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photogirl894 · 3 years ago

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"Sun and Rain"

Chapter 42

"The Snowstorm"

A "Bad Batch" fanfic!

Pairing: Hunter x fem OC, Echo (more best friend pairing)

A/N: I'm back, y'all! Sorry this one took a while! It was one of those things where I knew what I wanted, but putting it into words just wasn't happening 😅 I even had pretty much most of the dialogue in the later part of this chapter all planned and written out before anything else! But now the new chapter is here and it's a longer one! I hope you all enjoy it!

(I know some of you were skeptical after last chapter...😅😁)

Taglist: @the-sad-batch , @nimata-beroya , @intrepidmare , @mrskenobi677 , @tech-aficionado , @ladykatakuri , @d1n0-dan , @sammi9498 , @darthzero22 , @scarlettroseog , @tech-deck , @thebadbatchscyare , @chxpsi , @ilikemymendarkandfictional

《 Chapter 41

》 Chapter 43

All chapters

Explanation: Kimber's loyalties are tested during a mission with the 501st to the icy planet of Rhen Var.

“You feeling ready for this mission, Kimber?” asked Jesse as they climbed onto the gunship.

Nervously, Kimber shook her head and answered, coming up beside him, “Not in the slightest.”

It had now been a month and a half since she had left her squad and only a few weeks since the night Jesse told her about Umbara and Fives. Her training had continued to progress, but recently, Rex had required Jesse’s help with some missions and she had been brought along, as well. Mostly just helping with some Droid incursions on a couple nearby systems while the 501st’s General, Anakin Skywalker, was out on other assignments for the time being. She was getting to put her training with Jesse into action. With how well things went on those missions, she was beginning to feel better about herself. She hadn’t been hurt or ended up in a precarious situation that required anyone to come save her. She was able to help defend her comrades of the 501st with relative ease. She was beginning to feel like the soldier she should be, but she also thought she needed a bit more training before it was time to return home.

At the present, the 501st were getting ready to head to Rhen Var, a frigid ice planet…and Kimber, having been raised on a hot desert planet, was definitely not feeling ready for the mission at hand. She had been given snow gear that matched with everyone else’s in the 501st, but she still had no idea how she was going to fare in such frigid conditions.

The gunship jolted ever so slightly as it picked up off the ground and began to make its descent towards the planet. She gripped tightly onto the handle above her head, nervously anticipating whatever awaited her down below. She looked up at Jesse who gave her an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder.

Captain Rex stepped forward in the middle of his men and spoke up sternly, “Listen up, boys. General Skywalker is still on another assignment with General Kenobi, so it’s just us going in. Here is our mission: the Separatists are attempting to settle a Droid base of operations down on Rhen Var and it’s our job to take it out. There is a tactical Droid that’s running the base and we’ve been instructed to bring back its intel if we can, but our primary objective is taking down the base.”

“Rough up a few clankers and destroy a Seppie base? Should be easy!” commented one of the Clones.

“Nothing we haven’t done before,” added another Clone.

“Exactly,” said Rex with a cocky grin. Then he removed a holopad from his belt, activated it and a hologram of a tall, square-shaped building surrounded by Droids in front of a mountain appeared. “The outpost is near the base of a mountainous region. We’ll be landing the gunships about twenty klicks out so they won’t see us coming and then we'll take the speeders. We’ll split into three teams. Mine and Vaughn’s teams will clear a path up the center and then cover the left and right flanks of the base while Jesse’s team infiltrates the base, shuts down operations from the inside and gets that tactical Droid.”

Jesse stepped forward and asked, “How will things look once we’re inside?”

Rex tapped the holopad and the hologram changed to show the schematics of the base. "There's a lift as you come into the base that leads up to the main control room. You'll be met by dozens of Droids from the lower rooms as well as the control room. You'll find the tactical Droid there."

"You want us to destroy the base from the inside, sir?" Kimber then asked.

"It'll help ensure it gets taken down, so have at it," Rex answered with a grin.

She chuckled. "You can count on that, Cap."

"Ha! I like her," commented the Clone known as Vaughn.

"We all do," added Jesse, giving her a smile.

Kimber smiled back at him. However, she couldn't help but wonder if his comment meant something more as her mind wandered back to their last holoshow night when he had kissed her on the cheek before leaving. He hadn't done anything like that since then, but she had been afraid to bring it up on the off chance it wasn't meant to be anything more and risking making things awkward between them. Though, what if it was? What was she going to do then?

Before long, the gunship landed on Rhen Var and the doors opened. A wall of icy air hit Kimber hard and for a moment, she feared her blood and body would freeze and never function again. She'd experienced cold before, but never anything this harsh. Immediately, she put on her helmet and ran from the gunship after the Clones into the snowy atmosphere. A carrier ship with the BARC speeders they were going to use had landed prior to their arrival and the speeders were all ready for them on the ground.

All the Clones leapt from the gunship and started jumping on the speeders, zooming off immediately. Kimber disembarked the gunship right behind Jesse and swung onto a speeder next to his. She’d never really driven a speeder before, so he had given her some pointers prior to the mission. She was able to pick it up pretty well. Though, this was a bit different than on Coruscant considering the snow that was falling and blurring her vision somewhat. She looked up to the sky and could see some dark, thick clouds on the horizon.

“Jesse, are those clouds supposed to look like that?” she asked, pointing up to the sky.

He looked up and answered, “Well, looks like a storm’s headed our way.” Then he called out to Rex, who was the last to leave the gunship, “Captain, we’ve got a snowstorm incoming. We’d better make this takedown quick if we’re going to outrun it.”

Rex looked to the sky himself and replied, “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s make this quick then. If we get caught in that storm, the gunships won’t be able to take off and we’ll be stuck here until it passes.”

Hearing that sent an extra cold chill up Kimber’s spine. Being on Rhen Var for what should be an easy mission was already hard enough for her, but she didn’t want to imagine being stuck on the planet in a snowstorm. That would be even worse!

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she groaned before revving up her speeder.

After that, she, Jesse, Rex and the remainder of the Clones sped off in the direction of the Droid base. It was times like this Kimber was definitely grateful for her helmet. If she wasn’t wearing one, there was no way she would be able to see. The whipping whirlwind of snow would have blinded her. At least with the helmet, she could keep her eyes open wide enough to see. It was a little rough at first steering her speeder given the harsher weather conditions, but after a few seconds, she was able to gain a steady balance and better control of her vehicle enough to where she could follow right behind Jesse.

“You doing all right back there, Kimber?” she heard Jesse ask over comms.

“I had a rocky start, but now I’ve got the hang of it,” she answered him.

“Excellent. Keep up then!” he replied.

The Clones and Kimber rode on through the snow wastelands for a few minutes until before long, through the mists of snow in the air, they could see the outline of the Droid base emerging.

Rex’s voice rang out through their helmet comms, “All teams, assume formations!”

In one fluid motion, the Clones of the 501st all split into their three respective teams. Kimber remained in the center group, still behind Jesse. Seeing they were quickly approaching the base, she withdrew one of her blasters from the holster, ready for a fight. They inched ever closer until an army of Droids surrounding the base came into view.

“Blast those clankers!” came Rex’s command.

Within seconds, the other Clones all had their weapons drawn and began firing at the Droids, who were taken by surprise by their attack. Because of this, a good portion of the front line was taken out immediately. Very soon, the Droids that remained started firing towards the Clones.

“Team Rex, with me!” ordered Rex over comms as he proceeded to swing left and head around the left side of the base, his team following and continuing their attack.

“Team Vaughn, veer off!” then stated Vaughn over the comm as he in turn turned off to the right, his team of soldiers going after him and firing at the Droids on that side.

“Jesse’s team, push forward and let’s take down this base!” exclaimed Jesse as he halted his speeder and leapt off, running towards the building.

Kimber did the same along with the rest of their team, holstering her blaster and pulling her sniper rifle off of her back. She kept her eyes peeled as best she could, judging the attack patterns of the Droids to ensure she wouldn’t get shot. As she ran forward, she fired a few shots at some Droids that were gunning for them instead of the other Clone teams. Each shot found their targets and the Droids all dropped. Jesse and the other Clones were all doing the same as they continued to press forward to the front of the base. Once they reached the front, they all ducked behind the walls of the entryway.

Before charging in, Jesse reaffirmed to the group, “Remember, boys: our priority is bringing this base to the ground as well as the tactical Droid on the second level and there are battle Droids on both floors. Some of you, stay on the ground and provide cover for the rest of us as we head up top. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” the rest of the Clones replied.

With a nod, Jesse then stated, “All right. Let’s move!” Then he slammed his hand on the button to activate the door.

As soon as the door was opened, some of the Clones rushed forward and started blasting the Droids inside. Kimber waited briefly and then charged forward with the half of the team that was heading to the second level, dodging the blaster fire that came her way and shooting down a couple Droids along the way. She, Jesse, and four other Clones all hopped onto the lift and Jesse inputted the command for it to go up. The lift rose up from the ground and a few seconds later, they came up through the floor of the second level and were met with over two dozen Droids spread throughout the room along with the tactical Droid in the center at the main control console.

“Destroy them,” the tactical Droid ordered in a low, monotone voice.

“Fan out! Take cover!” Jesse cried out as they all ran into the room and started firing.

Kimber, however, stayed behind by the lift and was sniping the other Droids from a distance that were providing cover for the tactical Droid. While she was dealing with them, she took notice that the tactical Droid was trying to sneak away and escape.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she muttered to herself.

She leapt to the side into a tuck and roll behind another console to escape the incoming blaster fire and to inch her way closer to the direction the tactical Droid was running. When she peered back over, the Droid was making its way towards a side door that most likely led outside. Just as she raised her rifle to fire, she heard a cry not far from her. Her head whipped around and her heart dropped at seeing Jesse falling onto his back, clutching at his right shoulder that now had a smoking blaster wound in it.

“Jesse!” she yelled in alarm, almost getting shot herself in the process before ducking back down.

He himself crawled on the floor behind some cover, grunting in pain as he did so. “I’m all right!” he called back to her. “Don’t worry about me, Kimber. Go after the tactical Droid.”

Kix, who luckily happened to be part of their group, came over, crouched beside him and cried, “I’ve got him! Go!”

Even though she still felt worried for Jesse, Kimber managed to snap out of it and redirected her focus back to the mission at hand. "Get the explosives ready. I'll give the all-clear once I have the tactical Droid," she cried back.

Both Kix and Jesse gave her affirming nods.

When she looked back, the tactical Droid was already through the side door. She dashed from her hiding spot, firing at other battle Droids as she made her way to the door. She punched the button on the wall to activate the door and it opened, a wave of icy air hitting her right away that she could feel even through her armor. Through the harsh snow, she could still vaguely the see the outline of the Droid and what appeared to be flight pods on the far side of the platform. It was going to try and escape.

The wind and the snow was starting to pick up and it was getting harder for her to see the Droid even as she ran after it. She had to catch it either before it made it to the flight pods or she lost it in the snowy chaos. Finally, she stopped and decided she was going to do what she did best: be a sniper. She took her stance, raised her rifle and peered carefully through the scope. She could still see the shape of it not too far ahead of her, just enough to have a clear shot.

"Got you," she stated to herself before taking the shot.

The bolt went straight into the Droid's metal neck, separating the head from its body. The head clattered to the ground while the body collapsed.

"Yes!" Kimber cheered to herself as she jogged forward to retrieve the head.

Her helmet comm beeped and she heard Jesse's voice, "Rex, the charges are set to blow the base. Kimber, do you have the tactical Droid?"

Just as she was about to answer, there was suddenly more blaster fire coming in her direction as a wave of battle Droids on stap speeders came flying towards her from overhead. She had almost grabbed the Droid head, but now she was avoiding fire from the Droids and shooting at the ones she could see, kicking the Droid head over against a wall to avoid it getting caught in the crossfire.

"Kimber, do you copy?" came Jesse's voice again over comms.

Ducking behind the railing of the platform, Kimber activated her comm and responded, "I have the Droid, but I'm pinned down. I'm on an outside platform taking fire from stap Droids." She came out from her hiding place and took a couple more shots.

Just then, there were shots fired from elsewhere and suddenly, all the Droids that were shooting at her all exploded. Right after, Rex came zooming up through the air on his speeder. He swerved around in a circle and stopped right at the platform's edge.

"Need a ride?" he asked, holding out his hand to her.

"Right on time, Captain," she replied.

After that, she put her rifle onto her back, picked up the Droid head and then climbed up onto the railing. She reached down, took Rex's hand and hopped down onto his speeder behind him.

"This is Rex. Kimber's with me and we're in possession of the tactical Droid," Rex informed everyone over comms as they flew down to the ground. "All troopers, clear the building before those explosives go off and let's get out of here."

They reached the ground where the other two teams of Clones were waiting and Kimber dismounted right away, giving the Droid head to Rex and then making her way over to her own speeder just as the Clones inside the base came dashing outside. Kix and Jesse were the last two to rush out.

"Are you okay?" Kimber asked Jesse, going up to him.

He waved a hand dismissively. "I've had worse. Don't you worry about me, darlin'," he answered.

"Let's go, the explosives are going to detonate in a few seconds!" cried Kix, urging them to their speeders.

They leapt onto their speeders, fired them up and sped off in the opposite direction of the base along with the rest of the Clones. Very soon after, there was the thundering, booming sound of a large explosion going off behind them as the Droid base was destroyed.

Their mission had been accomplished.

They had been riding for only a minute when suddenly they heard more blaster fire from behind them. Kimber whipped her head around and, through the snow, could just barely make out thin shapes up in the air following them. The sky was growing dark as night time was approaching and the storm was definitely almost upon them because visibility was getting more difficult.

“We’ve got more stap Droids incoming!” Kimber called out over comms.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Rex ordered. “Maintain your course to the gunships.”

All the Clones and Kimber split from their formation in all different directions to avoid the Droids. Some of them withdrew their blasters and began firing back at the Droids, but they were also quick to maneuver through their shots.

Then Jesse cried out, “You all keep going! I’ll fall back and try to get them off our tail!”

“Jesse, wait!” called out Kimber, but he was already flying back in reverse past everyone else to get behind the stap Droids. She watched him zoom by and then disappear into the thick cloud of swirling snow.

Knowing Jesse was getting their assailants off their backs, Kimber increased her speed as did the other Clones, the snow making it harder to see even with their headlights showing them the way. The blaster fire from the Droids soon died away, so either they had lost them in the storm or Jesse had taken care of all of them. They had heard a few explosions behind them, so it seemed like everything went okay.

A few minutes later, they could see the overhead lights of the gunships waiting for them and they all heard Rex’s voice over comms ordering the pilots to fire up the ships. They all pulled up, got their speeders into the carrier ship and then quickly moved over into the other gunship, ready to depart as Rex ushered everyone in.

Just as he and Kimber were about to jump into the ship, Kix asked aloud, “Where’s Jesse?”

Kimber answered, “He went back to get those stap Droids off our backs.” She looked back, expecting to see him pull up right after them…but after a few seconds of waiting, there was nothing. Where was he?

Rex got on comms and said aloud, “Jesse, it’s Rex. We’re ready to take off. What’s your status?”

Everyone waited to hear a response…but there was silence.

“Jesse, do you copy? Jesse!” Rex called out.

Still no answer.

Finally, Kimber got on her comm and cried out worriedly, “Jesse, come in! Where are you? Answer us! Jesse!”

Radio silence.

“Something must’ve happened,” said Kix.

“Then we have to go back for him,” Kimber urged, looking to Rex standing in the ship.

However, he responded, “With this storm coming in, there’s no way we’d be able to find him.”

That answer wasn’t good enough for Kimber. “That’s exactly why we need to try! If he’s still alive, he’ll be trapped out in the storm. He’ll die out there!” she urged him.

Rex responded calmly, “Kimber, I hear what you’re saying…but we’ve got to go or else the gunships won’t be able to take off and we’ll be stuck in this storm. If Jesse went after the Droids and he hasn’t come back yet…then there’s nothing more we can do. I don’t want to believe it either, but the chances of him still being alive are very slim. I’m sorry.”

Crestfallen, Kimber turned her head and looked back in the direction they had come from, still waiting to see Jesse arrive. What if Rex was right? What if something had happened to Jesse? She didn’t even want to entertain the thought. He was an ARC Trooper; he was unstoppable, especially not by some meager stap Droids. Then again…he had been hurt during the mission. Maybe they did get him. She could feel her heart breaking. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t be. What would she do without Jesse? She couldn’t leave without him.

No…she wasn’t going to leave until she knew for certain what had happened to him. Jesse meant too much to her and, if by some miracle he was still alive, then she would never forgive herself for leaving him.

Looking back to Rex, she stated, “That’s a chance I’m still willing to take, Captain.” Then without waiting for a response, she dashed over to the speeders and hopped onto one of them, firing it up immediately.

“Kimber, wait! No!” Rex called after her, but she was already reversing out of the carrier and speeding away into the dark snowstorm.

“What is she thinking?” one of the Clones asked in disbelief.

As she sped away, she heard Rex on her comm cry, “Kimber, get back to the ship! That’s an order!”

She pressed the comm on the side of her helmet and replied to him firmly with determination, “I can’t do that, Rex. Jesse is my friend and he took me under his wing when he didn’t have to. I can’t repay him by leaving him to die, especially if there’s a chance he could still be alive. Even if he isn’t, I need to see for myself before I can believe it. Get everyone else out of here. I’ll find another way back.” Then she continued onwards.

Back at the ship, Rex exclaimed in frustration, “Blast it!” Then he turned around and said, “Vaughn, get the Droid head back to the Jedi and get the gunships out of here.” Then he handed Vaughn the head of the tactical Droid.

“What about you, sir?” Vaughn asked as he took the head.

“I’m going after Kimber. I’ll signal for evac once the storm passes,” Rex answered him.

Kix stepped up next to him and stated, “I’m going with you, Captain. Jesse was already injured during the attack. If he’s been hurt worse out there, then you’re going to need my help.”

Rex gave him a nod of approval and the two of them jumped off the gunship and over to the speeders. They each got on one and sped off in the direction Kimber had gone. They could hear the sounds of the doors to the gunship closing and a few seconds later, they could very faintly hear the ships taking off. They were on their own now.

“I hope you’re right about this, Kimber,” Rex thought to himself as they rode along, hoping to catch up to her fast.

In the middle of the harsh blizzard, Kimber pressed forward, searching for any signs of Jesse. Her heart was racing and she was white-knuckling the handlebars of her speeder. She had to find him and soon. The temperature was dropping rapidly and he was hurt from before; he wasn’t going to survive long. Where was he? Was he all right? Had he been hurt even more by the Droids? Was he even still alive? These questions ran rampant through her head and she tried ever so hard to keep any tears from forming in her eyes. It was already hard enough to see with the blinding snow blowing around. She didn’t need to make it harder by crying…but she couldn’t help it. She was worried and she was scared. If Jesse was dead, she didn’t know what she was going to do. Even though she knew the risk of any of her friends dying in combat increased with every battle, she still held onto the hope that they wouldn’t. Now, she was afraid of facing the reality of one of them actually being dead…a friend she had grown close to and cared so much about.

She couldn’t lose Jesse. Not now. Not when her training wasn’t complete yet. Not when they had been getting closer to one another. Not when she was starting to….

“Oh no…!” she thought as the sudden realization of how she was feeling dawned on her.

However, before she could fully process it, Kimber then spotted a vague shape ahead of her in the snow. Upon seeing it, she directed her speeder in its direction and then hopped off just a few feet away from it. It was partially covered in snow, so she brushed the snow away as she crouched down next to the round object. She uncovered a Clone helmet, one with the Republic symbol embossed on the outside.

Jesse’s helmet.

Her eyes darted back and forth. If his helmet was here, then that meant he had to be close by.

Just then, she heard someone cry out her name. Was it Jesse? She turned around to see Rex and Kix pulling up behind her on their speeders. She was surprised to see that they had followed her, especially after she’d told Rex to get himself and everyone else off planet. Though, she couldn’t deny that she was also grateful.

As they approached her, she held up the helmet for them to see. “I found Jesse’s helmet. He has to be here somewhere,” she said loudly as the wind was picking up.

“I’m surprised you were able to spot that in this storm,” replied Rex in a louder voice, as well.

“I can’t see anything close by,” put in Kix.

Then Kimber happened to think of an idea. “Kix, do you have a datapad?” she asked.

In response, he reached to the back of his belt and pulled out a datapad, showing it to her.

“Do you have that configured to scan for heat signatures?” was her next question.

He answered, “I don’t, no, since we were just going up against a bunch of Droids. I didn’t think we would need that.”

She got back up to her feet and motioned for him to hand the datapad to her, urgently tapping in the configuration sequence after he did so. In the back of her mind, she subconsciously thanked Tech for teaching her how to do that. Seconds later, she had the heat scanner going and started moving it around, hoping it would pick up a heat signature. For a moment, there was nothing…until she saw a red shape appear on the screen.

"There!" she exclaimed, pointing to the screen. "Just up ahead!"

Without waiting for the other two, she booked it in the direction of the heat signature, keeping an eye on it on the datapad.

Before long, Rex pointed ahead and cried out there, "I see something buried in the snow!"

Sure enough, Kimber and Kix could see what Rex was pointing at and all three of them rushed over. There was something dark poking out from under the snow and as they got closer, they realized it was a blue pauldron and then Jesse's head came into view, his eyes closed, face buried in the snow and the rest of him unmoving.

"Jesse!" Kimber cried, dropping to her knees beside him. Immediately, she found his pulse point on his neck and felt for a heartbeat…

…and she felt a light thumping beneath her fingertips.

She gasped out in relief. "He's alive!"

The joy that filled her at finding out he was alive was overwhelming. She nearly let herself cry tears of happiness, but knew there was no time for that. Jesse was alive and that was all that mattered.

"We need to find shelter soon or else he won't be for much longer in this cold!" stated Kix.

Rex then pointed in another direction and said, "I think I see some caves nearby. Kix, help me get him up and we'll make our way there."

The two Clones lifted Jesse from under the blanket of snow that covered him and hoisted each arm over their shoulders. Kimber led the way in the direction Rex had gestured to, hoping to find the caves so they could get out of the blasted storm.

Jesse's eyes weakly fluttered open and he could make out through the blurriness a dim light in what seemed like darkness. There was pain in his shoulder where he had gotten shot as well as dull aching in his back, chest and head. He groaned aloud as he felt the pain starting to kick in. He heard a light, familiar voice speak his name and he turned his head to the side it came from. As his eyes adjusted, he found Kimber looking down at him, a concerned yet relieved look in her eyes. Close by, there was an electric heater that was alight and sending waves of heat out to keep them warm.

"Kimber?" he asked in a strained voice. He carefully sat up and realized there was a blanket draped over him and a wall behind him, so he sat back against that. He looked around and saw they were surrounded by rocky walls. "Where are we? Are we still on Rhen Var?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're in a cave avoiding the snowstorm," Kimber responded. "Rex and Kix are here, too, but they're asleep while I'm keeping watch. You got banged up pretty good, but Kix got you all patched up and then we put your armor back on to keep you warm. Luckily, he also had blankets in his pack."

"Where's everyone else?" he then inquired.

She answered, "They're already gone. Rex told the gunships to leave so they didn't get caught in the storm."

"Why didn't you leave with them?"

"Because we came to look for you."

Jesse couldn't help but feel taken aback at hearing her say that. In the conditions they were in, he was surprised that they didn't presume him dead and leave him on the planet. Instead, his most trusted brothers and his closest friend had risked their lives to find him. Instinctively, he reached out and took Kimber's hand, grasping it tightly.

"You came back for me?" he questioned aloud, his eyes seemingly searching hers for something she couldn't quite figure out.

In a quieter voice, she replied, "Of course, I did. I didn't know where you were or what had happened to you and I didn't want to risk you being alive and us leaving you here for dead. I couldn't leave without you, Jesse."

His expression softened and he looked at her with reverent gratitude; a look that for some reason made the heat rise up in her cheeks.

To try and push that aside, she proceeded to ask him, "What happened out there?"

He shifted up a little further up the wall and told her, "I fell back to take care of the Droids, but those clankers were quick. A few got behind me again and shot at my speeder. They blew out one of the engines, I lost control and I veered off course. I hit something, I was thrown off and then I blacked out. Next thing I knew, I woke up here…and you were right beside me."

Suddenly feeling a little awkward about the attention he was giving her, she timidly looked away and glanced to where she could see Rex sleeping on the ground, his back facing them. "Rex wasn't too happy with me running off," she said, once again trying to change the subject, "but…in the end, I think he's grateful for it." Then she turned back to Jesse. "We found you and you were alive. He didn't want to leave without you either, but he was also thinking of the others. I just gave him the push he needed."

Jesse snickered. "You really are a stubborn one, aren't you?"

Kimber grinned and shrugged. "Well, you know me."

"I do know you."

His voice was soft yet firm with conviction that seemed to catch her off guard. There he was doing it again, directing his attention to her and gazing at her with a smile and a look in his eyes that was suddenly making her heart race. She hadn't felt anything like that in a while. What was happening? What was he doing to her?

He went on, "You are loyal to a fault, you care for your friends, you love deeply, you're a fierce soldier and you fight for what you think is right. You just saved my life." Then he reached up and lightly caressed her face from her temple down to her cheek before cupping her jaw, smiling warmly at her. "I have never met anyone like you, Kimber. You really are one of a kind."

Kimber found herself lacking the capacity to form words in that moment. She was tongue-tied hearing Jesse speak in such a way about her. His eyes were glowing in the light of the heater as they gazed at her with immense fondness. In the moment, she couldn't deny how truly handsome he was, though she had always seen that. Her body was frozen; she wasn't sure what to do. Then he was leaning towards her, gently bringing her face closer to his, and Kimber couldn't find the will to stop herself as Jesse's lips met hers in a sweet, tender kiss. They were warm, soft and inviting and it proved for certain what she had been wondering since the night outside her hotel, which was how he really felt about her. She began to softly kiss him back, realizing how much she missed this sensation. She hadn't experienced it since her last night with Hunter before she had left.

Hunter!

Remembering her Sergeant broke her from her trance and she pulled away quickly, crying quietly, "Jesse, wait!"

For a second, Jesse appeared startled, but then a look of regret showed on his face as he closed his eyes and sighed, inwardly chiding himself. "I’m sorry. That was a mistake," he said, turning away.

Immediately, she said back, "No, the mistake was mine. It’s my fault. I was caught up in the moment when I shouldn't have been...but the truth is: there’s something I should’ve told you a long time ago, but there’s just never been an occasion to say it."

Jesse turned and looked back at her. He didn't look upset; more curious as to what she had to say than anything. She was uncomfortable as guilt wracked her whole being. What had she done? She didn't want to do this, but she had let things get too far. Now, she had to potentially break his heart and she hated herself for it.

She took a deep breath, exhaled sharply and then informed him, "I already have someone."

He got a knowing look on his face and looked down to his lap.

"I’m so sorry, Jesse. I shouldn't have led you on; I shouldn't have let things get this far," she added.

Then he asked her, "Is it one of the Bad Batch boys?"

She was puzzled for a second, half expecting him to start yelling or getting angry with her, but then she nodded. "Hunter."

For a moment, he was quiet, but then he asked her another question: "Do you love him?"

She mustered a small smile, but answered sadly, now feeling even more guilty inside, "I do. Very much."

"Does he love you?" he then inquired.

Her expression fell. "I hope he still does."

Jesse tilted his head and narrowed his eyes curiously.

Kimber explained to him, "When I left my squad, I did it while they were on a supply run and I had been resting on the ship. I recorded a message for them and then left while they were gone. I left everything behind, including my comm so they couldn’t reach me or track me." Her hand came up to her chest where Hunter's credit once sat some time ago and her eyes drifted to the ground. "I even left behind a necklace that Hunter gave me…so he’d have a part of me to hold onto and as a promise that I would come back. Though, I'd imagine that he was really hurt by what I did…I probably broke his heart. I wouldn’t be surprised if he no longer wanted me after this."

"Hunter would be a fool to give you up like that."

Surprised, her gaze shot back up to look at Jesse, not expecting such a response.

He kept going, "He might not be happy that you left, but if he really loves you, then he should be willing to work things out between you two when you go back. That and you promised you’d return, so that should give him some hope, especially if you gave the indication that you still love him." Then he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Kimber, you’re amazing and Hunter is lucky to have your heart. I hope he still sees that. Otherwise, I’ll come over there myself and make him open his eyes."

All she could do was stare at him dumbfounded. This was not what she predicted she'd receive from him at all. She had thought he would've been mad and would've called her a liar or something for unwittingly leading him on, but no...he was actually being supportive.

"So…you’re not upset?" she asked hesitantly.

Jesse removed his hand and gave a small shrug. "Maybe a little sad," he answered rather nonchalantly, "but I also had a hunch you might’ve already had feelings for someone in your squad, given how long you'd been with them. I thought it was at least worth a shot."

"I really am sorry, Jesse."

"Don’t be. You’re still my friend and that’s what matters to me. Nothing's going to change that."

