Anthony Hopkins, ever. And I love that.

Ron: Yes. Mon: And then it's completely ruined by that last scene. The acting in the last scene is so Oscar-baity. It is so ‘I am doing this so that I can definitely take home the little gold statue’. And it was the one scene that I hated so much because it was so put-on, it was so artificial.

Ron: But I felt like that about the whole movie. I felt, when I was watching this movie, that I was watching Anthony Hopkins.

Mon: Yeah, no, I agree with you on that. I agree with you, completely. And that's a problem because it didn't feel like a performance because it felt like he wasn't doing anything different. And I'm really disappointed because we know this guy can be better.

Ron: This is Anthony Hopkins.

Mon: I know! He puts in his all in a Marvel film. That's how good this guy is, and this film just feels like it's trying too hard and not reaching.

Ron: The play that The Father is based on, the performance was done by Frank Langella. And when I watched this, I was like, oh my god, Frank Langella would have been amazing in this.

Mon: That is so funny considering which role Frank Langella actually did play in the movies that have been nominated in this Academy Awards. Honestly, you could have put in a lot of veteran, white, old actors from Hollywood, they would have played that role the exact same way. Which is why I don't think it deserves a nomination or an award.

Ron: Yeah, agreed. Steven Yeun, Minari.

Mon: I think this was a surprise because a lot of people hadn't seen this film, And he's really known for being in The Walking Dead. You don't expect him to be nominated for the Oscars, but here he is.

Ron: It's such an understated performance. Like throughout the movie I could see myself in him. Which is why I'm really glad that he's got nominated because his Jacob is us.

Mon: Yeah, he's this foolhardy, obstinate kind of guy, but he's just so wistful, and I think I really like that because he's trying so hard, and he really believes in himself and in his dream. And you get all of that in Steven Yeun, just the way he carries himself, just the small little expressions that he makes. He doesn't even have to talk much, it's just him.

Ron: What I really loved about Steven Yeun’s performance was the scene where he is being a ‘dad’. And you know dads, they will be themselves, and then suddenly they will go into dad-mode. Where they’re like, you know what, something has happened and I need to be a ‘dad’ right now. And he is so, so good in that scene. And I was like, oh my god, stop being such a ‘dad’!

Mon: Exactly! Because the dad is putting on the performance of being a ‘dad’, and Steven Yeun is doing an excellent job of being that dad who's trying to be a ‘dad’. It's too good.

Ron: And that's why I'm really happy that he's been nominated because this is what acting is supposed to be.

Mon: It's supposed to be understated but also feel real.

Ron: In any other year, he would have been the top favorite in this category.

Mon: Yeah, I think so too.

Ron: It's just a really good performance.

Mon: Right. And to round it all off is Riz Ahmed from Sound of Metal. This is another very understated performance. There's nothing huge and flashy. It’s really just somebody who is coping with the circumstance that he cannot envisage. And he's really struggling, because his whole life, literally, his whole life, is going to change. It's really hard to rate this performance because it's so natural. It's so effortless. If you haven't seen Riz Ahmed in other stuff, you would think this is just him being him, but there are, of course, like differences to who he probably is as a person.

But I think the recognition of this award really goes to the fact that he put in so much work to make this role look as effortless as it does. He learned how to play the drums, he learned ASL, and both of those, he just does it so naturally in the film. And the performance would have been completely derailed had he not put in that effort of all those months, it would not have been a good performance.

Like when he’s drumming, like the first scene is him drumming, and you can see that it's him. It's not like in the shadows, it's not from the back, it's not like a stunt double. Nope, it's him. And you wouldn't connect with this character if you didn't see him front and center, with those drumsticks, banging on the drums, really like, into that music.

And even with the ASL. It's his language, and that's how you're supposed to feel because that is how the character is going to communicate. And I feel like it's such an important aspect that not only did he learn it, but now he's very keen on people learning how to sign because it is such a valuable language to learn. It was so good. It was so understated. It's hard for me to even say that he actually acted but, I mean we know he did. But’s it’s just so good, so natural.

Ron: I would compare Riz Ahmed’s acting in Sound of Metal to Natalie Portman in Black Swan. That ballet performance and how it made Nina was only possible because she'd done the work of learning ballet. That's the same thing here. The only reason why we believe everything that this character is doing and going through and evolving into is because Riz Ahmed put in all that effort. It comes across as so natural that you don't think you're actually watching an actor; you're watching a person. That's what great acting is.

Again, along with Steven Yeun, any other year, Riz Ahmed definitely would have won this category. But this year, it belongs to Chadwick Boseman. He should 100% get it. What a performance to leave as his legacy.

So, moving on to the ladies. We have Viola Davis from Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. Andra Day from The United States vs Billie Holiday. Vanessa Kirby, Pieces of a Woman. Frances McDormand from Nomadland. And Carey Mulligan for Promising Young Woman.

This is a slightly harder category I would say. From the other award shows, it seems that Andra Day might be the front runner here. Unfortunately, we couldn't get to see this movie. Apparently The United States vs Billie Holiday is not a good movie. I read some reviews and it seems to be very exploitative, rather than anything else? And it's literally coasting on Andra Day’s performance.

Mon: Apparently, she sang some of the songs in it?

Ron: Yes.

Mon: I'm excited for any newbie to get awards. And when I say newbie, I mean somebody who's getting recognition for the first time at a big award show like this. I would love to have seen her performance just to rate it against these other very powerful performances. Let's see how that turns out.

My personal favorite, of course, is Viola Davis. She has my whole heart. How performance as Ma Rainey was stunning.

Ron: From that opening scene in the tent, you forget that you're watching Viola Davis. Ma Rainey was such a personality, and the way Viola Davis just embodies that. This is a woman who, when she walks into a room, everybody stands aside so she can walk through.

Mon: Yeah. One of the things that I really like about films being on Netflix is that we do have the after-film show or the after-film interviews. And for Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, they talked about bringing this film to life. It's a play and now it's film, and the research that they did, and they learned about this personality who we hadn’t heard about. And how Viola Davis and the makeup artists and the costume artists, they really tried to embody the way she looked in real life. Because with Ma Rainey, you know she's singing for a long time, it’s sweltering heat, that why she looks very greasy. Her makeup is running, but she's got this power and she doesn't care about the glamour, you know, she's got a voice, she is using that, and that's what's entertaining, and that's what's grasping the entire crowd. Viola Davis and her entire team, they really wanted to capture that, which is what they do. They do such a great job. Ma Rainey doesn't have to look like the quintessential, glamorous, polished artist that we’re so used to seeing, because she's working hard. She's got a job to do. You don't have time for all this stuff, so I really love that. And I'm pointing this out mostly because there was a little bit of backlash because of how Ma Rainey looks in the movie. Ron: Oh really.

Mon: Yeah, there were some people saying, oh, why does she have to look so tired and sweaty. Well, that was kind of the point, so that's why I'm pointing it out. It was a deliberate, intentional effort made by the creators for this film. And Viola Davis does an excellent job of encapsulating that presence and that feeling. I really love how you have this character, based on a real person, of course, but you have this character in an era where Black people really struggled to make their voices heard, get anything that they deserved. She's like the exact opposite. And I love how this film turns the tables on that. And it’s only possible because you have somebody with that presence of Viola Davis. I would love her to win this. I don't know if she will. Maybe somebody newer, like Andra Day, deserves it more. But yeah, I've got my heart set.

Ron: You haven't seen Pieces of a Woman, but I did. I think Vanessa Kirby does the job that she has to in this film. I just think that compared to everybody else on this list, I don't get it. We were talking about how Steven Yeun’s acting in Minari was very understated. Vanessa Kirby does the same thing and Pieces of a Woman but her understatedness is so understated that there is no emotion. And I don't think it's her fault. I think it's because of the direction that she was given as an actor.

Pieces of a Woman was not as good a film as I heard that it was, which was surprising to me. I don't expect histrionics all the time, but most of the time, I was like nothing is happening on the screen, and that just did not make sense to me because the writer of the film based this story on what happened to her. And her husband was actually the director of this film. I feel like they weren't on the same page, or something got lost in translation between screenplay and direction.

I think Kirby did a really good job maybe in the first like 30-35 minutes, and then after that, she was probably told just, you know, hold it back, hold it back, hold the emotion back, and she ended up doing that really well, but the final product ended up being bland. And that might also be because they tried to stuff in other bits into a story that didn't need it. What ended up happening was that her performance was overridden by other elements.

We both feel that Yeri Han from Minari should definitely have been nominated.

Mon: Yeri Han plays the wife character in Minari; she plays Monica. She could have easily been a flat character, the long-suffering wife who just does what her husband wants, who somehow survives for her kids, but she is so much more. You can see this person trying desperately to be the supportive glue of this family. You can see this person trying to strive for her own dreams, for her own ambitions, and keep it together. And it's all because of how well Yeri Han, again in an understated fashion, just carries this character. And it is a shame, a complete and utter shame, that she did not get picked as one of the nominations.

Ron: I found myself comparing Yeri Han and Vanessa Kirby so much when I was watching these two movies, and it really made me wonder what the criteria is for the Oscars to nominate people. Both of these are very understated roles, but Yeri Han the way she emotes an entire dialogue without saying a word. That's what I wanted from Vanessa Kirby. I did not get that. And there were these moments in Minari where I was like, this is how I would react. And that's exactly how she reacted. And I was like, oh man, that's the first time that's ever happened! How does that performance not get nominated. Mon: Yeah, I'm really disappointed.

Ron: I think the problem is that we are very used to the ‘wife’ in films. Yeri Han took that and turned it into a role. And I think part of the reason why Steven Yeun has been nominated, not just on the strength of his own performance, but on the strength of Yeri Han’s. Because had she been terrible, nobody would have noticed what was happening with Steven Yeun. It's the same thing that I see with Killing Eve. The only reason why we keep focusing on how good Jodie Comer is, is because Sandra Oh is brilliant. But she never gets nominated, it's always Jodie Comer. I really, really wanted to love Vanessa Kirby's performance. I read so much about how much work she did. It just didn't come across to me.

So, moving on. Frances McDormand, Nomadland. Understated, but the right kind of understated.

Mon: The thing with Frances McDormand is that she's so effortless and natural in her roles that sometimes you think that's exactly who she is as a person. But no, she's acting, and I love that about these roles that she takes. And especially the one that she plays in Nomadland, I think, had she gone melodramatic or larger than life or the other opposite like super-emotional or something, we would not have believed this character and we would not have enjoyed the journey that we were on with her. It's the fact that she's very put-together, but she's also trying very hard to hold it together, and that comes across throughout in every scene. That's what makes it so powerful. That's what makes it so natural and immersive to watch, and it's no wonder that she's been nominated.

Ron: Yeah, I think if Frances McDormand hadn’t been nominated for Nomadland, that would have been a travesty. Again, talking about Pieces of a Woman, you can see how important direction can be for an actor. Because Frances McDormand’s understatedness could have become super-bland, had she not had the director paving her path. And that's why we get a really, really powerful performance in this film. I mean, she pretty much carries the whole thing. She could have a really good chance of winning this. Mon: Yeah, I think so too. Ron: So on the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Carey Mulligan’s Promising Young Woman. This is a very different kind of performance, just in this category. She feels like this person that you don't want to hang out with for a multitude of reasons. I think we’ve seen Carey Mulligan in quite a few films, so this performance does stand out because it's very different from what she usually does. She's kind of like preppy, and peppy. That's not what you expect. She does a really good job, but there's also like so much tension in this one, which she manages to carry very, very well.

Mon: What I like about this film is that it throws you into the middle of this story. There's no preface, and it's important because the story structure is quite a novelty, and I like that. And because we're thrown into the middle of it, we learn more about her character throughout the film, which makes her performance even more captivating. Why is this person who is young and desirable, and honestly, should have the world at her feet, going around with such a sad frame of mind? Why is she carrying herself in this terribly dejected fashion? Well, we find out.

I would say that this performance isn't as understated as some of the others in both these categories. It definitely has its moment where somebody could have gone completely over the top, but it never does. Because a) the writing doesn't allow for it and, b) the role wouldn't work if we were on either spectrum of super-gleeful or super-emotional. It's really somebody who is carrying a hurt inside her that she cannot fix, and you really feel that.

The funny thing about this film is that you’re left feeling so sad by the end of it, because you really understand this kind of, almost this kind of depression, that this character is facing, and you really feel it through her performance. It's a surprisingly captivating performance despite not being the quintessential Oscar-baity kind of thing. I'm not sure she's gonna win though.

Ron: I wonder whether the Oscars will do something completely different and be like, in light of #MeToo, we're just going to give it to this film.

Mon: I didn’t think of that. It could be.

Ron: Like, it says a lot about why #MeToo even exists. So, who knows? I think this is a very tough category. Let's see what happens.

Mon: Yeah.

Ron: So, moving on to the supporting roles. For the men, we have Sacha Baron Cohen for The Trial of the Chicago Seven. Daniel Kaluuya for Judas and the Black Messiah. Leslie Odom Jr for One Night in Miami. Paul Raci from Sound of Metal. And bizarrely, LaKeith Stanfield for Judas and the Black Messiah, even though he's the lead role.

Mon: Yeah, I'm a bit surprised, as well.

Ron: Apparently, they did put his name forward for the lead role and for some reason the Oscars put him and Daniel Kaluuya in the same category.

Mon: Listen, people who have limited screen time have sometimes been in the lead role category, other people, who are pretty much carrying a film have ended up in the supporting category. I've never understood the Oscars and what the criteria for these things are. It's literally like Tic Tac Toe sometimes. I'm actually really disappointed that both Daniel and LaKeith are in the same category, because they are so, so strong. They really deserve to have been not competing against each other, and definitely should have been frontrunners in their own categories. I mean Kaluuya is brilliant, he's always brilliant.

Ron: He is particularly good as Fred Hampton. I was just like, wow this is insane.

Mon: Like, you feel the emotional core of the burden that he's carrying, but you're also like a little bit inspired, maybe even a little bit scared, by the power of his performance and the power of his stage presence. I feel like he was really passionate about this role, but he doesn't go over the top with it. I'm sure he did a lot of research on Fred Hampton and how he carried himself. But it doesn't come across as this very manufactured or artificial kind of performance. And it definitely doesn't feel like some kind of weird, reverential take on this character. Because sometimes, that's also a problem, especially when you're embodying somebody who was a real personality and a very important personality. Sometimes you feel like you should only look at the good things. No one was perfect. And so, you should always approach those people as human beings first, but also respect the legacy that they've left. And I think he does a good job with that.

Ron: Well the thing is that Daniel Kaluuya actually spent time with Fred Hampton’s wife to find out what his personality was from her perspective. Of course, there were tapes and things that he watched so that he could actually get the physicality of the character, and that's why I think that he is a frontrunner in this category. Because we've seen Daniel Kaluuya in a lot of things and the way he plays this person, you forget that it is Daniel Kaluuya. Like, he's done the kind of research that allows him to become a person without actually showing us that he's acting it.

Mon: Listen, I'm never going to forgive the Academy for ignoring his excellent performance in Widows. He was so good in that film. I don't know why this role made me think of him in Widows, but I think it's that intensity? He's brought a very similar kind of intensity and I'm glad this one has been recognized at least. I really hope it does walk off with the award because, yeah, this is too good.

Ron: Absolutely, I agree with that. LaKeith is the lead in this film. I still can’t understand what the Academy is thinking. He is so good in this performance. He is this tortured young man who is just taking it one day at a time because he has no clue what to do. He gets into one scrape after the other. He thinks he has an out, and it's not.

Mon: His character is between a rock and a hard place, and LaKeith plays that to the tee. Like you can really feel it, his desperation to be normal, his desperation to fit in, his desperation to get out, and you just really feel it.

Ron: The thing is that it's very difficult to play a role like this because a lot of people just think of him as the bad guy. But there are so many layers to even bad guys. And LaKeith does it really well. Like there are times when there are emotions on his face, and I'm just like, he's just told us so much. If he was nominated for this role any other year, he would have won this. But I really feel like it's going to be done Daniel Kaluuya’s year.

Mon: Yeah. I hope so, as compared to most of the others.

Ron: Let’s talk about Paul Raci in Sound of Metal.

Mon: This was a surprise, yeah?

Ron: It was. He has a very understated role. He kind of plays like a mentor, and it's almost easy for you to forget that this is a person acting a role in a film. But then there’s this one scene, which was so quietly done. I can imagine that same scene in movies being full of histrionics, and gestures, loud voices…

Mon: Standing up and waving!

Ron: And banging tables, right?

Mon: Right.

Ron: And Paul Raci just keeps the same tone, and it's like a dagger in your heart. I feel like the power of that scene, coupled with the fact that, up until that point we had seen the kind of person he was, that's the reason why he's in this category. Because the only reason why that scene works is because we spent all this time with him. We've heard his tone of voice, we know how he feels about the main character, about their community, and you know where he's coming from. So yeah, this is a surprise, but now when I think about it, it makes sense.

Mon: Agreed.

Ron: Sacha Baron Cohen in The Trial of the Chicago Seven.

Mon: I know that he did a lot of research on the person that he was playing.

Ron: Okay.

Mon: He was concerned about this character, because we’re talking about somebody who was a real-life personality and when we say personality, we mean a personality. I can see he’s trying. The problem is, I could not see anybody but Sasha Baron Cohen when I was watching the movie. It was Cohen with big hair. And that's all I could see. I could not see him being anybody else. Is it a direction problem, is it just the role? He was not the best thing that film had in it.

Compared to the other roles that we've seen, just in this category, it doesn't even reach like halfway there. And it's not for lack of trying. As I said, there's a lot of effort put into it. I've read that he did a lot of research, he watched the tapes, blah blah blah. He was concerned about it. His concerns were warranted.

Ron: I think that was my problem with this entire film. Everybody felt like they were acting. They were acting, very well, but they were acting. Just as you said, I couldn't get past the fact that I was watching Sacha Baron Cohen.

Mon: And especially when he's doing the stand up. It looks like it's Sacha Baron Cohen doing the stand-up and not Abbie Hoffman. And it's just such a problem.

Ron: It would be an unpleasant shock if he were to win.

Mon: I don't want him to win.

Ron: No.

Rounding off the category is Leslie Odom Jr. in One Night in Miami. Leslie Odom Jr plays Sam Cooke. I really liked his performance. I liked everybody’s performances in this movie. Everybody should have been nominated. This movie he should have been nominated. I’m angry that it wasn't but let's talk about Leslie Odom Jr.

Mon: That voice!

Ron: I know!

Mon: How can you argue when you have a voice like that?

Ron: Oh my gosh. He has such an amazing singing voice. And he uses it so well in this film.

Mon: That scene when he sings that song. We know this song, but still.

Ron: Oh my god.

Mon: And again, credit to the way the film is directed that it hits you so hard when he sings that song.

Ron: The Sam Cooke character that we get in this film, he's kind of bombarded with negativity. He's trying to do things a certain way, his friends don't quite agree with that, and you can understand where they're coming from, but you can also understand where he's coming from. We could have had the table-thumping, the standing up and making a statement. But what you get is the finger-pointing.

Mon: [laughs] And understated finger-pointing. Nobody raises their voices. And that's what I really liked about the performances in general. And, of course, it comes down to the direction, doesn't it? We could have had somebody who, because they're so passionate about their points of view, that they could have raised their voices, they could have been punching each other, hitting each other. There are a few moments like that, but they're also being civil because they are friends. And I think when you have that underlying foundation of the characters, then it changes how you come to that performance. And it really comes across in Odom Jr.

Ron: The other aspect of this film is that these people were not only real but they were pillars of the community. They changed the way America lived and breathed. That can get to your head. The fact that none of the performances were affected by that is testament to the actors. I think any of the actors could have easily been nominated. I'm happy that Leslie Odom Jr did get nominated because his performance relies so heavily on reacting to things around him, and it could have gone terribly wrong in another actor's hands. He manages to keep it together, and it ends up being so memorable. But I still think this category belongs to Daniel Kaluuya. Let's see what happens on the day, but that's what I think.

Mon: Agreed.

Ron: So, let's move on to Supporting Role (Female). We have Maria Bakalova from the sequel for Borat. Glenn Close in Hillbilly Elegy. Olivia Coleman in The Father. Amanda Seyfried in Mank. And Yuh-Jung Youn in Minari. I haven't seen two of the performances in this category so that's not going to help.

Mon: There's been a lot of love for Maria Bakalova. This is a comedic performance. The Oscars aren't huge on comedy, so that would be a surprise. Now with Glenn Close in Hillbilly Elegy, I have not seen this film, I have seen stills. She uglies it up, which means she's gonna win.

Ron: Really, you think so?

Mon: Yeah, absolutely. First of all, she's a veteran actor, she's already been nominated several times, she's a favorite among the Academy-goers. So, I'm just like this category is definitely gone.

Ron: I know the Academy really loves it when ladies ugly-up.

Mon: Yeah, because they don't give actual ugly ladies any roles. [laughs]

Ron: [laughs] Oh god, why is that so true?

Mon: Listen. This category is a tough one. You know why? Because I'm not convinced by most of these.

Ron: Yeah, this is true.

Mon: Olivia Colman? I mean come on, she just won for The Favorite, right? Okay, she's hamming it up. She's acting but it's really. Here, she's not doing much.

Ron: You see, this is my problem with everything to do with The Father. I did not feel like I was watching a person; I was watching Anthony Hopkins. I did not feel like I was watching his daughter; I felt like I was watching Olivia Coleman. How does that get nominated?

Mon: I don't have an answer to that. It's unconvincing.

Ron: And the same thing with Amanda Seyfried. Mank, anyway as a film, we had a lot of issues with it. I think Amanda Seyfried tried to do what she could with the role, but the entire time I was like, I'm watching Amanda Seyfried.

Mon: And also, it’s not something new, this kind of role, this kind of character. It's not something new. I think we just want something refreshing which, for the most part, the other categories have really captured. Seyfried in Mank is just…

Ron: Seyfried in Mank.

Mon: Yeah. I mean, I guess the only performance we’re really rooting for is Yuh-Jung Youn in Minari. Because she's so fun!

Ron: She is so great. I think it helps that the role is quite different. Like, you think of grandmothers in a particular kind of way, and she totally is not.

Mon: And that's the whole point. And that's what I really like because she sort of doubles down on being this unconventional grandmom, because ‘grandmom’ is not a category of humanity. She's a person.

Ron: I love how, when her grandchildren are like, what kind of grandmum are you, you can’t bake, you don't do this, you can’t do that and she's like, why does that make me not a grandmom? She just decides that she's going to be her version of a grandmum and if that means sitting down in front of the television and watching it, that's fine! But everybody just has to deal with it. I loved it! It was just such a natural and fun performance.

So, when things kinda go bad, you're so angry at the world, you're just like, please no, no, no, don't let this happen. She's such a wonderful person! And that's why I think she deserves to win because she got all my emotions going so much. As I said earlier, I am a sucker for a grandmum character, and she's so good. She put in an amazing performance that didn’t feel like a performance. I was like, this is my grandmum.

Mon: You’re right. Absolutely. Because how the grandmum is in the second half of the film as compared to the first half of the film, they're the same person, but you would not feel the impact of the second half, if you hadn't met her and gotten to know her in the first half. And again, that's down to the fact that we had this really powerful, but very natural, performance. It feels authentic, and that's the whole point of these awards, isn't it?

Ron: Yes.

Mon: It's to give it to the best people. Yuh-Jung Youn might just be the person.

Ron: She's our pick, for sure. I feel like Maria Bakalova just might win this.

Mon: Oh wow.

Ron: I think the Academy is trying to do things differently. They want to show that they're not, you know, staid, fuddy-duddies who only give serious films all the awards. So, they might be like, it's a comedy, let's give it to her. And also, there was all that stuff about Rudy Giuliani and stuff like that, which I think might just be a reason for them handing the award over to her.

Mon: Okay, that'd be really interesting to see.

Ron: Yeah. The two acting categories for ladies is really hard this time. I think the male categories are very obvious who the winner is. The ladies, no idea.

Mon: Don't prove us wrong.

Ron: Okay, so we just want to touch on directing and film editing. There is some overlap with the Best Picture category. I'm interested to hear your thoughts.

Mon: Honestly, I am so torn between Emerald Fennell and Chloe Zhao. This is the first year the Academy has given to women nominations for the directing category. Let's just remind you guys that this is the 93rd Academy Award. I think both those films are so accomplished, so different…

Ron: So necessary. Either one of them could win.

Mon: Yeah.

Ron: My concern is that because there are two ladies, they're going to be like, they're in a separate category, and the rest of the guys are in the category of their own.

Mon: And that's the default category, so we're actually going to only choose between the three of them. Yeah, I hope not. Because I feel like Chloe Zhao should get it simply because Nomadland actually deals with a topic that is very popular with American film goers, and she's given it a completely new veneer, which I like. So, maybe she is front runner for it.

Ron: I also feel like Nomadland is definitely very well accomplished. I say this because it's not a very easy film to make. They’re on the move; they’re showing these very different kinds of landscapes. We're also going into these very tight interiors. She managed to balance that out very well, while also giving the performances so much room to breathe.

For me my pick would actually be Nomadland.

Mon: Interesting.

Ron: Because Promising Young Woman, another very accomplished film. I think it has a very familiar narrative structure. There are some shots which, when I thought about later on, I was like, ‘it's interesting that she used that angle’, but Nomadland just feels very different.

Mon: The thing about Promising Young Woman, as excited as I am that it's been nominated for so many categories, especially in the directing category, it feels very commercial

Ron: Yes

Mon: And mainstream. Most of these Academy Award nominations are very artsy very indie, or at least they feel like that. So Promising Young Woman with the peppy vibe and the colors and stuff, I think might be too different for what the Academy really likes to think of as cinematic excellence.

Ron: That's a good point, and that might be a reason why it wins.

Mon: Oh, I hope so.

Ron: Yeah.

Mon: You know who I’m surprised is not on here—even though we're not the biggest fans of the film—The Father, directed by Florian Zeller. I am surprised Florian isn't here, you know why? Because, as I mentioned, cinematically, it has such brilliant technique that I'm surprised the Academy didn't recognize it. I mean one of the problems that we had with it was that it's so slick, which should have shoehorned it into this category, but it didn't.

Ron: But I think that's exactly what would have happened, it would have been shoehorned into this category. Because The Father didn't do anything that we haven't already seen a billion times before. I'm sorry, that's not a unique film at all. I'm glad it didn't get nominated.

Mon: I'm surprised that Minari has been nominated. Like Lee Isaac Chung, I would not have thought that he'd be here.

Ron: Why not? Mon: Well, it’s such a personal narrative. It's just so small.

Ron: Yeah.

Mon: The Academy just love something that is larger than life, even when it's something to do with farming, you know. There's no KKK running after these people, so, like, how did this film even get noticed by the Academy. I'm surprised. I'm surprised it's in any category, but the direction I'm really surprised.

Ron: I'm trying to give the Academy the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they're realizing that they've been kind of in one direction this whole time. So we're getting to see people like Emerald Fennell and Chloe Zhao and Lee Isaac Chung actually get nominated for these amazing accomplishments.

Mon: And these varied films.

Ron: Exactly. I think that Minari  actually works so well because the direction is really good. He keeps it small. He doesn't aim for something too huge. We just follow this family. And that's why the final product is so good.

One thing I've never understood about the Academy, ever since their changed the Best Picture nomination number to 10, I don't know why the director category hasn't followed suit. It doesn't make any sense to me. Having said that, I am so glad that it's Minari, Nomadland and Promising Young Woman that ended up in this category. They deserve it. As far as I'm concerned, this category is between these three. These are the most innovative films in this category.

Mon: Which is exactly why David Fincher for Mank will win.

Ron: Don’t say that.

Mon: I’m sorry but we know that Hollywood loves films about Hollywood; the Academy loves to recognize films about Hollywood. This is a passion project, it's about a very controversial, personal story that many Academy Award board members are going to feel like it resonates with them...

Ron: Because they were there at the same time.

Mon: You're probably not wrong. I don't actually have any hope for anybody else in this category, I'm sorry, it's true.

Ron: But even amongst David Fincher’s work, this is not a good film.

Mon: Yeah, but tell the Academy that.

Ron: It’s so… blah. The shots are so blah. Everything we see in Mank you've seen a million times before.

Mon: I agree with you. It feels like it’s trying to be of the time that it is portraying, but at the same time, it never looks like it. Just putting a black and white filter on your film, and using the same shots that Orson Welles would have used does not make your film innovative and new.

But we just have to resign ourselves to the truth. Fincher is considered an auteur. So, he's likely to win.

Ron: As far as I'm concerned, auteurs are basically people who do the same thing over and over again. And that's what Mank feels like. You know who I would have really loved to see in this category? Regina King. I was watching One Night in Miami and the entire time I was like, “why didn't this get nominated?” It's not just the shots. It's the way she portrayed the story to us. And this is her first time directing a feature film, it doesn't feel like it. Honestly, I feel like this was the year that you should have been nominating all these people. Why is David Fincher here? I just don't think even in David Fincher’s oeuvre, Mank is not his best work.

Mon: Yeah, the only thing is with One Night in Miami, it's technically very brilliant, especially for a first-time director, but it does feel like a first-time director’s work. There is a safety in how it is created.

That being said, at least it doesn't feel like a play, which is what it's based on. But compared to the others which are nominated, I can see why Regina King was overlooked. Though the film really should have made it to the Best Pictures noms, at least.

Ron: So, Another Round by Thomas Vinterberg. See, this is the thing; how has he been nominated for directing, but his movie was not deemed good enough to be nominated for Best Picture? What is the criteria? Honestly, I just don't understand what is happening!

Because when I watch this film, it's actually very uncomfortable to watch because there's so much shakey cam.

Mon: Oh!

Ron: And I was just like, I know you're trying to set the mood that there's a lot of drinking happening here, but it's just making me feel disoriented, so I'm not enjoying this experience. I don't think he was doing anything that different. In my opinion, it is between Minari, Nomadland and Promising Young Woman because those three are the ones that really stand out in this category. And as far as I'm concerned Minari and Nomadland actually do something completely different. They are the innovators. I'm hoping for Chloe Zhao to win because Nomadland really stood out to me.

Mon: Let's quickly go over editing. This is a tough category to really understand from a lay person's point of view.

Ron: Yeah.

Mon: Because when editing is done well, you will not notice it.

Ron: Which is making me question so many entries in this editing category. Because The Father has editing that is so obvious.

Mon: I agree with you on that.

Ron: I was like, oh look, here's a cut. Oh look, here's a camera change. How is this nominated for film editing? That way, again, Nomadland, edited by Chloe Zhao—who did pretty much everything in this film, oh my gosh, how did she do it—has such good editing, because you don't notice it.

Mon: Yeah, you are on this journey with this character. You feel the land that she is traversing, you get to know the characters that she is meeting.

Ron: You feel that claustrophobia in her trailer, and how it differs from everything that’s happening around her. It's just such good editing because you don't notice anything. It's just an experience.