Kimber's eyes welled up with tears. How was Jesse this amazing? How could be still be so supportive and understanding despite her having to reject him? She just couldn't believe it.

Seeing her on the verge of crying, he reassured her, "I’ll be okay, I promise you. The Batch and I may have our differences, but I can’t deny that they’re great soldiers who excel at what they do. They’re good men and they’re lucky to have you in their squad. I know they make you happy and that’s all I care about. I hope Hunter is smart enough to realize that still and hasn’t given up on you."

"So do I," she replied, blinking her tears away. Then she wrung her hands nervously as she then confessed to him, "I will admit, there was…some attraction to you on my part and I do care about you a great deal, but when it comes down to it...I still love Hunter and I can’t betray him."

He nodded and smiled. "I understand."

Kimber still was amazed at how lucky she was to have such a forgiving friend like Jesse. It just seemed too good to be true...yet it was.

"I will say, when I do go back, I’m going to miss our time together," she told him. "It felt nice to have a sense of normalcy for a little while with our holoshow nights."

Jesse chuckled. "Yeah, it did and I’m going to miss that, too," he agreed. Then he straightened up and declared, "That just means, after the war, whenever you’re on Coruscant, you’ll have to let me know so we can keep that tradition going."

"I think I’d like that." Kimber then laid a hand on his arm. "Thank you for understanding."

"Yeah, of course, darlin'," he replied cordially, "and thank you for your honesty."

"Of course," she said with a nod.

Then he narrowed his eyes and held up a finger. "Though, I’m totally serious. If Hunter tells you he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, I will come rough him up and make him realize how lucky he is to have you."

That made Kimber laugh just a little, but the sentiment of his offer still made her glad nonetheless. "Thanks, Jesse," she said with a smile. Then she gave him a light pat on his good arm. "You should go back to sleep. You need your rest and we'll probably be here through the night."

"Yes, ma'am," he said as he obeyed, slipping down under his blanket onto his back.

Unbeknownst to either of them, on the other side of the cave, Rex had been awake through their whole conversation. He had heard everything...and when there had been a brief moment of silence, he had carefully peeked over his shoulder behind him and caught them kissing. When he quickly turned back, they had broken apart and he'd overheard the aftermath. Before, he already knew that Jesse had developed feelings for Kimber, despite his warnings against it. However, he hadn't known that Hunter and Kimber were together, though upon reflection, that now explained why Hunter had been so protective of her back on Kuat when he'd last seen them. It all made sense now. Overall, though, he was glad that this misunderstanding and moment of honesty wouldn't come between Kimber and Jesse. Rex had been watching them whenever he got the chance to see them in training and he could see there was a bond between them, much like the bond he'd seen between her and Echo. They had a good relationship that he hoped would last and now it was happening with Jesse, too.

Kimber really was one of a kind, Rex thought to himself. She was someone it seemed any Clone she came in contact with were drawn to in one way or another. She was loved and cared for by all Clones more than anyone else in the galaxy. He was grateful that the Bad Batch had found her...for she had changed all of their lives for the better.

He hoped that, once the storm passed and they returned to Coruscant, things would continue the way they had been until it was time for her to go back to her sqaud...and he hoped both Kimber and Jesse would be ready for that day.

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch hunter #bad batch fanfic #hunter x oc fic #sun and rain fanfic

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

A Place To Call Home: Dads

Summary: When the reader gets an offer to make some money on the side, things quickly evolve to Jensen learning about where some of the reader and TJ’s money has been going, namely TJ’s father. Jensen offers to help out but discovers that Rick might be up to something...

Masterlist

Square: A Place To Call Home

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 7,600ish

Warnings: language, angst (so much family angst), minor injury

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo. This part takes place after the Halloween timestamp. Enjoy!

______

“Thank you, Barry,” you said as he left the office at the brewery. Your head was still up when your dad slipped inside and he shut the door. “What’s up?”

“There’s a talent scout out in the draft room,” he said.

“Fascinating,” you said, going back to reading over a contract with a new distributor.

“Y/N they’re here to see you.” You turned in your seat and stared at him, breaking out into a giggle. “I’m serious.”

“This is by far your worst prank yet.”

“You modeled some of the new merch last week? He’s here for you,” he said.

“To what, model?” you scoffed. “No thank you.”

“Well can you go tell him that because he was insisting on hearing it from you,” he said. You sighed and walked out front, a guy in a suit with no tie on sipping from a glass. He smiled when he saw your dad behind you.

“Ms. Ackles,” he said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s Mrs. Hanover,” you said with a friendly enough smile.

“You’re clearly used to some hard negotiations.”

“I’m tougher than I look Mr…”

“Elbridge but please call me Dan.”

“What can I do for you today, Dan?” you asked. He walked out to a quieter spot by the railing, settling at one ot the standing tables.

“I work for a talent agency, Mrs. Hanover. We’ve worked with your father a few times when he was starting out,” he said, your dad giving a nod. “We’ve seen your modeling pictures and we’re very interested in you doing a shoot.”

“I appreciate the offer but my answer is no. I’m not a model or an actress or any of the things my parents are besides someone invested in this brewery,” you said.

“She is a tough cookie,” he said as he looked at your dad. “I’m assuming you told her nothing I told you.”

“You gotta sell it on your own,” he said.

“Y/N, we’d like you to be in a commercial with some other women. An underwear commercial.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a commercial for inclusivity for people with differences,” he said.

“He means the scar on your back, Y/N. From the accident,” said your dad.

“You’re exactly the kind of person we want included in the line. There’ll be a photo run of things too and-“

“Why exactly do you know I have a scar on my back?”

“Your Instagram. I assumed it was public knowledge.”

“Okay but it’s not even that big. Like it blends in. I’m boring. Get like, an amputee or a burn survivor. That’s inclusive. I’m average.”

“We have a vast array of women in the line including those types and all kinds of body types. But you’re...a brand name we could put to the project.”

“Brand name,” you said. He hummed and you laughed. “My dad? That’s a brand name, not me. Throw him in some underwear and I’m sure you’ll get all the attention you want.”

“Well we want you,” he said. He pulled out a business card and handed it over. “Our initial offer is on the back but we’re open to negotiations. Call us if you think you might be interested. Oh and the beer’s great.”

“Thanks,” you said, looking over the card. The guy had wandered off by the time you flipped it over.

“I told him you wouldn’t be interested,” said your dad, sipping from his bottle of water. You blinked at the card, your dad raising an eyebrow. “You’re not considering it are you?”

“Dad,” you said. You flipped the card around and showed it to him, water spitting out of his mouth.

“Hey, Dan,” he said, rushing back and waving him over. Dan smiled as he walked back, drink in his hand.

“I thought that’d-” said Dan before your dad got in his face. “Is there a problem?”

“What are you up to,” he said.

“Dad.”

“Y/N no one gets offered that much money off the street. No one. So I’m gonna ask again. What are you up to?”

“It’s for a package deal. A photo shoot. A commercial. Ad sponsorship for three months bi-weekly on her social media accounts. We’d also like her to design the set for the commercial. There’s a time crunch of next week so we felt a hundred was a fair offer for that amount of work on short notice,” said Dan. “If she were simply modeling, we’d offer her twenty five but this is our biggest line of the year. You are more than welcome to come along every step of the way.”

“Dan I really do appreciate the offer but I’m not a model. I don’t even remember the last time I wore makeup. I will happily design a set and build if you like and maybe I can do the ad thing but I’m not a model like my parents. Can I talk to my dad for a second?”

He nodded and walked off a ways, your dad sighing.

“Maybe mom could do it or something? She’s done that stuff before,” you said.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do. Go for the set design for sure. You’re good at it and I know you get to break back into your architecture skills for that. But the rest...once you get on that train you can’t get off.”

“Dad, people already know who I am. I have like...an obnoxious number of followers on my accounts and stuff. My most popular posts? Always about you. I’ve never been in the shadows.”

“I know but that’s different than you doing these things. If you start taking pictures in underwear, you’re gonna attract at least a few weirdos and most of them are harmless but maybe some aren’t and there is a reason that Uncle Cliff still hangs out with me at certain times.”

“It’s a hundred thousand dollars. TJ and I could pay off the lawyer fees for Allie’s adoption finally,” you said. “We could get our mortgage payment down.”

“You’ve never cared about money,” he said. You pursed your lips and he narrowed his eyes. “Are things tight?”

“Dad.”

“Are they?”

“I don’t ask about your finances.”

“I sat down with both you and TJ when you bought the house and even with the renovation costs, your monthly payment was very affordable. Allie’s adoption should have been paid off months ago.”

“Do you stalk our spending now or what?” you shot back.

“Well you haven’t bought a new car or any big expenses. Where’s the money going?” he asked.

“I’ll take the set design and leave it at that,” you said. You brushed past him and over to Dan.

Thirty minutes later you had a signed contract and were back in your office, your dad grumbling as he walked inside.

“I’m busy,” you said.

“Where’s the money going, Y/N?”

“TJ and I make very good money,” you said, typing up an email. He leaned over the desk and narrowed his eyes. “I took the set design only for twenty. Happy?”

“Why do you need twenty thousand dollars?”

“Coming from the guy who made how much fucking money for a single freaking episode? At least I’m not slutting out my face,” you said. He stood back and slammed the door shut on his way out. You sighed and got up, finding him out back, splitting old pallets down. “Dad I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

“Dad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah you did,” he said. “That is exactly why I didn’t want you doing that shoot. Then all you are is a pretty face.”

He moved a pallet and picked up the axe again, bringing it down in the center.

“Dad.”

“What?” he snapped as he spun around.

“I said it because I knew it’d make you mad and piss you off and get you to drop it. It’s the only reason I said it. Please stop asking about where my money goes. Please.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Dad I said to stop asking.”

“Tough shit,” he said with a shrug. “Call me whatever you want. Maybe I get pissed off but I’ll cool off too. I know how much you make and I know how much he makes and I know you two have both been taking side jobs recently. You should have your house paid off by now, not barely making your mortgage. What’s going on and I want the truth.”

“I can’t.”

“What’s TJ involved in,” he said. You looked away and he nodded. “There are very few reasons why you wouldn’t tell me the truth and considering how small Allie and Colin are, he’s the only one I can think of.”

“I can’t.”

“Hey! There you are,” said TJ, walking around the corner with a bag in his hand. “I was out at a ranch nearby for work and figured we could have lunch together.”

“Speak of the little devil,” said your dad. He dropped the axe and TJ set the food on the hood of his truck, cocking his head.

“You okay, Jensen?” he asked.

“Peachy,” he said, putting his hands on his hips when he stopped in front of him. “So. Want to tell me what’s going on with your finances lately?”

TJ glanced to you and you shook your head.

“Nothing,” said TJ quietly.

“You want to try that again and not lie to me this time?” asked Jensen. TJ shook his head and your dad shut his eyes. “If you’re involved in something bad, let me help. I have money.”

“TJ just tell him,” you said. TJ sighed and picked up the food, walking over to the employee picnic area and sat down. You took a seat beside him and TJ handed you a wrapped burrito, your dad sitting across from him.

“I’m not angry. Let me help is all,” said your dad.

“It’s not us who’s in trouble,” said TJ. Your dad looked to you and you nodded. “It’s my dad.”

“Oh you two,” he said, shutting his eyes. “You’re paying off Rick’s debt he owes somebody, aren’t you.”

“Rick owes money to a bookie and...he beat him up kinda bad and we have extra so…” you said, your dad staring at you. “He asked us not to tell anyone.”

“How much?” he asked.

“Five...hundred,” said TJ.

“Five hundred thousand?” he asked, your heads nodding. “Five hundred thousand? What...how much have you given him already?”

“About half,” said TJ. Your dad shook his head and put his hands over his face, quickly pulling them off. “I know it’s a lot.”

“Yeah…” he said, swallowing to himself.

“We got it covered. Really. At the rate we’re doing extra side work-”

“Kids...you’re both so kind I think you missed something pretty important,” said your dad.

“I don’t understand,” said TJ. He looked to you and you shrugged.

“Guys that’s a lot of money. That’s...an extraordinary amount of money to a lot of people. How on earth does your father owe that much money all of a sudden?” asked your dad.

“He made some bets he lost on,” said TJ.

“But how could it be that much. What was the original bet?”

“What?”

“What was the original bet he made and lost on?”

“I don’t know. We figured it must have been like a hundred.”

“So your father bet a hundred, say he lost. That’s two hundred. Say he got some insane interest on it. Okay. Maybe, maybe he truly owes that much. But where did he get that original one hundred?”

“He didn’t have it,” said TJ. “We think.”

“Okay. He bet badly and ends up owing the whole thing,” he said.

“Exactly.”

“Do you give this money to Rick or the bookie?” asked your dad.

“My dad. He didn’t want us to get involved with the guy,” said TJ.

“Okay,” said your dad. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna drive up to your folks this afternoon TJ and talk to your dad, see what’s left he owes. I will pay the rest.”

“Jensen that’s a lot of money.”

“I know it is. But it’s better to get him out of the hole quickly before something were to happen and I can afford it. Okay? I’m gonna head up. You two enjoy your lunch. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

Something was off about him as he stood and left but you weren’t quite sure what was wrong.

“My dad’s gonna be pissed. He didn’t want Jensen to know at all,” said TJ.

“He wants to help. He’s got a point. The quicker it’s paid off, the quicker your dad’s out of danger. Let’s have lunch and you can tell me about that ranch you’re fixing up.”

“Arrow,” you grumbled that night as she reached for the hot pan. “Let it cool off.”

“Why are we having dinner at your house?” she asked. “No offense but you can only cook like five things.”

“Would you like to cook dinner for seven?” you asked. She held up her hands and you rolled your eyes.

“To be fair, Colin still eats baby food,” she said.

“Thank you for volunteering to feed your nephew,” you said with a grin.

“I didn’t-”

“Ro!” he said as he waddled into the kitchen, wrapping her legs up in a hug.

“I hate you,” she said, narrowing her eyes before she picked him up.

“Thank you Arrow,” you said as she put him on her hip. “He’s got dinner in the fridge if you wouldn’t mind?”

“I got it,” she said, opening it up one handed. “Mom and dad have some last minute thing or something?”

“I don’t know,” you said, your phone ringing, Jared’s name popping up. “Can you get that?”

“Hey Uncle Jared,” she said, hitting it on speaker.

“Arrow? Hey you mind finding your sister for me?” he asked.

“She’s busy making dinner. Apparently it’s very difficult.”

“I’m here Jared,” you said. You grabbed the phone and shoved it between your shoulder and ear. “What’s up?”

“Don’t freak out,” he said. “But come outside.”

You turned down the heat on the stove and went out the front door, finding Jared on the seat out front.

“Uh, what’s up?” you asked, pulling the door shut behind you. “This is weird.”

“Your dad may have...listen. Shit went down when Jensen went up to see TJ’s dad whatever his fuckface name is.”

“Jared.”

“Oh you’re about to call him fuckface too.”

“What happened?”

“Well...he had a bad feeling about this whole thing. He and De went up there to talk to them. Things aren’t...your dad’s in the hospital.”

“What?” you said quietly. He stood up and gave you a smile, pulling you into a hug.

“It’s okay. He got a little cut when he got...pushed,” he said.

“Jared,” said TJ, stepping outside with a curious look. “What’s up dude?”

“Normally being the Uncle is the fun stuff,” he said. TJ frowned when you both saw a cop car pull into your driveway, Cody getting out. “Codes.”

“Dad, I got this,” he said as he hopped up on the porch. You smiled and looked back at TJ. “Oh shut up. I got adopted like six months ago. I might as well.”

“What exactly is happening?” asked TJ.

“Dad,” said Cody again. Jared sat back in the seat, Cody sighing. “TJ...dude I’m sorry. You’re like my brother.”

“Did my...did something happen to my parents,” he said quietly, Cody’s head shaking. “Oh.”

“Rick’s been stealing money from you. There’s no bookie to pay off. Jensen and De went up today to talk to him and they found out the truth and your dad’s got in a fist fight and you guys ought to head up North. It’s not my jurisdiction so I’m not much help.”

“My father did what?” said TJ. Cody glanced at you and you looked down. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. “TJ the police from your hometown looked into it. He took the money. He’s claiming it was a gift from the two of you but we all know that’s not true.”

“No, he’s been making progress. We’ve been making progress. We’ve been getting along really well,” said TJ.

“Did that start when you started giving him money?” asked Cody.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying what I know as a cop. Did your relationship start changing when money started exchanging hands?”

“Why does he hate me,” said TJ. You grabbed his hand and he shut his eyes. “He must hate me. That’s the only reason I can see why he would do something like that.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” you said.

“He hates you and Jensen. He thinks De is eye candy to stare at. I don’t know how on earth he can pretend to like me,” he said.

“TJ,” said Jared.

“You gonna tell me he loves me or some shit? It’s not good enough,” said TJ.

“I was gonna say you can cut him out of your life if you want to and you’re still gonna have a dad you know. I don’t understand him. I do think he loves you but there’s some resentment towards everyone else you call family. I don’t know why but it’s your choice what you want to do. I’m gonna go inside and finish cooking dinner and we’ll watch all of them tonight. Y/N-”

“I got him,” you said with a nod.

Ten minutes later you were on the road and driving, TJ staring out the passenger window.

“Honey-”

“Don’t,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. You reached over and grabbed his hand, TJ squeezing it. “We’re going to my parents house after and we’re packing up as much crap as we can to bring back. I’m never speaking to him again after tonight.”

“TJ.”

“All the late hours I put in doing side jobs. All the jobs you’ve been doing for set design on the weekends. For months and months we’ve been doing it. Straight into his fucking pocket. We could have paid off the house with that money. Paid off bills. That’s our money. It’s our kids money. It’s not some sack of shit’s to go buy whatever he wants with. I could fucking kill him.”

“We’ll get it back,” you said.

“It’s not about the money.”

“I know, babe,” you said.

“Why is he like that?”

“It’s not an excuse but I think he was raised very poorly and he doesn’t...he knows it’s wrong but I think he thinks we have so much it’s okay if he takes from us.”

“He took two hundred and fifty thousand dollars from us. A year of side jobs for the both of us on top of everything else. We sleep four hours a night. We weren’t handed that. We worked for it. We worked our asses off. All that pressure and all the pressure we thought somebody would hurt him if we were late with money? I can’t believe I ever gave a shit about him. I should have trusted you. You’ve never liked him. No one in your family did. Even Arrow and that kid loves everybody. I should have trusted you guys.”

“TJ they didn’t like him because of the way he treated you, not me. I knew he was a dick when I met him but he belittles you, so, so much. We hate that he does that to you.”

“I don’t know how my mom is married to someone like him.”

“Don’t cut her out,” you said. “She raised you. You’re all her. Anyone who meets you can see that.”

“He’s going to lie when I see him again. I don’t know what to do,” he said.

“Why?” you asked.

“Because.” You pulled over and he sat back in his seat. He turned his head and you saw all the tears streaming down his face.

“Honey,” you said. You leaned over and hugged him, TJ gripping you back.

“He’d kick my ass for crying right now.”

“Who was it that sat up with my dad after the accident and let him cry all over him? My dad who hates to cry and he’s not afraid to cry in front of you.”

“He’s strong. I’m not.”

“You’re my best friend. The girl who thought she was so fucked up and would be alone. God, Thomas. You gave me something even my parents and family couldn’t. You know how I never thought in a million years I could have this kind of love and you were never scared. The insecurities. The nightmares. The days where I’m quiet and my head gets to me. You just grab my hand and you make it better. You’re stronger than most everyone on this planet. I love and I’ve loved you since I met you and I’ll do anything for you, you know that. We’re partners. If you want to give your dad another chance you can and I won’t question it for a second.”

“I don’t want to talk to him again,” he said, sitting up somewhat. “But how do I say that when you didn’t get a choice? You didn’t get a choice with your parents. They were just gone and you had no say. How can I just walk away like that?”

“My parents didn’t treat me like the way your father does. Neither of my moms or dads ever have. You can walk away from someone that does, TJ. I don’t want you near someone like that. Jared was right too you know. You’re not gonna lose a dad tonight. You’ve always had one and he’s gonna be there for you always.”

“He hurt Jensen, didn’t he?” he sniffled.

“I’m sure he's fine. He’s very...defensive of his children is all.”

“Jensen gave me a letter,” he said. “Addressed to me. That’s when I really knew he loved me.”

“He loved you before that.”

“I know he did. I don’t know why I wanted my dad when I’ve had Jensen the whole time.”

“I’ve been there. Trust me,” you said. He let out a small laugh and you hugged him, TJ taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry Rick hurt you.”

“He hurt both of us.”

“Yeah but I care more about the fact he hurt you. I may deck him when I see him,” you said.

“That’d be kinda awesome,” he said. “But please don’t.”

“Hugs instead?” you said.

“I’ll take hugs,” he said. His stomach grumbled and you kiss his temple.

“I’m gonna hit the drive thru and then we’ll get on the road again, okay honey?”

“Okay,” he said. You kissed him one last time before you got out of the car and dug around in the trunk. You took out your oversized hoodie and brought it up to the front, handing it to him. “What’s this?”

“You can steal it if you want. Your hoodie’s kinda make me feel better on crappy days,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said. “I really love you.”

“Me too. It’s gonna be okay.”

One Hour Later

“Let’s go to the hospital first,” said TJ as you hit the edge of town.

“Jared said my dad was fine.”

“Y/N. Let’s go to the hospital,” he said. You nodded and about ten minutes later you were parked and getting a room number. He held your hand on the elevator ride up, kissing the top of your head. “You alright?”

“I’d prefer if he could stay out of the hospital.”

“Me too,” he said, the doors opening. You walked a little too quickly until you found the room, your mom and dad talking as you walked in.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked.

“Jared and Cody came by and we learned some stuff,” you said. “Why are you in the hospital? You look...normal.”

“Your father hit his head.”

“I’m fine.”

“After the accident last year-”

“It was nearly a year ago.”

“After the accident they wanted to be safe and monitor overnight just in case. He got a cut on his arm from some metal but that’s all,” said your mom.

“I’m fine,” said your dad. He got up out of bed and spun around. “See? No concussion. An itty bitty scratch is all you worry worts.”

“Was there a fight?” you asked. He sat down and sighed. “You don’t look like it.”

“No,” he said. He looked at TJ and pursed his lips. “TJ would you mind grabbing me a drink from the vending machine?”

“Whatever you want to say, you’re gonna say it in front of me,” he said.

“Mom and I went up to your parents place and it started out okay. But your mom didn’t quite understand what was going on. She thought Rick had been doing well betting horses at a track and that’s where the sudden money came from. Things...devolved from there and Rick got defensive and I was angry so we started arguing and he shoved me and your mom and De shut it down and the cops came and I’m sorry but he took the money for himself. Last we heard from your mom a little while ago she’s giving all the money back to you guys.”

“You pressing charges?” asked TJ.

“It was a shove. He didn’t take my money. You two are the ones that have a right to charge him,” he said.

“Do you know where my mom is?” asked TJ.

“She’s at your house along with your dad,” he said.

“Y/N why don’t you hang here with your parents,” said TJ. You shook your head and he frowned. “You’re worried about your dad. Stay.”

“He’s okay and I’m coming with you,” you said.

“Me too,” said your mom.

“De-”

“TJ. You’re not gonna win this one,” she said. “Jensen’s okay on his own for a bit and he’d come if he could. You’re not gonna go talk to your dad alone.”

“Fine. Let’s go,” he said, already leaving the room. Your mom grabbed her purse and you ran your hands over your face.

“Go take care of him,” said your dad quietly.

“Dad.” You walked in front of him and he wrapped his arms around you. “He’s gonna be fucked up.”

“I know. We’ll take care of him,” he said. He kissed your temple and pushed you towards the door gently. “Go take care of your husband.”

“We’ll be back.”

“Guys I think maybe I should go in first,” said your mom a short while later, the three of you parked in his parent’s driveway.

“No,” said TJ.

“Thomas.”

“Danneel,” he said. He turned in the passenger seat and she sighed. “I’m a big boy. I can go in first.”

“Don’t be violent.”

“I won’t,” he said quietly. She kissed his cheek and nodded.

“Okay sweetie. Let’s get this over with,” she said. You got out and took his hand, TJ not as tense as you were expecting.

“His car isn’t here,” he said quietly on the way up the porch steps. He rang the doorbell and the door flew open, his mom standing there. “Hi mom.”

“I kicked him out for the night,” she said, letting the door open for the three of you. “I’m so sorry. Danneel is Jensen-”

“He’s pissed but fine,” said your mom, following you inside. TJ walked around for a moment, stopping at a picture on the wall.

“Mom. Why does dad hate me?” he asked. He looked over his shoulder and she frowned. “He manipulated me and Y/N. He’s horrible to her family. I get that he went through something as a kid but he’s a grown man.”

“Your father loves you. He doesn’t always know the best way to show it,” she said.

“He hurt me and you’re gonna side with him. Again,” he said.

“He made a mistake.”

“Hell of a mistake,” you mumbled.

“Do you think he wants to be the way he is?” she asked.

“I could have gotten past everything before but this? He doesn’t get to worm his way out of it. I’m done with him.”

“Then you’re gonna be done with me too,” she said. TJ turned around and she lifted her chin. “He doesn’t deserve to thrown out of your life over a mistake.”

“I seem to recall you not saying a word when he almost hit your grandaughter with a belt,” said TJ. “Why do you make excuses for him?”

“Why do you hate him?” she asked. TJ threw up his hands and shook his head. “Always since you were a little boy you’ve hated him.”

“He didn’t want me, not the other way around. I know he worked a lot but all I wanted when he came home at night was a hug or a bedtime story. I wasn’t asking for much,” said TJ. “He resented me.”

“He put in all those long hours for you, to provide for you.”

“I’ve been working since I was fourteen. I paid for my own things from the second I was able to. I paid for school all on my own. My apartment. My car. I paid for my wedding and honeymoon. He paid for food and roof over my head which is the bare minimum he could have done. Don’t tell me he provided for me. He fucking hated me.”

“Because you’re not his,” she said. You and your mom looked at one another, TJ blinking where he stood. “Rick isn’t your father.”

“Excuse me?”

“I cheated on your father because he can be an asshole and I needed an escape. He found out when I was pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” asked TJ again.

“He never wanted children because he thought he’d be a bad father. I guess he was right in your mind,” she said.

“If you’re gonna tell the story, you might as well tell the whole thing,” said Rick. He stepped out from down the hall, TJ’s mom sighing.

“So you are here,” said TJ.

“Car’s in the shop,” he said.

“You hate me?”

“I love you. It doesn’t mean I’m a good person though,” he said.

“You stole from us.”

“Yes I did.”

“Why?”

“This house is the size of your living room. You have so much.”

“If you wanted money just fucking ask,” said TJ.

“Like I said, just cause I love you doesn’t mean I’m a good person.”

“You’re not even my father apparently.”

“I’m your father,” he said. “Didn’t make ya but I’m your father.”

“What’s the story?” asked your mom. They all looked to her and she looked at TJ’s mom. “What don’t we know.”

“You ever wonder how someone like me wound up with someone like your mother? We’re polar opposites most days,” said Rick. TJ narrowed his eyes and looked between them.

“Don’t tell him,” said his mom.

“Alright,” said Rick. “I must have been mistaken.”

“TJ, can I talk to you,” you said, pulling him into the kitchen. “TJ do you remember in family studies when we had that project to track our family trees and you found your parents marriage certificate and the year was wrong?”

“Y/N what’s that got to do with anything.”

“What if the year wasn’t wrong.”

“It can’t be. They would have gotten married after I was born then.”

“TJ I’m not saying your dad is great but he just lied for your mom. He loves her. Something happened before you were born or after. I have this feeling that she didn’t cheat on him.”

“What are you saying?”

“Maybe I’m wrong but maybe your mom was in a bad situation and Rick stepped in to help because of her.”

“Rick,” said TJ, very quickly exiting back to the family room. “When did you meet my mom. If you ever want to speak to me again, if you want me to speak to her again, you’ll tell me the truth.”

Rick glanced to TJ’s mom, TJ smirking.

“You do care about her.”

“Of course I fucking care about her. I care about you too.”

“That’s great. I feel very cared for,” said TJ. Rick pursed his lips and his mom nodded. “Truth or I walk out that door and never come back.”

“I was married,” said TJ’s mom. “He was charming until he wasn’t. I got pregnant with you and you were born and he would get so angry at you for being a simple baby and crying and...I was so scared of him hurting you that I left. I had nothing and I stayed with a friend for a few days. I met Rick through them and he offered us a safe place to stay with him. It was only supposed to be short term but things developed. He is not perfect but he’s not the monster you think he is. We are safe and the reason you have all you do well and truly is because of him.”

“Do you have anything to say?” asked TJ quietly.

“I loved your mother before I loved you, that’s true. But I learned and I’ve done my best. You were far better off without me in your life. Look at what you have. You’d be angry and bitter if I had more of a hand in raising you. So you can hate me but you do not hurt your mother like that. You do not walk away from her after everything she has done for you. Understand me?”

“I need space from you,” said TJ, Rick nodding. “I also need something else.”

“What?”

“I still don’t understand why you took the money if you weren’t going to spend it.”

“Was gonna impress you, turn a profit on it, give it back with interest. Be like her father, give you some money for once.”

“Jensen doesn’t impress me because of money. Yes, their family doesn’t have to think twice about the cost of most anything. But Jensen, De, they don’t impress me for any reason other than how kind they’ve been to me. They treat me like their son, like I’m their own. They don’t pretend to. They don’t tolerate me for Y/N. They genuinely care about me, all because I fell in love with their daughter, a girl that’s not even theirs and they love her to death. The house is nice. The wedding was nice and so are the vacations. But I could live in a cardboard box and be happy if all I ever got was their kindness. They never made me work for it. They just gave it to me. You could have just given it to me and I would have been a happier kid. But you didn’t and now you have to work for it on my terms. So I want our money back and I want some space from you. If and when I’m ready to talk to you again, I’ll reach out. Alright?”

“Okay,” he said. TJ crossed his arms and nodded before he went outside. His mom followed after and you gave Rick a look. He pulled out his phone and tapped on it for a few moments before shoving it in his pocket. “It says it’s pending for that big of a transfer. It should be back in your account in a few days.”

“Oh I’ll make sure of that,” you said, walking over to him. “Rick. Maybe try some therapy if you really want to salvage this relationship.”

“You think I can afford that?” he said.

“We’ll pay,” said your mom. “Jensen and I will.”

“Why?”

“Cause he’s a fucking awesome kid and he deserves a relationship with you, even if we don’t like you,” she said.

“What about you? You hate me too kid?” he asked you.

“I can learn to tolerate and respect you. But you hurt him and I’ll protect him from anyone that does that, including you. But it’s not my forgiveness you need. It’s his so maybe try the therapy and let him come back if he’s ever ready for that, okay?”

“Alright.” You turned to go when he caught your shoulder. “Can I ask where the money came from? Jensen made it sound like you were behind on bills.”

“It made things tight for us. TJ and I have both been working side jobs nights and weekends to scrounge up extra money. We weren’t handed any of that money we gave you. We even took from ourselves and our children. Just because we live in a nice house doesn’t mean we don’t work for it,” you said. “Oh and one more thing. Touch my father again or call my mom slutty behind her back one more time, you’ll find out which one of us isn’t the good person in this relationship.”

“He what…” said your mom as you walked out, pulling her along behind you. “Dickhead!”

“Come on mom,” you said, pushing her back to the car. TJ gave his mom a nod and hug before he climbed back into the backseat.

“Slut my ass,” your mom mumbled under breath as she started the car back up.

“Mom, let it go,” you said, shutting your eyes and slumping down in your seat.

“Put on your seatbelt,” she said. You reached up and put it on, turning back to catch TJ with his head leaned back. “You okay back there?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“That’s probably the right answer,” you said.

“Let’s get back to dad. I’m sure he’s climbing the walls to get out of there by now.”

Two Days Later

“Howdy,” said your dad, taking a seat in the patio chair beside you as you watched TJ swim in your pool with Allie. “Where’s the babe?”

“Naptime,” you said, TJ tossing Allie up in the air and hugging her tight when he caught her again.

“How’s he holding up?” he asked, reaching over and taking a chip out of the bag in front of you.

“Better than expected. He’ll give Rick another chance someday.”

“He said that?”

“No. I know Thomas though. He’s too good to hold onto that crap. It might not be for six months or a year but it’ll happen eventually.”

“Well I think he’s a dick,” said your dad. “But if TJ wants to give him a chance, we’ll give him a chance.”

“Thanks for being his dad too,” you said.

“I love the kid,” he said, throwing his arm over your shoulders. “So what are you two gonna do with all that money?”

“Pay off the last of the lawyer fees, pay off a big chunk of what’s left on the mortgage. When that set design comes in then we won’t owe too much more on the house,” you said. “Speaking of which, I gotta go to work on it.”

“Y/N? Use some of that money and take a nice vacation with the kids. Or even just a long weekend away for you and TJ.”

“We really ought to use it for stuff like the house,” you said.

“Have you and TJ ever taken a vacation just the two of you?”

“Of course. We went on our honeymoon.”

“That doesn’t count. The answer’s no, isn’t it.”

“Dad, I don’t need-”

“Maybe you don’t but somebody in that pool needs to have some fun. Plan a little trip away next month,” he said.

“He’s always wanted to go to Mardi Gras,” you said with a smile.

“You guys would have a blast and I got some pull down there and all. Come on. Let me spoil my grandkids for a weekend.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me,” you said.

“You mind if the twins have dinner with you guys?”

“We’re actually going to the Pads for dinner. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind more though. You got a hot date?”

“Getting a private college tour with mom and JJ,” he said. “Ya’ll can stop growing up anytime you want you know.”

“She wants to live at home you know.”

“Really?”

“Contrary to her teenage angst as of late, she does love us. Just you know, drop the curfew like you did with me.”

“And we get texts when you stay out.”

“That’s what you thought,” you mumbled. He raised an eyebrow and you shrugged. “I let you know when I wouldn’t be home that night. You didn’t need to know my exact whereabouts.”

“When’s the first time you stayed over TJ’s?”

“Fall of Freshman year in his dorm,” you said.

“Never mind. I don’t need to know,” he said.

“Yup. Let her have fun when she gets there, she’s smart,” you said. “Plus you know she’ll call me if shit happens. Also she has a year and a half of high school left. Relax.”

“At least I know Tom will keep an eye on her too.”

“Already planning the wedding?” you smirked.

“Shut up,” he said, ruffling your hair. “Make sure he gets this.”

He dug into his back pocket and took out an envelope, handing it to you.

“Thanks,” you said quietly. “Dad?”

“Mhm,” he said as he stood.

“Can you invite him on your fishing trip this weekend with grandpa?”

“Already did,” he said, nodding down at the envelope. “I’ll talk to you soon, tall munchkin.”

“Later dad,” you said, TJ giving him a wave as he headed out. You left the letter on the patio table and went over to the pool, slipping into the shallow end.

“Everything good?” he asked.

“Yeah. My dad left you a letter,” you said, Allie swimming off on her own, doing circles around TJ. He nodded and got out of the pool, drying off some before he went to the table and sat down. “Time for a snack.”

You scooped her up and swung her around in the water, throwing her up your hip. You walked out with her, setting her down to dry her off some.

“Is daddy okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Why don’t you change back into some clothes and we’ll get Colin and snack time going.”

She rushed over to TJ and smiled up at him, TJ tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Daddy snack time!” she said.

“I’ll be inside in just a minute, sweetie,” he said. He leaned over and kissed her head, pushing her back towards you. You patted her inside, TJ rubbing his thumb over his lip as he read.

“Take your time, babe,” you said. You kissed his cheek and he nodded. “I’ll leave some tissues just inside the door in case.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Take all the time you need. I got these two,” you said. He nodded and smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Y/N.”

_________

A/N: Read the First Summer Timestamp here!

#supernatural #tell me a story bingo #spn #jensen ackles #jensen x daughter!reader #rpf #au #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #jensen x

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davidmann95 · 4 years ago

Note

So... Morrison’s 10 part interview on All-Star Superman, along with all other older Newsarama articles, just seem to have ceased to exist. One does not simply live without having those interviews available to reread... Can I find them anywhere else?

Rejoice! I finally borrowed a computer I could put my flash drive into, and emailed myself my copy of the Morrison interview. Here it is below the cut, copied and pasted direct from the source way back when, available again at last:

Three years, 12 issues, Eisners and countless accolades later, All Star Superman is finally finished. The out-of-continuity look at Superman’s struggle with his inevitable death was widely embraced by fans and pros as one of the best stories to feature the Man of Steel, and was a showcase for the talents of the creative team of Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely and Jamie Grant.

Now, Newsarama is proud to present an exclusive look back with Morrison at the series that took Superman to, pun intended, new heights. We had a lot of questions about the series...and Morrison delivered with an in-depth look into the themes, characters and ideas throughout the 12 issues. In fact, there was so much that we’re running this as an unprecedented 10-part series over the next two weeks – sort of an unofficial All Star Superman companion. It’s everything about All Star Superman you ever wanted to know, but were afraid to ask.

And of course there’s plenty of SPOILERS, so back away if you haven’t read the entire series.

Newsarama: Grant, tell us a little about the origin of the project.

Grant Morrison: Some of it has its roots in the DC One Million project from 1999. So much so, that some readers have come to consider this a prequel to DC One Million, which is fine if it shifts a few more copies! I’ve tried to give my own DC books an overarching continuity intended to make them all read as a more coherent body of work when I’m done.

Luthor’s “enlightenment” – when he peaks on super–senses and sees the world as it appears through Superman’s eyes – was an element I’d included in the Superman Now pitch I prepared along with Mark Millar, Tom Peyer and Mark Waid back in 1999. There were one or two of ideas of mine that I wanted to preserve from Superman Now and Luthor’s heart–stopping moment of understanding was a favorite part of the original ending for that story, so I decided to use it again here.

My specific take on Superman’s physicality was inspired by the “shamanic” meeting my JLA editor Dan Raspler and I had in the wee hours of the morning outside the San Diego comic book convention in whenever it was, ‘98 or ‘99.

I’ve told this story in more detail elsewhere but basically, we were trying to figure out how to “reboot” Superman without splitting up his marriage to Lois, which seemed like a cop–out. It was the beginning of the conversations which ultimately led to Superman Now, with Dan and I restlessly pacing around trying to figure out a new way into the character of Superman and coming up short...

Until we looked up to see a guy dressed as Superman crossing the train tracks. Not just any skinny convention guy in an ill–fitting suit, this guy actually looked like Superman. It was too good a moment to let pass, so I ran over to him, told him what we’d been trying to do and asked if he wouldn’t mind indulging us by answering some questions about Superman, which he did...in the persona and voice of Superman!

We talked for an hour and a half and he walked off into the night with his friend (no, it wasn’t Jimmy Olsen, sadly). I sat up the rest of the night, scribbling page after page of Superman notes as the sun came up over the naval yards.

My entire approach to Superman had come from the way that guy had been sitting; so easy, so confident, as if, invulnerable to all physical harm, he could relax completely and be spontaneous and warm. That pose, sitting hunched on the bollard, with one knee up, the cape just hanging there, talking to us seemed to me to be the opposite of the clenched, muscle-bound look the character sometimes sports and that was the key to Superman for me.

I met the same Superman a couple of times afterwards but he wasn’t Superman, just a nice guy dressed as Superman, whose name I didn’t save but who has entered into my own personal mythology (a picture has from that time has survived showing me and Mark Waid posing alongside this guy and a couple of young readers dressed as Superboy and Supergirl – it’s in the “Gallery” section at my website for anybody who can be bothered looking. This is the guy who lit the fuse that led to All Star Superman).

After the 1999 pitch was rejected, I didn’t expect to be doing any further work on Superman but sometime in 2002, while I was going into my last year on New X–Men, Dan DiDio called and asked if I wanted to come back to DC to work on a Superman book with Jim Lee.

Jim was flexing his artistic muscles again to great effect, and he wanted to do 12 issues on Superman to complement the work he was doing with Jeph Loeb on “Batman: Hush.” At the time, I wasn’t able to make my own commitments dovetail with Jim’s availability, but by then I’d become obsessed with the idea of doing a big Superman story and I’d already started working out the details.

Jim, of course, went on to do his 12 Superman issues as “For Tomorrow” with Brian Azzarello, so I found myself looking for an artist for what was rapidly turning into my own Man of Steel magnum opus, and I already knew the book had to be drawn by my friend and collaborator, Frank Quitely.

We were already talking about We3 and Superman seemed like a good meaty project to get our teeth into when that was done. I completely scaled up my expectations of what might be possible once Frank was on board and decided to make this thing as ambitious as possible.

Usually, I prefer to write poppy, throwaway “live performance” type superhero books, but this time, I felt compelled to make something for the ages – a big definitive statement about superheroes and life and all that, not only drawn by my favorite artist but starring the first and greatest superhero of them all.

The fact that it could be a non–continuity recreation made the idea even more attractive and more achievable. I also felt ready for it, in a way I don’t think I would have been in 1999; I finally felt “grown–up” enough to do Superman justice.

I plotted the whole story in 2002 and drew tiny colored sketches for all 12 covers. The entire book was very tightly constructed before we started – except that I’d left the ending open for the inevitable better and more focused ideas I knew would arise as the project grew into its own shape...and I left an empty space for issue 10. That one was intended from the start to be the single issue of the 12–issue run that would condense and amplify the themes of all the others. #10 was set aside to be the one–off story that would sum up anything anyone needed to know about Superman in 22 pages.

Not quite as concise an origin as Superman’s, but that’s how we got started.

NRAMA: When you were devising the series, what challenges did you have in building up this version of the Superman universe?

GM: I couldn’t say there were any particular challenges. It was fun. Nobody was telling me what I could or couldn’t do with the characters. I didn’t have to worry about upsetting continuity or annoying people who care about stuff like that.

I don’t have a lot of old comics, so my knowledge of Superman was based on memory, some tattered “70s books from the remains of my teenage collection, a bunch of DC “Best Of...” reprint editions and two brilliant little handbooks – “Superman in Action Comics” Volumes 1 and 2 – which reprint every single Action Comics cover from 1938 to 1988.

I read various accounts of Superman’s creation and development as a brand. I read every Superman story and watched every Superman movie I could lay my hands on, from the Golden Age to the present day. From the Socialist scrapper Superman of the Depression years, through the Super–Cop of the 40s, the mythic Hyper–Dad of the 50s and 60s, the questioning, liberal Superman of the early 70s, the bland “superhero” of the late 70s, the confident yuppie of the 80s, the over–compensating Chippendale Superman of the 90s etc. I read takes on Superman by Mark Waid, Mark Millar, Geoff Johns, Denny O’Neil, Jeph Loeb, Alan Moore, Paul Dini and Alex Ross, Joe Casey, Steve Seagle, Garth Ennis, Jim Steranko and many others.

I looked at the Fleischer cartoons, the Chris Reeve movies and the animated series, and read Alvin Schwartz’s (he wrote the first ever Bizarro story among many others) fascinating book – “An Unlikely Prophet” – where he talks about his notion of Superman as a tulpa, (a Tibetan word for a living thought form which has an independent existence beyond its creator) and claims he actually met the Man of Steel in the back of a taxi.

I immersed myself in Superman and I tried to find in all of these very diverse approaches the essential “Superman–ness” that powered the engine. I then extracted, purified and refined that essence and drained it into All Star’s tank, recreating characters as my own dream versions, without the baggage of strict continuity.

In the end, I saw Superman not as a superhero or even a science fiction character, but as a story of Everyman. We’re all Superman in our own adventures. We have our own Fortresses of Solitude we retreat to, with our own special collections of valued stuff, our own super–pets, our own “Bottle Cities” that we feel guilty for neglecting. We have our own peers and rivals and bizarre emotional or moral tangles to deal with.

I felt I’d really grasped the concept when I saw him as Everyman, or rather as the dreamself of Everyman. That ��S” is the radiant emblem of divinity we reveal when we rip off our stuffy shirts, our social masks, our neuroses, our constructed selves, and become who we truly are.

Batman is obviously much cooler, but that’s because he’s a very energetic and adolescent fantasy character: a handsome billionaire playboy in black leather with a butler at this beck and call, better cars and gadgetry than James Bond, a horde of fetish femme fatales baying around his heels and no boss. That guy’s Superman day and night.

Superman grew up baling hay on a farm. He goes to work, for a boss, in an office. He pines after a hard–working gal. Only when he tears off his shirt does that heroic, ideal inner self come to life. That’s actually a much more adult fantasy than the one Batman’s peddling but it also makes Superman a little harder to sell. He’s much more of a working class superhero, which is why we ended the whole book with the image of a laboring Superman.

He’s Everyman operating on a sci–fi Paul Bunyan scale. His worries and emotional problems are the same as ours... except that when he falls out with his girlfriend, the world trembles.

Newsarama: Grant, what are some of your favorite moments from the 12 issues?

Grant Morrison: The first shot of Superman flying over the sun. The Cosmic Anvil. Samson and Atlas. The kiss on the moon. The first three pages of the Olsen story which, I think, add up to the best character intro I’ve ever written.

Everything Lex Luthor says in issue #5. Everything Clark does. The whole says/does Luthor/Superman dynamic as played out through Frank Quitely’s absolute mastery and understanding of how space, movement and expression combine to tell a story.

Superboy and his dog on the moon – that perfect teenage moment of infinite possibility, introspection and hope for the future. He’s every young man on the verge of adulthood, Krypto is every dog with his boy (it seemed a shame to us that Krypto’s most memorable moment prior to this was his death scene in “Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow.” Quitely’s scampering, leaping, eager and alive little creature is how I’d prefer to imagine Krypto the Superdog and conjures finer and more subtle emotions).

Bizarro–Home, with all of Earth’s continental and ocean shapes but reversed. The page with the first appearance of Zibarro that Frank has designed so the eye is pulled down in a swirling motion into the drain at the heart of the image, to make us feel that we’re being flushed in a cloacal spiral down into a nihilistic, existential sink. Frank gave me that page as a gift, and it became weirdly emblematic of a strange, dark time in both our lives.

The story with Bar–El and Lilo has a genuine chill off ammonia and antiseptic off it, which makes it my least favorite issue of the series, although I know a lot of people who love it. It’s about dying relatives, obligations, the overlit overheated corridors between terminal wards, the thin metallic odors of chemicals, bad food and fear. Preparation for the Phantom Zone.

Superman hugging the poor, hopeless girl on the roof and telling us all we’re stronger than we think we are.

Joe Shuster drawing us all into the story forever and never–ending.

Nasthalthia Luthor. Frank and Jamie’s final tour of the Fortress, referencing every previous issue on the way, in two pages.

All of issue #10 (there’s a single typo in there where the time on the last page was screwed up – but when we fix that detail for the trade I’ll be able to regard this as the most perfectly composed superhero story I’ve ever written).

I don’t think I’ve ever had a smoother, more seamless collaborative process.

NRAMA: The story is very complete unto itself, but are there any new or classic characters you’d like to explore further? If so, which ones and why?

GM: I’d happily write more Atlas and Samson. I really like Krull, the Dino–Czar’s wayward son, and his Stalinist underground empire of “Subterranosauri.” I could write a Superman Squad comic forever. I’d love to write the “Son of Superman” sequel about Lois and Clark’s super test tube baby.

But...I think All Star is already complete, without sequels. You read that last issue and it works because you know you’re never going to see All Star Superman again. You’ll be able to pick up Superman books, but they won’t be about this guy and they won’t feel the same. He really is going away. Our Superman is actually “dying” in that sense, and that adds the whole series a deeper poignancy.

NRAMA: Aside from the Bizarro League, you never really introduce other DC superheroes into the story. Why did you make this choice?

GM: I wanted the story to be about the mythic Superman at the end of his time. It’s clear from the references that he has or more likely has had a few super–powered allies, but that they’re no longer around or relevant any more.

For the context of this story I wanted the super–friends to be peripheral, like they were in the old comics. The Flash? Green Lantern? They represent Superman’s “old army buddies,” or your dad’s school friends. Guys you’ve sort of heard of, who used to be more important in the old man’s life than they are now.

NRAMA: Some readers were confused as to how the “Twelve Labors” broke down, though others have pointed out that Superman’s actions are more reflective of the Stations of the Cross (I note there’s a “Station Café” in the background of issue #12). Could you break down the Twelve Labors, or, if the cross theory is true, how the storyline reflects the Stations?

GM: The 12 Labors of Superman were never intended as an isomorphic mapping onto the 12 Labors of Hercules, or for that matter, the specific Stations of the Cross, of which there are 14, I believe. I didn’t even want to do one Labor per issue, so it deliberately breaks down quite erratically through the series for reasons I’ll go into (later).

Yes, there are correspondences, but that’s mostly because we tried to create for our Superman the contemporary “superhero” version of an archetypal solar hero journey, which naturally echoes numerous myths, legends and religious parables.

At the same time, we didn’t want to do an update or a direct copy of any myth you’d seen before, so it won’t work if you try to find one specific mythological or religious “plan” to hang the series on; James Joyce’s honorable and heroic refutation of the rule aside, there’s nothing more dead and dull than an attempt to retell the Odyssey or the Norse sagas scene by scene, but in a modern and/or superhero setting.

For future historians and mythologizers, however, the 12 Labors of Superman may be enumerated as follows:

1. Superman saves the first manned mission to the sun. 2. Superman brews the Super–Elixir. 3. Superman answers the Unanswerable Question. 4. Superman chains the Chronovore.  5. Superman saves Earth from Bizarro–Home. 6. Superman returns from the Underverse. 7. Superman creates Life. 8. Superman liberates Kandor/cures cancer. 9. Superman defeats Solaris. 10. Superman conquers Death. 11. Superman builds an artificial Heart for the Sun. 12.Superman leaves the recipe/formula to make Superman 2.

And one final feat, which typically no–one really notices, is that Lex Luthor delivers his own version of the unified field haiku – explaining the underlying principles of the universe in fourteen syllables – which the P.R.O.J.E.C.T. G–Type philosopher from issue 4 had dedicated his entire life to composing!

You may notice also that the Labors take place over a year – with the solar hero’s descent into the darkness and cold of the Underverse occurring at midwinter/Christmas time (that’s also the only point in the story where we ever see Metropolis at night).

It can also be seen as the sun’s journey over the course of a day – we open in blazing sunshine but halfway through the book, at the end of issue #5, in fact, the solar hero dips below the horizon and begins the night–journey through the hours of darkness and death, before his triumphant resurrection at dawn. That’s why issue 5 ends with the boat to the Underworld and 6 begins with the moon. Clark Kent is crossing the threshold into the subconscious world of memory, shadows, death and deep emotions.

Although they can often have bizarre resonances, specific elements, like the Station Café, are usually put there by Frank Quitely, and are not necessarily secret Dan Brown–style keys to unlocking the mysteries. I think there might be a Station Café opposite the studio where Frank Quitely works and the “SAPIEN” sign on another storefront is a reference to Frank’s studio mate, Dave Sapien. At least he’s not filling the background with dirty words like he used to, given any opportunity

NRAMA: For that matter, do the Twelve Labors matter at all? They seem so purposely ill–defined. They seem more like misdirection or a MacGuffin than anything that needs to be clearly delineated.

GM: They matter, of course, but the 12 Labors idea is there to show that, as with all myth, the systematic ordering of current events into stories, tales, or legends occurs after the fact.

I’m trying to suggest that only in the future will these particular 12 feats, out of all the others ever, be mythologized as 12 Labors. I suppose I was trying to say something about how people impose meaning upon events in retrospect, and that’s how myth is born. It’s hindsight that provides narrative, structure, meaning and significance to the simple unfolding of events. It’s the backward glance that adds all the capital letters to the list above.

Even Superman isn”t sure how many Labors he’s performed when we see him mulling it over in issue 10.  When you watched it happening, it seemed to be Superman just doing his thing. In the future it’s become THE 12 LABORS OF SUPERMAN!

NRAMA: And on a completely ridiculous note: All–Star Superman is perhaps the most difficult–to–abbreviate comic title since Preacher: Tall in the Saddle. Did you realize this going in?

GM: Going into what? Going into ASS itself? In the sense of how did I feel as I slowly entered ASS for the first time?

It never crossed my mind...

Newsarama: I’d like to know a little more about Leo Quintum and his role in the story. He seems like a bit of an outgrowth of the likes of Project Cadmus and Emil Hamilton, but in a more fantastical, Willy Wonka sense.

Grant Morrison: Yeah, he was exactly as you say, my attempt to create an updated take on the character of “Superman’s scientist friend” – in the vein of Emil Hamilton from the animated show and the ‘90s stories. Science so often goes wrong in Superman stories, and I thought it was important to show the potential for science to go right or to be elevated by contact with Superman’s shining positive spirit.

I was thinking of Quintum as a kind of “Man Who Fell To Earth” character with a mysterious unearthly background. For a while I toyed with the notion that he was some kind of avatar of Lightray of the New Gods, but as All Star developed, that didn’t fit the tone, and he was allowed to simply be himself.

Eventually it just came down to simplicity. Leo Quintum represents the “good” scientific spirit – the rational, enlightened, progressive, utopian kind of scientist I figured Superman might inspire to greatness. It was interesting to me how so many people expected Quintum to turn out bad at the end. It shows how conditioned we are in our miserable, self–loathing, suspicious society to expect the worst of everyone, rather than hope for the best. Or maybe it’s just what we expect from stories.

Having said that, there is indeed a necessary whiff of Lucifer about Quintum. His name, Leo Quintum, conjures images of solar force, lions and lightbringers and he has elements of the classic Trickster figure about him. He even refers to himself as “The Devil Himself” in issue #10.

What he’s doing at the end of the story should, for all its gee–whiz futurity, feel slightly ambiguous, slightly fake, slightly “Hollywood.” Yes, he’s fulfilling Superman’s wishes by cloning an heir to Superman and Lois and inaugurating a Superman dynasty that will last until the end of time – but he’s also commodifying Superman, figuring out how it’s done, turning him into a brand, a franchise, a bigger–and–better “revamp,” the ultimate coming attraction, fresher than fresh, newer than new but familiar too. Quintum has figured out the “formula” for Superman and improved upon it.

And then you can go back to the start of All Star Superman issue #1 and read the “formula” for yourself, condensed into eight words on the first page and then expanded upon throughout the story! The solar journey is an endless circle naturally. A perfect puzzle that is its own solution.

In one way, Quintum could be seen to represent the creative team, simultaneously re–empowering a pure myth with the honest fire of Art...while at the same time shooting a jolt of juice through a concept that sells more “S” logo underpants and towels than it does comic books. All tastes catered!

I have to say that the Willy Wonka thing never crossed my mind until I saw people online make the comparison, which seems quite obvious now. Quintum dresses how I would dress if I was the world’s coolest super–scientist. What’s up with that?

NRAMA: Was Zibarro inspired by the Bizarro World story where the Bizarro–Neanderthal becomes this unappreciated Casanova–type?

GM: Don’t know that one, but it sounds like a scenario I could definitely endorse!

Zibarro started out as a daft name sicked–up by my subconscious mind, which flowered within moments into the must–write idea of an Imperfect Bizarro. What would an imperfect version of an already imperfect being be like?

Zibarro.

NRAMA: I’d like to know more about Zibarro – what’s the significance of his chronicling Bizarro World through poetry?

GM: It’s up to you. I see Zibarro partly as the sensitive teenager inside us all. He’s moody, horribly self–aware and uncomfortable, yet filled with thoughts of omnipotence and agency. He’s the absolute center of his tiny, disorganized universe. He’s playing the role of sensitive, empathic poet but at the same time, he’s completely self–absorbed.

When he says to Superman “Can you even imagine what it’s like to be so different. So unique. So unlike everyone else?” he doesn’t even wait for Superman’s reply. He doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own, ultimately.

NRAMA: The character is very close to Superman, so what does it say that a nonpowered version on a savage world would focus his energy through that medium? Also, does Zibarro’s existence show how Superman is able to elevate even the backwards Bizarros through his very nature?

GM: All of the above. And maybe he writes his totally subjective poetry as a reflection of Clark Kent’s objective reporter role. The suppressed, lyrical, wounded side of Superman perhaps? The Super–Morrissey? Bizarro With The Thorn In His Side?

But he’s also Bizarro–Home’s “mistake” (or so it seems to him, even though he’s as natural an expression of the place as any of the other Bizarro creatures who grow like mold across the surface of their living planet). He feels excluded, a despised outsider, and yet that position is what defines his cherished self–image. He expresses himself through poetry because to him the regular Bizarro language is barbaric, barely articulate and guttural. And they all think he’s talking crap anyway.

It seemed to make sense that an interesting opposite of Bizarro speech might be flowery “woe is me” school Poetry Society odes to the sunset in a misunderstood heart. He’s still a Bizarro though, which makes him ineffectual. His tragedy is that he knows he’s fated to be useless and pointless but craves so much more.

NRAMA: Zibarro also represents a recurrent theme in the story, of Superman constantly facing alternate versions of himself – Bar–El, Samson and Atlas, the Superman Squad, even Luthor by the end. Notably, Hercules is absent, though Superman’s doing his Twelve Labors. With the mythological adventurers in particular, was this designed to equate Superman with their legend, to show how his character is greater than theirs, or both?

GM: In a way, I suppose. He did arm–wrestle them both, proving once and for all Superman’s stronger than anybody! And remember, these characters, along with Hercules, used to appear regularly in Superman books as his rivals. I thought they made better rivals than, say, Majestic or Ultraman because people who don’t read comics have heard of Hercules, Samson and Atlas and understand what they represent.

For that particular story, I wanted to see Superman doing tough guy shit again, like he did in the early days and then again in the 70s, when he was written as a supremely cocky macho bastard for a while. I thought a little bit of that would be an antidote to the slightly soppy, Super–Christ portrayal that was starting to gain ground.