Mon: Yeah, there's like this moment where Frances McDormand’s character is like a few yards away from her nearest neighbor, who's also in a van, and she sees her neighbor put up a flag. And we don't really understand the significance of that flag till a few scenes later when Frances McDormand needs help and she’s knocking on this person’s door, and her neighbor goes, “didn’t you see the sign?”.  You you realize the flag is basically supposed to say do not disturb. And I think that's where editing and direction comes in, because anywhere else you would be told, it would be signposted that yes, this flag is going up because she does not want to be disturbed, go away now. But here it’s backwards, and it's important for us to feel that way because the character may not have known what the flag is about. And we're in her shoes. That's the whole point. And that again addresses why this film has got as many nominations as it has. And why probably it should win.

Ron: Absolutely.

We also have Promising Young Woman here. I think the editing here is pretty commercial, it's not very different. It serves the purpose of narrating the story. So, in that sense, it's pretty technically sound.

Mon: Well, I think there's one scene which has won it the film editing nomination. We can't talk about it but in the hands of any other director, especially a male director, we would have seen that scene in a completely different way.

Ron: I actually think there are two things that have made it, editing-wise, so powerful. And the reason why it's been nominated. And in that scene, I think a lot of directors would have chosen to maybe cut. But here, the director gave her actors so much leeway to play out the scene that the editing, you don't notice it.

Mon: On the basis of just that scene that you just mentioned, I feel like this film should definitely sweep this award. Honestly, the power of that scene really comes across in the use of camera cuts, or the lack thereof.

Ron: Exactly. And that is actually one of the reasons why Promising Young Woman really works, because it knows when not to cut.

Sound of Metal.

Mon: I am truly surprised that it's in the film editing category. Are you?

Ron: I'm glad that it is, I think sound editing, it did a really great job, but I think it's really easy to focus on that aspect of the film, and forget that the actual film editing also makes the story and the sound more important. I'm going to compare it to Another Round where the editing is so jarring. And so obviously edited. I'm glad it's not in this category, but Sound of Metal doesn't do that. It moves the camera away and it cuts at certain points where the audience needs that extra information. I think the way it's edited works for this film, I don't think it's the kind of style that would work for everything else, but because it fits so well with this narrative, I think that's why it's been nominated.

Mon: Yeah, because I think with the film editing, as well as the sound editing, both of them combined, it helps you walk in the shoes of this character, which as you say, is only possible when it's a very personal, individual story like it is with Sound of Metal. I'm kind of glad it's got some technical noms. If nothing else, because we know it's a real long shot for the Best Picture award winner. It could get the technical awards.

What is the Trial of the Chicago 7 doing here?

Ron: I don't know.

Mon: I spent most of that film wondering where the sightlines were.

Ron: Yes.

Mon: Right?

Ron: Yeah.

Mon: There’s this scene where somebody is walking up a flag and the character is looking to the left, but the flag is in the center, and I'm like, “where are you standing?”

Ron: The sightlines weren’t the only problem. We have a chunk of this film taking place in a courtroom, and it felt like I was watching Law and Order. So what is the innovation here? Why has it been nominated?

You know what should have been nominated in both the directing and editing categories? Birds of Prey. Okay, look, we love this movie so we are a bit biased. But Cathy Yan did an amazing job. She should definitely have been in the directing category, and the editing the scene in Gotham PD, come on.

Mon: Well, there are two major reasons why Birds of Prey didn't get any nominations, though, I really feel like it should have. First of all, it's a very comic book-y film, and also structurally, the story is very nonlinear.

Ron: Let us put it out there that Suicide Squad won an Oscar.

Mon: I am currently speechless.

Ron: So, who do you think is going to win this? Honestly, I want Chloe Zhao to get everything.

Mon: Yeah, but I think The Father is going to win.

Ron: I think that would be a mistake.

Mon: It's going to happen.

Ron: So we're going to round off with the screenplay categories. In the adapted section we have the Borat sequel—please don’t make me say the whole name—The Father, Nomadland, One Night in Miami and The The White Tiger.

Mon: We haven't seen the Borat film so we cannot attest to its merits. This is a tough category.

Ron: Ok, so we have two films that are based on plays, The Father and One Night in Miami. I think that we’re both of the same mind that One Night in Miami is definitely superior as an adaptation of a play. The Father feels like a play on film. One Night in Miami feels like a film. So, if it's between those two, it should be One Night in Miami.

Mon: You're going to root for Nomadland, aren't you?

Ron: I am but I have to say, The The White Tiger was a really good adaptation. I thought that was a solid, solid screenplay. I'm actually really annoyed that it didn't get nominated in anything else. As far as I'm concerned, it should have been up for directing, it should have been up for Best Picture, it should have been up for Best Actor. How do these things not happen? I don't understand what the Academy does, really. Like, what is everybody sitting there doing?

Mon: Dude, the fact that a film based in India with Indian actors even got nominated for anything, is like a surprise—in a good way, I guess. It's a film that looks at the poverty and the caste system in India, without actually sensationalizing it or making it completely the norm. There are different kinds of Indians that you will meet in India, as we see in this film. And I'm just surprised that the Academy noticed that.

Ron: You know what irritates me? Slumdog Millionaire won everything, when it was a bad film. And it portrayed India in a really condescending light.

Mon: And considering it was based on a book which was hard-hitting, spoke about the issues that we face in India all the time, but had this sort of fun vibe to it, and Slumdog Millionaire was just an atrocity, as far as I'm concerned.

With The White Tiger, I was very resistant to watching it.

Ron: Me too.

Mon: But yes, while it does portray the abject poverty of sections of society—and it is a little bit scary how people on both sides can treat each other—it also has this updated 21st century mentality that we haven't seen in portrayals of India in Hollywood for a while.

Ron: This was a really good film. I am really irritated that it hasn't got the recognition that it has. I mean, Ava DuVernay was a producer on this, so… But what I loved about The White Tiger was that it didn't coast on the name Ava DuVernay. Everybody else put a lot of work into it.

Mon: And it also didn’t gratuitously show us, you know, the disgusting aspects of India. It also shows you the grandeur that is Delhi and Bangalore, while telling you that yes, there are people living in villages in absolute squalor.

Ron: But what I liked is that doesn't keep throwing that squalor in your face, because people live there. For heaven's sake, you can't just keep saying, “oh my god it's so disgusting”. No, no, this is how people live.

Mon: Respect that.

Ron: Exactly. So I'm irritated, but I really hope that it wins this category.

Mon: Yeah that would be nice, right?

Ron: Yes, I am rooting for Nomadland.

Mon: Why am I not surprised?

Ron: But I would happily let Ramin Bahrani win this for The White Tiger.

So, original screenplay. We have Judas and the Black Messiah, Minari, Promising Young Woman, Sound of Metal and Trial of the Chicago 7. One of these things is not like the others.

Mon: [Laughs]

Ron: I'm sorry, the fact that Aaron Sorkin continues to get recognized and nominated for his writing when he is a bad writer, just drives me up the wall.

Mon: It's sometimes hard to differentiate between entertaining writing, and good writing.

Ron: But is he even entertaining?

Mon: Some people find that banter entertaining.

Is this the subject matter that deserves this kind of banter, this kind of writing? No it doesn't. It requires a deft hand, it requires a respectful hand and we have mentioned this several times and we've talked about this, which is that it does not respect the horrible situation that the people in it were facing.

Ron: It should definitely not win this category.

Mon: It will win this category.

Ron: Oh gosh, your cynicism. I believe that the Academy is going to do things differently.

Mon: I'm a pragmatist and I don't believe that.

Ron: Parasite won last year. Parasite was the best film among all the nominees. There were a lot of other films that should have been nominated, we always are going to be angry about that, but Academy actually recognized how good Parasite was, and it gave it the awards that it deserved. Maybe, maybe, this is the change that we are seeing. And Trial of the Chicago 7, even though it's been nominated to make a certain group of people happy, it won't actually win.

Mon: Well, we will find out.

I think Judas and the Black Messiah has a really good chance here. I think partly because of Daniel Kaluuya’s performance and the fact that Best Picture should kind of belong to it. It just has a really strong story.

Mon: Yeah.

Ron: I know you had issues with the second act; I didn't have that. I feel like it managed to balance these really big, larger than life characters with a story that had you guessing. It was packed full of characters, like, it's very much the opposite of Sound of Metal and Minari which has very small pockets of characters. But Judas and the Black Messiah is much more sweeping, so many people and every single person matters, every single story within the story matters. And cohesively as a whole, the film works because the writing is so strong as well.

Mon: I 100% agree with you on that. I will say that when you Algee Smith men in a role, you give me more of him on screen.

Ron: [Laughing] Ok.

So, Minari.

Mon: I want this one to win.

Ron: Me too.

Mon: Because it's a very simple story. We discussed this when we talked about the film in the Best Picture category, there is a universality to the events of this film that reflects many of our journeys. And I think that's the power of this writing; you can kind of see yourself in different ways. You can see yourself in different characters from the kid to the grandma, right?

And I feel like sometimes the Academy does like these personal stories about the American Dream, which honestly Minari is doing in spades.

Ron: I also feel like the reason why Minari you could win this category is because, you know what I was saying about Pieces of a Woman and how it adds things to make it bigger than it really is. Minari never does that, it’s contained to this one family because even little things can seem big when it's your life and it's people who you love, and that's what a great story, that's what a great writer, does. So yeah, I think it might just win this category as well.

Mon: Well, I think it's funny that you mentioned that things are huge and important when it's somebody that you love, because that ties into Promising Young Woman.

Ron: I mean that entire film is about doing something for somebody that you love, and everything that they felt is amplified because of how you feel about them. But nobody else around you can even imagine it because it doesn't bother them. That person has nothing to do with them.

And I think that's why the writing in this film is quite strong, because it's through the lens of this one character. Of course, the performance that Carey Mulligan puts in does amplify just how terrible she is feeling, just how strong this loss is for her in comparison to how everybody else is actually reacting to it.

And it’s a really strong story because that tension, it’s not just well conveyed on the screen, it had to be there on the page.

It does help that the writing and directing is done by the same person. I think this year we've seen that quite a lot, even with Chloe Zhao, she did the producing, writing, editing, and directing for her film, Nomadland which is a really really accomplished, really powerful, cohesive and memorable product.

Nomadland is not the kind of movie that you and I would watch, and maybe not even enjoy it but this one, my god. And the same thing with Promising Young Woman, she wrote it, directed it, produced it, and you can see the final product.

Mon: It's the ability to translate exactly how you feel on the page to the screen. And I think so often you see that divide because the person who directs a movie, sometimes isn't in sync with the person who wrote it, and that really undercuts important subject matters.

Ron: This is my problem with Pieces of a Woman, and that's why Vanessa Kirby's performance, it's not that good. It just doesn't work because the people around her weren't working together, though I don't know why.

Mon: I'm partial to Promising Young Woman winning as well, because it's a topical issue, and it's well written, it's entertaining in a very scary fashion.

Ron: Exactly. I mean this is a suspense thriller about a topic that a lot of people have had to deal with, but it comes across as a film that is also entertaining, so it's actually a good one for this category.

So finally Sound of Metal.

Mon: This one surprised me.

Rob: The writing for Sound of Metal feels just like a person's story like they're going day by day. That can actually be really hard to write. Again like Minari, this doesn't try too hard, it doesn't go too far, it knows what its aim is, and it stays within that scope. I think the problem with things like The Trial of the Chicago Seven is that the scope was so huge that the final product is, well, it's just not very good, and it doesn't do justice to the characters, or the narrative.

Sound of Metal is exactly the opposite. It takes this one person, his journey, and it just runs with it. And the other thing is that, a lot of films feel like, you know, we shouldn’t be linear because that's cliched or it's been done. But Sound of Metal works so well because of its linear narrative; it doesn't keep going back and forth. You are taking this journey with this person. So yeah, I think it has a pretty good chance as well.

So, I think we want four of these films to win. [laughs] And we don’t care about Aaron Sorkin. I would say the Academy is trying. We have unexpected entries this year in the major categories, which is exciting. The diversity is there. There's room for so much more. But I think one of the biggest problems that the Academy has had this year is by trying to play it safe with certain choices. My hope is that the Academy voters will see the innovation of films like Judas and the Black Messiah, Minari, Promising Young Woman, Nomadland. Sound of Metal and really begin to usher in a whole different way of filmmaking, because we can't be something if we can't see it. We've seen it with Parasite, are we going to see it this year?

Who do you think should win these categories at the Academy Awards 2021? We'd love to hear from you.

You can find us on Twitter @Stereo_Geeks. Or send us an email stereogeekspodcast@gmail.com. We hope you enjoyed this episode. And see you next week!

Mon: The Stereo Geeks logo was created using Canva. The music for our podcast comes courtesy Audionautix.

[Continuum by Audionautix plays]

Transcription by Otter.ai, Ron, and Mon.

[jay-wells-writes]

City Lights (Winston X Reader)

Ok so I had to write this story because I have not seen one story based off that bad ass glass office in John Wick 3 and since it is Winston’s hotel he deserves the right to get some in the glass office. 

Rated: Smut 

Stepping out of the elevator you couldn't help but suck in your breath. You never would have thought that The Continental would have two floors made of nothing but glass. Looking straight ahead you were able to see out at New York and when looking up you saw Winston leaning against a desk from the floor above you, watching as you made your way to the stairs. You could hear nothing but your heels as they tapped against the floor, that was until you reached the second level. It was only then you heard the soft music that Winston had playing. Looking around this level you saw multiple samurai armour on display. Plus in addition to the desk you noticed a lounger next to the windows looking outside and a small side table that had a bottle of champagne and glasses sitting on it. You had been so enthralled by the city lights you hadn't heard nor felt Winston as he slipped behind you. Wrapping his arms around your waist Winston placed a light kiss on your shoulder. Smiling you tilted your head to the side allowing him to place more kisses against your skin.

"Hmmm. Why haven't you brought me up here before now?"

"Because this place is for special meetings that the hotel may conduct."

Although Winston was talking vaguely you knew he was talking about the other side of the hotel. You had been seeing Winston for a few months now and you just only found out about that side of it. And that was only because you knew he had been keeping something from you. Truth be told you thought he was a drug lord or something with how some of the guests acted. And even though running a safe haven for assassins seemed right up there with drug lords Winston never made you a part of that. Heck there had been times he called you and told you not to come to the hotel because he didn't want you around someone that had checked in because he didn't trust them.

Turning around in Winston's arms you placed both of your hands on his chest. Almost instantly Winston grasped one of yours and held it to his heart as you both began to slowly dance. 

"How was the wedding?"

Groaning slightly you shook your head. 

"Horrible. I mean the wedding was beautiful and the bride was in tears at your gift for the bridal party. But naturally a couple of the other girls believed I had acquired myself a sugar daddy." 

Laughing lightly Winston pushed you out and then back into himself as he turned you both.

"And you wanted me to come with you."

"Yes. It would have saved me from dealing with everyone by myself."

Bringing you closer in Winston ran his nose along your ear.

"But then we would have stolen the show from the bride and I couldn't have that. I mean it was because of her you were brought to me."

As you continued to dance you thought back to the night the bridal party had managed to book a room in the all exclusive Continental Hotel. What was meant to be a night of bar hoping turned into a night in with complimentary bottles of champagne and free spa care when Winston found the group moping about because it decided to downpour outside. Essentially putting an end to the bars because some of the other girls didn't want to get wet. 

You of course had slipped away and went swimming late that night and that's when you ran into Winston once again and somehow you spent the rest of the night talking with him. Of course when you officially started dating you both agreed to keep hushed, but as the weeks turned to months you didn't want to keep it hushed anymore and without thinking you thought the wedding would be the best time to announce it. Of course being pressured to bring a date had also played into it, but Winston in all his wisdom reminded you why it wasn't a good idea and instead offered to pay for stylists to come in and pamper you and the rest of the wedding party as a way to break the ice about the relationship. As the wedding night proceeded you received a text asking if you would join him after which you immediately said yes to.

You wanted nothing more then to keep dancing with Winston but given that you had been in heels all day your feet were screaming at you to sit down. Slowing the dancing to a stop you took a step back and gave Winston a small frown. 

“I am sorry. As much as I have been enjoying this I need to sit down. Being in these heels all day has really hurt my feet.”

“Of course my dear! You should have said something sooner.”

Taking your hand Winston led you to the lounger. After helping you sit down he sat down at the end of the lounger with his legs on either side of it and brought your feet to his lap. You couldn’t help but moan softly when you felt him run his fingers over your ankles as he removed your heels for you. Keeping both feet in his lap Winston began to dig his thumbs into the souls of one of them. Soon your soft moans turned into whines and groans as Winston worked the muscles loose in one foot before moving to the other. Raising his eyebrow and giving you a grin he then began to work his hands up your leg. When you let out a sudden “Oh god” at the feeling of his hands on your legs, you could feel your face turning pink. Which caused Winston to let out a chuckle as he lifted your legs before standing. You could feel your heart drop at his sudden departure, but when you turned around to see what he had been doing you were left breathless as he made eye contact with you and began to remove his jacket. After setting that down on the desk he removed his vest, and then his tie before popping a couple buttons open and rolling his sleeves up some before making his way back to you. Standing next to the lounger Winston gave you a smile as he held his hand out for you. 

“Sit up for me if you would my dear.” 

Doing as he asked Winston slipped behind you. With his legs on either side of your hips he pulled you back so that you were now resting against his chest. After carefully pouring you a glass of champagne and using a remote to turn the lights down, Winston began to work your hair free from all the pins that held it up. As much as you had wanted to look out the window at all the lights you found your eyes closing as Winston’s fingers worked through your hair. 

Never in your life have you had someone that took care of you the way Winston had. You had to admit that at one point in the beginning you had the same thoughts some of your friends had tonight, that you somehow became a sugar baby to Winston’s sugar daddy. But those thoughts soon flew out the door when you realized that the only thing he had given you was someone to talk; that today had been the first time he has ever gifted you with something, like the stylist he hired. Throughout your whole relationship Winston never tried to make you do anything neither of you wanted. On the rare occasion when you had slept over all Winston had done was pull you into his arms and held you as you both slept. Up until tonight you hadn’t been bothered by the lack of intimacy, because you knew that if either of you wanted to take that step the other was willing. A big part of you wanted that to happen tonight, but you couldn’t help but feel as though you would be cementing the sugar daddy thought if you did. Feeling Winston’s hands slipping down to your arms you were brought out of your thoughts as he ran his fingers over them. 

“You are deep in thought this evening my dear.”

Realizing you hadn’t touched the drink he poured, you brought the flute up to your mouth and took a sip before replying. 

“I am sorry. I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

“Would you care to tell me? Talking out loud helps.”

Taking another sip from your glass you let out a breath before answering. 

“Truthfully I don’t even know how to explain it.”

“Just talk my dear. Say whatever it is you need to and we can work it out from there.”

“It’s the sugar daddy comments. I know and you know that our relationship is nothing of that nature. That today is the first time you have ever gifted me with something big as stylists. But now I feel that if we become intimate we are cementing the sugar daddy thought in others.”

“Were you wanting to take our relationship to that point tonight?”

“No… Yes. Hell I don’t know.”

“Then we shall not do anything tonight. I would be lying if I was to say I have never played the role of a “sugar daddy” in fact I have done it many times. When I first met you though, I knew you were different when instead of getting a free spa treatment you slipped off by yourself to swim. It was then I also realized I was tired of using my connections to make women happy and that I was in need of something more. That goes to say you are correct in knowing I am more than willing to feel your skin against mine in an intimate setting. I can also tell you I am willing to bet this hotel on knowing you are not using me to get what you want. Because if you had, that first night you would have been all about the treatment. As for tonight though may I suggest we just sit here looking out at the city and enjoy the company of one another? If you would like I could massage your shoulders?” 

After nodding your head in agreement Winston refilled your flute once more before bringing his hands to your shoulders. The minute his thumbs dug into the muscle you groaned out and your eyes closed once again. As he continued to work the knots out of your shoulders you tried to keep your head forward so that he had room to work but your body wasn’t having any of that. Resting your head on his chest your hand landed on his thigh and you couldn’t help but dig your nails into it as he searched for another knot to work out. Since you were wearing a strapless dress Winston’s fingers were able to slide down the front of your chest without being blocked. Which allowed his fingertips to graze the top part of your breast. 

Nothing more was said as Winston continued to rub your shoulders, while the both of you looked out into the city below. When Winston's lips kissed your neck you couldn't help but sigh and tilt your head to the side.

"I am sorry my dear, I just couldn't stop myself from kissing you skin. The way it glows in the light, it's like a beacon."

Suddenly you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against more parts of your body. So without saying anything you slipped from his lap. Turning to face him you could see the questioning look in his eyes and instead of answering his question you reached behind and unzipped the dress, letting it fall to the floor. Leaving you standing in just your underwear and strapless bra; the city lights highlighting your whole body. 

Even though you could hear Winston's breath hitch he remained silent as he held his out for you to take. Placing your hand in his you allowed him to help you straddle his lap. Once you were seated Winston took his hand back so that he could place both of them on your hips. Placing your hands on his chest you began to play with the button he had undone earlier. Both of you remained quiet as Winston began to move his hand from your hip to your back. Keeping eye contact and waiting for you to say the word Winston's hand began to slowly move up and down your back. While the thumb on his other hand began to move back and forth over your hip. His touches had been simple, nothing to sexual, but they left you craving more. Knowing that Winston was not going to push anything unless you started it, you leaned further into him. Bringing one hand to rest on the back of the lounger you slipped the fingers on your other hand just under his shirt. 

"I have one more spot that is sore from today if you're willing. Wearing strapless bras can be very painful. The band digging into your skin makes it very tender. And I have been in mine for over 8 hours."

Bringing yourself back up you kept eye contact with Winston as you reached behind yourself to unhook your bra, but before you could even reach the clasps Winston finally spoke.

"No." Dropping your hands you felt a bit heartbroken that Winston said no. But as you started to lift yourself from his lap his hands clasped your hips tightly and held you down. "Not so fast my dear. I was saying no to you removing your bra because I wanted to be the one to remove it."

Giving you a wink Winston ran his hands from your hips, up your sides and to your back. You could feel his hands make quick work of the hooks and you couldn't help but sigh when he pulled the bra away from you. Slipping his hands back to your sides Winston slipped his thumbs under your breast and began to work the tender flesh gently. With your head tipped back and your fingers digging into his shoulders Winston placed a hand on your upper back and pulled your chest to his face. Instead of wrapping his mouth around one of your hardened nipples Winston began to place open mouth kisses between your breast. You could hear him moan quietly into your skin as he whispered things like "exquisite and beautiful". Having gotten lost in his touch and kisses you hadn't realized you had begun to grind your hips into him until you brushed against his hardened cock and it caused him to dig his fingers into you tightly while bringing his hips up.

Realizing that it felt to go being in his arms and having his mouth against your skin you began to paw at Winston's shirt. You wanted nothing but to rip it open but you knew the shirt cost more than your groceries so you opened it the old fashion way. After finally pulling it open you began to run your hands up and down his stomach and you couldn't help but dig your nails into his chest when he finally began to knead your breast. 

Regardless of whatever thoughts you had going through your mind earlier you knew that you wanted Winston. But as your hands began to lower themselves to his belt he was once again stopping you. Looking up at him, Winston brought a hand to your face and rub his thumb over your lips. 

"Doesn't a bed sound better than this lounger at the moment?"

Shaking your head in disagreement you started to work his pants open as your mouth rested against his.

"No it doesn't. If we move this to a bed we lose the light and shadows at play and I believe it heightens the mood." 

Pulling Winston's cock from his pants had him thumping his head against the lounger as he moaned loudly. As your hand wrapped around his cock any fight Winston had died on his lips. 

"Very well. But remember this, we are not done tonight. I have tasted but a fraction of your body and there is plenty more I want to taste. So be ready for a long night my dear." 

You couldn't help but feel a chill run through your body at the thought of what Winston had instored for you. Not wanting to wait any more and hoping to see him lose a little control you lifted yourself just enough to slide your underwear to the side and line his cock against your entrance.

Winston wasted no time wrapping his mouth around a nipple as he pushed you into his lap, forcing himself into you all at once. Crying out at the pain filled pleasure you instantly began to roll your hips as Winston switched from one breast to the other. 

As his fingers dug into your hip Winston's other hand slipped behind to grab your ass. Resting his head back he began to use the hand on your ass to help you move as he began to speak.

"That's it my dear. Use me for your pleasure, I can tell you're close because you keep getting tighter around me. You look completely exquisite right now and I know it's only going to get better. And trust me when I say I am willing to  pay a great deal to see you lost in such passion."

The more Winston spoke the more you found yourself rolling your hips faster. As you got closer to cumming you planted your feet on the ground and began to beg for your release. You could feel Winston slipped his thumb down to your clit and with one brush against it you were shouting as you began to cum. You tried to keep your legs moving but as your orgasm rocked through your body you couldn't move anymore. By the time you had caught your breath though Winston had pulled out of you and looking down to his lap you could see that he hadn't cum. Giving him a look Winston began to chuckle.

"We have all night my dear. Do not worry about me. But may I suggest the bedroom now?" 

Nodding your head in agreement you slowly stood. As you reached down for your dress Winston held out his jacket instead. 

"Private elevator my dear. No one will see you."

Giving Winston a smirk you slipped your arms through the jacket and watched as Winston threw your dress over his shoulder and picked up your shoes. Holding his arm out Winston waited for you to step next to him before guiding you to his elevator. Once in his rooms Winston left you to relax as he drew a bath. You were surprised when he helped you into the tub but did not join you. Instead he sat behind the tub and washed your hair. Afterwards while laying in his bed Winston made true to his promise on tasting every part of your body. 

[penwieldingdreamer]

Just died in your Arms

Thank you all for your wonderful feedback, we’re now coming closer to the beginning of the movie as this chapter is still pre-movie. The paragraph mentioned here is from the fairytale The Frog King or Iron Henry by the Brothers Grimm. I also put up a link in my bio for all current and new readers of this or my other stories, there you can ad yourself to my taglist, that way I won’t forget anyone and you can choose for yourself if you want to be tagged or not. Have fun and happy reading.

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: angst, violence, mentions of death, mentions of illness, long chapter

Words: 2807

Part 3

Rain was pouring, the droplets running down the large windows of your loft. Gingerly you sat on the short bench in your living room, cradling your arm and wincing at the pull on the stitches on your back. Charon was just finishing up, being the one taking care of you after your failed mission.

Another assassin had gotten to your target sooner, killing him seconds before you could. Watching his body drop to the floor, you instantly reacted, getting into a defensive stance, your gun at the ready. Blinking once, twice and then all hell broke loose. Shots ringing out behind you, ricocheting off of the building. One stray bullet hit your arm, it was just a scratch but still hurt like a bitch. When you were out of ammunition, you turned to hand to hand combat, the one technique you always had trouble with. John was a big help for you, but now you were on your own.

Distracted, the other hitman was able to hit you in the back with his concealed knife, cutting deep into the tissue. A cry left your lips and you saw the smirk on his lips, satisfied with his work.

“You should leave now, Y/N, this business isn’t for little girls.” he mocked you, motioning with his fingers to come at you.

Being trained as an assassin you did what you learned and charged, your heeled foot hitting his knee before he could react, while his fist connected with your jaw. You closed your eyes for a second, wincing at the pain before you were ready to attack again, letting your fist fly at his adam’s apple. The wind was knocked out of him and he watched you wide eyed, clearly having underestimated you. Grabbing the knife out of his hand you gave him a kick to the stomach, making him stumble back before you plunged the knife in his jugular. Leaning next to his head, your lips brushed his ear. “I’m not a little girl.” you growled, twisting the hilt of his knife before you pulled it free. “Asshole.”

“Miss Y/N.” Charon pulled you from your thoughts as he was done putting the medical supplies back into his bag. “I suggest you take it easy for a few days. Your Uncle would not approve of you getting hurt again so shortly after that mission.”

Giving the receptionist a tight lipped smile, you leaned your head back against the window. “Thank you Charon. I guess Winston will be visiting me soon anyway.”

“You’re welcome, Miss.” he acknowledged, nodding his head at you. “Take care of yourself, will you.”

Your answer was a short nod, turning back to the outside world which reflected your inside quite well.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, the melancholy washing over you, surrounded by the paintings you worked on, the pictures you used as your cover. Winston sat down across from you, brushing his hand along your cheek and turned your face so he could look at your bruised jaw. His eyes glinted in anger, ready to rant at you, when you pulled your head away.

“Stop it, uncle, it’s just bruised.” standing up from your seat, instantly regretting doing that, feeling the stitches rubbing under your black leather pants.

Watching you carefully, the owner of the Continental debated if he should follow or stay where he was. Ever since John Wick had left and retired from his job as hitman you had been distracted, unfocused and easily injured.

“Y/N. When will you stop feeling heart broken?” your uncle argued as you walked over to your kitchen. “John is married now. You were there, you heard him say ‘I do’. What more proof do you need that it is over?”

Leaning against the counter, your hands clenched into a fist. You closed your eyes, holding the tears at bay as you thought back to the day you had seen John smile at his wife.

It was a wonderful day, the sun was shining and a soft breeze blew through the trees in front of the chapel. You had decided to say a final goodbye, standing in the back of the church, the only thing anchoring you the little clutch you wore to your light blue dress and silver heels.

John’s side of the holy house was sparsely filled, probably friends from his time at the Marines. On Helen’s side there were so many, you could make out a few artists, painters or writers likewise that were quite known in New York. You decided that you would take a seat, no reason in being suspicious when every one was sitting down and you remained standing.

And then the march sounded, signaling the bride’s arrival. John was nervous, wringing his hands like a schoolboy being scolded. You had never seen him so happy, so relaxed standing at the front, waiting for his soon to be wife.

Helen walked down the isle, the veil covering her brown hair, intricately arranged on her head. Watching her, you felt envious as she glided along the way in her white, long sleeved lace dress, the train of her skirt flowing behind her like the clouds on a sunny day.

When the preacher asked the guests to speak up if they were against the union you felt the urge to call out, but could stop yourself, knowing the former assassin would never forgive you. So you remained silent, as much as it pained you to let him go. Before the ceremony had been over you left the chapel, fearing if you would stay John might see you when he had so knowingly left you behind.

You wanted. Needed to see him only one last time.

“Remember that story about the frog king mother used to read me every night?” you asked, looking out the window, the rain having slowed down a bit. Winston had made his way over to you, putting his arms on your bare shoulder, your torso covered by the black tank you had worn under your blouse. He nodded slightly, waiting for you to continue. “At the end, when Henry took the prince to his kingdom in the carriage, the prince heard that sound, like the wheel was breaking.” you breathed deeply, feeling the tears trail down your cheeks.”A-And Henry tells him it’s only the band around his heart so that he could lessen the ache.” Your voice wavered as you recited the paragraph, feeling your uncles lips on your temple. “He said the same two more times until all he felt was happiness and relieve. I guess I will have to break another wheel to finally be able to be happy again.”

“Oh, my love.” Winston cooed, pulling you into his arms, your head bedded on his shoulder as sobs racked your body. “You’ll be happy again. Why don’t you take a vacation, go somewhere sunny and relax.”