Hence Samson’s broken arm, twisted in two directions beyond all repair. And Atlas in the hospital. And then Superman’s got his hot girlfriend dressed like a girl from Krypton and they’re making out on the moon (the original panel description was of something more like the famous shot of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr kissing in the surf from “From Here To Eternity.” Frank’s final choice of composition is much more classically pulp–romantic and iconic than my down and dirty rumble in the moondirt would have been, I’m glad to say).

Newsarama: Tell us about some of the thinking behind the new antagonists you created for this series (at least the ones you want to talk about...): First up: Krull and the Subterranosaurs...

Grant Morrison: We wanted to create some throwaway new characters which would be designed to look as if they were convincing long–term elements of the Superman legend.

We were trying to create a few foes who had a classic feel and a solid backstory that could be explored again or in depth. Even if we never went back to these characters, we wanted them to seem rich enough to carry their own stories.

With Krull, we figured a superhuman character like Superman can always use a powerful “sub–human” opponent: a beast, a monster, a savage with the power to destroy civilization. For years I’ve had the idea that the familiar “gray aliens” might “actually” be evolved biped dinosaur descendants, the offspring of smart–thinking lizards which made their way to the warm regions at the Earth’s core.

I imagined these brutes developing their own technology, their own civilization, and then finally coming to the surface to declare bloody war on the mammalian usurpers! It seemed like we could develop this idea into the Krull backstory and suggest a whole epic conflict in a few panels.

Dom Regan, the Glasgow artist and DC colorist, saw the original green skin Jamie Grant had done for Krull, and suggested we make him red instead. Jamie reset his color filters and that was the moment Krull suddenly looked like a real Superman foe.

The red skin marked him out as unique, different and dangerous, even among his own species. It had echoes of Jack Kirby’s Devil Dinosaur that played right into the heart of the concept. A good design became a great design and the whole story of who Krull was – his twisted relationship with his father the Dino–Czar, his monstrous ambitions – came together in that first picture.

The society was fleshed out in the script even though we see only one panel of it – a gloomy, heavy, “Soviet” underworld of walled iron cities, cold blood and deadly intrigue. War–Barges that could sail on the oceans of heated steam at the center of the Earth. A Stalinist authoritarian lizard world where missing person cases were being taken to work and die as slaves in hellish underworld conditions.

NRAMA: Mechano–Man?

GM: An attempt to pre–imagine a classic, archetypal Superman foe, which started with another simple premise – how about a giant robot villain? But not just any giant robot – this is a rampaging machine with a raging little man inside.

Giving him a bitter, angry, scrawny loser as a pilot turned Mechano–Man into a much more extreme and pathological expression of the Man of Steel/Mild–Mannered Reporter dynamic, and added a few interesting layers onto an 8–panel appearance.

NRAMA: The Chronovore – a very disturbing creation, that one.

GM: The Chronovore was mentioned in passing in DC 1,000,000 and would have been the monster in my aborted Hypercrisis series idea. It took a long time to get the right design for the beast because it’s meant to be a 5–D being that we only ever see in 4–D sections. It had to work as a convincing representation of something much bigger that we’re seeing only where it interpenetrates our 4–D space-time continuum.

Imagine you’re walking along with a song in your teenage heart, then suddenly the Chronovore appears, takes bite out of your life, and you arrive at your girlfriend’s house aged 76, clutching a cell phone and a wilted bouquet.

NRAMA: One more obscure run that I was happy to see referenced in this was the use of Nasty from the old Mike Sekowsky Supergirl stories. What made you want to use this character?

GM: I remembered her from the old comics, and felt her fashion–y look could be updated very easily into the kind of fetish club thing I’ve always been partial to.

She seemed a cool and sexy addition to the Luthor plot. The set–up, where Lex has a fairly normal sister who hates how her wayward brother is such a bad influence on her brilliant daughter, is explosive with character potential.

They need to bring Nasty back to mainstream continuity. Geoff! They all want it and you know you never let them down!

NRAMA: Speaking of Mike Sekowsky, I’m curious about his influence on your work. I have an odd fascination with all the ideas and stories he was tossing around in the late 1960s and early 1970s – Jason’s Quest, Manhunter 2070, the I–Ching tales – and many of the characters he worked on, from the B”Wana Beast to the Inferior Five to Yankee Doodle (in Doom Patrol), have shown up in your work. The Bizarro Zoo in issue #10 is even slightly reminiscent of the Beast’s merged animals.

GM: Those were all comics that were around when I was a normal kid, prior to the obsessive collecting fan phase of my isolated teenage years. They clearly inspired me in some way, as you say, but certainly not consciously. I’d never have considered myself a particular fan of Mike Sekowsky’s work, but as you say, I’ve incorporated a lot of his ideas into the DC Universe work I’ve done. Hmm. Interesting.

While I’m at it, I should also say something about Samson and Atlas, halfway between old characters and new.

Samson, Atlas and Hercules were classical mainstays of old Superman covers, tangling with Superman in all those Silver Age stories that happened before he learned from his friends at Marvel that it was possible to fight other superheroes for fun and profit, so I decided to completely “re–vamp” the characters in the manner of superhero franchises. Marvel has the definitive Hercules for me, so I left him out of the mix and concentrated on Atlas and Samson.

Atlas was re–imagined as a mighty but restless and reckless young prince of the New Mythos – a society of mega–beings playing out their archetypal dramas between New Elysium and Hadia, with ordinary people caught in the middle – and Superman.

Essentially good–hearted, Atlas would have been the newbie in a “team” with Skyfather Xaoz!, Heroina, Marzak and the others. He has a bullish, adolescent approach to life. He drinks and plunges himself into ill–advised adventures to ease his naturally gloomy “weighed down by the world” temperament.

You can see it all now. The backstory suggested an unseen, Empyrean New Gods–type series from a parallel universe. What if, when Jack Kirby came to DC from Marvel in 1971, he’d followed up his sci–fi Viking Gods saga at Marvel, with a dimension–spanning epic rooted in Greek mythology? New Gods meets Eternals drawn by Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson? That was Atlas.

Samson, I decided would be a callback to the British newspaper strip “Garth.” Although you may already be imagining a daily strip about the exploits of time–tossed The Boys writer, Garth Ennis, it was actually about a blonde Adonis type who bounced around the ages having mildly horny, racy adventures.

(Go look him up then return the wiser before reading on, so I don’t have to explain anymore about this bastard – he’s often described as “the British Superman,” but oh...my arse! I hated meathead, personality–singularity Garth...but we all grew up with his meandering, inexplicable yet incredibly–drawn adventures and some of it was quite good when you were a little lad because he was always shagging ON PANEL with the likes of a bare–breasted cave girl or gauze–draped Helen of Troy.

(Unlike Superman, you see, the top British strongman liked to get naked. Lots naked. Naked in every time period he could get naked in, which was all of them thanks to the miracle of his bullshit powers.

(Imagine Doctor Who buff, dumb and naked all the time – Russell, I’ve had an idea!!!! – and that’s Garth in a nutshell.

(Sorry, I know I’m going on and the average attention span of anyone reading stuff on the Internet amounts to no more than a few paragraphs, but basically, Garth was always getting naked. In public, in family newspapers. Bollock naked. Let’s face it, patriotic Americans, have you ever seen Superman’s arse?

Newsarama Note: Well, there was Baby Kal-El in the 1978 film...

(Brits, hands up who still remember the man, and have you ever not seen Garth’s arse? Do you not, in fact, have a very clear image of it in your head, as drawn by Martin Asbury perhaps? In mine, Garth’s pulling aside a flimsy curtain to gaze at the pyramids with Cleopatra buck naked in foreground ogling his rock hard glutes...).

Anyway, Samson, I decided, was the Hebrew version of Garth and he would have his own mad comic that was like an American version of Garth. I saw the Bible hero plucked from the desert sands by time–travelling buffoons in search of a savior. Introduced to all the worst aspects of future culture and, using his stolen, erratic Chrono–Mobile, Samson became a time–(and space) traveling Soldier of Fortune, writing wrongs, humping princesses, accumulating and losing treasure etc. Like a science fiction Conan. Meets Garth.

Fortunately, you’ll never see any of these men ever again.

Newsarama: How have your perceptions of Superman and his supporting characters evolved since the Superman 2000 pitch you did with Mark Waid, Mark Millar and Tom Peyer? The Superman notions seem almost identical, but Luthor is very different here than in that pitch, and so is Clark Kent. Did you use some aspects of your original pitch, or have you just changed his mind on how to portray these characters since?

Grant Morrison: A little of both. I wanted to approach All Star Superman as something new, but there were a couple of specific aspects from the Superman 2000 pitch (as I mentioned earlier, it was actually called Superman Now, at least in my notebooks, which is where the bulk of the material came from) that I felt were definitely worth keeping and exploring.

I can’t remember much about Luthor from Superman Now, except for the ending. By the time I got to All Star Superman, I’d developed a few new insights into Luthor’s character that seemed to flesh him out more. Luthor’s really human and charismatic and hateful all the same time. He’s the brilliant, deluded egotist in all of us. The key for me was the idea that he draws his eyebrows on. The weird vanity of that told me everything I needed to know about Luthor.

I thought the real key to him was the fact that, brilliant as he is, Luthor is nowhere near as brilliant as he wants to be or thinks he is. For Luthor, no praise, no success, no achievement is ever enough, because there’s a big hungry hole in his soul. His need for acknowledgement and validation is superhuman in scale. Superman needs no thanks; he does what he does because he’s made that way. Luthor constantly rails against his own sense of failure and inadequacy...and Superman’s to blame, of course.

I’ve recently been re–thinking Luthor again for a different project, and there’s always a new aspect of the character to unearth and develop.

NRAMA: This story makes Superman and Lois’ relationship seem much more romantic and epic than usual, but this one also makes Superman more of the pursuer. Lois seems like more of an equal, but also more wary of his affections, particularly in the black–and–white sequence in issue #2.

She becomes this great beacon of support for him over the course of the series, but there is a sense that she’s a bit jaded from years of trickery and uncomfortable with letting him in now that he’s being honest. How, overall, do you see the relationship between Superman and Lois?

GM: The black-and-white panels shows Lois paranoid and under the influence of an alien chemical, but yes, she’s articulating many of her very real concerns in that scene.

I wanted her to finally respond to all those years of being tricked and duped and led to believe Superman and Clark Kent were two different people. I wanted her to get her revenge by finally refusing to accept the truth.

It also exposed that brilliant central paradox in the Superman/Lois relationship. The perfect man who never tells a lie has to lie to the woman he loves to keep her safe. And he lives with that every day. It’s that little human kink that really drives their relationship.

NRAMA: Jimmy Olsen is extremely cool in this series – it’s the old “Mr. Action” idea taken to a new level. It’s often easy to write Jimmy as a victim or sycophant, but in this series, he comes off as someone worthy of being “Superman’s Pal” – he implicitly trusts Superman, and will take any risk to get his story. Do you see this version of Jimmy as sort of a natural evolution of the version often seen in the comics?

GM: It was a total rethink based on the aspects of Olsen I liked, and playing down the whole wet–behind–the–ears “cub reporter” thing. I borrowed a little from the “Mr. Action” idea of a more daredevil, pro–active Jimmy, added a little bit of Nathan Barley, some Abercrombie & Fitch style, a bit of Tintin, and a cool Quitely haircut.

Jimmy was renowned for his “disguises” and bizarre transformations (my favorite is the transvestite Olsen epic “Miss Jimmy Olsen” from Jimmy Olsen #95, which gets a nod on the first page of our Jimmy story we did), so I wanted to take that aspect of his appeal and make it part of his job.

I don’t like victim Jimmy or dumb Jimmy, because those takes on the character don’t make any sense in their context. It seemed more interesting see what a young man would be like who could convincingly be Superman’s “pal.” Someone whose company a Superman might actually enjoy. That meant making Jimmy a much bigger character: swaggering but ingenuous. Innocent yet worldly. Enthusiastic but not stupid.

My favorite Jimmy moment is in issue #7 when he comes up with the way to defeat the Bizarro invasion by using the seas of the Bizarro planet itself as giant mirrors to reflect toxic – to Bizarros – sunlight onto the night side of the Earth. He knows Superman can actually take crazy lateral thinking like this and put it into practice.

NRAMA: Perry White has a few small–but–key scenes, particularly his address to his staff in issue #1 and standing up to Luthor in issue #12. I’d like to hear more about your thoughts on this character.

GM: As with the others, my feelings are there on the page. Perry is Clark’s boss and need only be that and not much more to play his role perfectly well within the stories. He’s a good reminder that Superman has a job and a boss, unlike that good–for–nothing work-shy bastard Batman. Perry’s another of the series’ older male role models of integrity and steadfastness, like Pa Kent.

NRAMA: There’s a sense in the Daily Planet scenes and with Lois’s spotlight issues that everyone knows Clark is Superman, but they play along to humor him. The Clark disguise comes off as very obvious in this story. Do you feel that the Planet staff knows the truth, or are just in a very deep case of denial, like Lex?

GM: If I had to say for sure, I think Jimmy Olsen worked it out a long time ago, and simply presumes that if Superman has a good reason for what he’s doing, that’s good enough for Jimmy.

Lois has guessed, but refuses to acknowledge it because it exposes her darkest flaw – she could never love Clark Kent the way she loves Superman.

NRAMA: Also, the Planet staff seems awfully nonchalant at Luthor’s threats. Are they simply used to being attacked by now?

GM: Yes. They’re a tough group. They also know that Superman makes a point of looking out for them, so they naturally try to keep Luthor talking. They know he loves to talk about himself and about Superman. In that scene, he’s almost forgotten he even has powers, he’s so busy arguing and making points. He keeps doing ordinary things instead of extraordinary things.

NRAMA: The running gag of Clark subtly using his powers to protect unknowing people is well done, but I have to admit I was confused by the sequence near the end of issue #1. Was that an el–train, and if so, why was it so close to the ground?

GM: It’s a MagLev hover–train. Look again, and you’ll see it’s not supported by anything. Hover–trains help ease congestion in busy city streets! Metropolis is the City of Tomorrow, after all.

NRAMA: And there’s the death of Pa Kent. Why do you feel it’s particularly important to have Pa and not both of the Kents pass away?

GM: I imagined they had both passed away fairly early in Superman’s career, but Ma went a few years after Pa. Also, because the book was about men or man, it seemed important to stress the father/son relationships. That circle of life, the king is dead, long live the king thing that Superman is ultimately too big and too timeless to succumb to.

NRAMA: There is a real touch of Elliott S! Maggin’s novels in your depiction of Luthor – someone who is just so obsessive–compulsive about showing up Superman that he accomplishes nothing in his own life. He comes across as a showman, from his rehearsed speech in issue #1 to his garish costume in the last two issues, and it becomes painfully apparent that he wants to usurp Superman because he just can’t be happy with himself. What defeats him is actually a beautiful gift, getting to see the world as Superman does, and finally understanding his enemy.

That’s all a lead–in to: What previous stories that defined Luthor for you, and how did you define his character? What appeals to you about writing him?

GM: The Marks Waid and Millar were big fans of the Maggin books, and may have persuaded me to read at least the first one but I’m ashamed to say can’t remember anything about it, other than the vague recollection of a very humane, humanist take on Superman that seemed in general accord with the pacifist, hedonistic, between–the–wars spirit of the ‘90s when I read it. It was the ‘90s; I had other things on my mind and in my mind.

I like Maggin’s “Must There Be A Superman?” from Superman #247, which ultimately poses questions traditional superhero comic books are not equipped to answer and is one of the first paving stones in the Yellow Brick Road that leads to Watchmen and beyond, to The Authority, The Ultimates etc. Everyone still awake, still reading this, should make themselves familiar with “Must There Be A Superman?” – it’s a milestone in the development of the superhero concept.

However, the story that most defines Luthor for me turns out to be, as usual, a Len Wein piece with Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson– Superman #248. This blew me away when I was a kid. Lex Luthor cares about humanity? He’s sorry we all got blown up? The villain loves us too? It’s only Superman he really hates? Genius. Big, cool adult stuff.

The divine Len makes Lex almost too human, but it was amazing to see this kind of depth in a character I’d taken for granted as a music hall villain.

I also love the brutish Satanic, Crowley–esque, Golden Age Luthor in the brilliant “Powerstone” Action Comics #47 (the opening of All Star #11 is a shameless lift from “Powerstone”, as I soon realised when I went back to look. Blame my...er...photographic memory...cough).

And I like the Silver Age Luthor who only hates Superman because he thinks it’s Superboy’s fault he went bald. That was the most genuinely human motivation for Luthor’s career of villainy of all; it was Superman’s fault he went bald! I can get behind that.

In the Silver Age, baldness, like obesity, old age and poverty, was seen quite rightly as a crippling disease and a challenge which Superman and his supporting cast would be compelled to overcome at every opportunity! Suburban “50s America versus Communist degeneracy? You tell me.

I like elements of the Marv Wolfman/John Byrne ultra–cruel and rapacious businessman, although he somewhat lacks the human dimension (ultimately there’s something brilliant about Luthor being a failed inventor, a product of Smallville/Dullsville – the genius who went unnoticed in his lifetime, and resorted to death robots in chilly basements and cellars. Luthor as geek versus world). I thought Alan Moore’s ruthlessly self–assured “consultant” Luthor in Swamp Thing was an inspired take on the character as was Mark Waid’s rage–driven prodigy from Birthright.

I tried to fold them all into one portrayal. I see him as a very human character – Superman is us at our best, Luthor is us when we’re being mean, vindictive, petty, deluded and angry. Among other things. It’s like a bipolar manic/depressive personality – with optimistic, loving Superman smiling at one end of the scale and paranoid, petty Luthor cringing on the other.

I think any writer of Superman has to love these two enemies equally. We have to recognize them both as potentials within ourselves. I think it’s important to find yourself agreeing with Luthor a bit about Superman’s “smug superiority” – we all of us, except for Superman, know what it’s like to have mean–spirited thoughts like that about someone else’s happiness. It’s essential to find yourself rooting for Lex, at least a little bit, when he goes up against a man–god armed only with his bloody–minded arrogance and cleverness.

Even if you just wish you could just give him a hug and help him channel his energies in the right direction, Luthor speaks for something in all of us, I like to think.

However he’s played, Luthor is the male power fantasy gone wrong and turned sour. You’ve got everything you want but it’s not enough because someone has more, someone is better, someone is cleverer or more handsome.

Newsarama: Grant, a recurring theme throughout the book is the effect of small kindness – how even the likes of Steve Lombard are capable of decency. And Superman gets the key to saving himself by doing something that any human being could do, offering sympathy to a person about to end it all.

Grant Morrison: Completely...the person you help today could be the person who saves your life tomorrow.

NRAMA: The character actions that make the biggest difference, from Zibarro’s sacrifice to Pa’s influence on Superman, are really things that any normal, non-powered person could do if they embrace the best part of their humanity. The last page of issue #12 teases the idea that Superman’s powers could be given to all mankind, but it seems as though the greatest gift he has given them is his humanity. How do you view Superman’s fate in the context of where humanity could go as a species?

GM: I see Superman in this series as an Enlightenment figure, a Renaissance idea of the ideal man, perfect in mind, body and intention.

A key text in all of this is Pico’s ‘Oration On The Dignity of Man’ (15c), generally regarded as the ‘manifesto’ of Renaissance thought, in which Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola laid out the fundamentals of what we tend to refer to as ’Humanist’ thinking.

(The ‘Oratorio’ also turns up in my British superhero series Zenith from 1987, which may indicate how long I’ve been working towards a Pico/Superman team-up!)

At its most basic, the ‘Oratorio’ is telling us that human beings have the unique ability, even the responsibility, to live up to their ‘ideals’. It would be unusual for a dog to aspire to be a horse, a bird to bark like a dog, or a horse to want to wear a diving suit and explore the Barrier Reef, but people have a particular gift for and inclination towards imitation, mimicry and self-transformation. We fly by watching birds and then making metal carriers that can outdo birds, we travel underwater by imitating fish, we constantly look to role models and behavioral templates for guidance, even when those role models are fictional TV or, comic, novel or movie heroes, just like the soft, quick, shapeshifty little things we are. We can alter the clothes we wear, the temperature around us, and change even our own bodies, in order to colonize or occupy previously hostile environments. We are, in short, a distinctively malleable and adaptable bunch.

So, Pico is saying, if we live by imitation, does it not make sense that we might choose to imitate the angels, the gods, the very highest form of being that we can imagine? Instead of indulging the most brutish, vicious, greedy and ignorant aspects of the human experience, we can, with a little applied effort, elevate the better part of our natures and work to express those elements through our behavior. To do so would probably make us all feel a whole lot better too. Doing good deeds and making other people happy makes you feel totally brilliant, let’s face it.

So we can choose to the astronaut or the gangster. The superhero or the super villain. The angel or the devil. It’s entirely up to us, particularly in the privileged West, how we choose to imagine ourselves and conduct our lives.

We live in the stories we tell ourselves. It’s really simple. We can continue to tell ourselves and our children that the species we belong to is a crawling, diseased, viral cancer smear, only fit for extinction, and let’s see where that leads us.

We can continue to project our self-loathing and narcissistic terror of personal mortality onto our culture, our civilization, our planet, until we wreck the promise of the world for future generations in a fit of sheer self-induced panic...

...or we can own up to the scientific fact that we are all physically connected as parts of a single giant organism, imagine better ways to live and grow...and then put them into practice. We can stop pissing about, start building starships, and get on with the business of being adults.

The ’Oratorio’ is nothing less than the Shazam!, the Kimota! for Western Culture and we would do well to remember it in our currently trying times.

The key theme of the ‘Dark Age’ of comics was loss and recovery of wonder - McGregor’s Killraven trawling through the apocalyptic wreckage of culture in his search for poetry, meaning and fellowship, Captain Mantra, amnesiac in Robert Mayer’s Superfolks, Alan Moore’s Mike Maxwell trudging through the black and white streets of Thatcher’s Britain, with the magic word of transformation burning on the tip of his tongue.

My own work has been an ongoing attempt to repeat the magic word over and over until we all become the kind of superheroes we’d all like to be. Ha hah ha.

Newsarama: The structure of the 12 issues involves both Superman’s 12 labors and his impending death. Do you feel the threat of his demise brings out the best in Superman’s already–high character, or did you intend it more as a window for the audience to understand how he sees the world?

Grant Morrison: In trying to do the “big,” ultimate Superman story, we wanted to hit on all the major beats that define the character – the “death of Superman” story has been told again and again and had to be incorporated into any definitive take. Superman’s death and rebirth fit the sun god myth we were establishing, and, as you say, it added a very terminal ticking clock to the story.

NRAMA: When we talked earlier this year, we discussed the neurotic quality of the Silver Age stories. Looking at the series as a whole, you consistently invert this formula. Superman is faced with all these crises that could be seen as personifying his neuroses, but for the most part he handles them with a level head and comes across as being very at peace with himself. You talked about your discussion with an in–character Superman fan at a convention years ago, but I am curious as to how you determined Superman’s mindset.

GM: I felt we had to live up to the big ideas behind Superman. I don’t take my daft job lightly. It’s all I’ve got.

As the project got going, I wasn’t thinking about Silver Ages or Dark Ages or anything about the comics I’d read, so much as the big shared idea of “Superman” and that “S” logo I see on T–shirts everywhere I go, on girls and boys. That communal Superman. I wanted us to get the precise energy of Platonic Superman down on the page.

The “S” hieroglyph, the super–sigil, stands for the very best kind of man we can imagine, so the subject dictated the methodical, perfectionist approach. As I’ve mentioned before, I keep this aspect of my job fresh for myself by changing my writing style to suit the project, the character or the artist.

With something like Batman R.I.P., I’m aiming for a frenzied Goth Pulp-Noir; punk-psych, expressionist shadows and jagged nightmare scene shifts, inspired by Batman’s roots and by the snapping, fluttering of his uncanny cape. Final Crisis was written, with the Norse Ragnarok and Biblical Revelations in mind, as a story about events more than characters. A doom-laden, Death Metal myth for the wonderful world of Fina(ncia)l Crisis/Eco-breakdown/Terror Trauma we all have to live in.

The subject matter drives the execution. And then, of course, the artists add their own vision and nuance. With All Star Superman, “Frank” and I were able to spend a lot of time together talking it through, and we agreed it had to be about grids, structure, storybook panel layouts, an elegance of form, a clarity of delivery. “Classical” in every sense of the word. The medium, the message, the story, the character, all working together as one simple equation.

Frank Quitely, a Glasgow Art School boy, completely understood without much explanation, the deep structural underpinnings of the series and how to embody them in his layouts. There’s a scene in issue # 8, set on the Bizarro world, where we see Le Roj handing Superman his rocket plans. Look at the arrangement of the figures of Zibarro, Le Roj, Superman and Bizaro–Superman and you’ll see one attempt to make us of Renaissance compositions.

The sense of sunlit Zen calm we tried to get into All Star is how I imagine it might feel to think the way Superman thinks all the time - a thought process that is direct, clean, precise, mathematical, ordered. A mind capable of fantastical imagination but grounded in the everyday of his farm upbringing with nice decent folks. Rich with humour and tears and deep human significance, yet tuned to a higher key. We tried to hum along for a little while, that’s all.

In honor of the character’s primal position in the development of the superhero narrative, I hoped we could create an “ultimate” hero story, starring the ultimate superhero.

Basically, I suppose I felt Superman deserved the utmost application of our craft and intelligence in order to truly do him justice.

Otherwise, I couldn’t have written this book if I hadn’t watched my big, brilliant dad decline into incoherence and death. I couldn’t have written it if I’d never had my heart broken, or mended. I couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t known what it felt like to be idolized, misunderstood, hated for no clear reason, loved for all my faults, forgotten, remembered...

Writing All Star Superman was, in retrospect, also a way of keeping my mind in the clean sunshine while plumbing the murkiest depths of the imagination with that old pair of c****s Darkseid and Doctor Hurt. Good riddance.

Newsarama: This is touched on in other questions, but how much of the Silver/Bronze Age backstory matters here? What do you see as Superman's life prior to All-Star Superman? (What was going on with this Superman while the Byrne revamp took hold?)

Grant Morrison: When I introduced the series in an interview online, I suggested that All Star Superman could be read as the adventures of the ‘original’ Pre-Crisis on Infinite Earths Superman, returning after 20 plus years of adventures we never got to see because we were watching John Byrne‘s New Superman on the other channel. If ‘Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow?’ and the Byrne reboot had never happened, where would that guy be now?

This was more to provide a sense, probably limited and ill-considered, of what the tone of the book might be like. I never intended All Star Superman as a direct continuation of the Weisinger or Julius Schwartz-era Superman stories. The idea was always to create another new version of Superman using all my favorite elements of past stories, not something ‘Age’ specific.

I didn’t collect Superman comics until the ‘70s and I’m not interested enough in pastiche or nostalgia to spend 6 years of my life playing post-modern games with Superman. All Star isn’t written, drawn or colored to look or read like a Silver Age comic book.

All Star Superman is not intended as arch commentary on continuity or how trends in storytelling have changed over the decades. It’s not retro or meta or anything other than its own simple self; a piece of drawing and writing that is intended by its makers to capture the spirit of its subject to the best of their capabilities, wisdom and talent.

Which is to say, we wanted our Superman story be about life, not about comics or superheroes, current events or politics. It’s about how it feels, specifically to be a man...in our dreams! Hopefully that means our 12 issues are also capable of wide interpretation.

So as much as we may have used a few recognizable Silver Age elements like Van-Zee and Sylv(i)a and the Bottle City of Kandor, the ensemble Daily Planet cast embodies all the generations of Superman. Perry White is from 1940, Steve Lombard is from the Schwartz-era ‘70s, Ron Troupe - the only black man in Metropolis - appeared in 1991. Cat Grant is from 1987 and so on.

P.R.O.J.E.C.T. refers back to Jack Kirby’s DNA Project from his ‘70s Jimmy Olsen stories, as well as to The Cadmus Project from ’90s Superboy and Superman stories. Doomsday is ‘90s. Kal Kent, Solaris and the Infant Universe of Qwewq all come from my own work on Superman in the same decade. Pa Kent’s heart attack is from ‘Superman the Movie‘. We didn’t use Brainiac because he’d been the big bad in Earth 2 but if we had, we’d have used Brainiac’s Kryptonian origin from the animated series and so on.

I also used quite a few elements of John Byrne’s approach. Byrne made a lot of good decisions when he rebooted the whole franchise in 1986 and I wanted to incorporate as much as I could of those too.

Our Superman in All Star was never Superboy, for instance. All Star Superman landed on Earth as a normal, if slightly stronger and fitter infant, and only began to manifest powers in adolescence when he’d finally soaked up enough yellow solar radiation to trigger his metamorphosis.

The Byrne logic seemed to me a better way to explain how his powers had developed across the decades, from the skyscraper leaps of the early days to the speed-of-light space flight of the high Silver Age. And more importantly, it made the Superman myth more poignant - the story of a farm boy who turned into an alien as he reached adolescence. I felt that was something that really enriched Superman. He grew away from his home, his family, his adopted species as he became Superman. His teenage years are a record of his transformation from normal boy to super-being.