Shaking your head, you buried closer to the only part of your family you had left. “I-I wa-want to sta-ay here.” you hiccuped, clawing at his suit jacket, trying to hold yourself upright.

The owner of the Continental had never been one to show affection, none but you. “Why don’t you come to the hotel, get your mind away from Johnathan. You could help Charon at the reception or tend the bar with Addy, she’d love to have another female there with her.”

Nodding your head, you brushed the tear tracks from your cheeks. “I’ll think about it.” Swallowing the lump that had build up in your throat you looked at your uncle. “I still have some paintings I need to finish.”

“All right.” Winston said, giving your shoulder another tight squeeze and laid a quick kiss on your forehead. He moved around you and left you standing in the kitchen, alone with your thoughts.

»¤«

“Oh, you only have three more minutes.” Addy grinned at you, drying the whiskey glasses on the counter. “What are you going to do tonight?”

Grinning at the brunette behind the bar you put your last order in, before you pulled your apron off. “Probably sit around at home and watch one of those sappy RomComs.”

Laughing, you turned around, waving at your uncle who sat at the far back of the lounge. He raised his glass, smiling at the way you acted. So carefree, happy, like so long ago. The last time you had seen John Wick had been four years ago on his wedding day, since then you tried to maintain a routine of helping around the Continental, painting your pictures and only sparsely taking over assassinations. Sending him one last kiss you turned to the bartender, pulling her in a tight hug and left the lounge in the underground of the hotel.

The first time you had walked into the large room you felt like trespassing with all these assassins flitting around, but now?

This was your life. You knew everyone in their by name and sometimes had a good friendship with them as long as they didn’t try anything, knowing your uncle would revoke their right to stay at the hotel.

Swiftly making your way up the stairs, passing by the kitchens and saying good night to the cooks, you entered the lift. Charon was still at the reception this time of the night and was taking care of your things, so you didn’t have to put them somewhere in the back.

“Good night Charon.” you addressed the concierge, pulling your bag and jacket from under the table and gave the dark skinned man a swift kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Smiling his soft smile, he pulled you in a tight hug, watching as you sauntered down the hallway of the hotel. It was the same each night, seeing that smile on your lips made his heart feel light, knowing you deserved the happiness after those troublesome years.

When you reached the front doors, your smartphone in hand ready to order pizza you stopped dead in your tracks.

Casually, with his hands buried in his jeans, leaned John on his Mustang, the rain starting to drizzle again. He looked tired, broken, nothing like the man you remembered four years ago.

“Hello Y/N.” he said as you finally reached him.

Blinking at the former assassin, you weren’t sure what you should say. Or feel. Were you happy that he was here? Were you angry after you had finally begun a normal life without him?

“W-What are you doing here, Johnathan?”

He gave you a tight lipped smile, tears you hadn’t known he was able to produce in his eyes. “I just got back from the hospital.”

“Is something wrong? Are you” you swallowed around the dry lump, cocking your head at him. “Are you sick?”

John shook his head, the droplets rolling off his dark tresses. “Not me, Helen.”

Feeling your eyes water you pushed yourself against him, pulling your arms around his larger frame. Sadness constricting your throat as you thought about what he must have been feeling right now.

“Do you want to come with me?” you asked once you pulled away from him. “We could order pizza and you could talk about what’s going on.”

Swallowing, the retired hitman rubbed under his eyes, all evidence of his tears gone in seconds. Nodding his head, John gave your shoulder a tight squeeze and opened the door of his Mustang. Sitting down in the leather seat, you waited for him to get in and soon with a roaring engine he drove off toward your apartment. He had only been there once before when Winston had told him to get you back to the Continental, the one and only time up until today.

It wasn’t a long drive, but silence ruled over you making the air thick with tension. Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you spied on John how he was driving the car along the still busy roads of New York, before you finally and thankfully arrived at your building. Getting out of the car you swiftly made your way over to the entrance as the rain was coming down heavier than before. With the lift you moved up to the penthouse floor where your loft was. It was still the way the last owners had left it, industrial and boho style, just like you wanted it yourself.

“Make yourself at home.” you said entering the open space and pulling your coat off. John copied you, hanging his leather jacket over the back of the kitchen chair. “Do you want something to drink?”

Shaking his head, he watched you carefully, his hands twitching by his side as if he wanted to reach out and pull you in. Taking a step towards you, John fidgeted, like the day he stood in the front of the church waiting for Helen to walk down the isle.

“Want to tell me what’s going on with Helen?”

“She’s sick.” he confessed moving away from you to stand by the large windows, the rain reflecting his mood. Knowing he needed the comfort you stood behind John, laying your hand on his shoulder. “They still don’t know what it is exactly, but she’s - uh- she's going to" he paused, taking a deep breath "Die.”

Your fingers squeezed the hard muscles underneath his shirt, feeling them shudder with rage, anger and pain. “Maybe they just need time to find out what is causing this. Johnathan, you know that there are so many possibilities. She’s going to fight for you.”

Turning around, you saw a man that you didn’t recognize, broken beyond repair from the news of his wife’s coming death. He laid his forehead against yours, letting his hands move to your own shoulders and pulled you against his front. “I don’t want to loose her, Y/N. She’s all the things I wanted, needed in my life.”

You felt your heart constricting at the confession, knowing the former assassin would never look at you like he looked at Helen and yet you pulled his head down, laying it on your shoulder. The tears finally left his eyes, making their way down his cheeks and splashing against the skin of your neck, but you didn’t care as you let your fingers glide through his dark strands, cooing at him like he were a small child. All too soon you felt the weight of him leaning on you and you pushed him to the large couch, getting comfortable with the 6'1" back in your arms. Your hands moved over his shoulders, along his neck and through his hair in a soothing rhythm. John’s breathing evened out and you felt him relax into your body. Seeing him like this, you swore to yourself that you’d make sure to give him as much time as you could.

Somehow you must have fallen asleep, too, because when you woke you heard the water running in your shower. The weight had lifted from your body and you knew that John had helped himself around your home. Standing up, you grabbed the robe that was hanging by the door to the bathroom and waited for him to finish up, sitting at the kitchen counter. Once he was done the former hitman was already halfway dressed, moving over the the table, where he had put down his wallet and keys.

“John?” you called leaning against the door frame, following his movements as he was getting dressed.

The fabric of his dress shirt slipped over his shoulders, instantly hiding the tattoos on his back. You still remembered how your nails raked over the skin, feeling the raised bumps of scar tissue there when you had been together all those years back.

“I need to go.” he murmured, the vibration of his voice flowing over you, sending a shiver down your spine. “Helen needs me.”

You pulled the lapels of your robe closed, not from the shiver, but from the coldness that swept over you. John was leaving again, which was understandable with her condition, yet still it hurt, the band around your heart tearing slightly.

“I love her.” he told you, his fingers brushing over your jaw. One last time you felt the calloused skin on your own, the hands that could be so gentle and yet kill with a mere flick of the wrist.

Sliding down the closed front door, you sat on the carpet. The tears now flowing freely as your voice was only a hushed breath. “But I love you, too.” With those words you felt the band tear away, freeing your broken heart for the last time, to finally make way for relieve and happiness.

But why must it always hurt so bad at first?

Part 4

Taglist

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[howtohero]

#299 The Resistance

Ultiman hovered three inches off of the floor. It was a nervous habit of his, which had the added benefit of making anybody near him feel just as nervous as he did. People tended to fear floating men. Especially floating men who could shoot beams from their eyes and snap tanks in half over their knees. So Ultiman tried to stay on the ground as much as possible. People liked a grounded hero. For the moment though he was alone, and so he allowed himself to hover, just a bit. He was nervous, how could he not be. The world had been taken over by supervillains, and it may as well have been his fault.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he muttered to himself, another nervous habit of his. 

“There was nothing you could have done, so you left. You knew whomever was left would need a leader and so you retreated. It was the smart move. It was the only move,” he said forcefully trying to convince himself. It didn’t work, and not for the first time, he was thankful that the only person he seemed to have to convince was himself. The other heroes, those who had managed to escape the supervillain attacks across the world and the eruption of hellfire outside of How To Hero headquarters had been thankful to see him. They’d been happy he’d run away when he did. The heroes who had been captured, Cowboy Rockstar, Cannonballer: Baller of Cannons, and so many others, might have a different opinion though. But he’d done what he’d done, made the choices he’d made, and hopefully history would vindicate them. Hopefully he’d actually be able to lead the ragtag Resistance that had formed to save the world. Hopefully he was up for it. 

Ultiman looked around the room he was in, if only to take his mind off of the challenges that lay ahead of him. He was in the Haberdashery, one of the many satellite hideouts Hatman maintained in cities with large superhuman presences. Specifically, he was in a room called the Hall of Hats. The room’s walls were covered with hooks and on those hooks were dozens of hats that were, ostensibly, worthy of being enshrined in a hall. Ultiman floated over to one of them, a cowboy hat made out of black velvet with the name “Winston” glued onto it in silver sequins. Ultiman looked below it and read the description: “‘Hat worn by Winston Churchill at his stag party’ There’s no way that’s true.”  

“You calling me a liar?”

Ultiman quickly landed and spun around.

“Hatman, I didn’t hear you come in.”

The other man frowned and folded his arms across the yellow tophat insignia that was emblazoned onto his chest, “As pleased as I am that I managed to sneak up on you, you seem distracted.”

“Can you blame me?”

“I suppose not, they’re all in the other room. Waiting for you.”

“Waiting to hear my big plan.”

“Waiting for you. You’re the symbol U. The platonic ideal of superheroism. The-”

“Don’t say it.”

“The ultimate man. I get that you’re nervous, a supervillain takeover of this magnitude has never had so much success. Smuggles has somehow managed to do what nobody else has ever been able to. He’s taken the entire world by surprise. We’re scattered, most of our people are captured or missing. He’s put the heroes on defensive. He’s managed to unite every supervillain in the world. He’s managed to ally himself with the forces of Hell.” 

“You sound like you’re impressed.”

“By all measures it’s very impressive stuff.”

Ultiman smirked, “Maybe we’ll be able to get you one of his hats.”

Hatman looked him dead in the eye, “I would love that.”

Ultiman laughed for the first time since he’d flown away from How to Hero Headquarters. It felt good. It felt unearned. 

Hatman didn’t even crack a smile, “Shall we go in there?”

“I’ll meet you out there in a second.”

Hatman shrugged and then left him.

“All right Ultiman, game time. Show time. Give them the Ultiman they’re expecting. Give them the symbol.”

With a deep breath, he walked out of the Hall of Hats and into a large dining room. Why one would need a large dining room in their hideout Ultiman wasn’t sure, but he took his place at the head of the ornate table in the center of the room anyhow. He quickly scanned the room. He recognized several of the heroes sitting around the table and nodded at them. To his right was Professor Paleontologist who smiled at him reassuringly. There were other heroes, heroes he was ashamed to say he didn’t recognize scattered around the room, along with a few support-team types. Gael, director of G.U.Y. I.N. T.H.E. C.H.A.I.R. was there, scrolling on his smartphone, absorbing information like a sponge. Two of the How To Hero guys were there too, Ultiman didn’t know their real names but he recalled they went by Parenthetical Guy and Curly. Parenthetical Guy was trying to squeeze a collapsible lawn chair in between ‘Earo and Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man at the conference table. 

(“Why do you even need to sit at the big table, you have super hearing, you could be on the moon and you’d still be able to hear!”)

Curly was standing in the corner chatting Hatman’s ear off as the hero tried to sink into the shadows, as was his custom at large meetings, even those held in his own hideout.

Ultiman smiled wryly and clapped his hands together, taking care not to accidentally create a sonic boom with the force of it. Instantly everybody stopped talking and every head in the room turned towards him, with the exception of Gael whose eyes were still glued to his phone.

“I think it’s time we began,” Ultiman said, double checking that his feet were on the ground. 

“I won’t lie to you, we’re in trouble,” Ultiman started simply. “Big trouble, unprecedented trouble. But that’s just a day in the life right?”

There were a few scattered chuckles.

“What’s important to remember though, is that this is not insurmountable trouble. We’re down but we’re not out. In this room I see a few dozen people who want to make a change and believe they can do so. A few dozen people who still have hope. And hope is a powerful thing. It might be the greatest power we have right now. As we speak Smuggles and his Crime Consortium are sitting pretty in How To Hero headquarters. Hundreds of our comrades are languishing who knows where. World leaders are missing. Military bases have been taken over by armies of the damned. The rest of the galaxy waits on bated breath to see if Earth’s heroes are up to snuff. To see if we have what it takes to put the world back together again. It won’t be easy, but none of us would be here, none of us would do this job, if we cared about easy. I don’t know about the rest of you, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had easy and I’m still here. I’m still standing. And so are the rest of you. So let’s show Smuggles and the Fish Whisperer, and Marconi and the Skeleton King and-”

“And Zeus,” Gael chirped from his seat.

“And what?”

“Zeus, lord of the skies, king of the Greek gods. He’s just endorsed Smuggles. Apparently he thinks it’s hilarious that Greg the Skeleton King has deposed the rest of the rulers of Hell, his brother, Hades, among them of course.” 

“Ah,” Ultiman said. “Thank you Gael.”

He took a moment to recompose himself, “And Zeus too then. Add him to the list of people we’ll have to fight to save the Earth. That’s fine. Who cares. We’re heroes, and saving the world is what we do.”

“Hear hear!”

“Let’s show them what we’re made of!”

(“I’m telling you, I’m important I should really be at the table for this. What if someone takes a picture of this historic moment. People are going to think its weird if I’m not in the picture.”)

Ultiman held up his hand and the chatter stopped. “Now, before we can take the fight to the villains there are a few things we need to take care of. Hatma- Where’s Hatman?”

{“He left.”}

“He left? What do you mean he left?”

{“Like out the door.”}

“While I was speaking? While I was speaking just now? But that’s so rude. Wow.”

{“I know. So rude!”}

Ultiman shook his head, “Whatever, do you mind going after him?”

{“You got it chief! I’ll just go put on my costume.”}

Ultiman tilted his head, “I don’t think that’s necessary. I just need you to step outside and grab him for a minute.”

Curly was already gone. 

“All right then. Hatman knows what to do I’m sure.”

(“What if I just sat on your lap? Come on, you’re a cyborg, you won’t even feel it.”)

Ultiman turned to Professor Paleontologist, “Professor, as you can see we’re a little light-handed. While it’s possible we’re all that’s left of Earth’s defenders I’m inclined to believe, to hope, that there are others out there. Why don’t you see if you can gather some allies for us.”

Professor Paleontologist, “It would be my pleasure sir. I believe I know just where to look.”

“Excellent, and why don’t you take him with you,” Ultiman said pointing to Parenthetical Guy, who was now talking to the superhero Yellowjacket. 

(“Come on, there’s literally no way you deserve a seat at this table more than me, at least just scoot down a little bit.”)

Professor Paleontologist tugged at his collar, “Well, sir, I don’t know if that’s the best idea. I’m happy to take somebody else if you want me to go with a partner.”

“Parenthetical Guy!” Ultiman shouted drawing the gangly man’s attention.

(“Yo what’s up big guy?”)

“I’ve got a mission for you, go with Professor Paleontologist. He’ll explain it.”

(“Aw man, Professor Paleontologist? Do I gotta?”)

“Yes.”

(“All right, fine. Let’s go PP, I’m not getting any younger.”)

Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes but joined Parenthetical Guy by the door. Ultiman heard a collective sigh of relief when they left the room.

Ultiman took stock of who was left. His two biggest names had just left, and all that remained now were the second-stringers and the also rans, but that didn’t matter. Ultiman meant what he said before, he believed that the motley crew in front of him could mean the difference for humanity. And a leader is nothing if they don’t believe in their troops.

“Now,” Ultiman said. “Let’s talk strategy.”

                                                            ***

“So, Ultiman says we need allies. Luckily I have a colleague in-”

(“Blah blah blah. Trust me, when Ultiman asked us to gather super cool allies to help us take back the world I’m sure he didn’t mean any colleagues of yours.”)

Professor Paleontologist arched an eyebrow, “I suppose you have someone in mind?”

(“As a matter of fact I do!”) Parenthesis Guy shouted, pulling out his cellphone.

“I wasn’t aware you had superpowered associates,” Professor Paleontologist said. “Or associates at all outside your merry band of bloggers.”

(“What was that a joke? I didn’t think they had jokes in the Paleozoic Era.”)

“Actually, there were no dinosaurs in the Paleo-”

(“Oh my god I’m not doing this right now.”)

Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes, he’d been superheroing for a long time. Longer than Ultiman or Hatman or Cowboy Rockstar or many of the other big named heroes, and yet still this is what he was reduced to. A glorified babysitter for a hyperactive manchild. Of course, he knew what he was doing was important; as it stood, the Resistance didn’t quite have the manpower that would be necessary to take back the world. Yet he still couldn’t help but feel a little bit insulted. Even Smuggles’ Consortium of Crime hadn’t even bothered to attack to him when the villains took over. The villain Professor Paleontologist had been working with, Chives, a 50-foot tall vampire stegosaurus, had simply grabbed the other hero on their team, the robot warrior BiteLock and ran off, leaving Professor Paleontologist alone. When even the villains who are in the process of taking over the world don’t want anything to do with you, well, that says something doesn’t it?

“We do this to help people, not to be recognized,” Professor Paleontologist muttered to himself.

(“What was that?”) Parenthetical Guy said.

“Nothing. You said you had some leads?”

(“As a matter of fact I do!”) Parenthetical Guy declared and then held up his phone to Professor Paleontologist.

“Ethynda Goodwitch?” Professor Paleontologist read.

(“Our very own local village mystic!”) Parenthetical Guy exclaimed. (“She can use all her cool magic and witchcraft to send Smuggles straight to hell or whatever.”)

“Smuggles is allied with Hell, remember? And correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t Ethynda hate you and everyone else from How To Hero? I can’t imagine she’d offer up her services if literally the most obnoxious one of you showed up at her door.”

(“Gosh I don’t even have the time to tell you everything that was wrong with that.”)

“Great! So why don’t we-”

(“First of all-”)

“Oh.”

(“Smuggles is allied with one of the lords of Hell, and I’m sure in doing so he’s managed to alienate a fair few other ones. Secondly, Ethynda used to hate How To Hero, on account of the fact that we recommended that every would be superhero in a 100 mile radius try blackmailing her into giving her powers in our very first post.”)

“Yes you lot made a rather strong impression on the magic community at large that day.”

(“But I have to imagine she doesn’t hate us all that much seeing as she has never, not even once, rained magical destruction and chaos down upon us. Like I’ll admit she was one of my top suspects for the whole anonymous bombing thing last year, but now that we know that was Smuggles I’m more sure than ever that she and I are actually really great friends and she’s a big fan of our blog.”)

“Blackmail notwithstanding I imagine.”

(“Blackmail definitelywithstanding Professor!”)

“Very well, how do we find this-”

(“Thirdly I am far from the most obnoxious How To Hero member. That’s definitely Curly 

or maybe Dr. Brainwave’s Greatest Shame a giant monster who eats people, which is pretty obnoxious.”)

“Are you done yet?”

(“Fourthly, Ethynda doesn’t even have a door, she lives in a cave on a mountain.”)

Professor Paleontologist folded his arms and waited patiently.

(“Oh, I’m done now.”)

“Excellent. Now, how do we get to this magical mountain cave?”

(“We’ll take the teleporter, good thing Half-Face McGee was captured right? There’s no

way he’d let us use that thing.”)

Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes. “Ok, so where did you leave your teleport pad?”

(“Oh, we’ve been standing on it this whole time,”) and with that, he pulled out a remote control from his pocket and clicked a button. 

                                                             ***

Hatman pressed up against  the alley wall as a trio of supervillains strolled past. Another patrol, Smuggles must have noticed that a few heroes had escaped him and had sent out his villainous lackeys to find and capture any superheroic stragglers. The only people he’d seen so far had been villains. No civilians, the people of Clifftown must have all been hiding out in their homes. No heroes either, which didn’t fill Hatman with confidence. He had hoped to find others out here, but it seemed like the skeleton crew hiding out in the Haberdashery was everybody that was left. No matter, he’d faced down worse odds. Hatman checked the secure communicator in his gizmo-packed gauntlet. Still no messages. That was probably a bad sign. When Smuggles had launched his take over, and the villains had all simultaneously betrayed and subdued the heroes they were working with, Hatman had been in the middle of a frozen bay with the villain Friar Frostbite. Even Hatman wasn’t above admitting that the situation had been dire. Friar Frostbite had the element of surprise, a cryo-gun, and a distinct home field advantage. According to some, it was only the timely arrival of Hurricane Hank, and Hatman’s bitterest non-supervillain rival, Glassesman, fresh from dispelling a sharknado, that allowed Hatman to prevail over his bitterest supervillain rival. According to Hatman, he would’ve been fine either way. After all, he’d fitted his gauntlets with superheaters specifically to deprive Friar Frostbite of any icy cold advantages he might possess. Still, the extra hands certainly allowed for things to be taken care of more quickly and within seconds Friar Frostbite was down for the count. Which presented Hatman with an incredible opportunity. Aboard Glassesman’s aviator-goggles shaped cargo plane, the trio of heroes had stripped Friar Frostbite of his costume, which helpfully included an insulated ski-mask, and his weaponry. Glassesman then assumed Friar Frostbite’s identity and flew his plane back to How To Hero headquarters, which had, by that point, become the seat of Smuggles’s power, while Hurricane Hank flew Hatman and Friar Frostbite to the Haberdashery. Since then, Glassesman had been providing Hatman with information over a secure network. Troop movements, supplies inventory, a roster of Smuggles’s known associates. Valuable information that the Resistance could use to topple Smuggles’s regime. And information that was specifically useful for Hatman, who had taken it upon himself to sabotage as many of Smuggles’s operations while Ultiman and the others developed a plan of attack. But the messages had stopped. Which probably meant that Glassesman had been found out. 

Typical Glassesman, Hatman thought as he removed the gauntlet and tossed it in a dumpster, it was a tremendous waste of resources, but he couldn’t risk Smuggles’s people figuring out how to trace the messages Glassesman had been sending back to him. He’d be sure to send Glassesman a bill for all of the exorbitantly expensive proprietary super-tech the gauntlet possessed. That guy can’t do anything right.

{“Whatcha doin?”}

In one swift movement, Hatman unclipped a pocket on his utility belt, pulled the miniature top hat out of it and spun around on his heel, the tophat growing to full size as he did so.

{“Whoa whoa! It’s just me, Curly! Don’t point your… shrinking top hat? At me”} Curly shouted, waving his empty hands in front of him.

The short, round, goateed man was sitting upon a dumpster, dangling his legs over the edge. 

Hatman narrowed his eyes and returned the tophat to his belt. Curly watched as it shrunk to fit back in its tiny compartment.

“It’s a magical top hat, it was a gift from a wizard.”

{“Do bunnies come out of it?”}

“Among other things. What are you doing here?”

{“Ultiman sent me after you, you left the meeting kind of abruptly.”}

“I didn’t see any need to remain there. I could be of better use to the Resistance out here on the streets.”

{“Well what are you doing out here that’s so important?”}

“Sabotage.”

{“Sabotage?”}

“Yes, it’s the most important thing in a time like this. Let Ultiman plan his full frontal assaults and face to face confrontations. I’ll happily take control of the more shadowy parts of this resistance.”

{“Ooh shadowy stuff. Count me in.”}

“No.”

{“Aw come on!”}

“I work alone.”

{“388 different Hatboys beg to differ.”}

“You make a point.”

{“Also, like, we’ve already worked together. I was a Hatboy at one point remember?”}

“What?”

{“That’s how I snuck up on you just now. You trained me. I was Hatboy #283.”}

Hatman just shrugged, “I’m sure you understand that I can’t possibly remember every Hatboy that has worked under me. My thoughts are better occupied by coming up with new ways to fight crime and new designs for hat-themed vehicles.”

Curly frowned, {“You seriously don’t remember when we worked together?”}

“You’re seriously still talking about that? If you want to help that’s fine, but come on we’ve got work to do.” 

{“What kind of work?”}

Beneath the reflective lenses in his top hat shaped cowl, Hatman rolled his eyes. This Curly wasn’t the type he usually worked with. He asked a few too many questions. Hatman knew what he needed to do. He needed to inspire. Awe, respect, maybe even some fear, he’d have to see how the night went. In pursuit of this Hatman struck his most imposing and superheroic pose. He looked off into the distance, a look of steely resolve taking over his chiseled features. He put his hands on his hips and lowered his voice an octave.

“We,” he paused here, an age old trick to make civilians and sidekicks hang on your every word. “Need to steal a truck.” 

A moment of silence passed between the duo and Hatman was sure Curly would follow his lead unquestionably from now on. These wannabe heroes were always so easy to manipulate.

{“Oh you’re done. So is that just any truck or…”}

Hatman was jolted from his self-indulgent reverie. Apparently it would take more than dynamic posing and vague statements to bring this one in line. 

“No! A specific truck. If we just steal any truck that makes us no better than these repulsive villains.”

{“It’s just that all you said was the word ‘truck’ and then you just stopped talking like I was supposed to understand what you meant. You should really try incorporating specific articles into your speech like ‘we need to steal that truck’ or ‘we need to steal the truck that drives by this alleyway every Thursday at 2:30 pm’ or ‘we need to steal the truck that drives down my block every night making a whole lot of noise even though there are signs specifically prohibiting such trucks from driving down my purely residential block.’”}

Hatman sighed.

“Supply trucks drive through Clifftown every day carrying everything from valuables to essentials to How to Hero headquarters. We need to intercept and hijack one of them.”

Curly hopped off of the dumpster and smacked Hatman on the back.

{“See! Was that all that hard? So where do we find one of these trucks?”}

“According to my observations, one should be rolling by this alley in ten minutes.”

{“Great! So what do we need to do?”}

“We need to steal it.”

{“You can’t think that’s what I meant.”}

“I’ve learned never to overestimate the intelligence of a prospective Hatboy.”

{“Prospective? I literally was Hatboy! I’m one of the few surviving ones! I’m wearing the utility belt you gave me right now!”}

“You’re wearing a belt? Perfect. Tell me, do you know how to drive a truck?”

{“I’m legally not allowed to drive one but I guess?”}

Hatman checked the time readout on his remaining gauntlet.

“That’ll have to do,” he said as extracted a grappling hook from his own belt and looped the hook around Curly’s belt.

{“What’s happening right now.”}

“Like I said,” Hatman said as he ran to the entrance of the alleyway. “We’re going to steal a truck.”

                                                            ***

In a flash of light Professor Paleontologist and Parenthetical Guy appeared in front of a gaping cave. Parenthetical Guy quickly turned around and emptied the contents of his stomach.

(“Gosh, every time,”) he said, wheezing.

“I’m sure throwing up on her doorstep will ingratiate you with Ethynda even more,” Professor Paleontologist said as he stepped off of the teleport pad and examined the entrance of the cave. “So do we just walk right in or?”

Suddenly, two large rocks at the entrance of the cave shuddered and started to roll towards our two heroes. 

(“Have you ever visited a magical lair before?”) Parenthetical Guy said as he brushed off his pants and held up his fists. (“First you have to fight off the magical guardians and then you just walk right in.”)

Professor Paleontologist instinctively reached for the bright red amulet that hung over his chest. The boulders had now sprouted limbs and Professor Paleontologist didn’t think their four fists would be quite enough to overpower them. 

“Well I wish you would’ve mentioned that before we teleported here,” Professor Paleontologist said. 

(“Yeah well I wish that Rockblock were here so he could reason with these rock monsters. Or maybe seduce them or something. Side salad, do you think Rockblock is considered attractive? Like by golem standards I mean.”)

Professor Paleontologist didn’t answer. He was clutching his amulet now and, mentally, reaching backwards in time. The magical amulet had been gifted to him by a council of ghostly dinosaurs nearly two decades ago, and it allowed him to draw dinosaurs from the far flung past into the present so that he could use their unique gifts and abilities to fight the forces of evil. It was a tremendous honor and responsibility to wield such a powerful weapon and it was one that the Professor took very seriously. He had studied up on time travel and chaos theory and he was well aware of the incalculable ill effects that could result from wonton time travel, and so he very rarely used his incredible powers to their fullest extent. Instead he used his amulet primarily to confer with the great spirits that had gifted it to him in the first place. In essence, whenever he was struck with an especially difficult problem he gave himself a moment to consider, and ask, what would a dinosaur do. In this moment several of the departed dinos were snarling at him to either sacrifice his puking partner, or bring in some real firepower. One though, a ghosty compsognathus, presented him with a different, somewhat more elegant solution. The compsognathus, made famous by the blockbuster hit, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, were tiny dinosaurs, no larger than the modern day chicken, and not the freakishly huge ones that have set up camp in the Grand Canyon in recent years, regular chickens. They didn’t have the bite or size of other dinosaurs, but they learned how to use their small stature to their advantage. The compy told Professor Paleontologist what it would do in this situation, and the Professor thanked it, and all the other spirits, before releasing his hold on his amulet.

All of this occurred in a fraction of a second. 

(“Like, let’s say Rockblock had the normal amount of arms and everything and had like, skin, he’d be undeniably attractive then right? I feel like that’s not really up for debate. So I guess what I’m really asking is if golems find the same qualities attractive that humans do. Does that make se-”)

“Get the left one’s attention and then follow me,” Professor Paleontologist said, finally cutting Parenthetical Guy off, much to the rock monsters’, and Parenthetical Guy’s, great relief.

(“Get the attention of the hulking rock monster that is already fully focused on destroying us? You got it, but only because I think it’s a terrible idea and want my death to haunt your conscience for the rest of your stupid life.”) 

Parenthetical Guy scooped some pebbles off of the ground and held them aloft towards the rock monster was bearing down on him. (“Watch your step big boy, or these pebbles get it!”)

The rock monster snorted and lifted up its giant fist. 

(“Ok that didn’t work,”) Parenthetical guy blinked and then tossed the handful of pebbles at the rock monster and began running in the opposite direction. 

“Follow me!” Professor Paleontologist shouted as he began running directly towards the other rock monster.

(“This is actually the worst plan!”) Parenthetical Guy complained as he dutifully followed. 

Professor Paleontologist led his hapless partner and the towering mountainous man that followed him towards the other rock monster who slowly raised its own fists and howled in rage, seemingly more at the Professor’s audacity that anything else. As the two interlopers neared the howling golem Professor Paleontologist shouted, “Slide!” and then collapsed into a flawless baseball player’s third base slide, deftly maneuvering right between the angry monster’s legs. Once he was through the monster’s legs, he quickly popped back up onto his feet and took off running towards the cave’s entrance, stopping just long enough to make sure Parenthetical Guy had made it through as well before the monster had punched a crater into the Earth. He had, but not nearly as gracefully and Professor Paleontologist saw him spitting rocks out of his mouth that he had accidentally ingested when he dove and face planted into the ground. 

“Keep moving!” Professor Paleontologist shouted, “We need to make sure we’re clear!”

(“Clear of what?”) Parenthetical Man shouted indignantly before he was flung off his feet 

again by a tremendous boom. The two rock monsters had collided sending a shower of smaller stones hurtling in every direction. 