As you say, there are more than just Silver Age influences in the book. Basically we tried to create a perfect synthesis of every Superman era. So much so, that it should just be taken as representative of an ‘age’ all its own.

In the end, however, I do think that the Silver Age type stories, with their focus on human problems and foibles, have a much wider appeal than a lot of the work which followed. They’re more like fables or folk tales than the later ‘comic book superhero’ stories of Superman when he became just another colorful costume in the crowd...and perhaps that’s why All Star seemed to resemble those books more than it does a typical modern Marvel or DC comic. It was our intention to present a more universal, mainstream Superman.

NRAMA: In your depiction of Krypton and the Kryptonians, you show the complexity of Superman’s relationship between humanity and Earth even further. Krypton has that scientific paradise quality to it, but the Kryptonians are also portrayed as slightly aloof and detached, even Jor-El. But from Bar-El to the people of Kandor, they’re touched by Superman’s goodness. What do you see as the fundamental difference between Kryptonians and Earthlings, and how has Superman’s character been shaped by each?

GM: My version of Krypton was, again, synthesized from a number of different approaches over the decades.  In mythic terms, if Superman is the story of a young king, found and raised by common people, then Krypton is the far distant kingdom he lost. It’s the secret bloodline, the aristocratic heritage that makes him special, and a hero. At the same time, Krypton is something that must be left behind for Superman to become who he is - i.e. one of us. Krypton gives him his scientific clarity of mind, Earth makes his heart blaze.

I liked the very early Jerry Siegel descriptions where Krypton is a planet of advanced supermen and women (I already played with that a little in Marvel Boy where Noh-Varr was written to be the Marvel Superboy basically). To that, I added the rich, science fiction detailing of the Silver Age Krypton stories and the slightly detached coolness that characterized John Byrne’s Krypton, which I re-interpreted through the lens of Dzogchen Buddhist thought, probably the most pragmatic, chilly and rational philosophic system on the planet and the closest, I felt, to how Kryptonians might see things.

We also took some time to redesign the crazy, multicolored Kryptonian flag (you can see our version in Kandor in issue #10). The flag, as originally imagined, seemed like the last thing Kryptonians would endorse, so we took the multicolored-rays-around-a-circle design and recreated it - the central circle is now red, representing Krypton’s star, Rao, while the rays, rather than arbitrary colors, become representations of the spectrum of visible light pouring from Rao into the inky black of space. In this way, the flag, that bizarre emblem of nationalism becomes a scientific hieroglyph.

Showing Krypton and Kryptonians was also important as a way of stressing why Superman wears that costume and why it makes absolute sense that he looks the way he does. I don’t see the red and blue suit as a flag or as rewoven baby blankets. There’s no need for Superman to dress the way he does but it made sense to think of his outfit as his ‘national costume‘.

The way I see it, the standard superhero outfit, the familiar Superman suit with the pants on the outside, is what everyone wore on Krypton, give or take a few fashion accessories like hoods and headbands, chest crests and variant colors. In fact, all other superheroes are just copying the fashions on Krypton, lost planet of the super-people.

Superman wears his ’action-suit’ the way a patriotic Scotsman would wear a kilt. It’s a sign of his pride in his alien heritage.

Newsarama: Although All–Star Superman ties in with DC One Million, you style of writing has changed dramatically since then. How do you feel about One Million now?

Grant Morrison: I just read it again and liked it a lot. Comics were definitely happier, breezier and more confident in their own strengths before Hollywood and the Internet turned the business of writing superhero stories into the production of low budget storyboards or, worse, into conformist, fruitless attempts to impress or entertain a small group of people who appear to hate comics and their creators.

NRAMA: Obviously, this book is the most explicit SF–Christ story since Behold the Man, only...happy. Superman/Christ parallels have existed for decades, but this story makes it absolutely explicit, from laying his hands on the sick and dying to...well, most of issue #12. You’ve dealt with Christ themes before, particularly in The Mystery Play, but outside of the comics, how do you see Superman as a Christ figure for the “real” world?

GM: The “Superman as Christ” thing is a little too reductive for me, and tends to overlook the fact that Superman is by no means a pacifist in the Christ sense. Superman would never turn the other cheek; Superman punches out the bully. Superman is a fighter.

When did Christ ever batter the Devil through a mountain?

The thing I disliked about the Superman Returns movie was the American Christ angle, which reduced Superman to a sniveling, masochistic wreck, crawling around on the floor, taking a kicking from everyone. This approach had an odd and slightly disturbing S&M flavor, which didn’t play well to the character’s strengths at all and seemed to derive entirely from a kind of Catholic vision of the suffering, martyred Jesus.

It’s not that he’s based on Jesus, but simply that a lot of the mythical sun god elements that have been layered onto the Christ story also appear in the story of Superman. I suppose I see Superman more as pagan sci–fi. He’s a secular messiah, a science redeemer with tough guy muscles and a very direct and clear morality.

NRAMA: Continuing the religious themes, in issue #10, you have Superman literally giving birth to himself, both philosophically and as a character – a nice little meta–moment showing how Superman inspires a world where he is only fiction. How did that idea come about?

GM: It came from the challenge we’d set ourselves: as I said, issue #10 had been left as a blank space into which the single most coherent condensation of all our ideas about Superman were destined to fit.

I wanted to do a “day in the life” story. So much of All Star had been about this threat to Superman himself, so we wanted to show him going about a typical day saving people and doing good.

Then came the title “Neverending,” which comes from the opening announcement – “Faster than a speeding bullet!...” of the Superman radio show from 1940, and seemed to me to be as good a title for a Superman story as any I could think of. It seemed to distil everything about Superman’s battle and his legend into a single word. And the story structure itself was designed to loop endlessly, so it went well with that.

On top of that went the idea of the Last Will and Testament of Superman. A dying god writing his will seemed like an interesting structure to use. Then came the idea to fit all of human history into that single 24 hours. And then to show the development of the Superman idea through human culture from the earliest Australian Aboriginal notions of super–beings ‘descended” from the sky, through the complex philosophical system of Hinduism, onto the Renaissance concept of the ideal man, via the refinements of Nietzche and finally, down to that smiling, hopeful Joe Shuster sketch; the final embodiment of humanity’s glorious, uplifting notion of the superman become reduced to a drawing, a story for kids, a worthless comic book.

And also what that could mean in a holographic fractal universe, where the smallest part contains and reflects the whole.

Of course the next panel in that sequence is happening in the real world and would show you, the reader, sitting with the latest Superman issue in your hands, deep within the Infant Universe of Qwewq in the Fortress of Solitude, today, wherever you are. In “Neverending,” the reader becomes wrapped in a self–referential loop of story and reality. If you actually, seriously think about what is happening at this point in the story, if you meditate upon the curious entanglement of the real and the fictional, you will become enlightened in this life apparently. According to some texts.

NRAMA: On a personal level, you’ve explored all types of religions and philosophies in your work. What is your take on religion and how it influences humanity, and the Christian take on Jesus Christ in particular?

GM: I think religion per se, is a ghastly blight on the progress of the human species towards the stars. At the same time, it, or something like it, has been an undeniable source of comfort, meaning and hope for the majority of poor bastards who have ever lived on Earth, so I’m not trying to write it off completely. I just wish that more people were educated to a standard where they could understand what religion is and how it works. Yes, it got us through the night for a while, but ultimately, it’s one of those ugly, stupid arse–over–backwards things we could probably do without now, here on the Planet of the Apes.

Religion is to spirituality what porn is to sex. It’s what the Hollywood 3–act story template is to real creative writing.

Religion creates a structure which places “special,�� privileged people (priests) between ordinary people and the divine, as if there could even be any separation: as if every moment, every thought, every action was not already an expression of dynamic ‘divinity” at work.

As I’ve said before, the solid world is just the part of heaven we’re privileged to touch and play with. You don’t need a priest or a holy man to talk to “god” on your behalf: just close your eyes and say hello. “God” is no more, no less, than the sum total of all matter, all energy, all consciousness, as experienced or conceptualized from a timeless perspective where everything ever seems to present all at once. “God” is in everything, all the time and can be found there by looking carefully. The entire universe, including the scary, evil bits, is a thought “God” is thinking, right now.

As far as I can figure it out from my own reading and my own experience of how the spiritual world works, Jesus was, as they say, way cool: a man who achieved a state of consciousness, which nowadays would get him a diagnosis of temporal lobe epilepsy (in the days of the Emperor Tiberius, he was crucified for his ideas, today he’d be laughed at, mocked or medicated).

This “holistic” mode of consciousness (which Luthor experiences briefly at the end of All Star Superman) announces itself as a heartbreaking connection, a oneness, with everything that exists...but you don’t have to be Superman to know what that feeling is like. There are a ton of meditation techniques which can take you to this place. I don’t see it as anything supernatural or religious, in fact, I think it’s nothing more than a developmental level of human consciousness, like the ability to see perspective – which children of 4 cannot do but children of 6 can.

Everyone who’s familiar with this upgrade will tell you the same thing: it feels as if “alien” or “angelic” voices – far more intelligent, coherent and kindly than the voices you normally hear in your head – are explaining the structure of time and space and your place in it.  This identification with a timeless supermind containing and resolving within itself all possible thoughts and contradictions, is what many people, unsurprisingly, mistake for an encounter with “God.” However, given that this totality must logically include and resolve all possible thoughts and concepts, it can also be interpreted as an actual encounter with God, so I’m not here to give anyone a hard time over interpretation.

Some people have the experience and believe the God of their particular culture has chosen them personally to have a chat with. These people may become born–again Christians, fundamentalist Muslims, devotees of Shiva, or misunderstood lunatics. Some “contactees” interpret the voices they hear erroneously as communications from an otherworldly, alien intelligence, hence the proliferation of “abduction” accounts in recent decades, which share most of their basic details with similar accounts, from earlier centuries, of people being taken away by “fairies” or “little people”.

Some, who like to describe themselves as magicians, will recognize the “alien” voice as the “Holy Guardian Angel”.

In timeless, spaceless consciousness, the singular human mind blurs into a direct experience of the totality of all consciousness that has ever been or will ever be. It feels like talking with God but I see that as an aspect of science, not religion.

As Peter Barnes wrote in “The Ruling Class”, “I know I must be God because when I pray to Him, I find I’m talking to myself.”

Newsarama: When we spoke earlier this year, you talked about some of your ideas for future All Star stories. Are you moving forward on those, or have you started working on different ideas since then?

Grant Morrison: I haven’t had time to think about them for a while. I did have the stories worked out, and I’d like to do more, but right now it feels like Frank and Jamie and I have said all there is to be said. I don’t know if I’m ready to do All Star Superman with anyone else right now. I have other plans.

NRAMA: You end the book with Superman having uplifted humanity – having inspired them through his sacrifice and great deeds, and with the potential to pass his powers on to humanity still there. Do you plan to explore this concept further, or would you prefer to leave it open–ended?

GM: I may go back to the Son of Superman in some way. At the same time, it’s best left open–ended. I like the idea that Superman gets to have his cake and eat it; he becomes golden and mythical and lives forever as a dream. Yet, he also is able to sire a child who will carry his legacy into the future. He kicks ass in both the spiritual and the temporal spheres!

NRAMA: The notion of transcendence – always a big part of your work. But the debate about All Star Superman is whether or not it "transcends its genre." Superman becomes transcendent within the series itself, and inspires the beings on Qwewq, but does the work aspire to more than that? Is it simply the greatest version of a Superman story, and that’s enough?

GM: That would certainly be enough if it were true.

It’s a pretty high–level attempt by some smart people to do the Superman concept some justice, is all I can say. It’s intended to work as a set of sci–fi fables that can be read by children and adults alike. I’d like to think you can go to it if you’re feeling suicidal, if you miss your dad, if you’ve had to take care of a difficult, ailing relative, if you’ve ever lost control and needed a good friend to put you straight, if you love your pets, if you wish your partner could see the real you...All Star is about how Superman deals with all of that.

It’s a big old Paul Bunyan style mythologizing of human - and in particular male - experience. In that sense I’d like to think All Star Superman does transcend genre in that it’s intended to be read on its own terms and needs absolutely no understanding of genre conventions or history around it to grasp what’s going on.

In today’s world, in today’s media climate designed to foster the fear our leaders like us to feel because it makes us easier to push around. In a world where limp, wimpy men are forced to talk tough and act ‘badass’ even though we all know they’re shitting it inside. In a world where the measure of our moral strength has come to lie in the extremity of the images we’re able to look at and stomach. In a world, I’m reliably told, that’s going to the dogs, the real mischief, the real punk rock rebellion, is a snarling, ‘fuck you’ positivity and optimism. Violent optimism in the face of all evidence to the contrary is the Alpha form of outrage these days. It really freaks people out.

I have a desire not to see my culture and my fellow human beings fall helplessly into step with a middle class media narrative that promises only planetary catastrophe, as engineered by an intrinsically evil and corrupt species which, in fact, deserves everything it gets.

Is this relentless, downbeat insistence that the future has been cancelled really the best we can come up with? Are we so fucked up we get off on terrifying our children? It’s not funny or ironic anymore and that’s why we wrote All Star Superman the way we did. Everything has changed. ‘Dark’ entertainment now looks like hysterical, adolescent, ‘Zibarro’ crap. That’s what my Final Crisis series is about too.

NRAMA (aka Tim Callahan): Continuing with the theme of transcendence: The words "ineffectual" and "surrender" are repeated throughout the book. Discuss.

GM: Discuss yourself, Callahan! I know you have the facilities and I should think it’s all rather obvious.  

NRAMA: What was the inspiration for the image of Superman in the sun at the end? (I confess this question comes as the result of much unsuccessful Googling)

GM: I didn’t have any specific reference in mind - just that one we‘ve all sort of got in our heads. I drew the figure as a sketch, intended to be reminiscent of William Blake’s cosmic figures, Russian Constructivist Soviet Socialist Worker type posters, and Leonardo’s ‘Proportions of the Human Figure‘. The position of the legs hints at the Buddhist swastika, the clockwise sun symbol. It was to me, the essence of that working class superheroic ideal I mentioned, condensed into a final image of mythic Superman, - our eternal, internal, guiding, selfless, tireless, loving superstar. The daft All Star Superman title of the comic is literalized in this last picture. It’s the ‘fearful symmetry’ of the Enlightenment project - an image of genius, toil, and our need to make things, to fashion art and artifacts, as a form of superhuman, divine imitation.

It was Superman as this fusion of Renaissance/Enlightenment ideas about Man and Cosmos, an impossible union of Blake and Newton. A Pop Art ‘Vitruvian Man‘. The inspiration for the first letter of the new future alphabet!

As you can see, we spent a lot of time thinking about all this and purifying it down to our own version of the gold. I’m glad it’s over.

NRAMA: Finally: What, above all else, would you like people to take away from All Star Superman?

GM: That we spent a lot of time thinking about this!

No. What I hope is that people take from it the unlikelihood that a piece of paper, with little ink drawings of figures, with little written words, can make you cry, can make your heart soar, can make you scared, sad, or thrilled. How mental is that?

That piece of paper is inert material, the corpse of some tree, pulped and poured, then given new meaning and new life when the real hours and real emotions that the writer and the artist, the colorist, the letter the editor translated onto the physical page, meet with the real hours and emotions of a reader, of all readers at once, across time, generations and distance.

And think about how that experience, the simple experience of interacting with a paper comic book, along with hundreds of thousands of others across time and space, is an actual doorway onto the beating heart of the imminent, timeless world of “Myth” as defined above. Not just a drawing of it but an actual doorway into timelessness and the immortal world where we are all one together.

My grief over the loss of my dad can be Superman’s grief, can trigger your own grief, for your own dad, for all our dads. The timeless grief that’s felt by Muslims and Christians and Agnostics alike. My personal moments of great and romantic love, untainted by the everyday, can become Superman’s and may resonate with your own experience of these simple human feelings.

In the one Mythic moment we’re all united, kissing our Lover for the First time, the Last time, the Only time, honoring our dear Dad under a blood red sky, against a darkening backdrop, with Mum telling us it’ll all be okay in the end.

If we were able to capture even a hint of that place and share it with our readers, that would be good enough for me.

#All Star Superman #Grant Morrison #Superman

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kyber-kisses · 4 years ago

Text

Southern Nights (3/4)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: a little angst, but mostly fluff🤷‍♀️

Summary: After a situation with the BMoL, Dean finds himself running towards the person he fears for the most besides his brother. But even when he finds her safe and alive, he can see that something isnt right.

A/n: So remember when I said it was gonna be two parts and then I switched it to three? Well now its gonna be four. . .Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

There is a split second after the words leave your lips that Dean thinks your joking, but then as he looks at you he can see you are dead serious. You don't make eye contact- instead you focus on the orange tabby still swatting at fireflies.

For as long as Dean and his brother had known you, you had loved hunting. You loved saving people. There was a method to your madness when it came to you constantly being on your feet and finding new cases. Keeping people safe, making the world better. That was what made you happy.

And Dean loved the hell out of you for it.

The older Winchester watched you with a concerned expression, your eyes still having yet to meet his. The glassy look in your pupils was the first thing he noticed though, even as you tried to avert your eyes.

You had been quiet because you were finding it hard to find the right words. The words that would help the person you loved so dearly understand. “You know-” You began, swallowing thickly. “I was supposed to leave her four weeks ago. Four. I was supposed to pack myself into my car and head off on a vetala hunt in Montana. I had my bags packed up and everything.” Taking a deep breath, you looked down at your hands, taking in the callouses and scars a lifetime of hunting had left behind. “And there I was- standing on the front steps, keys in my hand and bags at my feet. . .and I couldn't get myself to go. I knew I should, there was a job that needed to be done.” You shrugged. “But I couldn't do it Dean. I called a hunter friend, informed them of the case and went back inside. I guessed I had hoped the feeling would pass, that I just needed another day. But it didn't.”

Dean wasn’t sure which part broke his heart more, your next words and how your shoulders sagged as you said them or how your voice wavered and the tears finally raced down your face. Maybe it was both- either way it felt like a hot poker had been twisted into his gut.

“I'm crazy tired, Dean. . .and I think I have been for a long time.” Your voice cracked, eyes looking up from your hands and back to the front yard. “I think I’ve been running so hard and so fast for so long that I- that I didn’t realize how tired I was until I was burning on fumes. As much as I love hunting, I think I need to stop.” Your voice cracking once more before falling silent.

oh, Y/N.

“but if you guys need help with this men of letters stuff, I am one hundred percent there-” You quickly added, finally turning to look at him.

“woah, woah, woah hey pump the breaks-” he quickly shook his head as he rose from his spot next to you, only to move and squat down in front of you, his hands on your knees. “Don’t. Sam and I have got that all under control.” Sliding his hand into your own, he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“But its not fair.”

Deans eyebrows drew together in confusion as he looked up at you. “Whats not fair?”

You inhaled another shaky breath, trying to find some sort of serenity in those jade irises. “I-”

“Take your time. I’m right here.”

For a moment you remained stagnant, gripping Deans hand tightly as if it were a life line. “That I decided to stop while you and Sam are still out there.” You paused when you saw the still clear confusion on his face. “ Dean, I know you're tired too. You even admitted it last night when I brought it up. Its not right that I should get the option to stop when you're in a similar boat. Its not fair.”

Dean couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth. It was almost like you had stunned him into silence. “Are you saying you feel guilty for putting down your gun?”

“Yes!”

“Don’t be. Don’t.” He repeated, shaking his head again. “Sure I get worn out every once and awhile, sometimes worse than others- but I'm okay.” He gave you one of his soft reassuring smiles before placing a kiss in the center of you palm. “Sam and I can handle the monsters.”

“But-”

“No buts okay?” Slowly rising back to his feet, he extends a hand before pulling you up with him. Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulder before you could stop him, the hunter pulling you in close. Despite the still heavy feeling in your stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of being pressed against him. You sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. “you deserve everything good in this life, Y/N.”

“So do you.” You mumbled, yawning half way through the words.

You're not sure, but you think you can feel Dean smiling against your hairline. Luckily you're correct, your words managing to make something in Dean crack wide open. He lets himself drown for another moment in the complete bliss that is having you in his arm before he prepares himself to pull away, the constant voice in his head reminding him : Arms length away.

Either time had frozen since he pulled you into that hug or you were much more tired than he initially realized, because as he shifted he could feel you sink further into his arms, cheek resting against his chest.

“You falling asleep on me?”

The only response from you was a sleepy mumble, earning a soft chuckle from the older Winchester as he bent slightly to hook an arm underneath your legs, hoisting you up into his arms.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed, Sweetheart.” He mumbled softly against your forehead, placing one last soft kiss there before resting his cheek on your hairline. Using his foot to wedge open the screen door, he slipped inside before softly shutting it behind him. Sam was already passed out on the couch when he passed by, the hunter eventually making it across the living room and into your bedroom before laying you down on the bed.

Dean gifts himself one last look at you before turning to head out the door. He can sleep on the other couch, you deserve to have your bed to yourself even if you rarely sleep in it, plus once again the little voice tells him to not get any closer. Its already hard enough to pull away as it is whenever hes around you.

“Don’t even think about going to sleep on that couch.” You suddenly mumble, face pressed into your pillow, hair already across your face. “Its half the size of you.”

“I thought you were asleep?”

“Nah. I just wanted you to carry me in here.”

That earns a slight chuckle from him, along with a shake of his head. “You sure you want me as a bunk mate? I’ve been told I’m a cuddler.”

“Who the fuck told you that?” You mumbled, slightly confused as to who Dean had been cuddling. You pressed your face further into the pillow.

“. . . my pillow.” Dean huffed as he toed off his boots and against all his better judgment he allows himself to fall into bed besides you. “But it hasn't complained.”

“Mmm, I wonder why.”

You could feel Deans soft chuckle rumble in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, allowing you to snuggle into his embrace. You should have pulled way, kept some sort of distance between you . . .but you didn't. After a moment you could feel his fingers brushing through your hair, his attempt no doubt at trying to lull you back to sleep.

“I’m sorry this life has worn so much out of you, Y/N. I really hope you find some peace here.” He spoke softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“You could too, you know. Find peace here. . . With me.” You tried, twisting your fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt. It was another moment in which you shouldn't have said anything but you couldn't help it. Staying here with Dean? Now that would be heaven on earth.

“Oh could you imagine that? Me, not doing anything related to hunting? I might go insane.”

“Maybe you could do what Bobby did, give other hunters advice ya know?”

“Yeah, maybe.” You couldn’t see it, but Dean had a faint smile on his lips as he rested his cheek against your head. He had to admit, that did sound nice. A calm life. . . And with you? That was a picture of paradise if he ever imagined one.

“I mean, you already got the grumpy old man part down.” You joked, smiling when you heard Dean suck in air through his teeth.

“Oh, not gonna lie. That one stung a bit.” He grinned.

“I’m just kidding, you know that right?”

“Yeah, yeah I do. Now go to sleep.”

carding your fingers through his short hair, you give him one last sleepy smile through the dark. “Good night Mo Ghraidh.”

Dean hums under your touch, unable to stop himself from smiling when you speak. For all he knows you could be calling him some rude name as a long running joke with yourself, (Because lets be real, that is something you would totally do just to drive him mad.) But then again he wouldn't care if you were because the way the words roll off your tongue brings a sense of calm. Its something reserved just for him, whatever it means.

And he loves it.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe @hhiggs @mila-dans @mrsmaybankhere @malindacath

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #SPN #spn x reader #dean winchester imagine #bi-danvers writing

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ahouseoflies · 4 years ago

Text

The Best Films of 2020

I can’t tell you anything novel or insightful about this year that has been stolen from our lives. I watched zero of these films in a theater, and I watched most of them half-asleep in moments that I stole from my children. Don’t worry, there are some jokes below.

GARBAGE

93. Capone (Josh Trank)- What is the point of this dinner theater trash? It takes place in the last year of Capone's life, when he was released from prison due to failing health and suffered a stroke in his Florida home. So it covers...none of the things that make Al Capone interesting? It's not historically accurate, which I have no problem with, but if you steer away from accuracy, then do something daring and exciting. Don't give me endless scenes of "Phonse"--as if the movie is running from the very person it's about--drawing bags of money that promise intrigue, then deliver nothing in return.

That being said, best "titular character shits himself" scene since The Judge.

92. Ammonite (Francis Lee)- I would say that this is the Antz to Portrait of a Lady on Fire's A Bug's Life, but it's actually more like the Cars 3 to Portrait of a Lady on Fire's Toy Story 1.

91. Ava (Tate Taylor)- Despite the mystery and inscrutability that usually surround assassins, what if we made a hitman movie but cared a lot about her personal life? Except neither the assassin stuff nor the family stuff is interesting?

90. Wonder Woman 1984 (Patty Jenkins)- What a miscalculation of what audiences loved about the first and wanted from the sequel. WW84 is silly and weightless in all of the ways that the first was elegant and confident. If the return of Pine is just a sort of phantom representation of Diana's desires, then why can he fly a real plane? If he is taking over another man's soul, then, uh, what ends up happening to that guy? For that matter, why is it not 1984 enough for Ronald Reagan to be president, but it is 1984 enough for the president to have so many Ronald Reagan signifiers that it's confusing? Why not just make a decision?

On paper, the me-first values of the '80s lend themselves to the monkey's paw wish logic of this plot. You could actually do something with the Star Wars program or the oil crisis. But not if the setting is played for only laughs and the screenplay explains only what it feels like.

89. Babyteeth (Shannon Murphy)- In this type of movie, there has to be a period of the Ben Mendelsohn character looking around befuddled about the new arrangement and going, "What's this now--he's going to be...living with us? The guy who tried to steal our medication? This is crazy!" But that's usually ten minutes, and in this movie it's an hour. I was so worn out by the end.

88. You Should Have Left (David Koepp)- David Koepp wrote Jurassic Park, so he's never going to hell, but how dare he start caring about his own mystery at the hour mark. There's a forty-five minute version of this movie that could get an extra star from me, and there's a three-hour version of Amanda Seyfried walking around in athleisure that would get four stars from me. What we actually get? No thanks.

87. Black Is King (Beyonce, et al.)- End your association with The Lion King, Bey. It has resulted in zero bops.

ADMIRABLE FAILURES

86. Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (Cathy Yan)- There's nothing too dysfunctional in the storytelling or performances, but Birds of Prey also doesn't do a single thing well. I would prefer something alive and wild, even if it were flawed, to whatever tame belt-level formula this is.

85. The Turning (Floria Sigismondi)- This update of The Turn of the Screw pumps the age of Miles up to high school, which creates some horny creepiness that I liked. But the age of the character also prevents the ending of the novel from happening in favor of a truly terrible shrug. I began to think that all of the patience that the film showed earlier was just hesitance for its own awful ending.

I watched The Turning as a Mackenzie Davis Movie Star heat check, and while I'm not sure she has the magnetism I was looking for, she does have a great teacher voice, chastening but maternal.

84. Bloodshot (David Wilson)- A whole lot of Vin Diesel saying he's going to get revenge and kill a bunch of dudes; not a whole lot of Vin Diesel actually getting revenge and killing a bunch of dudes.

83. Downhill (Nat Faxon and Jim Rash)- I was an English major in college, which means I ended up locking myself into literary theories that, halfway through the writing of an essay, I realized were flawed. But rather than throw out the work that I had already proposed, I would just keep going and see if I could will the idea to success.

So let's say you have a theory that you can take Force Majeure by Ruben Ostlund, one of the best films of its year, and remake it so that its statement about familial anxiety could apply to Americans of the same age and class too...if it hadn't already. And maybe in the first paragraph you mess up by casting Will Ferrell and Julia Louis-Dreyfus, people we are conditioned to laugh at, when maybe this isn't that kind of comedy at all. Well, don't throw it away. You can quote more--fill up the pages that way--take an exact shot or scene from the original. Does that help? Maybe you can make the writing more vigorous and distinctive by adding a character. Is that going to make this baby stand out? Maybe you could make it more personal by adding a conclusion that is slightly more clever than the rest of the paper?

Or perhaps this is one you're just not going to get an A on.

82. Hillbilly Elegy (Ron Howard)- I watched this melodrama at my mother's encouragement, and, though I have been trying to pin down her taste for decades, I think her idea of a successful film just boils down to "a lot of stuff happens." So in that way, Ron Howard's loss is my gain, I guess.

There is no such thing as a "neutral Terminator."

81. Relic (Natalie Erika James)- The star of the film is Vanessa Cerne's set decoration, but the inert music and slow pace cancel out a house that seems neglected slowly over decades.

80. Buffaloed (Tanya Wexler)- Despite a breathless pace, Buffaloed can't quite congeal. In trying to split the difference between local color hijinks and Moneyballed treatise on debt collection, it doesn't commit enough to either one.

Especially since Zoey Deutch produced this one in addition to starring, I'm getting kind of worried about boo's taste. Lot of Two If by Seas; not enough While You Were Sleepings.

79. Like a Boss (Miguel Arteta)- I chuckled a few times at a game supporting cast that is doing heavy lifting. But Like a Boss is contrived from the premise itself--Yeah, what if people in their thirties fell out of friendship? Do y'all need a creative consultant?--to the escalation of most scenes--Why did they have to hide on the roof? Why do they have to jump into the pool?

The movie is lean, but that brevity hurts just as much as it helps. The screenplay knows which scenes are crucial to the development of the friendship, but all of those feel perfunctory, in a different gear from the setpieces.

To pile on a bit: Studio comedies are so bare bones now that they look like Lifetime movies. Arteta brought Chuck & Buck to Sundance twenty years ago, and, shot on Mini-DV for $250,000, it was seen as a DIY call-to-bootstraps. I guarantee that has more setups and locations and shooting days than this.

78. Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (David Dobkin)- Add Dan Stevens to the list of supporting players who have bodied Will Ferrell in his own movie--one that he cared enough to write himself.

Like Downhill, Ferrell's other 2020 release, this isn't exactly bad. It's just workmanlike and, aside from the joke about Demi Lovato's "uninformed" ghost, frustratingly conventional.

77. The Traitor (Marco Bellochio)- Played with weary commitment by Pierfrancesco Favino, Tomasso Buscetta is "credited" as the first informant of La Cosa Nostra. And that sounds like an interesting subject for a "based on a true story" crime epic, right? Especially when you find out that Buscetta became a rat out of principle: He believed that the mafia to which he had pledged his life had lost its code to the point that it was a different organization altogether.

At no point does Buscetta waver or even seem to struggle with his decision though, so what we get is less conflicted than that description might suggest. None of these Italian mob movies glorify the lifestyle, so I wasn't expecting that. But if the crime doesn't seem enticing, and snitching on the crime seems like forlorn duty, and everything is pitched with such underhanded matter-of-factness that you can't even be sure when Buscetta has flipped, then what are we left with? It was interesting seeing how Italian courts work, I guess?

76. Kajillionaire (Miranda July)- This is another movie so intent on building atmosphere and lore that it takes too long to declare what it is. When the protagonist hits a breaking point and has to act, she has only a third of a film to grow. So whispery too.

Gina Rodriguez is the one to inject life into it. As soon as her motormouth winds up, the film slips into a different gear. The atmosphere and lore that I mentioned reeks of artifice, but her character is believably specific. Beneath a basic exterior is someone who is authentically caring but still morally compromised, beholden to the world that the other characters are suspicious of.

75. Scoob! (Tony Cervone)- The first half is sometimes clever, but it hammers home the importance of friendship while separating the friends.

The second half has some positive messaging, but your kids' movie might have a problem with scale if it involves Alexander the Great unlocking the gates of the Underworld.

My daughter loved it.

74. The Lovebirds (Michael Showalter)- If I start talking too much about this perfectly fine movie, I end up in that unfair stance of reviewing the movie I wanted, not what is actually there.* As a fan of hang-out comedies, I kind of resent that any comedy being made now has to be rolled into something more "exciting," whether it's a wrongfully accused or mistaken identity thriller or some other genre. Such is the post-Game Night world. There's a purposefully anti-climactic note that I wish The Lovebirds had ended on, but of course we have another stretch of hiding behind boats and shooting guns. Nanjiani and Rae are really charming leads though.

*- As a New Orleanian, I was totally distracted by the fake aspects of the setting too. "Oh, they walked to Jefferson from downtown? Really?" You probably won't be bothered by the locations.

73. Sonic the Hedgehog (Jeff Fowler)- In some ways the storytelling is ambitious. (I'm speaking for only myself, but I'm fine with "He's a hedgehog, and he's really fast" instead of the owl mother, teleportation backstory. Not everything has to be Tolkien.) But that ambition doesn't match the lack of ambition in the comedy, which depends upon really hackneyed setups and structures. Guiding Jim Carrey to full alrighty-then mode was the best choice anyone made.

72. Malcolm & Marie (Sam Levinson)- The stars move through these long scenes with agility and charisma, but the degree of difficulty is just too high for this movie to reach what it's going for.

Levinson is trying to capture an epic fight between a couple, and he can harness the theatrical intensity of such a thing, but he sacrifices almost all of the nuance. In real life, these knock-down-drag-outs can be circular and indirect and sad in a way that this couple's manipulation rarely is. If that emotional truth is all this movie is trying to achieve, I feel okay about being harsh in my judgment of how well it does that.

71. Beanpole (Kantemir Balagov)- Elusive in how it refuses to declare itself, forthright in how punishing it is. The whole thing might be worth it for a late dinner scene, but I'm getting a bit old to put myself through this kind of misery.

70. The Burnt Orange Heresy (Giuseppe Capotondi)- Silly in good ways until it's silly in bad ways. Elizabeth Debicki remains 6'3".

69. Everybody’s Everything (Sebastian Jones and Ramez Silyan)- As a person who listened to Lil Peep's music, I can confidently say that this documentary is overstating his greatness. His death was a significant loss, as the interview subjects will all acknowledge, but the documentary is more useful as a portrait of a certain unfocused, rapacious segment of a generation that is high and online at all times.

68. The Witches (Robert Zemeckis)- Robert Zemeckis, Kenya Barris, and Guillermo Del Toro are the credited screenwriters, and in a fascinating way, you can see the imprint of each figure on the final product. Adapting a very European story to the old wives' tales of the American South is an interesting choice. Like the Nicolas Roeg try at this material, Zemeckis is not afraid to veer into the terrifying, and Octavia Spencer's pseudo witch doctor character only sells the supernatural. From a storytelling standpoint though, it seems as if the obstacles are overcome too easily, as if there's a whole leg of the film that has been excised. The framing device and the careful myth-making of the flashback make promises that the hotel half of the film, including the abrupt ending, can't live up to.

If nothing else, Anne Hathaway is a real contender for Most On-One Performance of the year.

67. Irresistible (Jon Stewart)- Despite a sort of imaginative ending, Jon Stewart's screenplay feels more like the declarative screenplay that would get you hired for a good movie, not a good screenplay itself. It's provocative enough, but it's clumsy in some basic ways and never evades the easy joke.

For example, the Topher Grace character is introduced as a sort of assistant, then is re-introduced an hour later as a polling expert, then is shown coaching the candidate on presentation a few scenes later. At some point, Stewart combined characters into one role, but nothing got smoothed out.

ENDEARING CURIOSITIES WITH BIG FLAWS

66. Yes, God, Yes (Karen Maine)- Most people who are Catholic, including me, are conflicted about it. Most people who make movies about being Catholic hate it and have an axe to grind. This film is capable of such knowing wit and nuance when it comes to the lived-in details of attending a high school retreat, but it's more concerned with taking aim at hypocrisy in the broad way that we've seen a million times. By the end, the film is surprisingly all-or-nothing when Christian teenagers actually contain multitudes.

Part of the problem is that Karen Maine's screenplay doesn't know how naive to make the Alice character. Sometimes she's reasonably naive for a high school senior in 2001; sometimes she's comically naive so that the plot can work; and sometimes she's stupid, which isn't the same as naive.

65. Bad Boys for Life (Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah)- This might be the first buddy cop movie in which the vets make peace with the tech-comm youngs who use new techniques. If that's the only novelty on display here--and it is--then maybe that's enough. I laughed maybe once. Not that the mistaken identity subplot of Bad Boys 1 is genius or anything, but this entry felt like it needed just one more layer to keep it from feeling as basic as it does. Speaking of layers though, it's almost impossible to watch any Will Smith movie now without viewing it through the meta-narrative of "What is Will Smith actually saying about his own status at this point in his career?" He's serving it up to us.

I derived an inordinate amount of pleasure from seeing the old school Simpson/Bruckheimer logo.

64. The Gentlemen (Guy Ritchie)- Look, I'm not going to be too negative on a movie whose crime slang is so byzantine that it has to be explained with subtitles. That's just me. I'm a simple man. But I can tell you that I tuned out pretty hard after seven or eight double-crosses.

The bloom is off the rose a bit for Ritchie, but he can still nail a music cue. I've been waiting for someone to hit "That's Entertainment" the way he does on the end credits.

63. Bad Hair (Justin Simien)- In Bad Hair, an African-American woman is told by her boss at a music video channel in 1989 that straightening her hair is the way to get ahead; however, her weave ends up having a murderous mind of its own. Compared to that charged, witty logline, the execution of the plot itself feels like a laborious, foregone conclusion. I'm glad that Simien, a genuinely talented writer, is making movies again though. Drop the skin-care routine, Van Der Beek!

62. Greyhound (Aaron Schneider)- "If this is the type of role that Tom Hanks writes for himself, then he understands his status as America's dad--'wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove'--even better than I thought." "America's Dad! Aye aye, sir!" "At least half of the dialogue is there for texture and authenticity, not there to be understood by the audience." "Fifty percent, Captain!" "The environment looks as fake as possible, but I eventually came around to the idea that the movie is completely devoid of subtext." "No subtext to be found, sir!"

61. Mank (David Fincher)- About ten years ago, the Creative Screenwriting podcast spent an hour or so with James Vanderbilt, the writer of Zodiac and nothing else that comes close, as he relayed the creative paces that David Fincher pushed him through. Hundreds of drafts and years of collaborative work eventuated in the blueprint for Fincher's most exacting, personal film, which he didn't get a writing credit on only because he didn't seek one.

Something tells me that Fincher didn't ask for rewrites from his dead father. No matter what visuals and performances the director can coax from the script--and, to be clear, these are the worst visuals and performances of his career--they are limited by the muddy lightweight pages. There are plenty of pleasures, like the slippery election night montage or the shakily platonic relationship between Mank and Marion. But Fincher hadn't made a film in six years, and he came back serving someone else's master.

60. Tesla (Michael Almereyda)- "You live inside your head." "Doesn't everybody?"

As usual, Almereyda's deconstructions are invigorating. (No other moment can match the first time Eve Hewson's Anne fact-checks something with her anachronistic laptop.) But they don't add up to anything satisfying because Tesla himself is such an opaque figure. Driven by the whims of his curiosity without a clear finish line, the character gives Hawke something enigmatic to play as he reaches deep into a baritone. But he's too inward to lend himself to drama. Tesla feels of a piece with Almereyda's The Experimenter, and that's the one I would recommend.

59. Vitalina Varela (Pedro Costa)- I can't oversell how delicately beautiful this film is visually. There's a scene in which Vitalina lugs a lantern into a church, but we get several seconds of total darkness before that one light source carves through it and takes over part of the frame. Each composition is as intricate as it is overpowering, achieving a balance between stark and mannered.

That being said, most of the film is people entering or exiting doors. I felt very little of the haunting loss that I think I was supposed to.

58. The Rhythm Section (Reed Morano)- Call it the Timothy Hutton in The General's Daughter Corollary: If a name-actor isn't in the movie much but gets third billing, then, despite whom he sends the protagonist to kill, he is the Actual Bad Guy.

Even if the movie serves up a lot of cliche, the action and sound design are visceral. I would like to see more from Morano.

57. Red, White and Blue (Steve McQueen)- Well-made and heartfelt even if it goes step-for-step where you think it will.

Here's what I want to know though: In the academy training sequence, the police cadets have to subdue a "berserker"; that is, a wildman who swings at their riot gear with a sledgehammer. Then they get him under control, and he shakes their hands, like, "Good angle you took on me there, mate." Who is that guy and where is his movie? Is this full-time work? Is he a police officer or an independent contractor? What would happen if this exercise didn't go exactly as planned?

56. Wolfwalkers (Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart)- The visuals have an unfinished quality that reminded me of The Tale of Princess Kaguya--the center of a flame is undrawn white, and fog is just negative space. There's an underlying symmetry to the film, and its color palette changes with mood.

Narratively, it's pro forma and drawn-out. Was Riley in Inside Out the last animated protagonist to get two parents? My daughter stuck with it, but she needed a lot of context for the religious atmosphere of 17th century Ireland.

55. What She Said: The Art of Pauline Kael (Rob Garver)- The film does little more than one might expect; it's limited in the way that any visual medium is when trying to sum up a woman of letters. But as far as education for Kael's partnership with Warren Beatty or the idea of The New Yorker paying her for only six months out of the year, it was useful for me.

Although Garver isn't afraid to point to the work that made Kael divisive, it would have been nice to have one or two interview subjects who questioned her greatness, rather than the crew of Paulettes who, even when they do say something like, "Sometimes I radically disagreed with her," do it without being able to point to any specifics.

54. Beastie Boys Story (Spike Jonze)- As far as this Spike Jonze completist is concerned, this is more of a Powerpoint presentation than a movie, Beastie Boys Story still warmed my heart, making me want to fire up Paul's Boutique again and take more pictures of my buddies.

53. Tenet (Christopher Nolan)- Cool and cold, tantalizing and frustrating, loud and indistinct, Tenet comes close to Nolan self-parody, right down to the brutalist architecture and multiple characters styled like him. The setpieces grabbed me, I'll admit.

Nolan's previous film, which is maybe his best, was "about" a lot and just happened to play with time; Tenet is only about playing with time.

PRETTY GOOD MOVIES

52. Shithouse (Cooper Raiff)- "Death is ass."

There's such a thing as too naturalistic. If I wanted to hear how college freshmen really talked, I would hang out with college freshmen. But you have to take the good verisimilitude with the bad, and good verisimilitude is the mother's Pod Save America t-shirt.

There are some poignant moments (and a gonzo performance from Logan Miller) in this auspicious debut from Cooper Raiff, the writer/director/editor/star. But the second party sequence kills some of the momentum, and at a crucial point, the characters spell out some motivation that should have stayed implied.

51. Totally Under Control (Alex Gibney, Ophelia Harutyunyan, Suzanne Hillinger)- As dense and informative as any other Gibney documentary with the added flex of making it during the pandemic it is investigating.

But yeah, why am I watching this right now? I don't need more reasons to be angry with Trump, whom this film calmly eviscerates. The directors analyze Trump's narcissism first through his contradictions of medical expertise in order to protect the economy that could win him re-election. Then it takes aim at his hiring based on loyalty instead of experience. But you already knew that, which is the problem with the film, at least for now.

50. Happiest Season (Clea Duvall)- I was in the perfect mood to watch something this frothy and bouncy. Every secondary character receives a moment in the sun, and Daniel Levy gets a speech that kind of saves the film at a tipping point.

I must say though: I wanted to punch Harper in her stupid face. She is a terrible romantic partner, abandoning or betraying Abby throughout the film and dissembling her entire identity to everyone else in a way that seems absurd for a grown woman in 2020. Run away, Kristen. Perhaps with Aubrey Plaza, whom you have more chemistry with. But there I go shipping and aligning myself with characters, which only proves that this is an effective romantic comedy.

49. The Way Back (Gavin O’Connor)- Patient but misshapen, The Way Back does just enough to overcome the cliches that are sort of unavoidable considering the genre. (I can't get enough of the parent character who, for no good reason, doesn't take his son's success seriously. "Scholarship? What he's gotta do is put his nose in them books! That's why I don't go to his games. [continues moving boxes while not looking at the other character] Now if you'll excuse me while I wait four scenes before showing up at a game to prove that I'm proud of him after all...")

What the movie gets really right or really wrong in the details about coaching and addiction is a total crap-shoot. But maybe I've said too much already.

48. The Whistlers (Corneliu Porumboiu)- Porumboiu is a real artist who seems to be interpreting how much surveillance we're willing to acknowledge and accept, but I won't pretend to have understood much of the plot, the chapters or which are told out of order. Sometimes the structure works--the beguiling, contextless "high-class hooker" sequence--but I often wondered if the film was impenetrable in the way that Porumboiu wanted it to be or impenetrable in the way he didn't.

To tell you the truth, the experience kind of depressed me because I know that, in my younger days, this film is the type of thing that I would re-watch, possibly with the chronology righted, knowing that it is worth understanding fully. But I have two small children, and I'm exhausted all the time, and I kind of thought I should get some credit for still trying to catch up with Romanian crime movies in the first place.

47. Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (Jason Woliner)- I laughed too much to get overly critical, but the film is so episodic and contrived that it's kind of exhausting by the end--even though it's achieving most of its goals. Maybe Borat hasn't changed, but the way our citizens own their ugliness has.

46. First Cow (Kelly Reichardt)- Despite how little happens in the first forty minutes, First Cow is a thoughtful capitalism parable. Even though it takes about forty minutes to get going, the friendship between Cookie and King-Lu is natural and incisive. Like Reichardt's other work, the film's modest premise unfolds quite gracefully, except for in the first forty minutes, which are uneventful.

45. Les Miserables (Ladj Ly)- I loved parts of the film--the disorienting, claustrophobic opening or the quick look at the police officers' home lives, for example. But I'm not sure that it does anything very well. The needle the film tries to thread between realism and theater didn't gel for me. The ending, which is ambiguous in all of the wrong ways, chooses the theatrical. (If I'm being honest, my expectations were built up by Les Miserables' Jury Prize at Cannes, and it's a bit superficial to be in that company.)

If nothing else, it's always helpful to see how another country's worst case scenario in law enforcement would look pretty good over here.

44. Bad Education (Cory Finley)- The film feels too locked-down and small at the beginning, so intent on developing the protagonist neutrally that even the audience isn't aware of his secrets. So when he faces consequences for those secrets, there's a disconnect. Part of tragedy is seeing the doom coming, right?

When it opens up, however, it's empathetic and subtle, full of a dry irony that Finley is already specializing in after only one other feature. Geraldine Viswanathan and Allison Janney get across a lot of interiority that is not on the page.

43. The Trip to Greece (Michael Winterbottom)- By the fourth installment, you know whether you're on board with the franchise. If you're asking "Is this all there is?" to Coogan and Brydon's bickering and impressions as they're served exotic food in picturesque settings, then this one won't sway you. If you're asking "Is this all there is?" about life, like they are, then I don't need to convince you.

I will say that The Trip to Spain seemed like an enervated inflection point, at which the squad could have packed it in. The Trip to Greece proves that they probably need to keep doing this until one of them dies, which has been the subtext all along.

42. Feels Good Man (Arthur Jones)- This documentary centers on innocent artist Matt Furie's helplessness as his Pepe the Frog character gets hijacked by the alt-right. It gets the hard things right. It's able to, quite comprehensively, trace a connection from 4Chan's use of Pepe the Frog to Donald Trump's near-assuming of Pepe's ironic deniability. Director Arthur Jones seems to understand the machinations of the alt-right, and he articulates them chillingly.

The easy thing, making us connect to Furie, is less successful. The film spends way too much time setting up his story, and it makes him look naive as it pits him against Alex Jones in the final third. Still, the film is a quick ninety-two minutes, and the highs are pretty high.

41. The Old Guard (Gina Prince-Bythewood)- Some of the world-building and backstory are handled quite elegantly. The relationships actually do feel centuries old through specific details, and the immortal conceit comes together for an innovative final action sequence.

Visually and musically though, the film feels flat in a way that Prince-Bythewood's other films do not. I blame Netflix specs. KiKi Layne, who tanked If Beale Street Could Talk for me, nearly ruins this too with the child-actory way that she stresses one word per line. Especially in relief with one of our more effortless actresses, Layne is distracting.

40. The Trial of the Chicago 7 (Aaron Sorkin)- Whenever Sacha Baron Cohen's Abbie Hoffman opens his mouth, the other defendants brace themselves for his dismissive vulgarity. Even when it's going to hurt him, he can't help but shoot off at the mouth. Of course, he reveals his passionate and intelligent depths as the trial goes on. The character is the one that Sorkin's screenplay seems the most endeared to: In the same way that Hoffman can't help but be Hoffman, Sorkin can't help but be Sorkin. Maybe we don't need a speech there; maybe we don't have to stretch past two hours; maybe a bon mot diffuses the tension. But we know exactly what to expect by now. The film is relevant, astute, witty, benevolent, and, of course, in love with itself. There are a handful of scenes here that are perfect, so I feel bad for qualifying so much.

A smaller point: Daniel Pemberton has done great work in the past (Motherless Brooklyn, King Arthur, The Man from U.N.C.L.E.), but the first sequence is especially marred by his sterile soft-rock approach.

GOOD MOVIES

39. Time (Garrett Bradley)- The key to Time is that it provides very little context. Why the patriarch of this family is serving sixty years in prison is sort of besides the point philosophically. His wife and sons have to move on without him, and the tragedy baked into that fact eclipses any notion of what he "deserved." Feeling the weight of time as we switch back and forth between a kid talking about his first day of kindergarten and that same kid graduating from dentistry school is all the context we need. Time's presentation can be quite sumptuous: The drone shot of Angola makes its buildings look like crosses. Or is it X's?

At the same time, I need some context. When director Garrett Bradley withholds the reason Robert's in prison, and when she really withholds that Fox took a plea and served twelve years, you start to see the strings a bit. You could argue that knowing so little about why, all of a sudden, Robert can be on parole puts you into the same confused shoes as the family, but it feels manipulative to me. The film is preaching to the choir as far as criminal justice goes, which is fine, but I want it to have the confidence to tell its story above board.

38. Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets (Turner Ross and Bill Ross IV)- I have a barfly friend whom I see maybe once a year. When we first set up a time to meet, I kind of dread it and wonder what we'll have to talk about. Once we do get together, we trip on each other's words a bit, fumbling around with the rhythm of conversation that we mastered decades ago. He makes some kind of joke that could have been appropriate then but isn't now.

By the end of the day, hours later, we're hugging and maybe crying as we promise each other that we won't wait as long next time.

That's the exact same journey that I went on with this film.

37. Underwater (William Eubank)- Underwater is a story that you've seen before, but it's told with great confidence and economy. I looked up at twelve minutes and couldn't believe the whole table had been set. Kristen plays Ripley and projects a smart, benevolent poise.

36. The Lodge (Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala)- I prefer the grounded, manicured first half to the more fantastic second half. The craziness of the latter is only possible through the hard work of the former though. As with Fiala and Franz's previous feature, the visual rhymes and motifs get incorporated into the soup so carefully that you don't realize it until they overwhelm you in their bleak glory.

Small note: Alicia Silverstone, the male lead's first wife, and Riley Keough, his new partner, look sort of similar. I always think that's a nice note: "I could see how he would go for her."

35. Miss Americana (Lana Wilson)- I liked it when I saw it as a portrait of a person whose life is largely decided for her but is trying to carve out personal spaces within that hamster wheel. I loved it when I realized that describes most successful people in their twenties.

34. Sound of Metal (Darius Marder)- Riz Ahmed is showing up on all of the best performances of the year lists, but Sound of Metal isn't in anyone's top ten films of the year. That's about right. Ahmed's is a quiet, stubborn performance that I wish was in service of more than the straight line that we've seen before.

In two big scenes, there's this trick that Ahmed does, a piecing together of consequences with his eyes, as if he's moving through a flow chart in real time. In both cases, the character seems locked out and a little slower than he should be, which is, of course, why he's facing the consequences in the first place. To be charitable to a film that was a bit of a grind, it did make me notice a thing a guy did with his eyes.

33. Pieces of a Woman (Kornel Mundruczo)- Usually when I leave acting showcases like this, I imagine the film without the Oscar-baiting speeches, but this is a movie that specializes in speeches. Pieces of a Woman is being judged, deservedly so, by the harrowing twenty-minute take that opens the film, which is as indulgent as it is necessary. But if the unbroken take provides the "what," then the speeches provide the "why."

This is a film about reclaiming one's body when it rebels against you and when other people seek ownership of it. Without the Ellen Burstyn "lift your head" speech or the Vanessa Kirby show-stopper in the courtroom, I'm not sure any of that comes across.

I do think the film lets us off the hook a bit with the LaBoeuf character, in the sense that it gives us reasons to dislike him when it would be more compelling if he had done nothing wrong. Does his half-remembering of the White Stripes count as a speech?

32. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (George C. Wolfe)- This is such a play, not only in the locked-down location but also through nearly every storytelling convention: "Where are the two most interesting characters? Oh, running late? They'll enter separately in animated fashion?" But, to use the type of phrase that the characters might, "Don't hate the player; hate the game."

Perhaps the most theatrical note in this treatise on the commodification of expression is the way that, two or three times, the proceedings stop in their tracks for the piece to declare loudly what it's about. In one of those clear-outs, Boseman, who looks distractingly sick, delivers an unforgettable monologue that transports the audience into his character's fragile, haunted mind. He and Viola Davis are so good that the film sort of buckles under their weight, unsure of how to transition out of those spotlight moments and pretend that the story can start back up. Whatever they're doing is more interesting than what's being achieved overall.

31. Another Round (Thomas Vinterberg)- It's definitely the film that Vinterberg wanted to make, but despite what I think is a quietly shattering performance from Mikkelsen, Another Round moves in a bit too much of a straight line to grab me fully. The joyous final minutes hint at where it could have gone, as do pockets of Vinterberg's filmography, which seems newly tethered to realism in a way that I don't like. The best sequences are the wildest ones, like the uproarious trip to the grocery store for fresh cod, so I don't know why so much of it takes place in tiny hallways at magic hour. I give the inevitable American remake* permission to use these notes.

*- Just spitballing here. Martin: Will Ferrell, Nikolaj (Nick): Ben Stiller, Tommy: Owen Wilson, Peter: Craig Robinson

30. The Invisible Man (Leigh Whannell)- Exactly what I wanted. Exactly what I needed.

I think a less conclusive finale would have been better, but what a model of high-concept escalation. This is the movie people convinced me Whannell's Upgrade was.

29. On the Rocks (Sofia Coppola)- Slight until the Mexican sojourn, which expands the scope and makes the film even more psychosexual than before. At times it feels as if Coppola is actively simplifying, rather than diving into the race and privilege questions that the Murray character all but demands.

As for Murray, is the film 50% worse without him? 70%? I don't know if you can run in supporting categories if you're the whole reason the film exists.

28. Mangrove (Steve McQueen)- The first part of the film seemed repetitive and broad to me. But once it settled in as a courtroom drama, the characterization became more shaded, and the filmmaking itself seemed more fluid. I ended up being quite outraged and inspired.

27. Shirley (Josephine Decker)- Josephine Decker emerges as a real stylist here, changing her foggy, impressionistic approach not one bit with a little more budget. Period piece and established actors be damned--this is still as much of a reeling fever dream as Madeline's Madeline. Both pieces are a bit too repetitive and nasty for my taste, but I respect the technique.

Here's my mandatory "Elisabeth Moss is the best" paragraph. While watching her performance as Shirley Jackson, I thought about her most famous role as Peggy on Mad Men, whose inertia and need to prove herself tied her into confidence knots. Shirley is almost the opposite: paralyzed by her worldview, certain of her talent, rejecting any empathy. If Moss can inhabit both characters so convincingly, she can do anything.

26. An American Pickle (Brandon Trost)- An American Pickle is the rare comedy that could actually use five or ten extra minutes, but it's a surprisingly heartfelt and wholesome stretch for Rogen, who is earnest in the lead roles.

25. The King of Staten Island (Judd Apatow)- At two hours and fifteen minutes, The King of Staten Island is probably the first Judd Apatow film that feels like the exact right length. For example, the baggy date scene between a gracious Bill Burr and a faux-dowdy Marisa Tomei is essential, the sort of widening of perspective that something like Trainwreck was missing.

It's Pete Davidson's movie, however, and though he has never been my cup of tea, I think he's actually quite powerful in his quiet moments. The movie probes some rare territory--a mentally ill man's suspicion that he is unlovable, a family's strategic myth-making out of respect for the dead. And when Davidson shows up at the firehouse an hour and fifteen minutes in, it feels as if we've built to a last resort.

24. Swallow (Carlo Mirabella-Davis)- The tricky part of this film is communicating Hunter's despair, letting her isolation mount, but still keeping her opaque. It takes a lot of visual discipline to do that, and Claudio Mirabella-Davis is up to the task. This ends up being a much more sympathetic, expressive movie than the plot description might suggest.

(In the tie dispute, Hunter and Richie are both wrong. That type of silk--I couldn't tell how pebbled it was, but it's probably a barathea weave-- shouldn't be ironed directly, but it doesn't have to be steamed. On a low setting, you could iron the back of the tie and be fine.)

23. The Vast of Night (Andrew Patterson)- I wanted a bit more "there" there; The film goes exactly where I thought it would, and there isn't enough humor for my taste. (The predictability might be a feature, not a bug, since the film is positioned as an episode of a well-worn Twilight Zone-esque show.)

But from a directorial standpoint, this is quite a promising debut. Patterson knows when to lock down or use silence--he even cuts to black to force us to listen more closely to a monologue. But he also knows when to fill the silence. There's a minute or so when Everett is spooling tape, and he and Fay make small talk about their hopes for the future, developing the characters' personalities in what could have been just mechanics. It's also a refreshingly earnest film. No one is winking at the '50s setting.

I'm tempted to write, "If Andrew Patterson can make this with $1 million, just imagine what he can do with $30 million." But maybe people like Shane Carruth have taught us that Patterson is better off pinching pennies in Texas and following his own muse.

22. Martin Eden (Pietro Marcello)- At first this film, adapted from a picaresque novel by Jack London, seemed as if it was hitting the marks of the genre. "He's going from job to job and meeting dudes who are shaping his worldview now." But the film, shot in lustrous Super 16, won me over as it owned the trappings of this type of story, forming a character who is a product of his environment even as he transcends it. By the end, I really felt the weight of time.