Professor Paleontologist grabbed Parenthetical Guy and wrenched him clear from any of the larger rock chunks. 

(“That was your plan?”) 

“It worked didn’t it?” 

As it would turn out, Professor Paleontologist’s plan had not worked. Rather than destroying both rock monsters, their speedy collision had actually caused the monsters to merge somewhat. Now instead of fighting two rock monsters, they were facing a royally ticked off two-headed rock monster. It was a little bit better, but not much. 

“Oh this is bad,” Professor Paleontologist said dejectedly as he reached for his amulet once more.

(“Oh this is perfect!”) Parenthetical Guy said as he reached for his remote control, and Professor Paleontologist was surprised not to hear even an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

Parenthetical Guy winked at the professor and then pointed his remote control at the giant two-headed monstrous monolith. In a flash it, and the teleport pad it had inadvertently landed on following its amalgamation, disappeared. Professor Paleontologist blinked wordlessly.

(“Handled!”) Parenthetical Guy shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

“I- I guess you did, wow.”

(“No need to thank me Prof, I’m just doing what heroes and vitally important resistance fighters do.”)

“Where did you send it?” 

(“The moon, they’ll be fine. Rock monsters don’t need to breathe. Don’t worry about climbing down this ridiculously high mountain, Ethynda will just teleport us back to headquarters once she agrees to join us.”)

“Well, I guess we should go in then.”

Parenthetical Guy smiled widely and then walked into the cave. Or, rather, he walked in the magical force field that protected the cave’s entrance.

(“Oh come on Ethynda! We fought your guardians, I think we at least deserve a conversation!”)

“Deserve?” a shrill voice cackled from within the cave. “The only thing you deserve is a swift kick in the behind as far as I’m concerned.”

Professor Paleontologist braced himself for another fight as he watched a young woman in a bright green tracksuit walk out of the cave, a black cat followed her, eyeing the two intruders through slitted yellow eyes. Or, Professor Paleontologist could have sworn, eyeing his amulet in particular. 

(“Ethynda! Darling! How have you been?”) Parenthetical Guy held his arms open, as though he expected the witch to give him a hug.

Ethynda waved him off. 

“You! How dare you show your parenthetical personage at my sanctum. I have half a mind to strike you down where you stand right now,” Ethynda’s eyes started to glow an unnatural green and her clenched fists burst into green flames.

Professor Paleontologist didn’t like the sound of that, but, to everybody’s consternation Parenthetical Guy didn’t seem all that concerned. 

(“Ethy! You slay me-”)

“I’m about to.”

(“No need! Love your energy though. Love the spunk. Sublime spunk, wouldn’t you say so Prof?”)

Professor Paleontologist gave him a sidelong glance and then held up his hands as if to say “please do not involve me in whatever it is that you’re doing you fast talking imbecile.”

(“Now, Ethy, hows about you channel that sublime rage against a smuggler and a man who whispers to fish? I really do feel like that would be a far better use of your time. Don’t you?”)

Ethynda’s eyes reverted to their normal color and the flames around her hands dissipated. Professor Paleontologist let out a breath he’d been holding but kept his hands near his amulet.

“You’ve come to me for… help?” 

(“Why of course! You’re only one of my dearest friends! And the world’s in trouble. We can use a powerful and magnificent witch such as yourself. Plus, the other side’s got a bunch of damned souls that I’m sure you could steal?”)

Ethynda sighed and put her hands on her hips.

“I suppose you two may as well come inside. I don’t need you superhero types drawing any more attention to me than you already have.”

She turned and walked back into her cave and Professor Paleontologist and Parenthetical Guy warily followed her. The inside of the cave was not at all what Professor Paleontologist had expected. He’d been inside a few magical lairs in his day, and most of them were filled with ancient and powerful artifacts, the walls were usually adorned with mantras or wards or the occasional shelf filled with pickled eyeballs, paws, tails, dreams, and other common potion ingredients. This cave, however, was empty, and Professor Paleontologist found that especially worrying.

“Where is everything?” he asked.

Ethynda raised an eyebrow, “Everything?”

“I’ve heard about you Ethynda, you’re a powerful sorceress, and you keep to yourself. I don’t imagine you spend all of your time sitting alone in an empty cave. So I ask again, where is everything? Where are all the charms and idols and amulets and icons and-”

(“Thingamabobs and whosits and whatsits.”)

Ethynda rolled her eyes.

“I’m moving.”

“Moving?”

“Moving, leaving, whatever. The world’s gone to hell and trust me, I’d know, I’ve been. You and your super pals lost. Big time. And we don’t intend to hang around for the blowback.”

(“We?”)

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You have the power to help us set things right? Where are you even going?”

(“What do you mean we?”)

“Me and every other magic user I know. We’re not interested in litigating the squabbles of you cape and mask and fisticuff types. This is not our war and we have no interest in fighting a losing battle. So we’re exiting this plane of existence.”

(“You’re going to the Magirealm.”)

“Naturally.”

“The Magirealm? You think you’ll be safe there?” Professor Paleontologist shouted, waving his arms wildly and freely. After all, there was nothing of value he might accidentally knock over anyway.

“I guarantee you we’ll be a lot safer there than we will be here. Besides, what on Gaea would make you think that I’d be interested in joining your little team?”

(“Why Ethynda, we’re friends aren’t we?”)

“Absolutely not, what would make you think that?”

(“Well, I’m not dead.”)

“And?”

“That’s actually as far as that line of reasoning goes,” Professor Paleontologist said, feeling deflated.

“Do you know how many halfwits and sociopaths tried to blackmail me into giving them powers after your stupid blog advised them to? You’ve caused me no shortage of problems, we’re certainly not friends. Now as far as me not killing you goes, what kind of person do you take me for? I don’t just murder anybody who insults me on the internet.”

(“Aw are you still sour about that? We just wrote that post about magical vehicles for you, I thought that made things even.”)

“Sure, fine, we’re even. You can find your own way out right? There’s just the one entrance,” Ethynda said as she turned away from Professor Paleontologist and Parenthetical Guy.

(“Are you telling me that you’re ok with supervillains taking over the world?”) Parenthetical Guy shouted drawing a sharp glance from Ethynda’s cat.

“The petty disputes of superheroes and supervillains are of little concern to the magical community. We are more than content to wait this crisis out in the Magirealm.”

(“What a bunch of cowards you are! All that abra kadabra power and you just vacate this plane of existence until we save the world from Smuggles and Chuck and… Oh, is that what this is? Are you afraid of who they’re working with? Is this about Greg the Skeleton King?”)

Ethynda whipped around and grabbed Parenthetical Guy by the collar of his shirt.

“The forces of Hell are not to be trifled with. You’d do well to flee as well.” 

(“Oh please. His name is Greg, we can take him.”)

Ethynda threw him against the wall and Professor Paleontologist ran over to him.

“I’ll ask you one more time to leave my home before I force you out.”

“Are you ok?” Professor Paleontologist asked, helping Parenthetical Guy to his feet.

(“Wait! Wait, ok, you won’t help us fight. That’s fine. That’s your right. Just grant me one wish.”)

“No.”

(“Come on Ethynda, just get me and my sidekick here into the Cube. Then you can go off and cavort with your magical friends in another dimension.”)

“Ha! That is your wish? Very well then, I’ll transport you into the Cube. But if you think he’s going to help you you’re even dumber than you look.”

Parenthesis Guy dusted off his pants and smirked, (“I get that a lot thanks.”)

“Wait a minute, the Cube, as in-”

“Leave,” Ethynda said as her eyes began glowing green and she snapped her fingers.

                                                            ***

Hatman reached the entrance of the alley just as a large cargo truck drove by. The words “All hail King Smuggles Eternal Ruler of the-” had been hastily spray painted on to the side of it. So hastily in fact, that the last word was just a green blob instead of anything discernable. Curly watched the grapple line extend as Hatman, still gripping his end of the grappling hook, hopped onto the back of the truck and, using magnets in his gauntlet and boots, began climbing around the side of it to the front. At this point the truck’s driver, the supervillain Jhonny McBarnburner, noticed that there was a masked hero crawling across the side of his truck and started responding accordingly. Jhonny cut the wheel sharply to the right, causing the truck to swerve violently but Hatman clung on. With his free hand he activated a small signal hijacker in his utility belt, giving him full control of the truck’s radio.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to shake me criminal scum!” Hatman declared over the radio.

“Hey don’t call me scum! You know my name! You stopped me from burning down a barn like a month ago!” Jhonny shouted at his dashboard.

“I can see that you’re talking to me but I can’t hear you with your window rolled up. I’ll assume you’re issuing a full and unequivocal surrender.”

“Full and unequivocal what? The nerve of this guy,” Jhonny Mcbarnburner said as he rolled down the window so the costumed man clinging to the side of his truck could hear his witty jibes and retorts. 

“Is this better? Can you hear me now?” Jhonny asked before receiving a magnetized boot to the face as Hatman hurled himself through the now open cab window. Jhonny Mcbarnburner flew across the cab into the passenger’s side window. Hatman, who was now sitting in the driver’s seat quickly wrapped his grappling gun around the steering wheel and slammed on the gas.

“Ah come on!” Jhonny said as his hand ignited into a small fireball. “The boss isn’t going to like me singing the inside of this truck but I reckon he’d prefer slightly crispy to nothing. I reckon bringing your charred remains in oughta make me mighty popular too.”

“That’s funny,” Hatman said as he threw a miniature plastic fireman’s helmet at Jhonny’s hand. The plastic hat exploded into fire-retardant foam which quickly extinguished Jhonny’s fist. “Bringing you in won’t raise my standing with the Resistance one iota, what does that tell you about how this fight is likely to play out.”

Jhonny screamed as he lunged at Hatman causing him to lose control of the truck. Hatman sighed and pushed Jhonny off of him back into the passenger’s seat. He then pressed the recall button on his grappling gun and, while keeping one hand on the wheel, vacated the driver’s seat himself, joining Jhonny on the passenger’s side.

                                                            ***

Curly had grown bored of waiting in the alley and was now sitting against a grimy wall plucking out a somber tune on the grapple wire that was attached to his belt.

{“What the heck is Hatman doing over there?”} he asked.

All of a sudden he felt the rope go taut.

{“Huh?”}

Then he felt himself moving. 

{“Wait a minuuuuuuhhhh-”}

Curly found himself soaring through the air behind the out of control truck as the grapple line grew shorter and shorter.

{“This is insaaaaaane!”} he shouted as he flew through the still open window on the truck’s driver’s side and slammed into the steering wheel.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Hatman said as he released his own hand from the wheel. “You drive.”

{“What the hell was that!”} Curly shouted as he quickly grabbed the wheel and put his foot on the brake to try to slow the truck down a bit.

“Meet me at the corner of 14th and Tropp, I’ve got a garage there,” Hatman shouted as he wrestled with Jhonny McBarnburner.

{“Meet you?”} Curly asked frantically as he struggled to keep the bounding truck under control as a veritable all out brawl raged on inches away from him.

“Yeah,” Hatman grunted as he grabbed Jhonny McBarnburner with one hand and threw the passenger door open with the other one, causing both hero and villain to tumble out of the speeding truck.

{“Well, all right then. See you there,”} Curly said as he gripped onto the truck’s steering wheel for dear life. Through the rearview mirror he could see Hatman tussling with a fully engulfed in flames Jhonny McBarburner in the middle of the street.

{“You really haven’t changed much my hatted honcho,”} Curly said.

A few minutes later, Curly brought the truck to a stop in front of the garage that Hatman had described to him and was surprised when the door started to rise open to allow the truck in.

Aha! Curly thought. There must be some camera system that has identified me as a former Hatboy so it’s letting me in. At least the system remembers me.

All thoughts of being validated by Hatman’s computer system evaporated when he saw Hatman standing inside the garage next to a tied up Jhonny McBarnburner. 

“Took you long enough,” Hatman said after Curly had pulled the truck in and the door had closed behind him.

{“How in the world did you beat me here!”}

“Oh please,” Hatman said as though the question were absurd. He walked over to the back of the truck, “Now let’s see what we’ve got here.”

As it would turn out, the truck contained all manner of goods that might be of use to an evil world-dominating organization: Weapons, money, magical artifacts, even several jugs of clean water.

“This is the problem,” Hatman said, tapping one of the jugs. “If Smuggles and his crime consortium control everything from weapons to water, they control the populace. We can’t compete with that. If we can’t even drink freely how are we supposed to take on the combined forces of every villain on Earth and every soul that’s ever pledged fealty to the lords of Hell.”

{“Yeah but they only control it, they don’t have it. Not all of it, not yet.”}

“What do you mean?”

{“Smuggles is operating out of our headquarters and let me tell you, the most valuable thing we kept there was a dirty napkin signed by what turned out to be a very convincing Owen Wilson impersonator. If Smuggles wants the world’s resources on hand he’s going to pretty much have to transfer everything. Which means they have to get supply trucks past us.”}

Hatman smiled, “Which gives us the chance to take control of everything before it gets to Smuggles.”

{“Exactly.”}

                                                            ***

“The Cube” as it is called by those who know of its existence, is exactly what it sounds like. It is a cube. Made of a superstrong impenetrable alloy forged from the will of the most powerful flesh-and-blood human being in the universe, The Cube floats alone in a pocket dimension that, due to a few well placed bribes at the International Board of Travel, is totally inaccessible through official channels. But all of the best pocket dimensions are. In reality, The Cube’s pocket dimension is not as wholly separate from the rest of the multiverse as its sole occupant would like to believe. In truth, there are more than a couple of ways in. A few backdoors, so to speak, that arose during the construction of this most isolated of all dimensions. You see, The Cube was not built in an existing remote pocket dimension, it was kludged together from interdimensional debris and detritus that was siphoned off from other pocket realms. One of those other pocket realms was the Magirealm, The Cube’s closest interdimensional neighbor. Not that dimensions really have neighbors, but we’re doing our absolute best to spare you from the brain-shatteringly nonsensical physics that govern these strange realms. Anyhow, since The Cube’s dimension contains fragments of the mystical energies that constitute the Magirealm, it can, theoretically be accessed by a skilled enough magician, though none have ever attempted such a feat. While most mages would agree that travel to The Cube is possible for mystics, all would agree that such a trip would be fruitless at best, and dangerous at worst. There is only one being that calls The Cube its home, and he prefers to issue invitations to his realm at his own leisure. That man is Power Jones, the man with one million powers, and at the moment he is… hosting some kind of time-shattering game show?

“Welcome one and all to another thrilling episode of everybody’s favorite show, ‘Historical Figure Versus an Android Duplicate of Them From The Future’ I’m your host Power Jones!” a pale, floppy-haired man clad in a purple three-piece suit gestured broadly and flashed a dazzling smile at a bulky video camera that rested on a tall tripod. Canned applause and whistling filled the room, emanating from seemingly everywhere and nowhere all at once. Behind him two individuals, one human and one robotic stood at separate lightbulb-bespeckled podiums. A large glowing sign with the gameshow’s name flashed above them. 

“Let’s go meet our contestants, why don’t we?” Power Jones said, flashing one more smile at the camera.

“Yeah!” a disembodied voice shouted.

“Thank you disembodied voice!” Power Jones shouted as he whirled around to face the 

other two people in the room. He strolled over to the human first, resting his elbows on the top of the gaudy podium and cradling his chin on the tops of his hands.

“Please recite your name for the audience, good sir,” Power said.

The man stammered something in Italian causing Power Jones to frown. 

“Right right, other languages, I keep forgetting to account for those don’t I,” he said to himself. “Oh well, an easy fix,” he waved his left hand with a flourish in the man’s direction.

“This place is incredible? And what’s this? English? Fascinating. Pray tell, who are you?”

Power Jones beamed and slapped the other man on the back, “I’m Power Jones, now, for the good people watching at home. Who are you?”

“Oh yes, of course, my name is Leonardo,” he said.

“Leonardo who,” Power Jones prompted.

“Leonardo… from win?” he said.

Power Jones scratched his head and turned to the robotic contestant at the other podium.

“What?”

“Whatever you used to translate my predecessor’s speech seems to have worked a little too well,” the android said. 

“Oh for Pete’s- It’s Leonardo Da Vinci everybody!” Power shouted, eliciting more disembodied cheers and whistles.

“Yeah!” the disembodied voice shouted.

“And I am Leonardo Da Vinci II, an android clone of the famed polymath from the 32nd century,” the robotic contestant said flatly.

“Incredible!” the original Da Vinci said breathlessly as his gaze settled on the android.

“Righto! Now, as always, our first challenge is a cooking one. Using only the contents of my refrigerator you must make me a sandwich. Whomever makes the best one wins!”

The Da Vincis stared at him blankly.

“You um, you do know that I’m not a chef,” the human Da Vinci said.

Power Jones eyes glowed red and his voice dropped a dozen octaves, “Foolish mortal! Power Jones knows all!”

Da Vinci stumbled backward, clutching his chest, “Demon!” 

Power reverted to normal, “Nah, I’m just messing with you Leo. Of course I know that you’re not a chef, if you were a chef this would be way too easy. None of today’s challenges will have anything to do with your many talents or accomplishments, if they did I’m pretty sure the android would kick your butt at the sciences, and you would wipe the floor with him when it comes to the arts. So to keep things fair and balanced you both are going to make me a-” Power Jones trailed off and his purple suit melted into purple chainmail armor. 

“Someone’s coming,” he said gravely.

Suddenly, in a puff of green smoke Parenthetical Guy and Professor Paleontologist appeared in the center of the room.

(“Wow I did not think we were going to make it,”) Parenthetical Guy said as he surveyed the room.

“Then why did you wish for this?” Professor Paleontologist shouted, gobsmacked. “We need to get back to Earth, Ultiman is count-.”

The two interlopers were flung off of their feet into a nearby wall.

(“Ouch,”) Parenthetical Guy said.

Power Jones’s eyes were glowing red again. “Who are you! And why have you dared trespass onto my domain!” he boomed before winking at Da Vinci.

Professor Paleontologist struggled to his feet, “Mr. Jones, please if you just give us a minute-.”

“I didn’t invite any other guests here and I’m clearly in the middle of something so unless the two of you are more Da Vincis I’m going to have to vaporize you or turn you into sandwich ingredients. You have until I decide to answer.”

“We need your help!” Professor Paleontologist shouted.

(“We are indeed more Da Vincis!”) Parenthetical guy shouted at the same time. Things were rapidly getting out of hand and it was clear to him that this was the best way to have a prolonged conversation with Power Jones.

Power Jones smiled widely and his purple chainmail melted into his usual mode of dress, an unbuttoned purple vest over a one-piece black bodysuit. 

“A couple of Da Vincis in need of my help? Why please, go on.”

Professor Paleontologist stammered nervously “I am, uh. Well you see actually…”

Typical Professor Paleontologist, blowing our one chance of being the heroes of the Resistance, I’ll handle this, Parenthetical guy thought to himself.

(“I am Leonidas Da Vinci, a dimension hopping Da Vinci that defends the multiverse and leads the legendary Da Vinci Corps. This is my sidekick. No wait! My personal assistant, Leon Von Iguanada Vinci, he’s really into dinosaurs, but he assures me that it’s not in a weird way or anything.”)

Power Jones turned to the camera, “Isn’t this something! A visit from the famed and legendary Da Vinci Corps!”

“Are you uh, are you broadcasting this?” Professor Paleontologist asked as he finally took a moment to glance around at his surroundings.

“Of course I am! ‘Historical Figure Versus an Android Duplicate of Them From The Future’ is one of the most popular television programs ever!” Power Jones proclaimed.

“Where does it air?” Professor Paleontologist asked.

Power Jones looked at him for a moment and then scratched his chin “You know what? I honestly have no idea,” Power Jones said.

“What is going on!” Leonardo Da Vinci shouted as he and the android joined the talking circle in the middle of the room. 

“Why have I never heard of a Da Vinci corps?” the android Da Vinci asked.

“Yeah!” the disembodied voice shouted.

Professor Paleontologist whipped around “Who said that?”

“Oh, that’s just a disembodied voice that shouts ‘yeah!’ every so often. I’m not entirely sure where it came from. I don’t think one of my powers is to create a disembodied voice that shouts ‘yeah!’ every so often. But truly it can be difficult to keep track.”

(“Well, that’s certainly neat, but to answer my counterpart’s question, we’re an interdimensional force that defends arts and science from those who wish to destroy it.”) Parenthetical Guy said, thinking on his feet.

“Erm, yes, we defend ideas and creativity. There are a lot of people who would threaten those concepts that are integral to our society, and only Renaissance Men such as ourselves have what it takes to ensure their protection,” Professor Paleontologist said, speaking directly into the camera.

Suddenly the entire room rotated and Parenthetical Guy and Professor Paleontologist were flung to the floor once more.

“None of that explains why you’re here,” Power Jones said, he and the two Da Vincis were now standing on the wall which had previously been the floor.

Parenthetical Guy sprung to his feet, (“Why! We’ve come to recruit these two fine Da Vincis of course!”)

Professor Paleontologist groaned, it was clear to him that his partner was quickly losing track of what they were supposed to be doing.

(“We have just come from a reality where arts and sciences have been threatened by a foul knave who would see all knowledge and creativity erased so that he may rule over a dim and dull populace. We’re endeavoring to stop them, can I count on your help?”)

“Why of course! Provided I can figure out how to get down from this wall!” Leonardo Da Vinci shouted.

“Yeah sure, that sounds like it could be interesting,” Leonardo Da Vinci II said.

“Well that’s all well and good,” Professor Paleontologist said, trying to get the mission back on track, “Now Mr. Jones, if we could actually-”

“Well, it seems like you’ve gotten what you wanted, this has certainly been quite an interesting episode of ‘Historical Figure Versus an Android Duplicate of Them From The Future’ but I’ve grown tired from hosting so many guests. All of you leave my home immediately.”

“Wait but-”

(“Oh, shoot I forgot what we came here for.”)

Power Jones waved goodbye and just like that the two Da Vincis and the two superheroes were gone.

                                                            ***

Curly was laying on his stomach on the top of an abandoned grocery store. A crudely constructed domino mask did a questionable job of concealing his identity and the leg of a large “K” — part of the sign displaying the store’s name “MOSTLY SNACKS”— concealed his body from any supervillain patrols. He scanned the street using a pair of high-tech binoculars that Hatman had given him. Supposedly they were twice as good as any binoculars that Glassesman had ever developed. Curly wasn’t totally convinced of that, seeing as how glasses were kind of the guy’s main thing, and what are binoculars if not fancy glasses, but Hatman had been very insistent about this fact. 

Curly stopped when a truck, nearly identical to the one he and Hatman had stolen the night before, only with somehow even sloppier graffiti on it, ambled into his view.

{“All right boss, I’ve got one,”} Curly said into a communicator Hatman had loaned him.

“What did I say about speaking to me?” Hatman responded. He was still trying, and mostly failing, to intimidate Curly into falling in line.

{“Not to do so unless you spoke to me first. But you also told me to be on the lookout for more supply trucks and that kind of seems like the more important order.”}

Curly heard Hatman sigh dramatically “How many in the cab?” Hatman was a few blocks away, searching for trucks from a perch of his own.

{“Two. It looks like they’ve noticed the other truck is missing.”}

“It’s safe to assume there are more in the trailer then, Smuggles doesn’t want any more trucks to go missing.”

{“Sucks to be him.”}

“Indeed. Can you tell who they are?”

Curly upped the zoom on his binoculars while aiming it at the truck’s windshield.

{“It looks like… Dr. Deathtrap and… oh yeah, that’s Snipey McSkullface.”}

“You’re sure?”

{“He’s got a face tattoo, of a skull, he’s practically wearing a more visible nametag.”}

“Very well, keep tracking it but don’t engage until I get there.”

{“Sure thing Hats,”} Curly said before deciding to completely ignore the older hero. Curly removed his grappling hook from his old Hatboy utility belt, and after trying to figure out how to work it, cursed under his breath and threw it over his shoulder. 

{“All right, I don’t need that. I’ll do this my way,”} Curly muttered to himself before running over to the edge of the roof and hurling himself over the side of it.

“What was that?” Hatman shouted.

{“Nothing!”} Curly shouted as he landed on the store’s awning and made the jump down to street level.

“What part of ‘don’t engage’ do you not understand?” Hatman shouted.

{“By the time you get here they could be long gone, or someone could get hurt. If you see a supervillain you’ve gotta stop a supervillain. We’ve got a poster that says that back in the office,”} Curly said as he removed some more implements from his utility belt: a crumpled piece of paper and a small length of string.

“You’re the someone who is going to get hurt if you try to stop the villains in the truck. You’re practically a civilian. No, you’re worse than a civilian. You’re a superhero-adjacent civilian, which means you’re definitely going to bite off more than you can chew.”

Curly patted his stomach with one hand and scooped up a good sized rock off the ground with the other, {“Never underestimate the amount that I can chew!”}

“I’m serious Curly, this isn’t the time for jokes.”

{“It’s always the time for jokes. We’ve got a poster that says that too.”}

Ahead of him Curly watched as the truck slowed to a stop at a red light.

{“Perfect, they’ve stopped for a red light.”}

“Why would a supervillain stop for a red light! It’s a trap Curly! Get out of there!”

                                                            ***

“Why did we stop?” Dr. Deathtrap asked irately, this glorified babysitting job was far beneath him.

“Red light,” Snipey McSkullface said casually, this glorified babysitting job was right at his level of supervillainy.

“So what? We’re supervillains, in a world controlled by supervillains and the collected forces of evils, we don’t stop for reds. Keep moving.”

Snipey McSkullface shook his head, “The only people on the road are these supply trucks, and, like you said, all of those trucks are driven by supervillains who probably aren’t following any traffic laws or regulations. I run this red light, there’s a very good chance we get t-boned by another one of these trucks. With my luck, it’ll be one carrying nuclear warheads or killer hornets or something. So nuh-uh, we stop at reds.”

“You’re absurd,” Dr. Deathtrap growled at him.

Suddenly, a rock with a note tied to it smashed through the passenger side window and landed in Dr. Deathtrap’s lap.

“What the hell?” he said as he picked up the rock.

The light changed to green and Snipey McSkullface got the truck moving again.

“Could be it’s from Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy in the back. What’s it say?” Snipey asked.

“It says… ‘Dr. Deathtrap smells’. What!”

Snipey McSkullface burst out laughing. “Ha! They totally got you. And you do kind of smell. What’s the deal with that?”

“How dare you!” Dr. Deathtrap shouted as he scooped up the rock and smacked Snipey McSkullface in the side of the head with it causing Snipey to jerk the wheel sharply to the left.

“Hey!” Snipey McSkullface said as he tried to get the wheel under control.

“It’s enough of an insult that I have to ferry these goods for Smuggles of all people. But I will not broach insults about my personal hygiene!” Dr. Deathtrap shouted as he wrapped his hands around the steering wheel.

“Now, I obviously cannot construct one of my patented deathtraps under these conditions, but I can certainly turn this truck into one!” Dr. Deathtrap shouted before bursting into maniacal laughter as the truck careened out of control.

                                                            ***

{“Holy cow that worked, like, immediately,”} Curly said as he took cover in a nearby alleyway as the supply truck jumped the curb and flipped over, spilling diamonds, guns, and out-of-season fruits all over the place.

“What did you do!” a gruff voice said from behind him as a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

Curly spun around, ready for a fight, only to find Hatman glowering at him from beneath his top hat cowl. When he saw the grim hero Curly burst into a wide smile and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

{“Pretty neat eh?”}

“We need to get all of these guns off the streets now, the last thing we need is a scared public getting into gun fights with supervillains,” Hatman said.

{“Fine fine, we’ll call it into the rest of the Resistance and somebody can pick all this stuff up. But for now we’d better check to make sure those baddies are down for the count.”}

Hatman nodded and quickly rattled off a series of instructions into his remaining gauntlet communicator. The two heroes then walked across the street to the overturned truck.

“Hatman!” a bombastic voice called from the wreckage.

“Leave this to me,” Hatman said as he removed a shrunken object from his utility belt. With a flick of his wrist he enlarged the object to full size and Curly could see that it was some sort of helmet with a short pike on top of it. 

“A pickelhaube,” Hatman said as though that explained anything as he screwed the “helmet” over the top of his gauntlet, making it look like his hand had been replaced with the pike. 

{“I don’t know what Parenthetical Guy told you but I assure you my pickle-”}

“It’s a 19th century Prussian military helmet,” Hatman said curtly as he readied himself for battle.

{“Ok but why do you have it and why is it on your hand?”}

“I see that today is more glorious than I ever could have imagined! Today is the day I will finally vanquish the accursed capped crusader!” a man cried as he emerged from the open trailer. Like Hatman, he too was decked out in strange and ancient looking armor, though his covered more than just his left hand, and the blade he was wielding was a fair bit larger than Hatman’s hand pike. Curly narrowed his eyes, while he had never met this particular villain, it was clear from his choice of weaponry that this was the notorious Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy. The How to Hero gang had spent a fair bit of time making fun of this guy, though now Curly wished they had instead spent that time talking about how best to best him in combat or at the very least how to avoid being skewed on his ruby encrusted sword. 

Hatman didn’t waste any time with pre-battle banter or taunts, instead charging at the villain and aiming for his sword-hand with his battle pike. Curly winced as Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy blocked the blow with his sword and then kicked out at Hatman forcing him back a bit so that he could slash at the hero with his blade. Hatman parried the sword with his pickelhaube and jumped back out of the range of Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s ruby encrusted sword. Hatman unclipped his grapple gun from its holster and fired a line at the sword, attempting to snare it but Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy effortlessly slashed through the wire and charged at Hatman.

{“You can do it Hatman!”} Curly cried out {“I heard a rumor that those rubies are just plastic anyway!”}

Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy whipped his head toward Curly. “Who told you that?” he demanded. He was only distracted for a moment but it was enough for Hatman to press the advantage. He quickly slammed the butt of his bare palm into Ruby Encrusted Sword’s Guy nose, he then ducked low and swept the villain’s legs out from under him. Hatman then jabbed his pickelhaube into Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s chest, using the momentum from the fall to pierce the villain’s thick battle armor. 

“Damn you!” Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy shouted as he swung his sword at Hatman. Hatman grabbed Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s sword hand with his hand, stopping the downward motion of it. He then aimed his Pickelhaube hand at the sword and, to both Curly’s and Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s surprise, launched the small helmet from the gauntlet. The helmet’s pike made contact with Ruby Encrusted Sword Guy’s hand, causing him to drop his sword, which Hatman then caught in his now free hand. 

“Stand down. Now,” Hatman said as he pointed the villain’s own sword at the weak spot in his armor that Hatman had created.

{“Consider your villainous endeavors cut off at the knees,”} Curly grinned.

                                                            ***

“How did you flip the truck?” Hatman asked when they were safely back in Hatman’s garage. Ultiman had sent Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man and a couple of other heroes to clean up the mess and round up the villains Hatman had left behind. Super-Sonic-Plasma-Ultra-Cannon Man had also indicated that Ultiman would prefer if Hatman and Curly returned to the Haberdashery so they could better coordinate their actions with the rest of the Resistance. But Hatman had thrown a smoke bomb at the ground and whisked Curly away in the confusion.

{“Well Dr. Deathtrap helped. I just tossed a little note into the truck and he took it from there.”}

“What’d you say?” Hatman asked.

{“Dr. Deathtrap smells.”}

Hatman looked confused for a moment, but then realization and then a smile dawned on his features. “Of course, good thinking.” 

Curly was shocked, {“What really? You like that?”}

Hatman began pacing back and forth, talking as much to himself as to Curly.

“Of course, of course. Somehow Smuggles has gotten all of these villains to work together, to work for him. But that kind of alliance can’t be especially strong, not with who these villains are. Not with the way all villains are. They’re arrogant, they’re loud, they’re antisocial.”

{“Every villain wants to rule the world,”} Curly muttered.

“Exactly!” Hatman shouted. “If we can just nudge them slightly towards infighting, they’ll take care of themselves. By the time Ultiman and the others are ready to mount an attack on Smuggles and his inner circle, we’ll have already destabilized the rest of his organization,” he abruptly turned towards Curly. “How many more insults do you think you can whip up? I can scatter them around in locations that I know these villains are patrolling regularly.” 

Curly rubbed his hands together, {“Oh Hats, you don’t know it but you’ve just hit the jackpot. Most of what we did back at the office was make fun of these villains. You tell me who you want to insult, and I’ll help you hit them where it hurts.” }

Hatman smiled, “Excellent.”

                                                            ***

“Well that was a huge waste of time,” Professor Paleontologist said as he patted himself down, making sure that all of him had made the transfer from The Cube back to Earth. 

(“What are you talking about? Ultiman sent us to gather allies and we just scored not one, but two in one fell swoop!”)

“I don’t think a couple of time-displaced renaissance men is what Ultiman had in mind,” Professor Paleontologist snapped.

Leonardo Da Vinci raised his hand, “Pardon me, but what is it that you needed us for again?”

Professor Paleontologist turned to the artist, a sheepish expression on his face, “I’m afraid we may have misled you sir. We’re not versions of you from alternate realities, I’m a superhero, Professor Paleontologist, and he’s a… I don’t know, an intern? A court jester? I’ve been reading your blog for quite a bit and I’ve never quite figured out what your role actually is.”

Parenthetical Guy let out a loud, forced, laugh. (“Oh Iguanada Vinci how you slay me. This should clear everything up,”) he said as he handed out business cards to everybody.

“This just says that you’re an ‘expert on everything,’” Leonardo Da Vinci II said. “That doesn’t clear up anything.”

The android then took stock of their surroundings. They were standing in the anteroom of the Haberdashery and the walls were adorned with different hat-shaped gadgets and gizmos. 

“Ah,” he said. “We’re in the possible past year of 2021, this is the Smuggles Event is it not?” 

Professor Paleontologist didn’t exactly like the term “possible-past” but he was relieved that the android had saved him the trouble of trying to explain their situation. “Yes, that’s exactly right. We’ve been tasked with locating possible allies for an eventual assault on Smuggles’s stronghold.”

Leonardo Da Vinci II nodded, “You may count on my assistance in the coming battle. Smuggles must be defeated for my timeline to come about.”

Leonardo Da Vinci stared open mouthed at the three individuals in front of him and then at all of the machines adorning the walls around them. “This is… All of this is absolutely incredible. I’m not much of a warrior but if you let me examine some of these inventions I’ll happily help in any way I can.”

Parenthetical Guy folded his arms across his chest and smiled smugly at Professor Paleontologist, (“See! Mission accomplished, let’s never speak to each other again.”)

Professor Paleontologist rolled his eyes, “Before we call it a day I actually have an idea for where we can find even more help.”

(“You’re telling me right now to my face, in front of our staunchest allies no less, that you think we need more help than these two time-displaced Leonardo Da Vincis.”)

“Yes,” Professor Paleontologist said matter of factly as he began pacing back and forth. “Now, what I’m about to suggest is highly unusual, and entirely unprecedented, but there is a sizable group of powerful do gooders that we have yet to tap, and whom I believe would have been overlooked during Smuggles’s hostile takeover of the world.”

Parenthetical Guy rolled his eyes, (“And I’m supposed to believe you just forgot about them until now? Deus ex machina much?”)

“He’s not wrong, that does seem awfully convenient,” Da Vinci said, stroking his chin. He was now wearing a futuristic helmet labeled “The Hat-Helmet Mark 1”.

Professor Paleontologist held his hands up, “I would’ve mentioned them immediately but for the fact that it goes against every superhero protocol in the book. So when Parenthetical Guy said that he had some ideas I figured we’d leave mine as a last resort. But we’ve been at this for a while now and it’s pretty clear that I need to step in.” 

(“So who are these perfect recruits?”) 

“Are you familiar with the Superhero School in Albany?” Professor Paleontologist asked.

(“I’m familiar with the fact that they’re a subpar, overpriced superhero teaching institution. How to Hero covers everything those stuffed shirts do and so much more… And so much better!) 

“Granted I don’t think the school offers a course in ‘what to do if a ‘which superhero are you’ quiz gives you an answer you weren’t expecting,’” Professor Paleontologist said flatly, “But they do have a sizable student body. Since your blog started enrollment has surged to record breaking levels.”

(“Hey that’s a more common problem than you’d think! Do you know how many superheroes have turned evil because they got, for example, you on one of those quizzes?”)

“So we’re going to… Albany was it?” Leonardo Da Vinci asked.

“Oh the school isn’t actually in Albany,” Professor Paleontologist said.

Parenthetical Guy looked up sharply, (“What? What are you talking about?”)

“It’s just called that to throw people off the scent. It’s actual location is one of the most closely guarded secrets in superherodom. That’s why I’m quite certain that Smuggles’s forces wouldn’t have been able to find it.”

(“Sounds like you’ve definitely endangered the people of Albany by calling it that but whatever,”) Parenthetical Guy muttered to himself parenthetically. 

“So where is this academy then?” Da Vinci asked.

“It’s in-”

“It’s been moved since you last taught there Professor,” Da Vinci II suddenly piped up.

“Ah, I was worried about that,” Professor Paleontologist admitted.

(“Makes sense, they wouldn’t want you showing up there again.”)

“If I may,” Da Vinci II said, “In my time, the many locations of the school is a matter of historical record. I know where it is at this very moment, and I can use my personal warp gate to take us there without compromising the secrecy of its location.”

Professor Paleontologist beamed, “That’s perfect!”

(“See, my gets are already helping us save the world.”)

“If everyone could just gather close to me, we can be on our way in a…”

In a flash of light the unlikely quartet disappeared to parts unknown.

                                                            ***

“According to the pattern I’ve detected, another shipment should be rolling through the city shortly. We should get back out there,” Hatman said, consulting a handheld electronic map of the city.

Curly looked up from his notes. He’d written devastating insults for just about every villain that was confirmed to be working with Smuggles. And he’d done like two and a half sit ups. He was readier than he’d ever been to fight more crime alongside Hatman. 

{“Let’s do thi-”}

A sharp chirp drew both of their attention to the truck they’d hijacked from Jhonny McBarnburner. 

“What was that? It sounded like-”

{“It’s your gauntlet,”} Curly said quickly.

Hatman narrowed his eyes, “My what?”

{“The gauntlet you threw away back in that alley where we first joined forces. I thought I could maybe reverse engineer it and develop some for myself. I’m a bit of a tech guy you know. I basically keep the blog running and all. I added a shuffle button to the interface. I’m sure you noticed that and so I figured, hey free gauntlet filled with all sorts of gizmos and doodads and whirli-”}

“Curly!” Hatman snapped. “I threw that gauntlet away because I believed it could be used by Smuggles’s forces to track my movements.”

{“Oof, wow. So it would’ve been really great if I hadn’t taken it out of that dumpster is what you’re saying.”}

Hatman snarled and then rushed over to the truck. He grabbed the gauntlet from the truck’s cab and looked at the message on the screen. As he read his scowl softened and he furrowed his brow.

“They know where you are. They’ll be there soon. Z VS PG them. Will be in touch again soon.”

“Curly, get in the truck. This location is compromised, they’ll be here any minute.”

As Curly trudged over to the truck, Hatman tossed him the gauntlet.

“And what do you make of this?”

Curly read the cryptic message and smiled. “Well, it looks like you’ve got yourself another mole.”

                                                            ***

“We have arrived,” Da Vinci II announced.

They were standing in an open field, a large imposing building loomed in the distance.

Parenthetical Guy quickly took out his phone and opened the Snaphat app. 

“What are you doing?” Professor Paleontologist hissed.

(“Looking for a geotag. Secret location my ass. I deserve to know where we are.”)

“I’m afraid that won’t work,” a gruff voice said from above them.

All of a sudden the quartet found themselves surrounded as dozens of brightly clad superhumans and para-folk descended from the sky. A cavalcade of glowing eyes, fists and weapons sent a clear message: Do anything we don’t like, and we’ll blast you straight to kingdom come.

“The Superhero School can’t be located by any form of technology, a combination of hexes and our own advanced tech sees to that,” an older man in a lab coat said as he descended on a floating metal platform. “Now why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”

(“Ok how about we chill with the attitude geezer. I’m here to save the world, which of you good for nothing recluses is in?”)

A look of disgust flashed across the older man’s features. “How dare-”

Professor Paleontologist cleared his throat and stepped in front of Parenthetical Guy. “I’ll take it from here.”

Immediately the atmosphere changed, the older man’s features softened and some of the others even powered down a smidge.

“Professor Von Iguanadon,” the older man said as he quickly walked over to Professor Paleontologist, causing Parenthetical Guy and the two Da Vincis to raise their fists, expecting a fight.

“It’s good to see you old friend!” the older man cried before giving Professor Paleontologist a hug.

“It’s good to see you too Professor Fueller,” Professor Paleontologist said, clapping the other professor on the back.

“What brings you back to the school?” Professor Mitch Fueller asked, and then, dropping his voice an octave, “And how did you find us?”

(“We used an android duplicate of Leonardo Da Vinci from the future to find you and teleport here. Isn’t that how everybody does it?”) Parenthetical Guy said smugly while the Da Vincis waved at the superheroes in training. 

“And why did you bring him here,” Fueller said, not even trying to hide his disdain for Parenthetical Guy.

The How to Hero crew had long been a thorn in the side of the Superhero School’s faculty. Professor Fueller once estimated that the teachers spent roughly 80% of their class time reteaching topics and concepts that students had been misinformed about by How to Hero. He wasn’t sure what had brought Professor Paleontologist back to the Superhero School, but there were very few reasons Fueller could think of that would convince Leon to bring Parenthetical Guy of all people to the school’s hallowed grounds. 

“I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t an emergency Mitch,” Professor Paleontologist said, explaining quickly. “Supervillains have taken over the world, and we’re going to need all hands on deck to take it back.” 

A hush fell over the crowd, followed by an anxious murmur.

“Supervillains have taken over the world?”

“They need us? Where’s Hero Force?”

“Shit man, is that Leonardo Da Vinci?”

Fueller shuddered. The superhero school was, by design, cut off from all communications from the outside world. The idea was to keep students in the school until they were properly ready to go out into the world of superheroing. If the school and its students had access to news and was constantly being informed about supervillain attacks, alien invasions, and all manner of other crises, the odds were good that students would decide they were ready to help before they were, which could be catastrophic. So it was news to everybody that the world had gone down such a dark path without any of them being the wiser.

(“Listen up you wannabes!”) Parenthetical Guy shouted as he climbed atop a nearby boulder. 

“Oh dear,” Professor Paleontologist said resignedly.

(“A guy named Smuggles has teamed up with every supervillain on the planet and also the forces of Hell and also Zeus I guess? The heroes barely have two stones to rub together to light a fire under our own asses. So we’re forced to come to you almosts and wouldbes. None of you are my first choice obviously. There’s no way any of you are even remotely ready for this, especially since you get your hero training from a hoity toity place like this instead of, I don’t know, my totally kickass blog. How to Hero look it up, tell your friends. But what I can say, we’re desperate, so here we are. Who’s in?”)

Da Vinci II buried his face in his robotic palm.

“Get down from there,” Fueller demanded before turning to his erstwhile colleague. “Is it true, are things so dire?”

Professor Paleontologist nodded, “Ultiman sent us looking for allies and we haven’t had much luck yet. You know I wouldn’t come to you if I could avoid it. Nobody more than me understands the importance of allowing the students to complete the full curriculum before they join the good fight. But we’re vastly outnumbered and quite frankly, out of options.”

Fueller sighed, he was going to have to break every rule in the handbook.

“All right then,” he pressed a button on his lapel that connected him to the schoolwide PA system. “Listen up everybody. This is Professor Fueller. We have just received word that the rest of the world is in dire trouble. The forces of evil have managed to prevail, at least for the moment. But as you all know, good can never be fully snuffed out. A resistance has formed, and that small force of good has reached out to us in search of help. I know this isn’t how things usually work here, but, well, the world usually isn’t taken over by supervillains overnight. So I’m calling upon each and every one of you, teacher and student alike, to join me, to join the forces of justice, in this fight. If you’ll join me, please come to the quad now.”

Fueller cut his connection to the PA and turned to Professor Paleontologist, “Many of them are not combat ready but we’ll help in any way we can.”

“I appreciate that old friend,” Professor Paleontologist said. 

“Look!” Da Vinci shouted as he pointed towards the school.

Colorfully clad figures of all shapes and sizes were pouring out of the building and marching towards the small group already standing in the quad. 

Professor Paleontoligst smiled and nudged Parenthetical Guy with his elbow, “How’s that for an army?”

Parenthetical Guy could barely suppress his grin, (“Whatever, I’m taking credit for it.”)

                                                            ***

Hatman got the truck started and ready to move at the very same moment that the large metal door of the garage exploded.

“Hold on to something,” Hatman growled as he slammed on the gas causing the truck to barrel forward toward the smoking doorway.

A hail of gunfire caused Hatman and Curly to duck down in their seats. The windshield soon shattered, which caused Hatman to swear softly and place an arm protectively over Curly, but all the while the capped crusader kept his boot on the pedal and the truck kept, well, trucking.

Hatman heard several yelps and shouts as orange and red clad men with tommy guns dove out of the way of the speeding vehicle.  

“That’s about enough Hatman!” a warbly, Italian accented voice shouted before the truck squelched to a halt. 

“They’ve managed to hit the engine block,” Hatman observed as he slipped the compromised gauntlet onto his bare hand. He reasoned that there was no point in notit wearing it seeing as Smuggles people already had a pretty good idea of where they were. And he didn’t want to leave himself shorthanded for the fight that was no doubt about to occur.

{“Want me to insult them?”} Curly said as he stayed hunched over in his seat.

Hatman gritted his teeth as the gunmen approached the cab, “Knock yourself out.”

Curly flashed a toothy grin and a thumbs out before cupping his hands around his mouth like a bullhorn. 

{“Excellent shooting boys, you really managed to incapacitate a 40 ton truck with just under 100 bullets. You lot must have graduated at the top of your class at henchmen school!”} he called.

Another message flashed across Hatman’s gauntlet.

“Curly, we need to move now,” Hatman said.

{“Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”} Curly said sarcastically as the cab doors were thrown open and the two heroes were dragged out of it. Hatman and Curly were both made to kneel on the ground while two of the henchmen bound their hands behind them. Curly steeled himself, trying to prepare for anything the next couple of minutes might throw at him. What he wasn’t prepared for though was a giant, mustachioed, lobster wearing a trench coat and a fedora with holes cut into it to accommodate the creature’s eyestalks. 

“Ah Hatman it brings me great pleasure to be the one to finally end your reign of heroism and hat-themed nonsense!” 

“Mobster,” Hatman spat.

Curly could barely believe his eyes, or his ears.

{“Wait a minute! You’re the Mobster, like, the lobster who runs a mob? You’re actually real? I thought that was just something we made up for the blog. I can’t believe this. You’re really a lobster! This is the happiest I’ve ever been. Wow.”}

The Mobster narrowed his eyes, “I see you’ve recruited yet another Hatboy, it will bring me great joy to kill this one and finally earn my ‘Murder a Hatboy’ badge at this year’s supervillain jamboree.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Hatman said and then spat at the Lobster’s feet.

“Why you insolent-”

Suddenly dozens of men in full combat gear rappelled down from the roofs of nearby

Buildings. A man wearing a cowl shaped like the head of a snake and wearing a black labcoat gesticulated wildly from one of the roofs as the combat gear clad men surrounded the Mobster, his mob, and Hatman and Curly.

“We’ve finally tracked you down Hatman! Prepare to meet your end at the hands of the Dr. Python and the Python Paramilitary!” 

Hatman rolled his eyes, apparently Smuggles had shared their location with several of the crime bosses now under his employ.

“What are you doing here Python! This is my score!” the Mobster shouted, craning his segmented neck to get a better look at Dr. Python who was cackling like a madman.

At that same moment an armored truck pulled up, a horde of giant, gun-toting, lizards jumped out of the back of it.

“Hatman! We’re bringing you in to Smuggles for the glory of the lizard-people mob!” one of the lizards hissed/shouted.

“What! I am the only reptile themed villain who will defeat Hatman!” Dr. Python shouted.

“What?” the lizard shouted. With everybody milling around on the ground, it was getting difficult to hear Dr. Python up on the roof.

“Halt Hatman! Prepare to suffer the wrath of El Chad!” shouted a disheveled man riding atop a goat with the words “Property of How To Hero Don’t Frikkin Steal This One Chad I Mean It!” shaved into its fur.

Everybody, villain, hero, and henchman alike let out a loud groan. El Chad was the worst. Nobody was ever happy to see him. 

“I’m flattered that Smuggles seems to think it will take four supervillains and their criminal organizations to bring me in but this is getting ridiculous,” Hatman said.

“Shut up!” the Mobster said snapping a meaty claw inches from Hatman’s face. “Do you, Hatman, surrender unconditionally to the Crime Consortium!” 

“Never!” Hatman shouted.

{“We’d be happy to!”} Curly cheerfully announced at the same time.

“What?” Hatman said sharply, turning to look at his partner.

“What?” the assembled villains said, looking at each other in confusion. None of them had much experience with superheroes surrendering unconditionally to them.

{“I mean of course we’ll surrender to you guys. You beat us fair and square. It’s just that, and really this is such a small thing, Hatman and I are only going to unconditionally surrender to whomever is actually in charge here. I mean, you wouldn’t expect a top tier hero like Hatman to surrender to a henchman or some second stringer would you?”}

“No of course not, that’s fine. As leader of the Lob, the Lobster Mob, you will surrender to me then,” the Mobster announced proudly.

“Excuse me?” the three of the lizards said in unison. “Clearly the lizard mob will accept the surrender of these heroes.”

“What’s going on down there!” Dr. Python shouted. “Did he say that he would surrender to the Python Paramilitary?”

“Nah man, he said he’d only surrender to the head honcho which is of courses totes magotes, me, El Chad,” El Chad said proudly.

“You!” Dr Python shouted. “But you’re the worst!” 

“How dare you!” El Chad shouted.

“How dare you!” the Mobster shouted. “Who even invited you to this!”

“One of your lobster boys tweeted about it!” El Chad shouted.

“That’s it!” Dr. Python shouted. “Python Paramilitary, show these goons who the real supervillain is!”

The combat gear clad men all pointed their guns at the other villains. Which caused the lizard-mob to launch into action, swiping and biting any Python soldier that got close to them. It wasn’t long before the Lob and El Chad and the two or three goats he had managed to swipe from How to Hero headquarters joined the fray. 

{“That’s our cue to leave,”} Curly said as he slowly rose to his feet.

“Right behind you,” Hatman said as he superheated his gauntlets and melted the cuffs on his wrists. 

Hatman undid Curly’s cuffs and the two of them ran away from the fight that was escalating in the street behind them.

“Hey you guys! You guys! They’re getting away!” Dr. Python shouted.

Unfortunately for them, the other villains were too busy fighting each other to hear him.

{“Where to? Back to the Hab?”} Curly asked when they were a safe distance away from the brawl.

“Not yet, another message came through right before we were attacked. It seems like Smuggles has given up on individual supply trucks manned by exploitable supervillains. There’s a huge unmanned train full of stuff coming through town soon.”

Curly nodded, {“Ok, so what do we do.”}

Hatman began walking in the direction of the city’s train tracks. “We stop them.”

                                                            ***

“There it is,” Hatman said. Both he and Curly were perched on a rooftop overlooking a stretch of track that passed through Clifftown’s abandoned warehouse district. 

{“I’m surprised we haven’t run into anymore villains on our way here,”} Curly mused. The duo had slowly made their way across the city. Dropping insulting notes with forged signatures of other supervillains in strategic locations so that the wandering squads of villains patrolling the city would eventually find them and succumb to infighting. But there didn’t seem to be any roving teams in this part of town.

“There are just about zero civilians living in this part of town. It’s mostly supervillain lairs honestly,” Hatman said. “There’s no reason for the villains to remain here now that they control everything else.”

{“Which makes it the perfect spot for us to make our move,”} Curly observed as he watched the train get closer.

“Exactly,” Hatman said as he checked his gear over once more. They were only going to get one shot at crippling Smuggles’ infrastructure. And Hatman wasn’t about to blow it. “You good to go?”

Curly patted his belt, they’d stocked up on explosives and other gear at one of the caches Hatman had hidden around the city. {“Oh yeah.”}

“Good, keep your beacon on at all costs. See you on the other side,” Hatman said before he dove off of the roof.

{“See you soon,”} Curly said as he unclipped his grappling gun and fired it at the train. {“If we survive.”}

Hatman hurtled toward the moving train at increasing speeds, grinning as he hurled a blocky and powerful magnet at the train’s roof. The magnet instantly connected to the roof and Hatman clicked his heels and wrists together, activating the internal magnets in each of them. The magnet on the train’s roof drew the magnets in Hatman’s appendages to it, ensuring that the falling Hatman kept pace with the moving train. Then, right before he connected with the speeding train’s roof and ended up becoming little more than a superheroic splat, Hatman reversed the polarity of the magnets in his costume. Which, when reacting with the large magnet on the train’s hull, dramatically slowed Hatman’s descent. Allowing him to land softly next to the magnet. After remagnetizing his boots to avoid falling off of the train, Hatman superheated his gauntlet and melted a hole in the train’s hull, which allowed him to breach the train’s exterior. Hatman jumped through the hole he’d burned and landed deftly inside the train. Checking his beacon, he was able to see that Curly had managed to breach the train’s caboose, as planned. 

Hatman took stock of his own surroundings. The car he was in was filled with all manner of powerful weapons. Hatman shuddered at the thought of Smuggles and his Consortium getting their villainous hands on all of this firepower. He quickly removed an explosive from his belt and moved to attach it to the train’s wall.

“Ah ah Hatman. You’re not going to destroy this shipment,” a cold robotic voice taunted. 

Hatman steeled himself for another fight. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter.”

The wall closest to Hatman lit up. It’s a screen, Hatman observed. A cruel looking face flashed across it. 

“Regardless Hatman, this is where your campaign comes to an end.”

“Nemesystem,” Hatman said, recognizing the voice. “You’re controlling the train.”

“Not just the train,” Nemesystem said, and the face projected on the wall winked at Hatman. Suddenly several of the weapons surrounding Hatman whirred to life and, floating up from their perches, aimed themselves at Hatman.

Hatman took stock of his situation. He was in a confined space with several weapons pointing at him, with both the space and the weapons being controlled and operated by an enemy that Hatman couldn’t physically overpower or subdue. Not a great situation, but he’d gotten out of worse. Nemesystem being in control of the train certainly complicated things though. Hatman had to hope that he could keep the evil AI occupied until Curly could set his explosives. Hatman moved quickly. He dropped half a dozen smoke bombs at his feet while affixing an oxygen mask from his belt onto his exposed mouth and nose. As the room filled with smoke, Hatman jumped up, grabbing onto a floating sniper rifle. He used the rifle to swing himself further upward as several of the weapons discharged, sending a hail of bullets every which way while Nemesystem tried to pinpoint Hatman’s location. Hatman knew that wouldn’t take the system long. The smoke was merely a temporary diversion for a being who didn’t actually have any eyes with which to see. As soon as Nemesystem was able to switch to infared or night vision Hatman would be in trouble again. He continued using different floating weapons as rungs to get him higher and higher until he could reach the car’s ceiling. Once he did he superheated his gauntlets and burned a circle in the ceiling, which caused a segment of it to fall to the floor. In an instant all of the weapons, including the floating alien plasma blaster Hatman was hanging onto fell to the floor. Converging on the fallen chunk of ceiling, which just so happened to have Hatman’s super magnet still stuck to it. Hatman once again activated the magnets in his boots and gauntlets, and, reversing the polarity once more, used the magnet to launch himself out of the weapons car into the next one down. 

“Very clever, Hatman,” Nemesystem taunted, as the walls in this next car flashed to life, displaying Nemesystem’s digital visage on them as well.’

“Thanks,” Hatman grunted as he removed an explosive from his belt and allowed it to be sucked into the weapon’s car by the magnet. This car was filled with various treasures, and valuables. No tech, which meant there was nothing for Nemesystem to take control of. Hatman smirked and removed another explosive from his belt. 

“You are far too smug,” Nemesystem said as several large guns and cannons emerged from the ceiling walls and floor of the train car. 

Hatman ignored him, arming the explosive and letting it fall to the ground.

“These weapons are anti-ferrous, so your little magnet trick won’t work again. You see, for every time you thwart me I grow smarter. I learn your strategies and plans and reconfigure this train to combat them.”

“You don’t say,” Hatman said, tensing his leg muscles and taking stock of the crates of valuables that surrounded him.

A hail of laser fire emitted from the various cannons. Hatman expertly dodged them and then sprung at a nearby crate, quickly ripping the lid off of it and knocking it over, causing hundreds of diamonds to spill out onto the floor. 

“Your fanciful acrobatics will not keep you alive for long,” Nemesystem said as the cannons recharged for another volley.

“Yeah, that’s clear to me,” Hatman said as he scooped up a handful of the precious stones. “Crystal clear.”

The cannons let off another round of laser fire and Hatman expertly hurled the diamonds at one of the turrets. The diamonds caused the laser fire to be refracted in multiple directions, overloading the other cannons. Hatman didn’t stick around for the show, he wrenched the door to the next car open and dove through it.

The next car, the last of the three Hatman was supposed to deal with was filled with combat drones of every make and model. Each of their faces had been replaced with the Nemesystem’s who grinned evilly at the hero. Hatman looked at his gauntlet, which displayed a countdown that was synched to those of the bombs he and Curly were planting. He only had about a minute left before this train went, and he and Curly needed to link up and throw themselves clear before then. That didn’t leave a ton of time for Hatman to deal with these robots. Hatman shrugged, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

“What hat-shaped gadget will you deploy to deal with this problem Hatman?” Nemesystem taunted. “Remind me, do you humans have a hat that can wipe out one hundred and nineteen state of the art combat drones?”

Hatman didn’t waste any time responding; he simply removed a collapsible umbrella hat from his belt and opened it up to its full size. The “hat” was actually a brightly colored shield that Hatman could safely hide behind while he developed some sort of plan. All at once, the drones opened fire on the umbrella which absorbed and disperred the laser fire. Hatman backed up against a wall, cursing himself for not saving any of the diamonds from the last car. He felt the wall behind him and pressed his back flat against it, allowing the metal tips at the edges of the umbrella canopy to dig into the wall, essentially sealing Hatman in a laser proof dome. 

“Curly come in!” Hatman shouted into his gauntlet. 

Nothing but static came through the speaker. Hatman feared the worst, Nemesystem must have already gotten to Curly. Another Hatboy lost he thought glumly. Then he shrugged it off. If Curly was taken out then that meant Hatman needed to take out his cars in addition to this last one. It also meant he couldn’t afford to dawdle in this dome while the front half of the train exploded around him. 

“Nowhere to run Hatman, I wonder, will you scream as I tear you apart limb from limb. Human screams fascinate me. Machines can’t seem to synthesize any sound that is quite as delicious.”

Hatman shuddered, he wasn’t going to give this cruel computer an ounce of satisfaction. Hatman shoved the umbrella forward, disconnecting it from the wall and barreled into the first wave of drones that had been attempting to breach his shield. 

A crude, electronic attempt at a maniacal laugh crackled from speakers embedded all over the train car as the Nemesystem’s drones aimed their various onboard weapons at the hatted hero. Hatman raised his superheated fists, planning to simply punch his way through the robotic horde when suddenly the laughter cut out abruptly and the drones immediately clattered to the ground.

{“If you’re done messing around in here, it’s just about time to go,”} Curly said as he stood triumphantly over the fallen robots.

“Curly? How?” Hatman said at a loss for words. 

Curly held up a slim silver device with the letters “HTH” carved into them. {“Standard issue How to Hero technology neutralizer. We all got them, after Dr. Brainwave accidentally brought all of the appliances to life and Parenthetical Guy almost got killed by the blender.”}

Hatman was at a loss for words. “What?”

{“It’s short range only, and it’s not very powerful. So while it can’t stop the train I’ve been able to keep Nemesystem from entering any of the cars I’ve been in. But we really need to jump, like now.”}

Hatman nodded and positioned himself at the far wall of the train car. “Turn that thing off… now!”

Curly quickly switched off the tech neutralizer and the drones started coming back to life. Hatman threw his last bomb into the crowd of drones and then melted a hole in the side of the train.

“Let’s move!” he shouted as Curly ran toward him and they both jumped out of the train.

They’d timed the operation so they’d leave the train as it was passing over the Clifftown bay. Of course, the bay was still frozen thanks to Friar Frostbite. Apparently Smuggles hadn’t seen it fit to undo this during his tenure. That was all well and good though, because, as expected an aviator-cap shaped jet was hovering right outside the train, waiting to catch the two heroes.

Only it didn’t swoop in and catch them. Hatman saw Curly’s eyes widen in fear. iOf course, Hatman thought. The neutralizer disabled our beacons. The plane’s onboard guidance system can’t find us.

Hatman and Curly locked eyes and then unclipped their grappling guns and fired them both at the plane as the train exploded in the distance. 

                                                            ***

{“So we each hooked onto one of the plane’s wings and it flew us away as the train exploded like: BOOM! KABLOW! ZAMMO!”} 

(“Dude I cannot believe you got to fight villains and hang out with Hatman while I was stuck with friggin Jurassic Dork.”)

They were both sitting in the entrance hall of the Haberdashery, Ultiman had whisked Professor Paleontologist and Hatman into a closed door meeting so they could debrief him without the constant interruptions and interjections of the two bloggers. The new recruits from the Superhero School, along with the two Da Vincis, were off mingling with the other Resistance heroes. 

{“What can I say, I’ve always been more of a fighter than you,”} Curly said.

(“Oh yeah? Well we’ll see how good of a fighter you are when I put you on mutant alligator feeding duty when we take back our office.”)

Curly started to retort but then he remembered something. {“We have someone on the inside!”} he blurted.

Parenthetical Guy was surprised (“What? Who?”)

Curly explained about the cryptic messages he and Hatman had received, {“He told me to ‘play Z VS PG’. That’s ‘Zach versus Parenthetical Guy’ it’s a game we play back at the office where we get the two of you to fight over who’s the real boss of How To Hero.”}

(“What, that’s a stupid game. It’s obviously me!”)