You want to talk about something that works better in novels than films though? When a passionate, independent protagonist insists that a woman is the love of his life, despite the fact that she's whatever Italians call a wet blanket. She's rich, but Martin doesn't care about her money. He hates her family and friends, and she refuses to accept him or his life pursuits. She's pretty but not even as pretty as the waitress they discuss. Tell me what I'm missing here. There's archetype, and there's incoherence.

21. Bacurau (Kleber Mendonca Filho and Juliano Dornelles)- Certain images from this adventurous film will stick with me, but I got worn out after the hard reset halfway through. As entranced as I was by the mystery of the first half, I think this blood-soaked ensemble is better at asking questions than it is at answering them.

20. Let Them All Talk (Steven Soderbergh)- The initial appeal of this movie might be "Look at these wonderful actresses in their seventies getting a movie all to themselves." And the film is an interesting portrait of ladies taking stock of relationships that have spanned decades. But Soderbergh and Eisenberg handle the twentysomething Lucas Hedges character with the same openness and empathy. His early reasoning for going on the trip is that he wants to learn from older women, and Hedges nails the puppy-dog quality of a young man who would believe that. Especially in the scenes of aspirational romance, he's sweet and earnest as he brushes his hair out of his face.

Streep plays Alice Hughes, a serious author of literary fiction, and she crosses paths with Kelvin Kranz, a grinder of airport thrillers. In all of the right ways, Let Them All Talk toes the line between those two stances as an entertaining, jaunty experiment that also shoulders subtextual weight. If nothing else, it's easy to see why a cruise ship's counterfeit opulence, its straight lines at a lean, would be visually engaging to Soderbergh. You can't have a return to form if your form is constantly evolving.

19. Dick Johnson Is Dead (Kirsten Johnson)- Understandably, I don't find the subject as interesting as his own daughter does, and large swaths of this film are unsure of what they're trying to say. But that's sort of the point, and the active wrestling that the film engages in with death ultimately pays off in a transcendent moment. The jaw-dropping ending is something that only non-fiction film can achieve, and Johnson's whole career is about the search for that sort of serendipity.

18. Da 5 Bloods (Spike Lee)- Delroy Lindo is a live-wire, but his character is the only one of the principals who is examined with the psychological depth I was hoping for. The first half, with all of its present-tense flourishes, promises more than the gunfights of the second half can deliver. When the film is cooking though, it's chock full of surprises, provocations, and pride.

17. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Eliza Hittmann)- Very quickly, Eliza Hittmann has established herself as an astute, empathetic director with an eye for discovering new talent. I hope that she gets to make fifty more movies in which she objectively follows laconic young people. But I wanted to like this one more than I did. The approach is so neutral that it's almost flat to me, lacking the arc and catharsis of her previous film, Beach Rats. I still appreciate her restraint though.

GREAT MOVIES

16. Young Ahmed (Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne)- I don't think the Dardennes have made a bad movie yet, and I'm glad they turned away from the slight genre dipping of The Unknown Girl, the closest to bad that they got. Young Ahmed is a lean, daring return to form.

Instead of following an average person, as they normally do, the Dardenne Brothers follow an extremist, and the objectivity that usually generates pathos now serves to present ambiguity. Ahmed says that he is changing, that he regrets his actions, but we never know how much of his stance is a put-on. I found myself wanting him to reform, more involved than I usually am in these slices of life. Part of it is that Idir Ben Addi looks like such a normal, young kid, and the Ahmed character has most of the qualities that we say we want in young people: principles, commitment, self-worth, reflection. So it's that much more destructive when those qualities are used against him and against his fellow man.

15. World of Tomorrow Episode Three: The Absent Destinations of David Prime (Don Hertzfeldt)- My dad, a man whom I love but will never understand, has dismissed modern music before by claiming that there are only so many combinations of chords. To him, it's almost impossible to do something new. Of course, this is the type of thing that an uncreative person would say--a person not only incapable of hearing the chords that combine notes but also unwilling to hear the space between the notes. (And obviously, that's the take of a person who doesn't understand that, originality be damned, some people just have to create.)

Anyway, that attitude creeps into my own thinking more than I would like, but then I watch something as wholly original as World of Tomorrow Episode Three. The series has always been a way to pile sci-fi ideas on top of each other to prove the essential truths of being and loving. And this one, even though it achieves less of a sense of yearning than its predecessor, offers even more devices to chew on. Take, for example, the idea that Emily sends her message from the future, so David's primitive technology can barely handle it. In order to move forward with its sophistication, he has to delete any extraneous skills for the sake of computer memory. So out of trust for this person who loves him, he has to weigh whether his own breathing or walking can be uninstalled as a sacrifice for her. I thought that we might have been done describing love, but there it is, a new metaphor. Mixing futurism with stick figures to get at the most pure drive possible gave us something new. It's called art, Dad.

14. On the Record (Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering)- We don't call subjects of documentaries "stars" for obvious reasons, but Drew Dixon kind of is one. Her honesty and wisdom tell a complete story of the #MeToo movement. Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering take their time developing her background at first, not because we need to "gain sympathy" or "establish credibility" for a victim of sexual abuse, but because showing her talent and enthusiasm for hip-hop A&R makes it that much more tragic when her passion is extinguished. Hell, I just like the woman, so spending a half-hour on her rise was pleasurable in and of itself.

This is a gut-wrenching, fearless entry in what is becoming Dick and Ziering's raison d'etre, but its greatest quality is Dixon's composed reflection. She helped to establish a pattern of Russell Simmons's behavior, but she explains what happened to her in ways I had never heard before.

13. David Byrne’s American Utopia (Spike Lee)- I'm often impressed by the achievements that puzzle me: How did they pull that off? But I know exactly how David Byrne pulled off the impish but direct precision of American Utopia: a lot of hard work.

I can't blame Spike Lee for stealing a page from Demme's Stop Making Sense: He denies us a close-up of any audience members until two-thirds of the way through, when we get someone in absolute rapture.

12. One Night in Miami... (Regina King)- We've all cringed when a person of color is put into the position of speaking on behalf of his or her entire race. But the characters in One Night in Miami... live in that condition all the time and are constantly negotiating it. As Black public figures in 1964, they know that the consequences of their actions are different, bigger, than everyone else's. The charged conversations between Malcolm X and Sam Cooke are not about whether they can live normal lives. They're way past that. The stakes are closer to Sam Cooke arguing that his life's purpose aligns with the protection and elevation of African-Americans while Malcolm X argues that those pursuits should be the same thing. Late in the movie, Cassius Clay leaves the other men, a private conversation, to talk to reporters, a public conversation. But the film argues that everything these men do is always already public. They're the most powerful African-Americans in the country, but their lives are not their own. Or not only their own.

It's true that the first act has the clunkiness and artifice of a TV movie, but once the film settles into the motel room location and lets the characters feed off one another, it's gripping. It's kind of unfair for a movie to get this many scenes of Leslie Odom Jr. singing, but I'll take it.

11. Saint Frances (Alex Thompson)- Rilke wrote, "Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us." The characters' behavior in Saint Frances--all of these fully formed characters' behavior--made me think of that quotation. When they lash out at one another, even at their nastiest, the viewer has a window into how they're expressing pain they can't verbalize. The film is uneven in its subtlety, but it's a real showcase for screenwriter and star Kelly O'Sullivan, who is unflinching and dynamic in one of the best performances of the year. Somebody give her some of the attention we gave to Zach Braff for God's sake.

10. Boys State (Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine)- This documentary is kind of a miracle from a logistical standpoint. From casting interviews beforehand, lots of editing afterwards, or sly note-taking once the conference began, McBaine and Moss happened to select the four principals who mattered the most at the convention, then found them in rooms full of dudes wearing the same tucked-in t-shirt. By the way, all of the action took place over the course of one week, and by definition, the important events are carved in half.

To call Boys State a microcosm of American politics is incorrect. These guys are forming platforms and voting in elections. What they're doing is American politics, so when they make the same compromises and mistakes that active politicians do, it produces dread and disappointment. So many of the boys are mimicking the political theater that they see on TV, and that sweaty sort of performance is going to make a Billy Mitchell out of this kid Ben Feinstein, and we'll be forced to reckon with how much we allow him to evolve as a person. This film is so precise, but what it proves is undeniably messy. Luckily, some of these seventeen-year-olds usher in hope for us all.

If nothing else, the film reveals the level to which we're all speaking in code.

9. The Nest (Sean Durkin)- In the first ten minutes or so of The Nest, the only real happy minutes, father and son are playing soccer in their quaint backyard, and the father cheats to score on a children's net before sliding on the grass to rub in his victory. An hour later, the son kicks the ball around by himself near a regulation goal on the family's massive property. The contrast is stark and obvious, as is the symbolism of the dead horse, but that doesn't mean it's not visually powerful or resonant.

Like Sean Durkin's earlier film, Martha Marcy May Marlene, the whole of The Nest is told with detail of novelistic scope and an elevation of the moment. A snippet of radio that mentions Ronald Reagan sets the time period, rather than a dateline. One kid saying "Thanks, Dad" and another kid saying, "Thanks, Rory" establishes a stepchild more elegantly than any other exposition might.

But this is also a movie that does not hide what it means. Characters usually say exactly what is on their minds, and motivations are always clear. For example, Allison smokes like a chimney, so her daughter's way of acting out is leaving butts on the window sill for her mother to find. (And mother and daughter both definitely "act out" their feelings.) On the other hand, Ben, Rory's biological son, is the character least like him, so these relationships aren't too directly parallel. Regardless, Durkin uses these trajectories to cast a pall of familial doom.

8. Sorry We Missed You (Sean Durkin)- Another precisely calibrated empathy machine from Ken Loach. The overwhelmed matriarch, Abby, is a caretaker, and she has to break up a Saturday dinner to rescue one of her clients, who wet herself because no one came to help her to the bathroom. The lady is embarrassed, and Abby calms her down by saying, "You mean more to me than you know." We know enough about Abby's circumstances to realize that it's sort of a lie, but it's a beautiful lie, told by a person who cares deeply but is not cared for.

Loach's central point is that the health of a family, something we think of as immutable and timeless, is directly dependent upon the modern industry that we use to destroy ourselves. He doesn't have to be "proven" relevant, and he didn't plan for Covid-19 to point to the fragility of the gig economy, but when you're right, you're right.

7. Lovers Rock (Steve McQueen)- swear to you I thought: "This is an impeccable depiction of a great house party. The only thing it's missing is the volatile dude who scares away all the girls." And then the volatile dude who scares away all the girls shows up.

In a year short on magic, there are two or three transcendent moments, but none of them can equal the whole crowd singing along to "Silly Games" way after the song has ended. Nothing else crystallizes the film's note of celebration: of music, of community, of safe spaces, of Black skin. I remember moments like that at house parties, and like all celebrations, they eventually make me sad.

6. Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution (Nicole Newnham and James Lebrecht)- I held off on this movie because I thought that I knew what it was. The setup was what I expected: A summer camp for the disabled in the late '60s takes on the spirit of the time and becomes a haven for people who have not felt agency, self-worth, or community anywhere else. But that's the right-place-right-time start of a story that takes these figures into the '80s as they fight for their rights.

If you're anything like my dumb ass, you know about 504 accommodations from the line on a college syllabus that promises equal treatment. If 2020 has taught us anything though, it's that rights are seized, not given, and this is the inspiring story of people who unified to demand what they deserved. Judy Heumann is a civil rights giant, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't know who she was before this film. If it were just a history lesson that wasn't taught in school, Crip Camp would still be valuable, but it's way more than that.

5. Palm Springs (Max Barbakow)- When explaining what is happening to them, Andy Samberg's Nyles twirls his hand at Cristin Milioti's Sara and says, "It's one of those infinite time-loop scenarios." Yeah, one of those. Armed with only a handful of fictional examples, she and the audience know exactly what he means, and the continually inventive screenplay by Andy Siara doesn't have to do any more explaining. In record time, the film accelerates into its premise, involves her, and sets up the conflict while avoiding the claustrophobia of even Groundhog Day. That economy is the strength that allows it to be as funny as it is. By being thrifty with the setup, the savings can go to, say, the couple crashing a plane into a fiery heap with no consequences.

In some accidental ways, this is, of course, a quarantine romance as well. Nyles and Sara frustratingly navigate the tedious wedding as if they are play-acting--which they sort of are--then they push through that sameness to grow for each other, realizing that dependency is not weakness. The best relationships are doing the same thing right now.

Although pointedly superficial--part of the point of why the couple is such a match--and secular--I think the notion of an afterlife would come up at least once--Palm Springs earns the sincerity that it gets around to. And for a movie ironic enough to have a character beg to be impaled so that he doesn't have to sit in traffic, that's no small feat.

4. The Assistant (Kitty Green)- A wonder of Bressonian objectivity and rich observation, The Assistant is the rare film that deals exclusively with emotional depth while not once explaining any emotions. One at a time, the scrape of the Kleenex box might not be so grating, the long hallway trek to the delivery guy might not be so tiring, but this movie gets at the details of how a job can destroy you in ways that add up until you can't even explain them.

3. Promising Young Woman (Emerald Fennell)- In her most incendiary and modern role, Carey Mulligan plays Cassie, which is short for Cassandra, that figure doomed to tell truths that no one else believes. The web-belted boogeyman who ruined her life is Al, short for Alexander, another Greek who is known for his conquests. The revenge story being told here--funny in its darkest moments, dark in its funniest moments--is tight on its surface levels, but it feels as if it's telling a story more archetypal and expansive than that too.

An exciting feature debut for its writer-director Emerald Fennell, the film goes wherever it dares. Its hero has a clear purpose, and it's not surprising that the script is willing to extinguish her anger halfway through. What is surprising is the way it renews and muddies her purpose as she comes into contact with half-a-dozen brilliant one- or two-scene performances. (Do you think Alfred Molina can pull off a lawyer who hates himself so much that he can't sleep? You would be right.)

Promising Young Woman delivers as an interrogation of double standards and rape culture, but in quiet ways it's also about our outsized trust in professionals and the notion that some trauma cannot be overcome.

INSTANT CLASSICS

2. Soul (Pete Docter)- When Pete Docter's Up came out, it represented a sort of coronation for Pixar: This was the one that adults could like unabashedly. The one with wordless sequences and dead children and Ed Asner in the lead. But watching it again this week with my daughter, I was surprised by how high-concept and cloying it could be. We choose not to remember the middle part with the goofy dog stuff.

Soul is what Up was supposed to be: honest, mature, stirring. And I don't mean to imply that a family film shouldn't make any concessions to children. But Soul, down to the title, never compromises its own ambition. Besides Coco, it's probably the most credible character study that Pixar has ever made, with all of Joe's growth earned the hard way. Besides Inside Out, it's probably the wittiest comedy that Pixar has ever made, bursting with unforced energy.

There's a twitter fascination going around about Dez, the pigeon-figured barber character whose scene has people gushing, "Crush my windpipe, king" or whatever. Maybe that's what twitter does now, but no one fantasized about any characters in Up. And I count that as progress.

1. I’m Thinking of Ending Things (Charlie Kaufman)- After hearing that our name-shifting protagonist moonlights as an artist, a no-nonsense David Thewlis offers, "I hope you're not an abstract artist." He prefers "paintings that look like photographs" over non-representational mumbo-jumbo. And as Jessie Buckley squirms to try to think of a polite way to talk back, you can tell that Charlie Kaufman has been in the crosshairs of this same conversation. This morose, scary, inscrutable, expressionist rumination is not what the Netflix description says it is at all, and it's going to bother nice people looking for a fun night in. Thank God.

The story goes that Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, when constructing Raiders of the Lost Ark, sought to craft a movie that was "only the good parts" with little of the clunky setup that distracted from action. What we have here is a Charlie Kaufman movie with only the Charlie Kaufman moments, less interested than ever before at holding one's hand. The biting humor is here, sometimes aimed at philistines like the David Thewlis character above, sometimes at the niceties that we insist upon. The lonely horror of everyday life is here, in the form of missed calls from oneself or the interruption of an inner monologue. Of course, communicating the overwhelming crush of time, both unknowable and familiar, is the raison d'etre.

A new pet motif seems to be the way that we don't even own our own knowledge. The Young Woman recites "Bonedog" by Eva H.D., which she claims/thinks she wrote, only to find Jake's book open to that page, next to a Pauline Kael book that contains a Woman Under the Influence review that she seems to have internalized later. When Jake muses about Wordsworth's "Lucy Poems," it starts as a way to pass the time, then it becomes a way to lord his education over her, then it becomes a compliment because the subject resembles her, then it becomes a way to let her know that, in the grand scheme of things, she isn't that special at all. This film jerks the viewer through a similar wintry cycle and leaves him with his own thoughts. It's not a pretty picture, but it doesn't look like anything else.

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kar3npage · 5 years ago

Text

The 5 times one of the Foxes saw Andrew smile, and the one time all of them saw him smile

Because I love the 5+1 format, and because I just want Andrew and Neil to be happy. (Also I’ve decided that of course they would get married, because that just makes sense).

My apologies for any mistakes, this was written all in one go this afternoon and I was too excited to wait before posting. I’m also trying to sign up for ao3 so I can post it there, I’ll update when that happens:)

Thanks for reading!

The mood in the room was unusually somber before the Palmetto Foxes third game of the season. This was especially unusual because they weren’t expecting any sort of backlash, and the team that they were playing against was pretty tame. No one had any particular fear against the Terrapins and the two teams were mostly friendly.

Allison knew that the dark vibe was from the silence that came from the corner that Neil and Andrew sat in.

Besides the cat fights with the new Foxes, everyone on the team has been working well together this year. The upperclassmen and Andrews group had an unbreakable bond from the events of last year, although they all pretended that they couldn’t care less about the other group (except for Matt. He couldn’t pretend to not care if his life depended on it, the sweet puppy).

Neil’s silence was accompanied by a far away gaze and sickly pale skin. Allison had already pulled him aside in the dorms to lecture him about playing while sick, but he insisted that he was fine. Allison had let him go, assuming that Andrew would take care of him. Now she was wondering if she should have pushed harder, since he looked absolutely determined to play today.

Renee’s soft nudge distracted Allison from their almost dead looking striker and she gave her an understanding look.

“I’m sure he’ll take care of himself,” Renee says quietly. Allison squeezes her hand, grateful to have her to lean against. She still wasn’t sure how Renee managed to understand exactly what everyone was thinking with such accuracy.

“Okay people, we’ve gotten a strong start, let’s keep that up,” Wymack says gruffly, sending a concerned look toward Neil. “If any of you aren’t feeling up to it, tell me now so we can change the starting line-up.”

Everyone looks at Neil, who stares straight ahead like he hadn’t heard Coach. He turns his head to avoid Andrews dark look, then gets up stiffly.

“We done Coach? Dan and I would like to start drills soon,” Neil says. Allison snorts at his poor attempt at changing the subject, but Wymack just lets him go with a nod.

As they make their way over to the court Allison sees Wymach snag Andrew. “You’ll keep an eye on him?” she hears him say. She doesn’t hear Andrew answer, but she knows that he will.

They’re up, 4-2, by the time the first half is done. Allison had kept her eye on Neil every time she was off, but he had looked fine while playing. Abby wasn’t able to check in with him during half-time though, too busy dealing with Jack’s minor injury that he had gotten from getting checked into the plexiglass. Allison had to admit that she had very little sympathy for the kid.

Everything was going fine until almost the end of the next half. Allison hadn’t been paying much attention to the health of her team while she was playing, focused more on actually playing, but no one could ignore the loud slam that came from near the other teams goal.

Allison instinctively looked toward the noise to find out who was down.

The game was still going, but slumped against the wall across from her was Neil. Allison didn’t hesitate to run over to him, abandoning the goal for Andrew to look after.

One of the Terrapins backliners stood beside him, helmet off and looking sweetly concerned. He starts babbling as soon as Allison makes it over to them.

“I swear, it wasn’t that hard of a hit,” he says frantically. Allison understood the panic-it had less to do with Neil and more to do with what might happen to the poor kid when Andrew got here.

Allison ignores him and tugs Neils helmet off to reveal his deathly pale face. His eyes start fluttering as he wakes up, and he’s able to put his hand up to stop the game. Allison hears a smack behind her, but she ignores it.

“Neil, where are you hurt?” she says. It comes out irritated, but she knows that Neil will get that it’s out of concern.

“‘M fine,” he mumbles, trying and failing to get up. Allison shoves him down and looks around for Abby.

The poor kid who hit Neil is being held against the plexiglass by a furious Andrew, Nicky and Aaron standing beside him and trying to talk him out of any blatant violence. Abby has fighting her way through the players with a mixture of anger and worry.

“Drew?” Neil says, eyes closed and head leaning against the wall. There’s another smack and a few seconds later Andrew shoves Allison out of the way to sit beside him. Abby shows up a few minutes later, but Allison stays where she is to use her body to give them a bit of a barrier.

“You idiot,” Andrew growls. “Next time, get up after you get hit.”

Neil gives him a feverish smile. “I’m sorry I worried you. I’m f-, I’m okay.” He just barely catches himself and Andrew shakes his head in irritation. Allison grins, a little relieved that he’s feeling good enough to catch his words.

“Neil, do you know how high your fever is right now? You could kill yourself, playing like this. What were you thinking?” Abby lectures while she smooths back his hair. “Why didn’t you tell him to stop, Andrew?”

Neil grabs Andrews hand awkwardly, still wearing his armoured gloves. Andrew snorts. “You think I’m his keeper? He does what he wants. Junkie.”

Neil laughs weakly at that and lets Abby and Andrew support his weight as they get him up. Once he’s able to stand on his own two feet, the crowd lets out a supportive roar and Allison turns around to see Neil and Andrew. Andrew gives him a small, relieved smile, something that Allison never thought that she would see. No one had seen Andrew smile a single time since he’s been off of his meds. This smile is completely different. It softens his jaw, and even though it’s so small that it’s barely noticeable, Neil beams when he catches it.

She hears Andrew mutter a number under his breathe and they slowly walk off the court.

Allison could settle a few bets from this, but a part of her knows that she saw a private moment. Renee walks over to take over the goal and gives her a pleased smile, almost like she knew how selfless Allison was being by not telling anyone about this.

She grins back and relaxes, knowing that Neil is in good hands.

Matt could cry, he was so happy to see his best friend after so many months apart. Dan squeezes his arm and lets him go give Neil a bear hug. All of them have graduated now, and Christmas is one of the only times that the original Foxes get to see each other, and even then it’s sometimes difficult to get everyone together.

This year everyone is gathered at Abby’s, and it feels just like old times. Aaron and Katelyn are already helping Abby and Wymack in the kitchen and Nicky is regaling everyone with stories from Germany, Erik adding details every once in a while but mostly just looking at his fiance with heart eyes.

Allison and Renee are coming later, and Kevin is watching an Exy match on TV. His mouth is open slightly as he watches the rematch like he’s never seen it before. Andrew sits beside him with a bored expression while he scrolls through his phone, but Matt notices him glance up at them a few times while he chats with Neil.

Neil had mentioned how difficult it’s been to be playing on different teams than Andrew, and Matt can see how happy he is now that everyone’s together. He thinks that Neil’s been getting lonely.

The kitchen is a hive of activity and they all talk over each other as they catch up on the past year. Dan and Matt show everyone their engagement rings, way too excited to wait to tell everyone like they had planned. Matt swears that Wymack tears up a bit when Dan asks him to walk her down the aisle, and Abby just about breaks his back with how tightly she hugs him.

Andrew even offers them a nod and agrees to fly out with Neil for the wedding, even though they aren’t sure when it will be yet.

There’s more exclaiming when Allison and Renee get there and Allison shouts at them for not waiting to announce it until they got there. They look tired but happy after travelling all day, and Renee gives him one of her pleased, proud smiles. At some point Betsy had gotten there as well, and Matt sees her having a long conversation with Andrew in the living room.

Matt can’t believe how far they’ve all come. After such ruined childhoods and terrible experiences in University, they all managed to build themselves lives. Build themselves a family.

Matt feels so incredibly fond of them all that it feels like his chest is going to split, like it can’t hold all of the affection for these people.

Dinner is as hectic and happy as the rest of the day was, and they sit at the dining table for hours talking. Kevin and Neil have an in-depth conversation about their teams and their performance so far this season, which Andrew mocks and then turns to talk with Renee.

Matt and Dan are talking over each other with the ease of people who are perfectly comfortable with each other as they tell Abby about their honeymoon plans, and Allison gives them tips. Or maybe they’re more like orders, but it’s all good ideas so they don’t mind.

It isn’t until after they’ve cleaned up the dishes and most of the Foxes have settled in the living room to rewatch some of their old matches that Matt gets the chance to talk with Neil on his own.

They skype as regularly as possible, and Neil calls him almost every week to get updates, but Matt has still missed him.

When he notices Neil sneak out to the porch, he follows behind.

“It’s hard to believe, but Kevin’s obsession hasn’t waned in the slightest,” Matt jokes as he plops down on the stairs beside Neil. The striker throws his head back to laugh and Matt revels in the warmth that comes with being able to make this once shy kid laugh his genuine, thrilled laugh.

“Andrew would say the same about me,” he says, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“He’s right. You’ve been playing well though, that goal in the last game where you hit it from half court was insane! I have the video saved to my phone so I can show people and tell them I know you,” Matt gushes, glad to finally be able to tell him how proud he is of him. Neil has a pleased blush on his cheeks.

“You still watch my games?”

“Of course I do! Dan and I’ve turned it into date night. We order pizza.”

Neils laughs again, more pleased than he would admit that Dan watches them too.

“How have you been Neil? For real?”

Neil fidgets with the bottom of his shirt. “It’s tough,” he finally admits. “Without Andrew. Our schedules are so different. There’s a chance that next year I might be able to switch though.”

Matt hums and bumps his shoulder against Neils. “I’m glad. I don’t want you to be lonely.”

Neil listens to Matt talk about Dan and what they’ve been up to for a while, and they sit in comfortable silence until Matt finally laughs. Neil gives him a questioning look.

“I have a ridiculous question for you that’s been plaguing me for years now.” Neil raises an eyebrow and waits for Matt to keep talking.

“So if you think that Andrews attractive, does that mean you think that about Aaron too?” Matts eyes are filled with mirth. He knows all too well the strained relationship that Neil and Aaron had through University, and also that they have just reached the point where they can talk about things other than Exy without killing each other.

Neil snorts, but then thinks through an answer much more seriously than Matt expected. “I’m not really attracted to people,” he says, then shakes his head and backtracks. “That’s not what I meant. Obviously I’m attracted to Andrew, and I think he’s beautiful, but it’s more because I know him so well and I trust him so much.”

Neil is blushing slightly at the admission and he looks to Matt to see if he understands what he means.

“It’s hard to explain. I never was attracted to anyone before Andrew. I can see objectively that some people are nice looking, but it doesn’t really affect me. But I really care about Andrew, and I can talk to him for hours and I know what foods he likes and he knows what I like. And the longer we know each other and the more I know him, the more beautiful he gets. Does that make sense?”

Neil frowns and waits for Matt. Matt can’t help the soft smile that curves his lips. “Neil Josten, you are the sweetest person on this goddamned team, you know that? Yeah, that makes sense.”

Matt hears the door close behind them and turns around to see Andrew standing there with his usual blank expression, but his red ears indicate that he heard what Neil said. Neil beams up at him and Matt gets up to leave. He turns around to look at the two before he goes inside and is shocked to see the softest smile gracing Andrews lips before his sits down beside Neil.

It’s no secret that most of the Foxes were worried about Neil choosing Andrew, of all people, to trust. But the longer they’re together, the more Matt realizes that Andrew is just as soft for Neil as Neil is for Andrew, he’s just better at hiding it.

Matt’s still grinning about that soft look hours later when him and Dan are getting ready to leave.

“You two are good for each other,” he says quietly to Neil before they leave, and Neil rewards him with a thrilled smile and a nod.

Playing professionally makes a lot of things very difficult to hide. Something about the sport has made it a fan favourite, and the interesting lives of the players mean that the general public is completely fascinated with hearing about their lives outside of the sport.

As much as Kevin hates how intrusive everyone can be because of this, he has to admit that it makes it much easier for him to keep his eye on the old Foxes. Articles about Neil and Andrew are ridiculously easy to find online, and Kevin has made a habit of checking on them regularly.

He’s doing just that when he finds an article about Andrew getting noticed after his flight to New York. The journalist muses about why on earth he would be going to New York, a place that holds none of his family, only his long time rival, Striker Neil Josten.

What makes his trip even more interesting is the fact that the same long term rival picked him up from the airport.

What made Kevin look at this article with such interest was the picture that was attached to it. It’s obviously been taken with a good camera, since the photo is crisp and clear. In the center stands Neil and Andrew, standing only an inch apart. The crowd behind them is blurred out, making the photo look like a scene from a rom-com. Neil is beaming at Andrew and tugging his bag from him, eyes sparkling. What caught Kevins attention is the small quirk in Andrews lips, something that would be too small to call a smile on anyone but Andrew.

Kevin still has a protective streak for the two boys and wants them to have as easy of a life as possible, but he can’t deny the fact that they seem happier than they ever have been.