Curly gave him a look.

(“Oh… Oh! You think it might be Zach? You think he’s infiltrated the bad guys? Does that mean he’s ok?”)

Neither of them had heard from Zach since Smuggles had freed Chuck the Fish Whisperer and launched his villainous campaign against the world. Curly was starting to really worry about him and though they had never discussed it, Curly knew Parenthetical Guy was too. 

{“I mean it could be! He’s still unaccounted for. He could have gotten away from Chuck and hidden out until he could embed himself in the Consortium and now he’s sending Hatman messages.”}

Parenthetical Guy scratched his goatee, (“I mean, it could b-”)

A heavy knock at the door drew them from their conversation. They both looked at each other in shock. Nobody was supposed to know this place existed. They looked around, they were the only people in the entrance hall. 

The person on the other side of the door knocked again.

(“Do we get it?”)

{“What if it’s a trap?”}

Ultiman, Hatman, and Professor Paleontologist burst out of the room where they were conducting their meeting and hurried to the door. As though they’d rehearsed it, Hatman and Professor Paleontologist pressed themselves up against either side of the door. Hatman had his hand on his belt, ready to unsheath some sort of gadget. Professor Paleontologist put a hand to his amulet. Ultiman glanced over his shoulder at Curly and Parenthetical Guy.

“Be ready for anything,” he said curtly, before opening the door. “Oh?”

Waiting for him outside was a veritable mob. But it didn’t seem to be the angry kind. Dozens of regular humans, along with all manner of sewer-mutants, werewolves, and vampires were gathered on Hatman’s stoop. Standing at their head was a large mud monster with glasses and a disheveled man in a rumpled suit wielding a swordfish.

Parenthetical Guy peeked his head around Ultiman and eyed the crowd, (“Lawyer Guy?”)

The disheveled man nodded [“The civilian brigade is reporting for duty. Can we come in?”]

                                                            ***

A Secure Location

“Attention prisoners, mandatory recreation time ends in ten minutes,” an electronic voice chirped.

The collected superheroes groaned. Recreation time wasn’t very fun, but it was the only time they were allowed out of their cells. Today’s activity was called “supervillain charades.” It was like regular charades, but you were only allowed to mime various crimes. The activity was overseen by Giorgio the Evil Mime and he was very strict. A tall, well-built man, strode onto the stage. A cowboy hat rested upon his head and was angled such that the top half of his face was shrouded in shadow. He had black nail polish on his fingers and a tattoo of himself riding a skateboard while playing an electric guitar on his left bicep. His name was Cowboy Rockstar and he’d had just about enough of Giorgio, Smuggles, and the whole lot of villains who had imprisoned him and so many of his superhero compatriots. He lifted his hat, revealing piercing blue eyes and made direct eye contact with another prisoner, a far less muscular man with a raggedy beard and glasses. Unlike the other heroes in the room, who had all been given garish supervillainish costumes to wear while in prison, this prisoner was clad in regular street clothes. A hoodie and jeans. He wasn’t forced to dress like a supervillain because he was not a superhero, and so the Consortium saw little value in trying to turn him into a villain. Which wasn’t to say that he wasn’t a valuable prisoner. Smuggles saw plenty of value in keeping him locked up. And Cowboy Rockstar saw plenty of value in teaming up with him.

Giorgio waved his arms frantically, signaling to Cowboy Rockstar that he’d better get started if he wanted to get his charade in before it was time for the heroes to be herded back into their individual cells. 

Cowboy Rockstar kept his eyes locked on the prisoner in the hoodie and began his charade. He held up two fingers. Two words. He then held up one finger. First word. He squatted against the wall. Chairs, and other props, were wholly out of the question but Giorgio allowed use of the wall, the stage, and any other element of the space the heroes could think to use. With his back flat against the wall he lifted up his right foot and made like he was pressing on something with it.

Various heroes shouted out guesses.

“Tapping!”

“Foot!”

“Kicking!”

“Brake,” the man in the hoodie muttered.

Cowboy Rockstar nodded and then held up two fingers. Second word. He then mimed opening a door and stepping through it.

“Door! Breaking down a door… of a bank!”

“Open! Break open! Breaking open someone’s… skull?”

Cowboy Rockstar shrugged and touched his nose, signalling that Rockblock had gotten it and causing the giant rock monster to whoop in delight. Cowboy Rockstar winked at the prisoner in the hoodie, who had understood what the hero was really getting at. The prisoner in the hoodie smiled faintly. Cowboy Rockstar was planning a break out, and he wanted Zach, self-proclaimed expert of all things superheroes, to help him do it.

[jhl1031973]

Unpublished Work - Doctor Who: Advent Of Terror

This is my fourth entry in Big Finish Productions' Paul Spragg Memorial Short Trip Opportunity. None of my work has been chosen, but there will be other chances. This one features the Seventh Doctor and Ace. Enjoy andSubmitted For Your Approval.

- James Heath Lantz November 2, 2020

Advent Of Terror

A Short Trip Starring The Seventh Doctor And Ace

By

James Heath Lantz

The Snow came down slowly. The multitude of colours from the numerous Christmas lights and decorations reflected upon the white landscape. The village of Ortonshire looked picturesque, like a greeting card a friend or relative would send. The small hamlet was known worldwide for its Christmas celebration from late November until early January. The local candy factory made Advent Calendars that were shipped everywhere from London, England and Paris, France to Alberta, Canada and Tuscany, Italy. People of all walks of life came from everywhere to experience what newspapers and magazines over the years named “The Most Magical Christmas Village In The Entire World”. Celebrities, especially writers, would visit on their vacations. Rumours had circulated about  Amelia Earhart, Winston Churchill, Shirley Jackson, J.R.R. Tolkien, Ernest Hemingway, Anne Rice, Stephen King and Clive Barker walking the streets to take in the magnificence of Ortonshire. One innkeeper's grandmother even claims that Mary Shelley wrote the final chapter of Frankenstein in the room that belonged to her Great Aunt Sadie on Boxing Day.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in Ortonshire when the TARDIS had materialized in front of the largest Christmas tree to be placed in the town square in perhaps half a decade. The doors creaked open. The Doctor, in his seventh incarnation, placed his hat upon his head as he walked out of the time machine. He took a deep breath to take in the crisp winter air. There was a twinkle in his eye when he saw the lavishly decorated village.

“Come along, Ace,” The Doctor called to his companion with hint of impish glee in his Scottish burr. “The Most Magical Christmas Village In The Entire World awaits us.”

Ace buttoned up her coat before the Doctor closed the TARDIS doors. The Doctor looked at the Christmas tree. “Perhaps we should move the TARDIS a bit. It could ruin the view of the tree,” The Doctor pondered out loud.

The Doctor and Ace returned to the TARDIS. The ship disappeared some seconds later. After five or six attempts, it reformed just outside of the village's city limits. The Doctor and Ace were greeted by the words “Happy Christmas from” written in red and green Christmas lights over the Ortonshire sign. The Doctor silently noted that the population number was covered by snow. However, he thought nothing of it after seeing Ace smile. With everything she and the Doctor had been through, they both deserved a little holiday cheer.

“I must say,” The Doctor said as he and Ace walked through the snow covered thoroughfare and looked at the beautiful ornaments and lights of various brilliant hues, “The human capacity for celebration and decoration surpasses that of destruction at this time of year.”

Ace and the Doctor continued their stroll. The Doctor was particularly enchanted by a group of snowmen dressed like Father Christmas. He and Ace had a long, hearty laugh at the sight of them. They then resumed walking until they saw three rows of ice sculptures. The Doctor took time to admire the beauty and craftsmanship. The attention to detail on an angel astounded him. Something also look frighteningly familiar about it. Yet, he could not put his finger on what that was.

"Professor," Ace said inquiringly, interrupting the Doctor's reverie, "Where are all the people?”

"I'm sorry, Ace. What?"

“The people. There should be at least one crowd of people if this is The Most Magical Christmas Village In The Entire World like you said. Even the shops we passed along the way were empty, and it's barely seven o'clock.”

“My goodness, Ace. You're right,” The Doctor observed. “I was so taken by the splendour and wonder of Ortonshire, I failed to notice the most important thing you had just pointed out. What happened to all the people?”

Before the Doctor could even think to investigate his inquiry, a pair of hands belonging to someone behind him had grabbed his arms. Another had done the same to Ace. They had not heard the sound of footfalls running toward them. A tall woman in a yellow hazmat suit moved in front of the Doctor and Ace. Her facial features were obscured by her protective mask. She pointed her gloved left index finger at them as she spoke sternly in a Northern English accent.

“What the devil are you two doing here?” She asked.

*

The Doctor and Ace were brought to the Leverton Military Base just a few miles east of Ortonshire, which had recently been used as a headquarters for pandemic responses in the past decade or so. Blood samples were taken from the Doctor and Ace before they were led to a decontamination room. The Doctor told Ace that they must go through the procedure for everyone's protection. They were cleansed with chemicals, soap and water before putting on grey jumpsuits to while their clothing was being sterilized. They were dressed normally some hours later.

A guard brought the Doctor and Ace to an interrogation room. On the way there, the Doctor noted that the TARDIS was being rather unsuccessfully examined an adjacent laboratory. He began to chuckle upon seeing a scientist in a hazmat suit fall when the ship gave him an electrical shock. The Time Lord then thought it best to move on. He and Ace entered the medium sized, sparsely furnished room. They were ordered to wait for a Doctor Henderson to question them.

The Doctor, umbrella under his arm, paced. Ace sat in a folding chair. She followed the Time Lord's movements with her eyes. “Do they think we did something wrong, Professor?” She asked with hint of preoccupation in her voice.

“I'm not sure, Ace,” The Doctor replied. “I wonder if our being here is connected to the missing people of Ortonshire.”

The Doctor continued pacing the room. This time he did so while playing the spoons. This went on for roughly fifteen minutes. Ace wanted to protest this action, but The Doctor's expression told her that he was concentrating on the situation. He checked his fob watch when a tall, pale woman with long, dark, curly hair and horn rimmed glasses entered. On the left breast of her long white coat was a badge identifying as Doctor Carol Henderson, Head of Project PANVAC.

Project PANVAC is a team of scientists and military personnel created to study viruses and pandemics to prevent their spread and create vaccines should they be needed. They banded together with funds from various governments worldwide after so many lives were lost in the past couple years to new strains of illnesses that had mutated considerably.

The Doctor closed his fob watch and lamented, “You took your own sweet time getting here.”

“Sorry if my needing to decontaminate myself and my security officers is an inconvenience,” Doctor Henderson responded sarcastically. “Now, would you mind telling me who you are and what you two were doing in a quarantined area?”

“Quarantined area?” The Doctor asked in surprise. “We knew nothing of a quarantine. We'd only just arrived. We're not even from around here.”

“By your accent, I'd guess you're from Scotland,” Henderson responded.

“You'd be quite surprised, I'm sure. Anyhow, I am the Doctor, and she is my friend and associate Ace.”

“Doctor is a title, not a name. For example, I'm Doctor Carol Henderson.”

“For you, dear Doctor Henderson, it's a title. For me, it's a name.”

"Very well, Doctor," Henderson said with a hint of irritation. "Now, tell me what you were doing in a quarantined area.”

“We didn't know about any quarantine,” Ace said impatiently.

“Stay calm, Ace,” The Doctor said, raising his right hand slightly. He turned to Doctor Henderson. “She is quite correct. We came to Ortonshire because of its reputation for Christmas celebration. We had no idea any quarantine had been put into place.”

Before Doctor Henderson could respond, someone had knocked on the interrogation room door. She opened it and stuck her head out the other side. Someone had told her the secretary-general of the United Nations wanted to speak with her. She left and returned some twenty minutes later. The Doctor looked at Henderson in an attempt to anticipate what she will do and say next.

Henderson took a deep breath. “Apparently,” She said to the Doctor, “I'm supposed to trust you. After I mentioned 'The Doctor' to the secretary-general of the United Nations, he ordered me to allow you assist Project PANVAC if you wish to do so.”

“Yes. Of course, I'd be happy to help if I can.”

“The U.N. has quite a detailed file on you.”

“Yes,” The Doctor said, “You can thank those busy bodies at U.N.I.T. for that.” He walked toward Doctor Henderson. “Now, what exactly are we dealing with here, Doctor Henderson?”

“It started three days ago with some children who were building a snowman near the forest at Ortonshire's southern border. A boy named Charlie Wright was the first to exhibit symptoms. He complained of a headache after returning home. The local doctor found he had a very high fever before the lad lost consciousness. His three friends – another boy and two girls had similar symptoms as the evening had progressed.”

“Let's see,” The Doctor pondered, “Three days ago was December 1st. Go on, Doctor.”

“My team and were called when infection spread to the adults and other children. The local physician told us  that all the patients exhibited something odd on the skin about an hour before we arrived in Ortonshire.”

“Odd in what way, Doctor?”

Doctor Henderson paused for a moment. She seemed to searching for an appropriate description. Swallowing her pride and perhaps realizing the Doctor was no threat, she spoke.

“Perhaps it's better to show you, Doctor.”

*

Doctor Henderson's gloved hand punched a numeric code on a security keypad to the right of a metallic door. The Doctor put on a surgical mask and latex gloves while following her. The door slid open. They briskly walked down an empty, bright white corridor. The doctors were greeted by a burly security guard upon Henderson's explanation of the Doctor's presence. She had told him the Time Lord was there on orders from the United Nations. The Doctor tipped his hat before entering the patient's quarters.

Charlie Wright was a sandy haired, frail boy who looked to be no more than ten years of age. He lay dormant in the hospital bed. The Doctor looked at a copy of Charlie's file. With Doctor Henderson to his right, the Doctor examined the boy closely. His skin was chalk white with blue, green and grey vine-like tendrils all over his body. His pupils, irises and the whites of his eyes were clouded over in the same green/blue/grey hue.

“The vines are attached well,” Doctor Henderson said. “Scissors and knives were unable to cut them. Fire only activates the sprinkler system.”

The Doctor took a closer look at the vines. The Doctor said, “We may not need to do that if we can get a blood sample.”

“I'd like to get a sample of them as well to study this more thoroughly.”

“Understandable. A low level laser might be able burn off a piece without harming young Charlie here. Now, tell me. Is Ortonshire the only area infected, Doctor Henderson?”

“According to our facilities in other parts of the world, the illness is contained within the vicinity of Ortonshire. No other village, city, country or continent has had any reports of symptoms like these for now,” Henderson replied while indicating the tendrils.

“Then it's not too late,” The Doctor said hopefully, “We may be able find a cure before this spreads worldwide. Now, somebody get me that laser.”

*

Ace was in the laboratory where the TARDIS was being examined. She had been ordered to where a hazmat suit for her protection. The scientists who were studying the ship were amazed. They had no idea what they were dealing with. One man even approached the TARDIS doors with a large drill in hand. Ace laughed.

“You'll never open the TARDIS with that,” Ace observed.

“What?” The scientist with the drill asked.

“I'm afraid she is quite correct, sir. Your drill won't open my TARDIS,” The Doctor said. “Now, put that thing away. The TARDIS is perfectly safe. Stop wasting time, and point us in the direction of Doctor Henderson's office.”

The scientist indicated a corridor to his left. “You can't miss it. Her name's on the door,” He said sheepishly.

The Doctor turned his head in the direction of the TARDIS. He was clearly irritated. He muttered something under his breath. Ace couldn't quite make out what he said, but she giggled. There was something amusing and sweet about the Doctor when his dander was up. Ace told the Doctor that they arrived at Doctor Henderson's office, Now all they had to do was wait for her to arrive with the laser needed to take the sample of the virus vine. Hours had passed. The Doctor used this time to read Doctor Henderson's extensive research on viruses, pandemics and cures. He had finished reading her most recent paper when the head of project PANVAC entered the room with the surgical laser in hand.

Doctor Henderson and the Doctor went to Charlie's bedside. The Time Lord prepared the laser. He double checked its parameters to make certain it was set at minimum intensity. He didn't want to unnecessarily injure the boy in his efforts to save him. The narrow red beam hit a vine on the boy's wrist. A small chunk of about the size of a newborn kitten's toenail fell on to the white bed sheet. The Doctor placed it in a vial with a pair of tweezers. The Doctor and Doctor Henderson took the sample in thee latter's office. The head of Project PANVAC looked at it through a microscope. She was stymied and shocked by her findings.

“Doctor,” Henderson said, “Have a look at this.”

The Doctor looked into the microscope. “Very interesting indeed,” He commented.

“You don't seem as surprised as I am,” Henderson observed. “It has characteristics of a virus. However, I've never seen anything like it.”

“There is nothing like it,” The Doctor said, “At least on Earth.”

“Are you saying this virus is alien?”

“Doctor Henderson,” The Doctor began, “You're a brilliant virologist. I finished reading your papers while waiting for the laser.”

“Those are roughly thirty years of work consisting of thousands of pages,” Henderson said in a surprised tone. “It would take me at least three years to read them again.”

“I'm a fast reader,” The Doctor commented, “As I was saying, you're a brilliant virologist, doctor. Yet, you have a habit of doing what most scientists tend to do. You limit the scope of your search for answers.”

Ace had been sitting in a chair across from Doctor Henderson's desk. She was positively amused by the exchange between the doctors. She did nothing to repress her smile and laughter.

“So you are saying it's alien,” Henderson said, ignoring Ace.

“Not all alien life forms are little green men, doctor,” The Doctor responded.

“Some are Daleks or Cybermen,” Ace interjected.

“Not now, Ace,” The Doctor said gently.

“How do you know it's alien, Doctor?” Henderson asked.

“That isn't the important question, Doctor Henderson. How did the virus get to Ortonshire, and how do we cure it? Those are the inquiries you must ask if we are help the infected and prevent the spread to the rest of the world.”

The Doctor snapped his fingers and ran toward the nearest exit. Doctor Henderson followed him.

“Where are you going, Doctor?” She asked, pursuing him.

“I need to get to the TARDIS!” He called as he ran further away. “There's no time to lose!”

*

Ace, still in the hazmat suit, entered the TARDIS. The Doctor ran to the controls, pressed buttons and flipped switches. The doors closed.

“You won't be needing that, Ace,” The Doctor said, indicating her hazmat suit. “We're perfectly safe in the TARDIS.”

Removing the protective head piece and mask, Ace asked, “Shouldn't we be saving the people in Ortonshire, Professor?

The Doctor hadn't taken his eyes and hands away from the TARDIS controls. “That's exactly why we've returned to the TARDIS, Ace. If I'm right, the illness is not of Earthly origin.”

“So we're going find who created it?”

“Not exactly,” The Doctor answered. “We are, however, going to see how it began.”

“Couldn't we prevent the infection from coming to Ortonshire?”

“As much as it pains me, Ace, I'm afraid not. We're merely going back in time to see how the virus got to Ortonshire.”

Ace looked disappointed. “Don't look so glum, Ace,” The Doctor said. “We'll find a way to cure every sick person in Ortonshire. I just need to confirm a theory first.”

Ace was reassured by this by the time the TARDIS returned to Ortonshire's city limits near the village sign some days before their initial arrival. Christmas lights shined their rainbow of hues upon the box, perhaps as a signal of hope for things to come. The Doctor and Ace heard the town square's clock tower's bells toll. It was midnight. The Doctor checked his fob watch to be sure. He clicked it shut and sat down on the ground in front of the TARDIS doors. Ace sat next to him, her arms wrapped around her knees.

“What are we doing now, Doctor?” Ace asked.

“Waiting, Ace. We're waiting.”

Twenty minutes later, the Doctor looked at his watch again. He then turned his gaze to the sky.

“It should be arriving,” He said, “Now.”

The Doctor and Ace looked up. A shooting star streaked across the night sky, its fiery tail blazing through the starry backdrop. A meteor was clearly burning upon entering Earth's atmosphere. Small, flaming bits of the space rock crash landed. One had come close to striking the Doctor had Ace not pushed him out of the the way.

Ace helped the Doctor to his feet. He thanked her and dusted himself off. He returned to the TARDIS to get a long pair of tongs and a cylindrical lead container. The Doctor placed the meteorite inside the canister before walking into Ortonshire. Ace followed closely.

“Where are we going, Doctor?” Ace asked.

“We need to make sure no other meteorites in the area, Ace.”

“Shouldn't we get more of those lead cylinders from the TARDIS?”

“There's no need,” The Doctor answered with a twinkle of pride in his eye. “Much like the TARDIS, this receptacle is bigger on the inside. Now, come along, Ace. We have lives to save.”

*

Doctor Henderson made her rounds to check the infected somewhere around midnight. She entered Charlie Wright's room. She looked briefly at his file. As she looked up from the folder, the pale boy covered in vines did something that startled her. He sat up. She called his name, but there was no response. His face was cold and without expression. This brought a shiver of terror to Doctor Henderson.

Charlie got out of bed. Doctor Henderson overcame her apprehension and called the young man's name. The only responses were a chillingly vacant look in her direction accompanied by an eerie silence. Charlie marched out of the room. Doctor Henderson, her curiosity outweighing her fear, followed the boy. He didn't seem to notice her behind him. Perhaps in his current state, he didn't even perceive her presence as a threat.

Charlie had joined another group of the infected. Others followed suit. The crowd became overwhelming. Doctor Henderson had lost her balance. She placed her hands in front of her person to break her fall. Her moving forward did nothing to distract the patients from getting to their destination. Henderson saw that the rest of the Project PANVAC team was following the entranced people with tendrils all over their bodies.

The marching had stopped outdoors. Henderson noted they were in the Ortonshire village square. The colours of the Christmas tree's lights, especially the red and green, made the infected look more menacing and frightening. Doctor Henderson gulped saliva to moisten her previously dry throat. She looked around  The faces of Project PANVAC's personnel mirrored the question that was on mind.

What do these people want?

*

The Doctor and Ace had been collecting meteorites for the better part of two hours when they returned to the TARDIS. They had a dozen of the space rocks inside the container. The Doctor worked the ship's controls allowing it to materialize in front of an elaborately decorated wooden cottage. He checked the date. It was December 1st.

The house was surrounded by a white picket fence. Gold garland and small red and green lights trimmed the structure. Brightly lit statues of a snowman and Father Christmas were placed on the left and right sides of the gate behind the TARDIS. The snowman's left hand touched a red postal box with an address written on the side. The Doctor read it aloud.

“17 Miller Road,” He said, “If I recall correctly, young Charlie Wright lives here. We should investigate here for clues to how he became ill.”

The front door was unlocked, and the light within were still turned on, meaning the family left in a hurry. The Doctor and Ace moved quietly. They entered the front room to find an Advent Calender on the coffee table adjacent to the Christmas tree and television. It had an image of two children, a dark haired boy and a blonde girl, in Christmas pyjamas looking in amazement at the numerous presents under the tree. The square for December  1st had been opened.

“Doctor,” Ace said holding the Advent Calender. She indicated the empty square. “Look.”

“Yes, Ace, it's an Advent Calender. They're quite common at Christmas time.”

“No, look closer,” Ace insisted.

“Goodness, Ace, you're right,” The Doctor said upon further examination of the empty square. He saw bits of green dust inside. He put on latex gloves to take a sample of it. He and Ace returned to the TARDIS to study the weird powder. The Doctor looked worried after about fifteen minutes.

“I think, Ace,” He said, “We may have missed a meteorite somewhere.”

*

The Ortonshire Candy Factory was on the east end of the village. The TARDIS had arrived not long before the meteor shower had begun. The Doctor started a countdown. A meteorite crashed through one of the factory's windows the moment after the Doctor had finished. It had landed in a vat of chocolate unbeknownst to anyone working there. The mixing process had turned the rock to dust. The chocolate was then used in the sweets for the Advent Calenders.

The Doctor snapped his fingers and looked at Ace. “There's a slim chance,” He said, “But we going to have go with your plan, Ace.”

“My plan?”

“I'll explain later. We need to return to the TARDIS.”

The time machine vanished. It reappeared inside the factory this time. It hovered over the vat of chocolate. The Doctor stood in the ships opened doorway with a long mechanical arm device in his hands, He used a joystick to move it left and right, up and down until its two prongs grabbed the meteorite in the moment before it landed in the chocolate. The Time Lord returned inside to calculate his next move. He configured the TARDIS controls.

“Now,” He said to Ace, “If this is timed correctly, we can place this rock we caught somewhere our previous rock hunting selves will find it, thereby preventing it from contaminating the candy factory's chocolate and any infection in Ortonshire.”

“There's one thing I don't get, Professor,” Ace said. “How was this my plan?”

“It was you, dear Ace, who asked if we could prevent the infection from coming to Ortonshire. Now, put that hazmat suit back on, and prepare your throwing arm. We're almost where we need to be.”

The TARDIS whirled and twirled in the air. The Doctor opened door after checking the ship's location.

“When I say go, Ace,” The Doctor said as he opened the door, “ Throw the meteorite.”

“I hope this works, Professor.”

“I've seen you launch explosives at Daleks, Ace. You'll do brilliantly.”

He looked down at the street a few steps in front of the candy factory. “Now, Ace! Now!”

Ace's gloved hand hurled the meteorite with the might and determination of David against Goliath. IT landed near a tree less than an inch away from Ace's previous self. The Doctor closed the door, scanned Ace for infection and radiation and smiled.

“Excellent throwing, Ace. If all went well, Our next trip to Ortonshire will be a happier one.”

The TARDIS was now on the moon, time was catching up with itself as The Doctor and Ace's previous selves disappeared with all of Ortonshire's meteorites. The Doctor looked inside the container. There were thirteen plus five they had missed before.

“Ah yes,” The Doctor said, “We did another survey of Ortonshire after taking the rock you threw.”

The Doctor and Ace returned to Ortonshire's sign. The Time Lord opened the TARDIS doors. He exited to admire how beautifully lit the words Happy Christmas were. The Doctor took a deep breath with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Come along, Ace,” The Doctor called. “The Most Magical Christmas Village In The Entire World awaits us once more.”

Ace came out of the TARDIS just as a portly man with a white beard dressed as Father Christmas approached the Doctor. He grinned broadly as he spoke to them.

“Happy Christmas, folks. Welcome to Ortonshire,” The man said jovially.

“Happy Christmas to you as well, my good man,” The Doctor responded with a tip of his hat. This is Ace, and I'm the Doctor.

“Pleased to meet both of you,” The man replied, shaking hands with Ace and the Doctor. “I'm Chris. You here for the Christmas Festival?”

“Yes,” The Doctor replied, “I also wonder if you could tell where I may find an Advent Calendar.”

The End

[hainethehero]

could you write a monty x winston smut imagine? where he alive, winston gets justice and clears monty's name. then they reunite when he gets let out, they admit their feelings and have sex xoxo

I took so long to write this but I wanted it to be perfect 😢 it turned out to be more angst than smut but, idk I just love the dynamic between these two.

(I'd like to also point out that though Monty didn't kill Bryce, there is no justice to be had when it comes to his rape charges. He still has to spend time behind bars for what he did to Tyler, so keep that in mind.)

Five years.

It's been five, long years since Montgomery de la Cruz had seen a full day of the outside world.

He can almost remember the day they'd incarcerated him, shackled him like the criminal he was, and had thrown him behind solid iron bars. His father had spat on him like a piece of garbage on the roadside. Called him a faggot and had left him to rot in the Crestmont California Correctional facility. He was eighteen then, so they tried him as an adult. He'd gotten the maximum; seven years behind bars with the possibility of parole.

But, by some miracle, his sentence had gotten reduced due to a cover-up by Deputy Standall and Clay's group which had revealed Alex as the person who'd actually killed Bryce Walker. Well, Alex had sort of just pushed Bryce from the bridge and let him drown while Jessica watched. She had been marked down as an accomplice.

<em>It was fucked up.</em>

But Monty took it with a grain of salt.

He knew what he'd done to Tyler was wrong. And he accepted his doomed fate with a new mindset. There was no way he could ever forgive himself for what he'd done. No way Tyler would ever be the same after that and he had to accept the cold fact: he was sick. And he deserved his punishment. The only thing left to do, was change. Bryce had it right the second time around when he started mending his ways. Didn't make him a hero or whatever, but changing was better than remaining the same evil, unfeeling monster he'd been.

His world had changed immensely since he got tossed behind bars. He suffered nightmares, mostly about Tyler and that day in the school's washroom. Other times, he'd dream about his father beating him to death after finding out about him and Winston.

And Winston...

Oh, that boy was the truth and solace Monty had never known. He was the kindness, when Monty faced nothing but fierce beatings from the other prisoners. And he was the warmth when Monty grew cold at night, curled up under his threadbare sheets. He'd visit Monty whenever he could, which was often. And he'd bring all sorts of pictures of the college he'd been accepted into. He'd talk about life outside the walls, and make promises that Monty was sure he probably couldn't keep.

Promises like, "We'll go to Paris one day." and "I can't wait for you to come home. I can give you a tour of the whole campus."

Monty was sure he'd stay behind bars forever, but, he smiled and nodded anyway, giving in just to make Winston happy.

Because Winston made him happy.

His father never visited him after the first day. Every time he called the house, the man would either be too busy or too drunk to hold a conversation. But Monty still called, hoping that the man had a change of heart. Hoping that he'd get the chance to speak to his mother again.

But no.

No such mercy.

He expected that much from his fucked up family anyway.

He'd been a bastard ever since the day he was born. That wasn't about to change now.

"Hey," a soft voice interrupts, banishing his dark thoughts and pulling him back to the present.

He's standing just outside a city apartment, in New York. The place is very alive around him, despite the darkened moonlit sky above. There are people bustling about, dressed cozily in boots, stockings and trench coats. The weather has been growing colder as the holidays gained on them. But Monty finds that he doesn't particularly care about the fact.

He's just happy to see the world again.

"C'mon, it's freezing out here." Winston murmurs, keys in hand.

"Here," Monty chuckles softly, wrapping his own jacket around Winston's shoulders before taking the keys himself.

They practically pour into the apartment, locking the door behind them as the cold wind follows them in.

"Ugh, I hate this weather." The boy complains, kicking off his shoes.

Monty snorts and shrugs innocently. "I've kinda missed it. Don't worry though, I'm sure I'll be sick of it by the next week."

Winston smiles at him and bites his lip, suddenly all blushy and shy.

"I've really missed you. Having you around, seeing your face everyday... being able to hold your hand... it's been so hard." He murmurs softly, their noses brushing together.

Monty considers him briefly before pulling him into his arms.

"Same here." He replies honestly, his chest constricting with the pain of realization that it's only been three days since he was last behind bars. Surreal wasn't even close to explaining this experience but he took each emotion in stride, a bit nervous to show Winston the changed man he had become.

"The first night I spent in that cell, I got beat up. Real bad, by some of the guys who'd been in there longest. They called it initiation, like some kind of hazing. I ended up with like... four cracked ribs and a broken jaw I think. But all I could think about was you."

Winston pauses and glances up at him with teary eyes, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

"Me?" He says with a soft smile.

Monty nods earnestly. "Yeah, you. I thought about that night... when we... y'know. And I thought about how you'd let me... let me just fuck you right there on your bed... And then spend the rest of the night with you. I'd thought for sure that you would've wanted me gone. But the next morning, you were in the kitchen making me toast or some shit."

They both snort at that, soft laughter filling the cozy apartment. Monty cups Winston's jaw and pulls him in close for a gentle kiss.

"I thought you'd be hungry." The Hillcrest boy defends cutely.

Monty's grin only grows wider and he kisses him again.

"Thinking of you got me through that first night. And then you came to see me the next day. Totally made it all worth it."

Winston blinks away a few tears and kisses Monty back, deep and intimate.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you either. Wanted you from the moment I saw you at that party. Still want you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Things get hot and heavy from there, lips locking and tongues tasting the other's until they're suddenly breathing as one. They make it up to the bedroom with much distraction and difficulty, nearly tripping on the stairs and tumbling but Winston holds Monty close before any of that happens.

Within the dark confines of the room, Winston immediately gets to work, going down on his knees to undo the zipper on Monty's jeans. They both chuckle a little at the memory of when they'd first met and Monty runs his fingers through Winston's dark, wavy hair. It's not rough, like before, or firm; it's just a gentle hand through his hair to soothe him. And it works. Winston winks cheekily at him before swallowing him down.

"Oh fuck!" Monty hisses, his eyes closing slowly, head thrown back as he thrusts slightly. Winston's mouth is just as tight and wet as it had been the first time. He takes Monty's length down til it prods the back of his throat, riling up his gag reflex but he doesn't let up. He keeps sucking like a champ, trying to bring Monty to the edge.

"F- fuck yess-" The boy moans out loud, his toes curling into the carpeted floor. He slips off his shirt as Winston pulls back a little, kicking off his jeans.

"Wanna ride you." Winston murmurs, getting up from his knees to kiss Monty deep and hard. He takes a moment to admire the body prison had gifted Monty with. It's well-muscled and defined by hard lines and smooth curves. The veins are raised in his arms and his torso is ridged but not overly so. He looks beautiful.

Even in all of his abashed glory.

"Take my clothes off." Winston orders quietly, his eyes following the nervous ticking of the boy's jaw. He looks a little scared, Winston notices, and he imagines it has something to do with the time he'd spent in the correctional facility.

"I-" Monty begins but his voice becomes all choked up and he lowers his head sadly. Winston frowns and runs his fingers through the boy's short hair, soothing him.

"Hey, it's okay. Look at me. Monty, look at me."

Monty meets his eyes reluctantly and all he sees are tears, glistening in those hazel brown orbs... and shame. He presses a soft kiss to Monty's forehead and pets his hair gently.

"I'm sorry..." The boy sobs, resting his head on Winston's shoulder. The raven haired boy holds him instead, arms coming to wrap around his neck, hand on the back of his head.

"Shh, it's okay. You're alright now. You're here, with me. I'm right here with you." He whispers into Monty's ear, placing tiny kisses on his jaw and his temple.

"You're here... And I'm here." Monty repeats, nodding hard as if he had to make sure he believed his own words.

"We're okay..."

Winston nods, holding the boy's face in his hands. "Yes, we're okay. You can let it go now. You did your time. And now you're home. And I'm really, really happy you're here."

It takes a while but when Monty finally cracks a genuine smile, Winston feels all of the boy's anxiety and shame go away, like waters receding from a shore. It's lethargic and deep and he doesn't take it for granted as they go in for another kiss. This time, he feels Monty let go of the morbid thoughts in his mind and grins as the boy begins to dominate the kiss.

"Mmh."

"God you taste so good." Monty whispers, burying his face in Winston's neck, desperate to mark the boy, to show him just how much he'd missed him. Winston moans out loud at the sensation of teeth scraping gently over his Adam's apple. He growls deep in his throat and strips off his own clothes.

"Fuck me. Please- I want you to fuck me."

Monty observes him silently as he gets naked and then proceeds to crawl backwards onto the bed. He follows the boy, a cute grin on his face as his brown eyes trace the smooth length of Winston's body. He hovers over him, arms pressed on either side of the boy's head, like he's about to do a push-up. He lowers himself down, biceps flexing and kisses Winston on his forehead instead.

"Hey," he grins, his chuckle coming out in choked, staccato breaths.

Winston's eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles up at Monty. "Hey." He says softly, gasping a little at Monty's hand brushing his bare hips. It felt like euphoria, feeling Cruz's hands on him again. He told the boy that much and then did his best to ignore the tears glistening in those beautiful hazel eyes.

"Hm- ...you ready?"

Winston bites his lip and gives Monty his best, 'I'm ready' grin. He spreads his legs and then hooks his ankles around the brunette's waist, causing him to thrust his hips down. The friction is overwhelming and they both have to pause before one of them blows.

"F-f fucking hell babe-" Monty shudders, hissing as Winston bucks up into his thrusts. Their naked skin rubbing together increases the heat of arousal. Winston whimpers at the term of endearment that had slipped past Monty's lips, turned on in a way he hasn't been in a long time.

"Oh, like that don't you?" Monty smirks, spitting into his palm and jerking the boy's cock in tandem with his thrusts.

Winston whimpers again, his body going taut when he feels the boy's hands stroking him sensually. Molten arousal lights up his stomach and he can feel himself peak.

"W- wait! Stop- Jesus- I can't-" He sobs, accidentally pushing the boy off him. Monty immediately freezes and pulls back, looking embarrassed and panicked.

"I'm sorry I-" He starts but Winston brings him back with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Its okay. I promise, I just... I didn't want to cum before you even got inside me."

Monty's eyes light up in understanding and his cheeky grin returns.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Winston nods with a smile, wrapping his legs around the boy's waist again, pulling him in close. Their naked bodies touch and rub and slide against each other, smooth skin and firm muscle. It's beautiful and undeniably hot, the way Winston is rutting against Monty like some kind of bitch in heat.

"You're so fuckin beautiful." Monty whispers, before hiding his face in Winston's neck. He lines up his cock with the boy's hole, the head prodding at that slick heat. Winston moans at the touch and arches his back, panting when Monty begins to push in.

"Mhm! Oh shit- baby-" He hisses breathlessly as the burning sensation intensifies between his legs.

"So fuckin tight!" Monty grunts, pulling back a little to give his raven-haired lover some time. He kisses the boy's brow, then his cheek, the tip of his nose, and then those soft lips. It's a much needed distraction for Winston who finally relaxes into the kiss, opening his eyes and whimpering as Monty pushes in another inch.

"Please... please, please..." He begs breathlessly, hands in Monty's hair, tugging at the short strands firmly.

"Fuckin missed this." Monty sighs, thrusting experimentally, Winston's tiny moans and whimpers urging him on.

It gradually becomes rougher- just the way Winston likes it, and he finds himself falling even further for the messed up boy with a record. His parents would absolutely kill him if they knew he was fucking a guy who'd went to prison. But they didn't matter.

Not after five long years of waiting for Montgomery de la Cruz.

Nothing else mattered but him.

With that thought in his head, he rises up and manoeuvres himself out from under Monty.

"Wha-" Monty starts but he fixes him with his own hands so that he's lying on his back and issues a deep, dirty kiss down the guy's throat.

"I wanna ride you."

Monty's impressed grin says it all, so Winston reaches behind himself, and slides that thick length back inside of him. The tip brushes past some spot deep inside of him and his thighs shake a little.

"Mhm... yes- fuck-"

"Oh ssh- shit-baby..." Monty chokes, his hips thrusting involuntarily.

Winston grinds down on his cock to meet his thrusts, thighs sliding deliciously against his hipbones. He tightens up on each upward drag, causing Monty to hiss as pleasure and arousal sparks like exposed wires inside him. His grip on Winston's hips is tight, almost bruising and he's sure there'll be fingerprints marring the boy's pale skin tomorrow.

But he doesn't care.

Some carnal part of him wants to mark the boy. Wants to make him his again. He'd had him once, all those years ago... And now that he'd done his time, and was free, he wanted to have him again... and again and again.

He told him as much.

And that's when Winston pauses, rolling his hips slow and deep, intertwining their fingers together, staring unabashedly into his eyes.

"I want you too... never- ...I never wanna lose this... lose you, again." He whispers, tightening his fingers over Monty's.

Hazel eyes start to glisten but they never stop staring back at him. Monty's brow furrows cutely as he smiles despite his tears. And Winston can't quite put his finger on it but Monty's smile reminds him of sunlight after a rainstorm, breaking out from behind grey clouds. It's like he's the same person Winston's always known... but better.

"C'mere." Monty whispers, not waiting as he reaches out to pull the boy down over him. Their lips touch, soft and timid at first, before it grows into something far more meaningful and deep. Their breaths mingle and a string of saliva stretches between their tongues as they break apart. Winston pulls the sheets over them and continues to ride slowly until they reach the edge together.

"Fuck I'm gonna-"

"Cum in me. Please, cum in me, please..." Winston sobs, his hole tightening as he cums seconds after Monty blows his load.

Only the sounds of their harsh breaths and grunts fill the room for some time. Monty's low-timbred "Oh fucks" are accented by Winston's softer, more airy, "yes, please, please, please." They don't stop grinding against each other until all of their pent up arousal and emotions eventually drain away, leaving them both exhausted but completely satisfied. Monty lies there, eyes wide open, panting tiredly while Winston curls up on top of him, head on his chest. They're sweaty and warm but it doesn't feel unbearable.

It's a good, blissful kind of warmth that keeps them both tucked under the blankets, with soft smiles on their faces.

At least, Monty was smiling.

He frowns slightly when a soft sob escapes Winston's throat and the boy burrows deeper into his neck to hide.

"Hey," He murmurs softly, rubbing Winston's shoulder gently. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." The raven-haired boy whimpers, shaking his head. "Nothing, it's fine. I'm fine."

Monty observes him silently, stroking his wavy locks, brushing some strands out of his eyes. "No, you're not."

Winston deflects again and instead kisses him. He accepts the distraction for a while, letting the boy slide their tongues together, their lips pressed in a tight fit. But then he feels the tears drop onto his own cheeks and he pulls back.

"Please. Tell me what's wrong. Talk to me- if it was something I did-"

Winston immediately shakes his head. "No, it- it's not you, I-" His voice chokes off on another sob and he scrapes his nails against Monty's chest.

"Win-"

"I thought you'd never come back, okay?" He finally says through gritted teeth.

Monty freezes, mouth hanging open slightly.

Winston rolls his eyes and shakes his head, looking away while he's still lying on Monty, legs spread on either side of the boy's waist, cum dripping down his thighs.

"I thought- mmh... I thought they'd sentence you to life in prison or something. Clay and his stupid friends framed you for murder I- ...I couldn't let them do that to you."

"Hey, I know. It's okay now. I'm here." Monty reassures the boy gently, running his fingers through that soft, dark hair. "Look at me... Winston, look at me."

When the boy finally looks up into his eyes, he freezes, shocked by the raw emotion displayed there. He's never had anyone look at him like that before. Usually his Dad would look at him with disdain, like a roach on the floor that needed squishing. Or his mother would barely even look at him, and when she did, her eyes would be filled with a terrible disappointment. His friends weren't an exception either. They barely valued his friendship and he barely offered any in the first place.

But Winston...

Winston was the unexpected exception.

He didn't just look at Monty, no. He gazed at him, with eyes full of wonder and endearment. Like he hung the moon and lived among the stars. Lile some kind of precious thing that needed saving... needed love and needed protecting.

He wasn't used to that kind of love. That kind of emotion.

But he holds the boy's face in his hands and brings him in close, tears in both their eyes.

"Hey-" He whispers gently.

"I think I love you."

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder 5.2

A/N: So this is obvi a follow-up of Ch.5 as well as its conclusion. Hopefully, the plot won’t be as shook up as it was in 5.1 or will it? I hope y’all enjoy.

Word Count: little over 3K

Warning(s): Plot progression, fluff, specks of angst(?)

NEW YEARS DAY 2015, 11:47 A.M, Malibu, California NEW YEARS DAY 2015, 11:47 A.M, Malibu, California

Peace and serenity—the most fitting way to transition into the New Year. The overlapping sounds of seagulls and crashing ocean waves outside would usually pull Yaa out of her deep slumbers. If it wasn’t the beach sounds, then it was her actual alarm. But let’s be honest: no one really has an alarm go off on New Year’s day, especially if you had the night that Yaa had had. Yaa’s snoring went in sync with the crashing waves and her wavy, honey blonde locs scattered at every which way across the silk taupe pillow case. Boom boom boom. The heavy knocking on her bedroom had startled her out of her post-sex slumber. Who was banging on her door like the feds before noon? The trio of knocks continued until she reluctantly got out of bed and searched for anything to put on.

“I’m comin’...damn!”, she tried to yell, but her hoarseness wouldn’t allow her. She winced in pain as she hopped into a pair of shorts and a tank top and began limping towards the door. She opened the door to see that it was her best friend, Tanisha. “Bitch...somebody better be dead, hurt, or dying.”

Tanisha chuckled. “Well, Happy New Year to you, too. Lover Boy is down there making brunch.”

Yaa looked at her friend in total confusion. “Is that what I’m smelling? Tanisha nodded. “Well, I’m surprised you aren’t somewhere fighting a hangover.”

Tanisha rolled her eyes. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Between you gettin’ your cervix tickled, and trust me, it sounded like he was giving’ you the BUSINESS, and me throwing my night up, I was going through it. Started the new year off on the wrong foot.”

Yaa felt herself turning red and her eyes bugging out. “Were we really that loud?”

“Sis, he might’ve worn you out, but you must have that voodoo pussy. Wanna know why? You got Michael B. Jordan in your kitchen cooking yo magical pussy having ass a 5-star brunch on New Year’s day. If that ain’t power, then I don’t know what the hell is. Done turned this nigga into a damn domestic overnight. Speaking of, text me when breakfast is ready. I deserve whatever he’s whippin’ up.”

Tanisha went back into room, presumably to catch up on her missed Z’s. Yaa went downstairs to see Michael for herself. The further she got down the stairs, the louder the “All About the Benjamins” got. She carefully hopped off the stair landing and Diddy bopped her way through the den, making a slight left to go through the back way into the kitchen.

She pursed her lips to keep from laughing as she watched Michael also Diddy bop back to the stove to finish cooking whatever he had cooking on the stove. Wearing only a pair of heather grey cut-off sweats and Nike slides with socks, his shoulders and upper body bounced to the beginning of Total’s “Can’t You See”. He placed a kitchen towel over his shoulder before plating his brunch creation.

“So what’s on the menu, Mr. Jordan?”, she spooked.

He seized, clenching the small saucepan he had in his grasp. “Shit!”

Yaa chuckled, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help it.”, she stopped to look over his shoulder, “you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Cajun catfish and cheese grits, fruit, and peach bellinis.”

“Oooh shit! Lemme find out the B in your name stands for ‘Brunch Daddy’! I’ll get Tanisha up.”

Yaa called Tanisha from the bottom of the stairs. Tanisha came down moments later. The three sat at the table passing bowls, skillets, and pans to each other. The room was filled with the sounds of clacking plates and satisfied stomachs.

“Who would’ve known Michael B. Jordan was a whole ass chef? I learned something new today.”, remarked Yaa as she sipped her Powerade.

Michael chuckled at Yaa’s comment, “Word? Well, to be honest, if this acting thing didn’t work out, Plan B was being a chef. My mom taught me how to cook and I haven’t looked back since. Now from what I hear, you know how to get down yourself.”

It was hard for Yaa to be humble, but she managed to keep her cool. “I mean, I’m a country girl. Carrie, my maternal grandmother, taught me most of what I know. She and my Rainey raised me and my siblings when my parents were working pretty much around the clock for a few years.”

“How many siblings?”

“2. I have a twin sister, Farrah, that’s fraternal as hell, and a brother, Jahlil, that’s 5 years younger.”

He laughed at her statement about her sister Farrah. “I also have two other siblings--I’m a middle child. An older sister and a younger brother.” Tanisha, the oldest of four, and Yaa both cringed at him being the middle child. “I couldn’t imagine having two sisters though.”

Yaa shot him a look. “Watch it, son.”

He placed his fist in front of his mouth as he chewed. “So, I heard you say you were a country girl, so how country are we talkin’?”

“I was born in Alabama and graduated high school and college in Alabama, but I was raised in a massive mansion in rural Louisiana, so I’m a Louisi-Bama. You’re a Jersey-Cali boy from my understanding?”

He shook his head in the affirmative, impressed with her knowledge about him. “Ok! President of the fan club is showing herself worthy of the title.”

“Boy, don’t get cussed out.”

*****

Missed Call: Maybe: Winny the Pooh

Yaa tapped on the missed call notification without hesitation. She almost forgot they weren’t talking. Immediately after their last exchange, Winston’s number went to the good ole Block List. Something told her to unblock his number the day before leaving for California. So she did and now here she was, returning her ex’s ca—

“Hello?”, Winston answered.

“He-heyyyy you! Happy New Year! I saw you called and I’m just seeing your text.”, Yaa replied. Silence. You could hear a rat piss on carpet.

“Ummm…”, he cleared his throat, “...so you down for lunch?”

“Oof. I just had brunch. How does coffee or tea sound? Bean in Beverly Hills?”

“That’s even better. Meet me at 4ish?”

“Make it 4:30 and we’ve got a deal. See you then!” Click.

*****

Yaa walked out of the bathroom from her shower feeling renewed. Skin washed away of the little makeup that remained on her face from her...celebration from the previous night. Skin glowing thanks to the best shea butter Ghana had to offer. Locs looking healthy as always. Her glow increased when she saw Michael laying in her bed reading his phone but looking up when he sensed her presence. He stopped looking down at his phone to admire the beauty that was Khalida Abdullah.

Even in such a simple task as putting on clothes, Michael could see why her exes were head over heels with her. Every move she made was graceful. From the little twerk she did to get her chub into her light gray yoga capri pants, to the overhead jig to get into her oversized black monogrammed tank top with a gold fleur-de-lis. She walked to his side of the bed to retrieve her new Apple Watch from its charger. Before she could walk towards the door, he snatched her up onto the bed with him, playfully gnawing at her neck.

“Where you goin’ looking all good and delicious for, hmm?”, he implored.

“Well, Kari, I’m meeting someone for coffee. It ain’t your business who gon’ be there, either.”, she answered with sass.

“I see. Secondly, who gave you this trash ass Saints shirt? I need to get you at least two Falcons shirts.”

She escaped from his grip and returned a sour look. A record scratched in her head. “I-I-I’m sorry. I SLEPT WITH A FUCKING FALCONS FAN?! MY FAMILY RAISED ME BETTER THAN THIS!”

“Oh, you some super fan or something?”, he questioned.

“I’m surprised Tanisha didn’t tell you. Have you know, one, my family holds minority stake in the organization, making us minority owners, and two, my first boyfriend and best friend to this day is a proud SUPER BOWL-WINNING Saint. Now if you excuse me, I have to rush to my meeting and go reclaim my dignity.”,she bragged as she walked out of the door. But before she could walk out of door, she poked her head through the door and flipped him off.

“You so fucking CHILDISH, Khalida!”

BEAN BEVERLY HILLS, 2:19 P.M.

Yaa had accomplished many things in her life, from graduating college at 18 to receiving 4 degrees before turning 25, but nothing was as nerve-wrecking as meeting up with Winston. Let’s face it: their last meeting left such a distaste in her mouth.

Her left Chaco tapped softly yet persistently against the dark hardwood floors, while the right rested underneath her bottom.With one hand rested against her warm cup of honey-sweetened hibiscus tea and the other texting Tanisha for guidance into this awaited meeting, she attempted to clear her mind of the past and concern herself with the future. Would he be on that bullshit again? Will I have to smack a bitch? Has he decided to grow up? Does he look dusty? She looked out of the window and zoned out as she watched Beverly Hills slowly wake up after the wild night everyone had.

“Khalida?”, Winston called loud enough to pull his ex-girlfriend out of her daze. She shook her head and looked up to lock eyes with her former lover.

“Hey, hey!”, she greeted. She slowly got up and limped two steps to hug him. It was almost like they’d never skipped a beat. For a moment in time, it felt like they were the only people in the coffee shop, which if you exclude the employees and maybe three other people scattered around the shop, they were. Bitch, get offa him. He spazzed on you, remember?

Immediately upon having the thought, she separated from him and she gestured for him to sit. “So, I might’ve ordered a blueberry scone or two for you. I’m pretty sure you’ve put yourself on some depressing ass diet, but treat yourself.” Almost if on cue, the barista placed a small pink box in front of Winston, along with a caramel latte.

“You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.”, Winston acknowledged. The two shared a nervous laugh and got themselves comfortable in their seats. The tension between could have been cut with a cleaver; so much could’ve been said, after all. The two looked at each in an attempt to find their words.

“I wanna apol-”

“Sorr-”

“You firs-

“No, you fir-”

“Gotdammit! Somebody finna fuckin talk out of sync.”, Yaa finally said by herself. “Guess I’ll start. Lemme cut to the chase—why are we here?” She sipped on her tea as she waited for his answer.

He pondered before speaking, “Well, first, I just want to apologize for acting like...being an ass a few months back. I wasn’t in my right mind in that relationship. Michelle was a nightmare after that night and we broke it off not even a week after our last meeting. I tried to call you, but I’m more than you confident you blocked my number. Hell, I don’t blame you. Now, I called you on a fluke last night and after analyzing what I said and even getting some choice words from my mom, I was wondering if your offer for friendship was still on the table? I messed up twice, and I don’t want to do lose you anymore.”

Yaa looked around the coffee shop and firmly gripped his chin to get a better look at him. “Is this the same Winston that I saw a few months ago? I’m almost afraid to hear the answer.”

WInston grimaced from the pain shooting to his jaw. Though small, Yaa’s hands had strength, or “country strength”, as she called it from years of herding large animals and even people. “Woman, I need to resize your strength.” Winston moved his jaw from her grip and moved it from side to side to alleviate the pain. “If we’re being transparent, I cried just about every night thinking about how I treated you when we broke up. I’m pretty sure I’m the biggest idiot for allowing a woman such as yourself to walk out twice. At this point, I just want us to be back on good terms.”

“Don’t fucking play with me, Winston. Are you sure? Is this what you truly want?”

“Yes. I just miss you. Aside from the romantic aspect, I just miss the little things, like your random calls in the middle of the day about some tea you just got, your spirit, and even getting cursed out by you.” Poor Winston. Though she knew his sincerity, Yaa found it hard to believe his sap story. If he could help it, he would’ve been on his knees pleading for a second chance.

Yaa’s face was unreadable—stoic, yet unreadable. It was a face that was over apologies and all for corrected behavior. A face that was finding itself conflicted with two men. Deep down, she wanted to be back with Winston. After all, he was her true love. But true love is tested. The plane needed to be taken apart, diagnosed, and rebuilt in order for it to be cleared for service. Everything was sounding good, too good to be believed without doubt. Yet, she still felt the urge to suplex Winston for crumbling her heart and her feelings back in June.

Khalida sipped the rest of her tea before breaking the painful silence built between her and her pitiful ex, “Do you want me?”

“What? Of course, Khalida! What are you talking about?”, Winston replied confused and taken aback from the question. Khalida chuckled—shoulders and all—as she nodded her head.

“No,no, no, baby boy. Do you want me? As in a your lifelong partner, forever and always? Not just in the physical or in lust, but as your better half, trusted confidant, your No Limit Soldier, ya yeah wit da yeah? How we should be instead of how we used to be?”

Winston paused to word his answer, “...Yes. You shouldn’t even have to ask me that question.”

“Well, if you want me, then you have to earn me.”

“Obviously, Olivia Pope, but you make it seem easier said than done. How do I earn you back?”

“Stick with me for a moment. You remember that plane analogy I used in Louisiana?” He nodded. “Aight, so boom: right now, the plane is completely outta service, y’eardme? The best way to have it back in service is to completely dismember the plane—start from scratch. Next, we gotta find the parts of the plane that caused the malfunction. We get better parts and rebuild, bit by bit. Soon, we’ll have an improved plane that’s better than the old plane. The crew’s gotten more experience, been with other pilots and co-pilots, and next inspection, the plane will be ready for service. It’s not an overnight process, but we’ll get through it. So...are you in?”

Winston offer his hand to shake on the new agreement, an offer in which Yaa accepted, along with a hug. “To new beginnings. A clean slate. Let’s start: I’m Winston. You are?”

Yaa snorted, “Khalida,but you can call me Yaa.” They shook hands once more, sharing a laugh. The laugh led to two genuine smiles. Their hearts skipped beats as they saw each other’s smiles.

“So...I’ve been meaning to ask, what or who’s got you glowing like this? There’s only so much Shea butter in the world…”, Winston inquired as he stirred the remainder of his caramel latte.

Yaa’s mind flashed back to nearly 12 hours ago when she was calling God’s name more than Kirk Franklin and the Family. Mental vignettes of Yaa and Michael moaning and the sound of skin slapping flashed throughout her mind, causing her to re-adjust her sitting position in her seat.

“I...I...uh…met someone last night. Everything happened so fast. Once the smoke clears and we establish something or the lack thereof, I’ll tell you more about him.”, Yaa stopped herself from turning flush.

While he smiled, Winston felt a small part of him die, but he realized that it was only fair that she get her shot of a relationship. But he knew her and the person she was—she was the prototype. Any man or woman would be stupid to not fall for her in some way. His smile widened as he locked eyes with her. Oh, how he’d missed that look.

The two began catching up about life beyond the romantic aspect. The basic “how ya momma nem?” conversations. After that, they walked about of the coffee shop, but not before he helped her out of her stiffened position from the seat. They hugged once more before going their separate ways. Not even 10 feet away, he turned to speak again. “I’m sorry.”

“You just apologized like 20 minutes ago, moe.”, Yaa yelled.

“No.”, he closed the distance between them, “I’m sorry for not knowing how to be a decent boyfriend to you. You’re a special woman with who needs a special man in her life. I know I’m that man, but just not right now. Whoever he or she is that you met last night, I hope they understood that the moment they laid eyes on you and plan accordingly. I wish I did when I met you. Sorry...I just needed to get that off of my chest.” By this time, his large hands enrobed her small hands and he hadn’t realized it. When he did, he promptly removed them.

“It’s ok, love. Today was fun. I gotta bounce, but be safe and have a happy new year.” She walked to her rental Prius and honked at him as she passed him.

He chuckled to himself as he walked to his car, “Oh, I will, Dr. Duke, I will.”

MY LIST, MY LIST, BETTER THAN YO LIST!!

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @thememoireeofme @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @ljstraightnochaser @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

[ninequestions9]

Ureem, 25, Actuary

What is the biggest frustration you’re facing now?

I think it would be just to balance everything in life because in life you’ve got so many priorities. You’ve got work, you’ve got your family, church, God, and making sure you’re being satisfied there. Essentially you’re learning, you’re continuously finding answers to your questions. At work, I wouldn’t say it’s frustrating. I would say it’s a bit more challenging. I was talking about this with my godmother, she lives in England. A couple of days ago she wished me happy birthday so I just responded to her with a rant. She lives in the town of Lincoln and she’s a missionary. She became my godmother because she was very good friends with my mom in Pakistan while she was visiting so my mom wanted her to be my godmother.

    Anyhow, so she and I were talking about how life as a Christian in a corporate world can be challenging because everyone keeps saying you have to climb this imaginary ladder and the only way to get anywhere is climbing up. God forbid you take a step down. Then everyone has their own secular based opinion on what kind of projects you want to get on, networking, even if you don’t like talking to people, you’re supposed to be this version of yourself. That’s been the most challenging part. Being in an environment where people are focused on career rather than viewing career from a very spiritual level. I think the one thing I concluded in the conversation with my godmother was that after much going back and forth with my own self, side lining my ego, and just saying to myself “It’s ok if I don’t get on the most career benefitting project.” And it’s ok if I don’t love what I do. One thing when I was in college, everyone said if you love what you do you’ll never work a day. I was like “Ok, great, that’s fine.” Unfortunately, with what I love to do, you can’t always put food on the table. So there’s always that inherent responsibility. I’ve come to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter if you love what you do, as long as you mildly enjoy it. I guess I’m there. But it matters that you love who you do it for and to me that’s God. So if I love God, whatever I do, I do it for him. Coming to that conclusion has definitely been the most challenging part and finding those answers is frustrating. We’re now at the back end of it all, but yeah that was definitely the most challenging and frustrating part of this past year.

2. What trait do you wish you most had?

Patience. I feel like at times I act on impulse before praying about things; that’s not my go-to thing. I think I act on impulse and I feel like certain things can be avoided if I had prayed about it or was a bit more cognizant of it. Definitely patience. Definitely a bit more time to think about things, to think about steps, decisions. I’ve definitely learned from my mistakes. There are definitely things I’m a bit more cognizant about when I take my time to think about them. And to be fair, I think that acting on impulse is a kind of general theme around our generation. As much as I’d like to distance myself from people my own age, unfortunately, I tend to make the same mistakes. Some people will say that’s youth, but I try to find ways not to use that excuse. Just be a bit more wise or ask God to grant me wisdom. If Solomon can do it, why can’t I?

3. What are 3 characteristics you look for in a friend?

Loyalty and honesty. They kind of go hand in hand. Just loyalty in general is one of the first things I look for. The second thing…it’s important, but it’s not that important; It helps bridge the gap a lot easier, coming from different cultural backgrounds, but having a similar world view. If it’s faith based, that’s good, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be. It just has to be a bit more rational in leaving space for question. I think that’s a good foundation for a good friendship. Lastly, probably a good sense of humor. A good sense of humor is kind of subjective. I was with a friend and he was showing me certain memes and I didn’t really find them funny, but I snickered, just to be nice. But I guess that’s why it’s important to have a similar world view because the jokes that he was sharing with me stem from a very different world view. So that’s why we didn’t really click on the sense of humor as a consequence of not having a similar world view.

4. What makes you feel brave?

I was reading something by Winston Churchill once and he said something like if you do have enemies, it’s a good thing because it means you’ve stood up for something in your life. Not sure how much I level with that, but it’s a good starting point. What makes me feel brave is if I do something that I know I’m not Biblically incoherent or outside of God’s will. If I’m standing for something that is Biblically coherent and within God’s will, then I know I have nothing to fear. If you think about it, people like Abraham, like Joseph, they were asked to do some really incredible things. Joseph was asked to take his wife and his child to Egypt and, overnight, he was asked to take a pregnant woman, who might have been stoned to death for adultery. Abraham was asked to pack up and leave home and go to Egypt. But there was this sense of bravery in them mainly because they knew it was God’s will. I’m not going to bring up the argument of Biblical coherency, but for them it was that God asked them to do something, they did it, and that’s why they felt brave. Not because of their own bravery but because they knew God was leading them. So moments like those.

5. What makes you feel vulnerable?

As odd as it sounds, I guess, surrendering control because there are many times in life when you have to do it and you’re only in control of your life when you know that you’re not in control of your life. At least that’s what I’ve experienced. I’ve only ever been content with my life when I’m not planning things or plotting moves for the future. None of them are nefarious but anyway…but yeah I think that’s the only time when I’ve not felt vulnerable. I’ve always constantly felt vulnerable when I’m planning for the future and I guess that’s the error. I’m trying to enthrone my own will for my life and I need to stop doing that. The more I stop doing that, the more content I am with the present. I’m sure God doesn’t say “Don’t plan for the future.” God doesn’t endorse the whole YOLO thing. He doesn’t endorse the brand, but he knows it’s true. God definitely wants you to plan for the future, but he doesn’t want that to be your thing that you’re doing. In the Bible God says the animals and birds in the sky I take care of and you are more valuable to me than these things so why wouldn’t I take care of you; why wouldn’t I see what’s best for you? Why worry about these things? Vulnerability strikes when I try to control things and then when things go out of my control I’m like “Oh, crap.”

6. What was your proudest moment?

I don’t think I’ve ever been that proud of myself. I don’t think I’ve done anything noteworthy. As strange as that sounds. Noteworthy things have happened in my life, but I don’t think I’ve deserved them. I kind of shy away from taking credit because I know how much work I put into things and how much is God’s grace. That’s why there’s not many things I’m proud of in my life, but I’m proud of my parents. They showed immense bravery for leaving everything in Pakistan behind, leaving their positions, leaving all the hard work they put in to get to the places they wanted to be in order to hit the reset button. I’m proud of them for that because that takes immense bravery. I haven’t done anything like that to be proud of myself about.

7. Who is your role model / hero and why?

Personally, I don’t like to have role models, especially humans. What I do like to have are people that I can learn from. My dad is not the perfect father, but he has qualities that I’m proud of and experiences that I have learned from. Earlier on, we were talking about my career and somethings that have been challenging; my father’s actually experienced that and I was too young to understand what he was going through, but now I do. I’m learning from some of his experiences that he went through when I was fifteen and I’m gaining context now when I’m twenty-five and kind of going through similar experiences. Similarly, I’ve got other individuals around me who when they were going through these experiences I was too young to understand them, but now I’ve reached a point in my life where I understand them a lot better. I wouldn’t say I have role models, but I have a lot of people I can learn from  and lean not to make the same mistakes. I’ve got good mentors who advise me not only on the good things they’ve done but also on the bad decisions they’ve made.

8. What is one life lesson you’d like to pass down to future generations?

The world is shallow. Don’t get swallowed by the shallowness of it all. You see so many things, bright lights and all that, but it’s very hollow and it will never satisfy you. In my own life, I’ve experienced that. It’s always when I’m in New York unfortunately. That’s like my go-to thing. Nothing against the city or the people who live there, but I think that what I’ve always experienced is this amazing sense of loneliness.

    I was in church last week and the pastor was referencing a quote from Mother Teresa and I think Mother Teresa once said essentially, the West is stricken with a poverty of loneliness and I think that stems from us chasing after things that really have no long lasting meaning. In life you go from graduating high school, some people don’t even get to do that, then some people either go to college or some people go to vocational school or wherever. Check. Then some people find a girl, settle down, get a family. Check. I feel like people around us who think from a secular view think about life as a check list; keep marking off things, keep marking off things. That’s where the shallowness comes from. In 2018, you need these clothes, this hairstyle; 2019, this is in. The color of the year is magenta now. Who comes up with this stuff? Then people go to cocktail parties and say “I’m wearing so and so” and you’re just like “Cool. Great.” It’s such a shallow chase. It’s good to have money, but the chase of it is so shallow and hollow. It doesn’t satisfy you. I know on Instagram you see so and so with so and so and we all just wind up competing with one another and then some of us lie. It’s just an endless chase of being something that the world wants you to be. On the other hand, Jesus says come to me all who are labored and I will give you rest. At times to some people, that sounds too good to be true. In reality it’s not. So that’s one thing I will impart to the younger generation is stop chasing after life and the shallowness of it all and start searching for truth.  

9. What is your opinion of Jesus?

Jesus was a very interesting figure. There are a lot of tags and labels you can put on Jesus. There are many times I think about what it must have been like. In the academic world, when Jesus started his ministry, it’s referred to as the ‘Jesus Movement.’ Just because the things that he said that were so controversial; “Love one another,” “Pray for your enemies” and all those things. I love how he responded to people. My favorite response of his was when he was in Jerusalem and the teachers of the law come and they want to trap him because the Roman soldiers were there and they wanted him to commit some sort of blasphemy. They basically wanted him to say don’t pay taxes to Caesar because they thought he was a nationalist Jewish leader. They ask him, “Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar?” What happens is, Jesus responds by asking for a coin and he asks the crowd “Whose face is on this coin?” They say, “Caesar.” Then he says, “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar. Give to God what belongs to God.” A lot of people have said that if the questioner was asking from a place of honesty, he should have had a follow up question. The follow up question should have been, “What belongs to God?” More likely than not, Jesus’s response would have been “Whose image is on you?” That would earn a Mic drop! And that is such a great way of how he maneuvered through people’s questions. I think that was the most fascinating thing to see was God’s wisdom. That’s just amazing. There’s a reason that to this date we haven’t seen anyone speak like that or we haven’t heard anyone say things like that.

    More secular people like to refer to Gandhi and bring up his examples, but Gandhi wouldn’t have been here had he not attended a lecture on the Beatitudes at UCL in London. So his nonviolence movement actually stemmed from the Bible. It didn’t happen because Gandhi was nonviolent. So the originator of this idea of nonviolence and this sheer sense of wisdom stems from Jesus. There are a lot of labels, but I think it’s really God’s wisdom and how he and Jesus brought everything back to God’s relationship with man and his identity and what he’s going to do for us. That’s what fascinates me about him the most because he always tries to show us what’s important.

[cynabate-blog]

Instincts

Foreword (full)

— Honey, Wake Up.

My mother's voice calls me sweetly, while gently pushing my shoulder.

— Are we there yet? —I stretch my arms over my head. Sleeping sitting really is uncomfortable, especially in such a space Reduced.

— Already almost —He replies, pointing to the sign indicating the entrance to the city.

“Welcome To Winston-Salem. "

Another damn old-fashioned town. At least this is surrounded by a fairly dense forest, unlike the previous one.

— I'm sure About what You'll like it here.

My mother, what a noble and sweet woman. She gives everything for me, sacrificed so much... deserves to be happy. For that reason I agreed to enter a The University; I don't need it, but I want you to feel proud of me.

— I know it's hard, but we'll strive — Press My Hand hard— This time it will work.

— And if you don't, We can always send everything to the devil again.

— Josh, please.

— Gabriel, Mom. My name is Gabriel.

It's not enough to have to leave my life behind, I also have to change my name.

— I know, my life, but it's easier to get used to this way.

— Joshua Wells. What a pathetic name —I cross my Arms— My IQ drops every time I say it out loud.

I resent having to disown the name my father gave me. I'm proud to be Gabriel Blake, but I know I have no choice.

— Joshua Wells, you damned scum —Murmur.

— Enough. There is no other way.

I'm not saying any more, I'm in a bad mood and it's not fair to take it. All this shit is my fault.

He diverted the view and I am dedicated to revise The messages on my phone…

Ethan                                                                                    

[And how are you doing?]

Josh

{I just woke up}

Ethan

[and the people?]

Josh

{A shit}

{I wish you were with me > = (}

Ethan

[You know I can't leave my parents nowa]

Josh

{I know. I miss you.}

Ethan

[Me too]

[I must take care of something. I'll talk to you later.]

 Ethan is my best friend and I don't know what I'll do without him. He's the only person in this rotten world that I really care about, besides my mother of course.

The city is very different from the boring old town I imagined. Most passers-by are young, college-bound students. But nOr I'm interested, I'm not here to make friends.

— Arrived —We parked behind an old building.

Under the car and I keep crestfallen My mother into the house.

— Home, Sweet Home.

My mother and her bloody positivism.

— What a crap.

The place is a fiasco, Smells of mold and dust; The garbage is everywhere, there are rats running inside and outside the walls. I even managed to hear them, loud and clear, As if they were moving next to Me.

— Joshua Stop complaining —He rebukes me with his gaze— We're going to eat something and then we'll clean.

After lowering the suitcases and taking a substantial sandwich, I dedicate myself to clean the one that will be my room while mom takes care of the rest of the house. The building Is Divided into two floorsNWe we will live at the top, which has three bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen dining room; There is also a kind of terrace with a large window that makes the living room times. The ground floor is a disaster, apparently it was a kind of low-mount bar, now it will be used to install the college coffee that my mother so much desires, of course after repairing it.

— What about my stuff? —Cry from where I am— My room is packed with that old man's trash. Where are my demeanor?

— Josh, calm down. The truck will arrive later —Mom walks through the door and watches me frowning— Have more respect for your grandfather's memory.

I don't understand what's bothering you so much, that old bastard ran into this place when he was just a teenager. If he had done that with me, I would dance on his graveQShe doesn't hold a grudge.; He always says that if he hadn't gone he wouldn't have had me... yes, right. As if my father had allowed it.

I smile when I imagine my father's attitude. Actually, I didn't know him very well; He was five years old when he was ripped off our side. SHowever, my mother has taken charge of telling me every detail pertaining to Christopher Blake, the most extraordinary man to ever tread on this world.

When TErminamos Unpacking We decided to go out for some dinner. Fast food is the best option, I don't like burgers, But there's no other.

We walked very close, mom is telling her anecdotes, apparently has a story for every Damn Village building.

When I get to the place I start to get nervous, it is crowded with college students gathered in groups and everyone watches us as we open our way to the counter. I raise the hood of My Sweatshirt to avoid To Your eyes Curious That focus on my face, I don't want to be recognized.

— A double burger, fries and a soda —Order my mother.

The girl behind the counter looks at me like I'm a freak. What should I say about her and her strange pink hair?

— Fries —murmuring, turning his face.

— Josh, you can't just eat that..

— It is ok —I ring my eyes— Also a soda.

— Joshua, you have to feed —My mother scolds Me— Another double burger.

— I said I only want potatoes.

The murmurs begin to increase and I hear a "Mama's Boy", which unleashes a general laugh. Something inside of me begins to untie, I am aware of what will happen if I do not leave this place immediately.

My mother holds my arm and stares at me. I know what those green eyes are telling me...

"Control yourself, Gabriel. Grip

I can not obey, so I just turn on my feet and I go to the exit pushing everyone who stands in my way.

I'm going to go through the door and hit something. Suddenly I'm sitting on the floor sobándome the bottom of my back, since I took a big hit.

I look up to meet a stout guy, trigueña skin and long hair with some braids, it seems to exceed my age only for a couple of years. It passes from me, while three others continue to laugh in laughter

— Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you?! —Cry, clenching Fists. NOr I can bear to istA class of idiots.

If he gets to answer, he's a dead man.

— You're the one in the middle —Responds, With a very loud voice.

Me POngo Standing effortlessly For Jump on the idiot and rip his head off when someone Press My arm delicately.

— Are you ok? —A soft, quiet voice makes me turn right away, just to meet AYou eyes so Blue and dark As the Deep Sea.

managed to nod without being able to deflect the look, the guy in front of me is truly attractive. is high and quite Burly, it has white skin, a rather long hair of a beautiful jet black and a look that seems to be able to reveal the secrets of My Soul. Instinctively duck the head, I don't want him to know the beast that lives inside of me.

— Robert, Be more careful — taking their eyes off mine.

"No, no, no. Look at me... don't see anyone else just me. "

COmienzo to Tremble Inexplicably.

“What's wrong with me? Why is this person causing me this?”

— Take it easy. I won't let him hurt you. — Such Perishes What It confuses my nervous tremors with fear.

"Baby, If you Knew"

Wait, what? Why did I call him that? No, I don't like men, nor women, but that's not the case. What does this guy have that makes me think like that? I need to know, I have to...

— Thank you —My mother's voice Interrupts US — Sure was nothing.

I do not oppose resistance and let me drag out of the place. My mother pulls my arm hard forcing me to walk.

— What about dinner?

I look over my shoulder and I see that Pelinegro standing in the middle of the sidewalk, Watching me as if he wanted to follow us.

— Here I have it —Lift a paper bag with the name of the chain— Now walk.

After several streets I realized what isá Happening, everyone we meet with laughs or makes a mocking commentary to see how my mother drags me like a small child.

— Let me! —GrUño As I release his grip— What the hell is wrong with you?

She looks at me scared, she knows I can lose control with ease, But He still faces me.

— I don't want you to get near those young.

— I remind you that I can take care of myself.

I can't understand your behavior. You know very well that I don't like to make friends, not because I lack the ability to make them, But it, Just, I can't see others as my peers, I'm too different and I'm aware of it. But that doesn't mean she decides for me.

— Son, they are dangerous.

— Do I have to remind you why we moved? —Now if I'm furious— I'm a fucking monster without a heart.

My mother covers her mouth with both hands to prevent a sobs from escaping from her lips, while tears fall on her cheeks. Only then do I realize how much my words hurt and I don't know what to do.

— I have to think — sUelto, and I run away without a specific address, I can't bear to see her in that state.

I can hear your screaming calling me, But I'm not going to turn around or stop, I don't want to, I can't, I'm the cause of all the bad in your life. If it wasn't for me, my father would still be with him, if it wasn't for me, she could make a normal life, if it weren't for me, everyone would be alive.

— Why are you letting me live? —I scream at the sky, Deteniéndome and falling on my knees on the wet lawn; NOr I'm tired, But my forces fail and I don't want to go on.

I cover my eyes with my fists and start to cry.

— Kill me, please. Kill me —Whisper.

There's no way I can hurt myself. And sMy mother would blame herself for letting me down., or some similar stupidity, And his heart would break.

I'm about to continue walking when I hear a crunch and watch around me. I am in the middle of the forest, the dark and chilling forest, the wind blows rocking the branches and the clarity of the moon seeps into dim rays through the thick foliage. The sound of footsteps ever closer make the desperation I feel replaced by fear and my instinct for survival comes out with all its strength. I put myself in defensive posture, Ready for combat. NOr matter what creature it is, I'll wreck it just try to attack me.

I feel a grunt behind my back and when I turn around to defend myself I'm petrified. In front of me there is a huge wolf staring at me, his blue orbs show a flash that makes my heart throb like crazy and its black fur gives the feeling of being silky and soft.

I extend my arm with an open hand to touch it, I'm not sure why, but I'm attracted to that animal. As soon as my palm is close to its snout, the Wolf supports his head against My hand And I unwittingly smile.

I start stroking it and I encourage myself to get closer to scratching behind your ears, Like a dog.

— That good boy —I mean silly air.

A grunt responds to my comment and I walk away a few steps grabbing the hand with which I was caressing him. I don't want to disturb him and provoke him to attack me, I know I can defend myself and hurt him.

He realizes my cautious attitude and bends his head to rest on his legs.

"Are you apologizing?"

— Who are you? —I wonder looking suspiciously.

I'm sure it's a human change shape, a werewolf. I know very well that they exist, as well as vampires and other "mythological" minions.

He just deflects his gaze and lets out a snort, apparently he can't tell me... or maybe he doesn't want me to know. Still, I can't get angry, I have a much bigger secret and I can't tell anyone.

— Can I touch you? —Very slowly I sit at his side with his legs crossed.

He puts his head on my legs and I start scratching his spine. I know he's a wolf, but I can swear he's purring like a cat right now.

The Minutes pass and I say nothing, I only devote myself to enjoy the tranquility that makes me stand by his side, until a howl in the distance makes him raise his head.

— So you have a herd —commented, seeing in the same direction in which he focuses his gaze. 

Turns to look at me, seems to be debating between staying with me or answering the call.

— SeeYou. I'm doing fine.

It integrates and I keep observing as if I did not believe. I smile and stand leaning on my knees, I have numb my muscles for being so long in the same posture.

— It was just a tantrum, I'm under a lot of stress.

He still doesn't seem to believe me and I hasten to convince him, as the howls are heard closer and closer.

— How about we meet here tomorrow at this hour?

Begins to Move the tail and pull out the tongue panting. Apparently he's happy.

— It's a date then... Now describe the way to the village. I ran without looking where I was going.

He points behind me, lifting his snout. I hadn't noticed how big Es Until you Is Erect Next to me and TEngo To raise your head To see him in the eye.

If I decided to attack me I'm sure Of That I would be victorious, no matter what size o Your strength I know you will. However, I feel that neither one of us could hurt the other.

I take a couple of steps away, following the indicated path and then I decide to turn around just to find out that he did the same.

"What is this?"

I can To feel a nostalgia similar to the one that invaded me when I said goodbye to Ethan. Although this is different, it is a mixture of many feelings that I cannot identify.

I see my mother standing at the door of the old building that is now my home. It carries asa Her hideous water-green pajamas and yellow slippers decorated with flowers, look like those ridiculous old girls that come out in the novels.

— Good heavens, mom. I told you to get rid of that thing..

I pass by her without looking up, I am not good with apologies.

— Where have you been? Do you have any idea what time it is? You had Me worried.

He follows Me down the atosigándome staircase with one question after another.

— I told you I can take care of myself. Stop treating me like a little boy..

— I just worry about you. — says Between sobs.

— I know —I stop before entering the bathroom— But you don't have to. I need to see the world for Me Myself, find out who I am, what my goal in life is— vOlteo to hug her, I know I'm going to say she's going to hurt her.— Mom I'm going to live on campus.

— What? Why? —He pushes me with all his strength trying to separate, But I don't loose it.

— I have to stop depending on you and this is a good way to start.

My mother is a smart woman, I'm sure she understands what I mean, so I don't need to say any more. The hug with more strength and EsperAndo To leave Of Cry.

— You know I love you and I never wanted you to feel overwhelmed.

— I know, but it's time you let me do my life and start living yours —I'm apart To see her beautiful face And I Smile— Plus I'll just be a few minutes from here and I'll come to visitArt.

— That's a fact. I need help with this mess..

Hug me again, it's calmer.

— Sure, Mom. There are still two weeks before the beginning of classes, we will arrange this place by then.

Kiss Me Good night and retire to his room to rest.

After giving me a bath I throw myself on the bed and check the cell phone. I can't sleep thinking about everything that will come. I answer some messages from Ethan, Telling him about the place, But I do not mention anything of my strange encounter or how confused I have these emotions; That I keep it for myself because I know that the fast beating of my heart is due to the nerves of the moment... or so I hope.

[blackwatchladies]

Can I get some Mercykill for the character/character please. I’m fine with SFW and NSFW :D

Of course, you can! I gave you a bit of both with fluffy SFW goodness at the start and ending with some NSFW fun at the ending. I hope you enjoy! The story was inspired by some of the MercyKill Headcannons found here.

Also this is kind of long and if you don’t want to read it on Tumblr you can find it here on AO3. Enjoy!

- Mod Raven

Reader Insert MasterlistCharacter x Character Masterlist

Warning: NSFW towards the end of the fic

It had been a long hard week for Gabe, truthfully it had been a long hard month. Between training new recruits, daily meetings with Ana and Jack, and mission reports he was spent. He left the office late almost every night and was in early almost every morning. He was tired. “Athena,” he called out, “Do I have anything scheduled for lunch today?”

“No Sir, it appears that your lunch hour and the time after remains completely open.” Replied the AI.

A rare smile appeared on Gabe’s face, “If anyone is looking for me tell them it’ll have to wait until after lunch. I’ve been neglecting my girl and I have a plan to rectify that.” Grabbing his jacket, he made his way out of his office, pass reception when the door opened. There in front of him stood the very angle he was thinking about.

Mercy knew that it has been a trying month for Gabe. He had a lot on his plate and she didn’t envy him, nor did she hold it against him that he hasn’t been around as much. She understood that this was an important time in reforming Overwatch and tried her best to be supportive. That’s why this morning before coming into work she made chocolate chip cookies, his favourite and planned to surprise him on what should be his lunch break. Truthfully it was more of an inhaling of half a sandwich before his next conference call or meeting. She walked into the reception area that housed offices for Jack, Gabe and, Ana, “Hi Faye, is he and have a minute?” she asked, nodding her head towards the door when a smoky voice answered her question.

“For you mi Cielito I always have a minute, maybe even two.” He joked, stepping forward to pull her into an embrace, “I was just coming to look for you. Turns out I have this lunch hour free and was wondering if my favourite scientist wanted to go get some lunch.”

“Well that’s a coincidence, I was just on my way to see my favourite commander.” Before she could finish a distant cry was heard in the background.

“Hey!” Called Jack loudly from his office.

“Sorry Jack,” replied Mercy in a singsong voice, turning her attention back to Gabe, “Anyways, as I was saying I was coming to bring you some cookies. I know how hard you’ve been working lately thought a snack would be nice.”

Gabe watched as she pulled out this giant container from her purse, “Is there anything you don’t have in there Angela? It must weigh a thousand pounds.” He joked, trying to pick it up and acting like he couldn’t, “Just let me go hide these, so there will actually be some left when I get back and we can go.”

“Don’t worry Gabe, I made enough that you could share and still have some left over.”

“Doesn’t mean that I want to,” he chuckled walking back out of his office and offer Mercy his arm, “Shall we Cariña?”

Fifteen minutes later the couple found themselves standing in front of an old brick building, “Good afternoon, table for two?” Gabe nodded his head, “Perfect, you two can sit where ever you’d like and the server will be right over.”

The couple made their way to one of the free tables with an umbrella and chatted idly until a voice interrupted them “If it isn’t Gabe and our own resident doctor!” Cried the server in surprise walking up to the table, “I haven’t seen you guys around here awhile, things keeping you busy at the office?”

“It’s nice to see you too Gabi,” replied Mercy, “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Work has kept me pretty swamped, but I managed to sneak away to treat his lovely lady to some lunch. Can we have the usual please?”

“I think we both can agree this lovely lady deserves some lunch,” she said in a cheeky voice. “So that’ll be the nachos to split, chicken quesadilla, pulled pork, and a side order of gorditas?”

Mercy nodded her head, “Could we also get an order of tortilla soup to go?” Gabi nodded and went on her way. Gabe looked at you with an eyebrow raised, “What? I assume you’re going to stay late at the office tonight and I’d like you to have something to eat besides cookies.”

Gabe laughed a full belly laugh, “You’re always looking out for mi Cielito. Sorry, I’ll probably have to miss supper again, it’s only for a few more weeks and then life slows down a bit. At which point I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s okay Gabe, we have demanding jobs, and this is a fairly large batch of recruits. I should know, I had to do their physicals.” she giggled, reaching her hand out across the table of him to hold, “Besides babe, it’s giving me time to deep clean the apartment. Although I would like your help moving some of the furniture around when you get a chance.”

“Of course, I’ll make some time to help you this weekend.” The pair passed the time pleasantly engaged in conversation until it was time to head back to the office. Gabe pulled out his phone to check the time and see what his afternoon was like, “We have some before I need to be back, want to take the long way back?”

Looping her arm around his she said, “Let’s go!”

The couple walked in amicable silence, each enjoying the beautiful weather and the chance to be outside of the office stretching their legs. They were about five minutes away from the base when Gabe suddenly stopped in front of an animal shelter, “The reason I wanted to take the long way back to base was that I had a surprise for you.” Pointing to the shelter. He knew for a while now that she wanted a dog, it’s come up in conversation several times.

“Gabriel Reyes, I swear if you are messing with me it’s not even funny.”

“I would never joke about something like this, let’s go find out new fur baby!” He took her hand and they walked into the shelter. Five minutes later they were being shown the different dogs around the shelter. Five minutes later Gabe finished filling out some paperwork and rejoined his partner in the yard where she was playing with a brown dog. “Is this the one?”

Mercy gracefully made her way over to him, the fog followed along behind her, “Gabe this is Kinsley, Kinsley this is Gabe. She’s an American Staffordshire Bull Terrier mix and is 1 year and one 1 month old. She is super affectionate, sociable, and loves to cuddle, she’s still young and has lots of energy. So, you finally have a girl that will go for runs with you.”

“Cariña, breathe. She’s perfect.” He declares, crouching down to give her a scratch between the ears before picking her up, “While I was signing the paperwork out front I picked up a portable carrier to give her a home base at the office. Shall we get going?”

Snaking one arm around his waist, she holds her phone up with the other one, placing the dog between them, “Smile Gabe, this is one for photo albums!”

The rest of the day was spent between doing paperwork and video chatting with Angela and Kinsley. She seems to have settled into life at the office rather well, everyone loved her. Everyone wanted to pet her, and a lot of the senior members spoiled her. Jack immediately dropped down dropped down and gave her belly loves, speaking to her like a baby. Ana and Reinhart immediately set up a playdate with their dog Penny. Winston brought her some peanut butter treats he made and Tracer played fetch with her in the courtyard.

At the end of the day, the couple made a trip to the pet shop before heading back to their apartment. They got all kinds of toys, bones, and treats for Kinsley. Gabe smiled to himself watching Angela pick out a bed and putting it in the cart before pointing to another one. “I think this would work.”

“Angie, hunny, we don’t need two beds, the apartment isn’t that big.”

“I know,” she replied throwing it into the cart anyway, “That one is for your office, we should probably pick up a couple toys and a treat holder for your desk.” She said it was the most obvious thing in the world, going about her shopping.

Long after the sun had set over Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Gabe poured two glasses of wine and set them on the table in the living room. “Cariña,” he called out, “Can you come here for a minute?” Look down at the dog he spoke softly, “Okay, girl show time. Are you ready to play your part, Kinsley?”

Almost as if on cue Mercy walked into the room. His eyes were drawn to her, she looked beautiful. Even if she was just wearing leggings and one of his Blackwatch shirts, like she is right now, she was still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Kinsley excitedly made her way up to Mercy who immediately moved to pet her affectionate. Gabe took this as his cue to get down on one knee.

“Gabe, what is this?” She questioned, pointing to the dog’s collar. It was a strand of blue ribbon, tied perfectly into a bow, with a simple ring dangling from it. “Gabe?”

He untied the ring while he spoke softly, his voice filled with emotion, “Lord knows I’m not the easiest person to live with and I work a lot, but I promise to love you for the rest of my days if you’ll have me.  You’re my better half and I would be completely lost without you. Angela Ziegler, will you marry me?”

“Of course, I’ll marry you! Nothing would make me happier!” She held out her hand and felt him slide the ring on. Bring her hand up closer she admired the ring. It was a simple white gold band with a diamond in the middle and a garnet gemstone on each side, “Oh Gabe it’s beautiful!”

“I’m glad you like it mi cielito,” he handed her one of the glasses of wine from the table, “I’d like to propose a toast to us. May we have a long happy marriage!”

“I have to call Ana! She’s going to be so excited!” Mercy started to walk towards the kitchen, when Gabe grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him until her back was flush against his, “I have to tell the other girls to! Gabe, I’m so happy!”

“I’m glad you’re happy, but do you really need to do that right now?” He asked, peppering her neck with kisses, “I thought that maybe we could have our own private celebration tonight.” As if to prove his point he spun her around and claimed his lips with his own. He could feel her go boneless, her mouth responding to his in that oh so familiar way. Wrapping his arms around her he started to undo her bra through the shirt, pushing her towards the bedroom.

Mercy felt her knees hit the back of the bed and her shirt be thrown to the ground somewhere, shortly followed by her bra. Before toppling back down on to the bed with Gabe’s body on top of hers. She shivered not from the cold, but from the anticipation but from what was coming next. His eyes were dark and lustful, she could see the need burning behind them. She was sure that the same look was mirrored in her own eyes. He brought his head back down and played a kiss on her lips, nibbling on her bottom lip before pulling away. His lips moved down to her neck, pressing a kiss against her collarbone before moving on to her breasts. Using one hand to cup her left breast his mouth found it’s way to the right boob, rolling the hardening bud between his fingers. Kissing it all over before taking her nipple into his mouth; biting and sucking at the sensitive skin. Her moans could be heard filling the room, and at that moment, Gabe swore to himself that there was nothing better than the sound of her silvery voice moaning and groaning because of him. Releasing the hard bud from his mouth, he kissed his way over to her left boob to give it the same treatment, his hand playing with right boob.

Satisfied with his work he continued his journey kissing down her body. Pausing only when he reached the waistline of her pants. He made quick work of hooking a finger into each side and slid them off her easily once she raised her hips for him. Gabe let out a low whistle of approval before bringing his head down to kiss along the top of her thong. He loved how she kept everything shaved, except for that little strip of hair on her pubic mound. Moving down she groaned in anticipation, only to let out a whimper of disappointment when she felt his lips contact the skin of her inner thighs. Kissing up one side and down the other side, “Gabbbbbbe,” she whined, her voice filled with longing, “Please”.

“Please what Cariña?” he smirked, placing a feather light kiss overtop of the lace of her thong.

“I need you,” she wailed, squirming around on the bed, her pussy throbbing for attention.

Gabe felt her plea go straight to his hard cock, making him harder than he thought possible. Not wasting any time, he hooked a finger under her though and gave it a sharp pull, ripping the fabric. He slid a finger inside of her, drawing out a long moan before he slid it back out and repeated the process, bringing her just to the edge of what she wanted. He withdrew his finger and listened to her whimper at the lost of contact. Smirking to himself he leaned up to kiss her lips, then moved them to where she really wanted them. He ran his tongue up and down her slit a few times then licked up to her clit, tracing slow circles around it. Capturing the bud with his lips he started to suck, bringing a finger up to slide into her pussy. Listening to her moan and raise her hips up to grind against his face. He added a second finger and fucked her pussy until she was right on the edge but stopped before she toppled over. He wanted them to do that together. “Pleaseeeee” she moaned breathlessly, he wondered if she even knew what she wanted from him.

“God that’s so hot,” he thought to himself, placing his finger in front of her lips to quickly be engulfed in her mouth. He groaned feeling her tongue swirl around his finger, imagining it was his hard cock in her mouth. Using his other hand to undo his pants letting them fall to the floor, stepping out of them.

Mercy watched from her spot on the bed as he withdrew his finger and used both his hands to free his throbbing erection. She watched is bob in place, admiring how it looked in the moonlight. He was uncut and a solid nine inches, she measured it once, that leaned slightly to the right and decently girthy. She could feel her pussy throb at the thought of him sliding inside of her. Gabe grabbed hold of his cock and lined it up with her entrance, stroking it up and down her slit, getting it nice and wet with her juices, “Gabe, please!”

He couldn’t resist anymore, he slowly slid inside of her, “Fuck,” he said under his breath, “You’re so tight for me baby.” Once fully inside he paused to let her get used to the feeling of being so full. He felt her start to move under him and took that as his cue to start moving again. He pulled all the way out, before slowly sliding all the way back inside of her. Increasing the speed and force of each thrust until he was ramming his hard cock deep inside of her with each hard thrust. He didn’t think he could last much longer, her walls were gripping him like a vice, “I’m so close baby, cum with me” he begged, reaching a hand down to rub her clit. With a few more thrust he heard her start to come undone for him. She screamed his name and string of unintelligible words and pussy clenched around his hard cock. One last thrust was all it took for him to shoot his cum deep inside of her, before he collapsed on top of her. Both panting for breath.

After a minute he rolled of her and she cuddled up to his side, “I love you” she mumbled drifting off to sleep.

“I love you to baby,” he replied, placing a gentle kiss against her forehand, “More than you know.”

- Mod Raven