Kevin can’t remember the last time that he saw Andrew have a real smile that wasn’t violent or caused by medication.

He re-reads the article, then looks back up at the picture. Is this journalist stupid? He thinks. The whole article is about how Andrew must have come for something else, how their thrilled expressions must have been because they were mid-roast. Kevin can’t believe the journalist didn’t immediately realize that they were dating. He sighs and moves on to the next article, this one about Jeremy, but his mind keeps going back to the content smile on Andrews face. They’re going to be outed if they don’t stop making each other look so happy, he thinks. But he also thinks that maybe that’s not as bad of a thing as he’s made it out to be.

A few minutes later he goes back to the article and sends the link to Nicky without any explanation. He thought that might make Nicky happy.

“I’m glad we still have the skype dates. I know Andrew and Neil are so busy right now,” Erik says, playing absentmindedly with Nicky’s hair as they wait for the boys to answer their skype call.

They’ve been having these weekly conversations with first Neil and Andrew, and later Aaron and Katelyn as well, for months. They had originally just called each other, but Nicky missed seeing his cousins more than he could say. He loves Germany, and he loves every single moment with Erik, but it’s still tough to have such a long distance relationship with his family. Especially after everything they’ve all gone through together.

It was harder to keep in contact with the other Foxes, but they all did their best to meet up for Christmas (everyone even came to Germany a few years ago. Nicky cried with joy, even though Andrew insisted it was just because everyone wanted to see Europe), plus he often got texts from Matt and Renee. And every once in a while he gets an Exy article from Kevin.

Nicky hummed in agreement and watched the screen with anticipation. They had missed last weeks skype call because Neil and Andrew were finally moving in together after signing for the same team in the fall. Nicky has been vibrating with excitement to see the apartment, and Erik has been waiting to ask for tips about taking care of a cat from Neil.

When the screen finally pops up, it’s obvious that Neil and Andrew haven’t noticed it yet. Neil is laughing about something, one of his rare laughs that is unforced and filled with true joy. And Andrew, Nicky’s beloved, terrifying cousin is beaming. It’s the biggest smile he’s seen on his cousins face for years, and it’s the first time he’s ever seen him smile with such true happiness. Nicky could cry, and when he turns to look at Erik, he can see that his eyes are shining as well.

Erik clears his throat and Andrew schools his expression as he turns to the screen. Neil is still looking at Andrew with pure love, but he waves to the screen.

A flash of silver derails Nicky’s thoughts even further.

“Neil. Neil, what is on your hand?” He asks, delight evident in his voice. Neil smirks and holds up the other hand, which has nothing on it. Andrews lips quirk.

“No, your other hand. Is that a ring?!” Nicky is almost bouncing, waiting for Neil to stop teasing him and show him the simple silver band that sits, unassuming, on his finger.

Neil shows him his other hand without hesitating, and Nicky realizes that they’ve already talked about telling him. It makes his heart grow bigger than it already is.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh, are you guys engaged? When did that happen?” Nicky practically shrieks while Erik gives them a heartfelt congratulations.

Andrew’s expression is as bored as ever, but Nicky doesn’t miss the fact that they’re holding hands under the laptop.

“A few days ago,” Andrew says nonchalantly. The tips of his ears are pink though, and Neil can’t hold in the grin.

“Hows Germany?” Neil asks politely, and Erik laughs.

“There’s no way Nicky will let you change the subject that quickly,” Erik says, and Nicky nods effusively.

“How did this happen? I need the entire story Andrew! Or Neil, whoever will actually give me the details. Who asked who? Did you cry?”

Neil laughs again. “We asked each other. We had a long conversation about it.”

Nicky wishes that he could tease them for that and call them boring, but he knows what a huge deal this is for his cousin. He’s thrilled that Neil understands that as well.

“You guys are so good for each other,” Nicky says, sniffling a bit. Andrew rolls his eyes.

“I’m hanging up now,” he says.

“No! I need to hear what you’re doing for your wedding! Maybe I can help you plan it. And Allison can too! It’s gonna be so amazing.”

Neil laughs as Andrew reaches his hand out in slow motion to close the computer. Neil’s voice reaches them as the camera goes down.

“We’re going to have a party, we’ll figure out a time you guys can come out, okay?”

Erik confirms that because Nicky is too emotional over the fact that they’re planning the time around him.

He leans his head against Erik’s shoulder and Erik smiles.

“I guess we’ll have to wait until next week for an apartment tour,” he says, and Nicky can hear the smile in his words.

“I never thought that he would be happy. Isn’t that sad? I wasn’t even sure if Andrew would be talking to me for this long. Then this scrappy puppy comes along and puts us all in danger and makes us all love him, and here we are. No one ever would have guessed this in a million years.” Nicky says thoughtfully.

That night, Nicky falls asleep with the picture of a truly happy Andrew in his mind.

As much as he tries to convince his old Foxes that he’s a grouchy old man who doesn’t care, Wymack spends a lot of time checking up on his kids.

He’s been to as many of Kevin’s games as he can possible fit in whenever they’re close enough and he doesn’t have a game on, he video calls Nicky as often as he can (keeping weird hours makes this easier, and Nicky and Abby both lecture him regularly about getting enough sleep), and Dan and Matt live close enough that they have dinner together regularly. Renee and Allison move around too often to make it easy to see them, but everyone ends up together at least once a year. They avoid doing it on Thanksgiving (Andrew and Neil prefer to keep that one quiet, and no one argues with that). Aaron and Katelyn have even come out to see them a few times when their schedules weren’t as hectic with the hospital.

The hardest ones to get to see are Andrew and Neil. They spent a few years doing long distance with both playing on different teams, so every time they had time off they spent it together. Wymack wishes that he could have lived closer to Neil, he knows that those years were particularly difficult on him.

Now that they are living together and on the same team, it’s been easier for them to get in contact with everyone, but they’re still moving around too often for it to be easy to visit.

Last year they detoured to stay with Abby and Wymack for a few days during their annual summer road trip, and having Bee there meant that Andrew has come out a few extra times to stay when Neil was busy with press.

Wymack tries very hard to convince them that he couldn’t care less about how often they come out to visit him, but they all know that he misses them terribly.

To keep a closer eye on them, Wymack and Abby recorded all of their games, and Wymack secretly watches youtube videos with names like ‘Neil Josten’s Best 10 Roasts’ and ‘10 Minutes of the Josten Minyard Rivalry’. He does not miss dealing with the press after Neil’s been let loose, but he feels a bit of pride every time he rips into a deserving journalist after being asked about his scars. If Wymack could kick everyone’s ass who hurt his kids, he would. Since he can’t, watching them get demolished by a tiny redhead has to do.

For the first time in a few weeks, Abby and Wymack are finally watching a game live. It’s always a lot more stressful watching them live, but they make up for that by ordering Chinese and making an evening of it.

They barely talk through the game other than to insult the other team or praise a good save or goal. The second half as just started when an aggressive striker doesn’t stop at the goal lines. The entire court goes silent and Wymack watches with barely controlled terror as Neil sprints across the court just in time for Andrew to hit the wall. Neil shoves the striker away with more venom than Wymack has seen from him since Riko and turns his attention to the goalie currently lying on the ground.

“Come on Andrew, get up,” Wymack whispers as he watches Neil fling his helmet off and protect his prone form while the medical staff make their way over. The sports announcers are frantic as they explain what just happened and Abby groans in irritation as they show a slow motion recap of Andrew getting hit, then of Neil protecting him.

Wymack clutches his phone and enters the number of their coach before he’s even thought it through. He knows it isn’t likely that he’ll answer, but he’s disappointed when it goes to voicemail anyway. Beside him Abby is calling Neil.

It takes almost 30 long minutes before Abby gets through to Neil, and she immediately puts it on speaker phone so that they can both speak to him.

“Neil, is everything okay?” Abby says, concern leaking through her words.

“I’m… I’m not sure yet. I’m at the hospital? And I’m waiting for the doctor,” Neil sounds shocked, voice dull.

“Which hospital are you at? We’re flying there as soon as we can,” Wymack says, and Abby nods, grabbing his phone to book tickets.

“Umm, I’m not sure. One minute,” they can hear mumbling while Neil asks someone where they are and Wymacks heart aches for the poor kid.

“Okay, we’re just at the New York Hospital.”

“I booked our tickets, we’re leaving in an hour okay?” Abby says as soothingly as she can. “We’ll call you when we get there.” Wymack says in lieu of a goodbye.

By the time they make it to New York they each have a few messages from Neil saying that Andrew’s going to be fine, he has a concussion and they’re keeping him for observation, but he’s okay. The relief is palpable after the tension through the flight, and Wymack is glad that Neil thought to tell them.

It’s early in the morning when they get there, so they sleep at a hotel for a few hours while waiting for visiting hours.

It’s far more complicated to get into the room than Wymack thought that it would be. They have to convince the staff that they aren’t journalists or well meaning fans before they’re brought up to the room, and Abby has to show them family photos from Christmas with Neil and Andrew before the nurses decide that they are allowed to see Andrew.

Wymack’s glad for the security but he curses at all the journalists for making it so difficult. They crowd them when they realize who they are visiting, and it takes a security guard and a lot of glaring to part the crowd so they can follow the nurse.

“Can you confirm the Josten Minyard relationship?” One journalist shouts as they walk past.

“Coach Wymack! Coach Wymack, is it true that Minyard’s injury is far worse than they are letting on? And what do you think that means for the team?” another journalist shouts, microphone shoved unceremoniously in his face. Abby pulls him behind her and gives him a warning look not to say anything.

The hallway where Andrews room is located is blissfully calm after the storm downstairs. The nurse indicates which room he’s in, then moves on.

Abby pauses in the doorway and motions for Wymack to step beside her, a look of contentment on her face.

In the room Neil is perched on the bed beside Andrew. He’s a bit pale but there are no visible cuts or bruises and he looks mostly alert. They’re hands are twined together, the silver engagement bands catching the light.

Neil is saying something in a low tone and Andrew squeezes his hand. His mouth tilts up at the corners and looks at Neil with something close to adoration. Wymack tugs Abby away from the door and takes a few steps back to give them their privacy. He texts Neil to tell him that they’ve made it in, and a few minutes later Neil peeks out the door to great them.

He looks exhausted, hair mussed and dark circles under his eyes, but his face brightens when he sees them.

Abby gives him a tight hug before going to sit in the chair beside Andrew who has his usual bored expression. Wymack stops beside Neil and squeezes his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” he says, feeling a little choked up. Neil looks up in surprise.

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

Wymack grins and pats his shoulder before going in to greet Andrew.

“Next time, get back up after you get hit,” he says gruffly to the tiny blond. Andrew raises a brow.

“Did I worry you, old man? You’re getting soft with age.”

Wymack grunts and sits down in the other chair near the foot of the bed. “Not worried, just annoyed. Kevin’s called me 3 times since I got up this morning to make sure you can still play.”

“He’ll be back in a few weeks,” Neil says while he takes back his post at Andrews side. Andrew rolls his eyes and mutters ‘junkie’ under his breath.

Wymack wishes he could be irritated at the long night and unnecessary panic, but he feels so content being in the same place as his kids that his gruffness is softened.

Neil surveys the apartment from his spot in the kitchen. They’re 1 bedroom apartment is not nearly big enough to comfortably fit everyone in, but no one is complaining about the small space. Even Andrew isn’t feeling claustrophobic yet (Neil keeps checking on him, but he seems happy chatting with Aaron and Kevin on the sofa). True to promise, they did throw a wedding party at their apartment, and they made sure that it was at a time that Nicky and Erik could come out to see them.

However, it took multiple arguments to convince Allison and Nicky that they didn’t need anyone to plan it and that they were just going to get married at the courthouse. Neil’s pretty sure that it was more Renee and Erik than his arguments who made them let it go. No matter what, Neil couldn’t be happier with how everything has turned out.

King winds himself around his ankles, meowing indignantly about the noise in the place and Neil smiles fondly at her.

Matt and Dan are swaying to the music near the balcony door, lost in their own little world. Beside them sway Renee and Allison, and Renee catches Neils eye to smile proudly at him. After Nicky, her and Allison were the next ones they told about the engagement. Andrew had mentioned that it was Renee who convinced him that marriage wasn’t always a bad idea, and Neil couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful for that.

Beside him stood Abby, Wymack, and Bee. Bee has been around long enough that Neil is able to accept her, and he’s glad that Andrew was able to find someone that he trusted so much. Neil has also been going to a therapist, but something about knowing Bee while he was going through everything made it too uncomfortable for him to talk to her. He found someone in New York instead, and Bee seemed so thrilled that he’s managed to open up to someone other than Andrew that Neil almost liked her a little bit. It’s tough to find someone who is genuinely happy about your healing.

Katelyn is laughing with Thea about something, and Erik and Nicky are in the corner cooing over Sir, who is soaking up the attention.

Neil can’t help but think about all of the trials and tribulations it took to get to this point - the time in the Ravens Nest, the terror of Baltimore, all of the panic attacks and rough nights and foggy days. Neil never thought that he would live through his first year of University so every year after that has felt both like a gift and borrowed time. It took until the past year for Neil to wrap his head around the idea that he might be able to live until old age.

That thought was both a relief and terrifying, just because he wants it so badly. Andrew has helped him pull through multiple panic attacks just thinking about it.

Neil knows that there will be other challenges ahead of them (even though they really deserve a happy 20 years to make up for the bad ones), but he thinks that they’ll be much easier than the crap that’s gone on before this.

He catches Andrews eye across the room. They’re both wearing the suits they got for the occasion and Neils eyes have been tracking Andrew all night. He’s noticed that Andrews have done the same thing for him.

Aaron realizes that Andrews attention has strayed and he turns his conversation to Kevin. Neil and Aaron’s relationship isn’t exactly great, but they’ve managed to get to the point where they can go for coffee without hating each other by the time they get home. Neil knows that Andrew appreciates the effort both of them make, even though he’s never said anything about it.

Neil watches as Andrew gets up and makes his way through their friends, no, their family to get to him.

He watches the crowd impassively beside Neil while Neil watches the small twitch at his lips and the fond look in his eyes.

“Staring.”

Neil grins. “I guess you’ll have to do something about that, won’t you?”

Andrew’s jaw tightens where he tries not to smile. Neil feels the glow of accomplishment. My husband thinks I’m funny. He tries to keep his expression calm, but he can see from Andrews pink ears that he’s watching him with as much love as he feels.

Abruptly Andrew holds out a hand. “Yes or no.”

Neil isn’t quite sure what he’s asking, but he puts his hand in Andrews without hesitation. “Of course.”

Andrew leads him over to a quiet spot near the hallway and places Neils hands on his shoulder. He grabs his waist and starts to sway to the music.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what? Like I love you? Because I do,” Andrews ears go red and Neil smirks, feeling very proud of himself for making Andrew blush.

“You’re a pest,” Andrew says.

“Yeah, but I’m your pest.”

And Andrew laughs. Neil almost trips in surprise. He can feel the eyes of the rest of the party on them, but he can’t tear his eyes off of Andrews smile.

“Yes or no,” Neil says.

Andrew’s still smiling. “Yes, Junkie.”

Neil kisses Andrews forehead, not wanting to get rid of that beautiful, perfect smile. There’s a flash and Neil turns around to see Nicky holding a camera.

“This is going on the wall! I’m framing it,” he announces, and Andrews glare holds barely any heat.

A few weeks later, when the package from Germany comes, Neil can see how pleased Andrew is with the photo. It sits in a simple silver frame, and they hang it above the sofa.

Neil feels very much like he lives a charmed life.

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spacebookettes · 3 years ago

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Anomaly

Pompeii

“She’s found another one”

Some of the petrified ash people are kept hidden. The ones with iphone 12s. The Archaeologist kept finding them. One of the other archaeologists plugged his iphone 8 charger into the iphone 12 locked in the grip of an ancient long dead hand. The others turned to look at the archaeologist that keeps finding the ones with iphone 12s. “Should we suggest she works somewhere else. I mean she can’t be putting them there, these iphones haven’t been released yet. The face id won’t work.”

“Maybe she could do some paper work for a bit.”

“what are we supposed to do?”

Carbon dating suggests the iphones are ancient... but still working?

The archaeologist did that funny itchy nose thing and scratched her head. They all turned to face her. Sure enough there it was, when they looked to her feet, the futuristic corner of an iphone 12 and a silent hand.

The archaeologist is young, nothing so bizarre has ever happened to her before. She longed for something to happen before the iphone 12s. She had chosen human history, she felt learning about the lost times would be fascinating. Now all the iphone 12s were the wrong time and all different times. The dates were the future though. Only a few years. The Archaeologist reached down and said Hey Sissy. The phone lit up and the familiar famous voice said calling Dan. The phone rang and rang. Then someone answered. Hello is Dan there the Archaeologist asked. Dan was the name of her partner. Dan answered “where have you been and who’s is this number" the Archaeologist answered she was still in Pompei. “Pompeii" “why did you run away from me" she asked when?

“what’s going on?” the Archaeologist didn’t know how to explain. She asked what date is it? Dan answered “24th of August.” It was the 24th of August. The Archaeologist asked what year. “what do you mean what year? 2023 of course.” It isn’t 2023 she thought. But the anniversary of the destruction was today she also thought. How could she explain any of this to Dan. She didn’t have to, the phone went silent, the screen switched off. No power. How could she explain this to the Archaeologists. She didn’t have to; all the iphone 12s rang at once, just once.

“Who were you talking to on that iphone?”

She just looked at them.

“look something is going on here and you are at the centre of it! I do not know what , but i think you need to leave! Who did you speak to on that phone?” she answered Dan.

Part 2

You would think an Archaeologist would like time travel; but this one didn’t. In fact she detested time travel fiction. Though she loved sci-fi. The iphone 12 time travel was not the worst though, she was intrigued. The Archaeologist had kept the number of the outgoing iphone 12 that had rang Dan. She had time to look through the contacts and there in the middle was a giant ME. She rang it, no one answered. It was still the anniversary of the original catastrophe at Pompeii. She waited until the right time and rang the phone again... this time someone answered. They were speaking Latin. She quickly translated yoo ef o. The voice kept repeating it. The phone went silent. So was the Archaeologist.

She rang Dan, but quickly hung up. How could she cope with speaking to the past present Dan now. It was all so mystifying. Somehow she was linked to some phones from the future getting into the hands of an about to be dead people of the past and now (or then) aliens maybe involved. ‘something some aliens did in the past caused iphone 12s to manifest in the past and perhaps caused the eruption at Pompei.’ Saying it all out loud managed to coalesce the tale into something more manageable... fractionally.

I don’t know where to go with this.

The Archaeologist went to the south of France, she just sort of found herself there. Not knowing what to do, the Archaeologist just did anything. She sat in the sun. Had a few drinks and ignored the texts from past present Dan. It actually felt good somehow to have a break from it all; she had no choice anyway: but it felt good. She wished all crises were this pleasant. You can’t really make a plan in a situation like this she thought; so she didn’t.

Little did the Archaeologist know, but Dan had hired someone to find her.

When she saw Dan the Archaeologist ran away.

To Malta.

Infact the Archaeologist kept running away, she travelled the world. The job kept paying her for some reason, she suspected to keep her away... so she kept away.

The Archaeologist's nose itched and she rubbed her head. She was in south Korea. As she looked at her phone a little banner ad for the new iphone 12.

Should she buy one, would the universe come to an end if she did. ‘you’re not that important.’

The Archaeologist had to wait to buy one, a few weeks. She opened the sleek box took out the white iphone 12. (Swearing She'd orded a black one) Put her sim card inside (she had changed numbers on her travels) turned on the iphone 12 and waited. The Archaeologist didn’t start the phone from backup, a total new start she felt. Nothing.

NOTHING happened, no one rang, no one texted. No one from work had been in contact. She was still getting paid. Nothing. She thanked the aliens and carried on travelling.

2023 the Archaeologist could not resist a visit to Pompeii... she wasn’t going to go; but somehow, without much thought, made her way there. She couldn’t face her colleagues. It was dark as she approached the secured site. No access possible.

In two days the 24th August.

What happens next.

Nothing for two days then on the morning of the 24th a notification wakes the Archaeologist up. A news article all the team working on Pompei have disappeared. The breaking news of the day spread around the world slowly, without much fuss. Another strange anomaly in these bizarre times.

The Archaeologist rang all her colleague’s numbers, sent texts, asked other’s she knew connected to Pompeii. Nothing. She was still in Italy. No point going anywhere near Pompeii. She texted the number she dare not. The one from the iphone 12 that called Dan. Nothing. She realised at that moment that back then, that iphone 12 had been white and had face unlocked for her allowing her to find it’s number. A text blinked onto her phone. She had sent it to herself. Now she called Dan. Nothing. No answer. The iphone 12 rang it was her name ringing. She gingerly answered but the phone rang off. A voicemail pinged on screen.

The Archaeologist went on with her travels. She dare not listen to the message left on her phone. She dare not delete it either.

I don’t know where to go.

Home looked different. It had been a few years. She didn’t have much family to miss her. The friends had tried to keep in touch but she had drifted away from them. She'd made sure an aunt had been kept in the know. But she had not told anyone about the iphone 12s. This mystery kept fueling her seclusion. Powered her constant travel. The bizarreness kept her life. She had the excuse of the anomaly to disengage. Or re-engage in this new direction. She didn’t want to hear the saved voicemail. It might mean she had to re-engage with what ever reality was now. Something had split. Something meant she split from her path. Something happened in Pompeii those years ago. She was supposed to disappear with her colleagues. She was supposed to be petrified. But she was really here. Her own life, she could do anything. She’d been everywhere. She’d eaten all the yummy food. She’d slept with some yummy people of all the countries of the world. Seen what the bees everywhere look like. Giant black ones were her favourite. A little disk shape skirted around the sky; it seemed to be searching. She thought perhaps for her. So she turned around and walked in the opposite direction and kept going.

By Peter Stringer

Artificial

Little Winter Beach City, is in not on the coast.

The small artificial sunshine globes dotted around the city have winter beaches (no seas). Its warm sand is warm enough to sunbathe in your trunks. Just don’t wander too far from the globes or you’ll catch pneumonia. There are winter beach parties of barbecues and Frisbee. Bring your Kindle 400 with holographic cut scenes. NO cocktails for obvious reasons. STRICTLY no drunks for the reason of the disaster the first year made for. So no security.

By Peter Stringer

Giant Moths

The red laser light edges occasionally flicker as though un-serviced. A deep crimson sign glows at all edges and surfaces, apart from a black silhouette, a moth on one side. It’s an old style sign and sways a little when windy. It isn’t windy right now in the super city. An older lady has seen the sign many times... many times because she keeps visiting this dark part of the super city. The older woman circled this detached ginormous Monumental un-serviced rectangular cubed building. No signs of life. On a nearby, also detached ginormous monumental, the older lady has attached a small sensor to keep an eye on the tiny door under the moth. Nothing has ever been seen by the older woman through her secret sensor. The door never opens.

The older woman is watching the little screen on her arm as she likes to do from time to time. It flickers for a moment and the lady thought she just caught site of an arm disappearing where the small door is now closed. Older lady played back the footage, there was no arm.

Older lady spent hours searching her archives of moth door footage for any signs of flickers. In fact she ordered the arm screen to search for any moments of flicker. It finds five, she plays them all for signs of arms. Nothing. Someone has duped her she feels. Someone clever. No one had ever circumvented the older ladies technology before. The cloaking device attached to her little scanner on the opposite building, obviously wasn’t enough to fool who ever went into that building.

It is a year before. The older lady had walked past the moth door many times and never given it much thought. One afternoon while snuggling down in bed, the older lady was half dreaming of a lonely butterfly trapped in a box. She woke with a gnawing thought about the moth door.

Now the older lady tapped into the live feed of an orbiting future satellite, she zoomed in to the moth door. And was aghast to see a figure entering the door. The figure stops as the door opens and looks back and upward, looking directly into the viewer of the satellite above. The screen flickers.

The person in the doorway looked biologically male. Slender with a strangely grey complexion. The clothing was none descript. Inside the doorway older lady had noticed a hazel light flickering. The lady felt vulnerable. She remotely destructed the sensor on the opposite building... useless anyway.

Older lady went about her technology business as normal; she no longer walked past the moth doored building. Older lady regularly checked and rechecked her backup systems and channels. No sign of anything. Only the how was gnawing her: she dreamed of butterflies, giant butterflies in the giant cavernously hollow building, the butterflies were tattooed with futuristic circuit geometry. A low hazel light flickered over their scaly bodies. Older ladies subconscious was working on a problem that grew more difficult with each Flicker.

Every non descript male body that passed older ladies path caused moths in her stomach. Non had grey complexions thankfully.

Older lady had, by now, a few ideas about how the flickering and more importantly the satellite perception had been done. Some perception field surrounded the moth building and any nosiness could be automatically tricked. Something about the building it must be. Older lady rummaged in her junk room; a pair of real lens binoculars were retrieved. And from a suitable distance the moth building could be observed. Older lady switched off her augmented eyeballs and had a real look. The moth building looked a rather duller version than an augmented view... but it looked the same as always. Older lady focused the lenses onto one of the flickering red laser building edges. In between flickers she saw all manner of sensor equipment, things she felt were experimental; things she’d heard stories about and technology she felt looked very illegal. Things imperceptible to an augmented eye due to the flickering laser edges. But old school vision with the help of long distance lenses was a different story. Older lady retreated.

The lady knew that whoever owned that building, was serious.

The end

By Peter Stringer

#creative writing #art #book #scifi #fantasy book #short story #aliens #time travel #girly sci-fi #Archaeologist #pompeii

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whatevshollandarchive · 5 years ago

Text

With You (T.H. X Reader)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Fluff at the end there

Summary: In an attempt to better you and your career, Tom breaks off your relationship, making it the talk of the media.

A/N: I took too long editing this so now it’s late, but I like it! First one-shot in a hot second & I’m feeling pretty good about it.

Masterlist

“Y/N L/N and Tom Holland’s relationship comes to a rocky end.” The words sit on your phone screen, staring up at you. Just another headline to add to the pile that you’ve accumulated over the past week. It’ll be sitting next to the millions you read through tear-filled eyes on every platform, trying to get the word out that your relationship is all over. “Actor Tom Holland and actress Y/N L/N take to social media to announce their break up.” “True love really is dead. Y/N L/N deletes all Instagram posts after messy break up with boyfriend Tom Holland.” “Marvel actor Tom Holland reveals split with Y/N L/N after 2 years of being together.”

You knew reading all these headlines about you was not helping your current dilemma, but everywhere you went, it followed. It was all fans were talking about, it was what the news sites were talking about, it was what your own family and friends were talking about. No one expected this. You certainly didn't, and neither did Tom, really. But there you sat, locked in your house alone and broken-hearted, wondering what made him think that this would be better for you and your career. You had zero desire to go out into public, but your days off were slowly coming to an end. You were scheduled to go to an interview in a few days by your apologetic manager. People were spitting rumors about you and Tom, and you had no doubt that there was a timeline of your relationship being compiled somewhere. You couldn’t escape the pain no matter how much you wanted to. And what made it even worse is that all those headlines you were seeing constantly were paired with photos of either him, or you, or the two of you together from when you were together. You’d stare down at them, as well as the ones that were in your camera roll, and remember the times when you had no idea that this would ever be happening. It used to be easier then. But now? Now, you were sitting in your air-conditioned house all by yourself in the middle of August, staring at these stupid headlines written by people who probably didn’t even care.

You tossed your phone onto the coffee table, sick of the words on the screen. You groaned, running your hands down your tear-stained face, not knowing what the hell you were supposed to do to get this all off your mind. For once since news broke out, your house was completely silent. You’d shut off the tv, finding nothing appealing and the white noise wasn’t satisfying you. Your phone was on silent and do not disturb, so you didn’t have to look at the sympathetic texts and notifications until you were laying in your now unusually empty and cold bed at 3 am, finding it hard to sleep without him there. The speakers weren’t blasting the break up songs anymore because they weren’t empowering you like you hoped they would. It was just you, alone, in silence, in a house that felt empty.

You closed your eyes. It was taking so much from you to stop yourself from just grabbing your keys and go to him and just fucking beg for him to come back. Every second that passed made you miss him more and more. All you wanted was for the doorbell to chime out, and for him to be standing there when you opened the door. But he didn’t show up. You were alone, feeling lost and broken as the next forty-eight hours passed by.

“Y/N L/N, come on. get up.” You smashed your face further into the pillow as if it was going to stop your manager from trying to get you up and out the door for your interview.

“Go away.” Your words came out muffled against the pillow, and suddenly the duvet was pulled off of your body, making you shiver.

“I know you’re hurting, but you need to try to move on,” She sighed. “Once you get out of the house, it’ll be easier to start.”

You flopped onto your back and looked at her, a frown on your face.

“Jamie, don’t make me do this.”

“It’ll be good for you, you know?” She sat down on the bed as you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly. “Maybe you just need to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. He doesn’t want to be with me anymore. It’s as easy as that.” Your lip began to tremble and Jamie quickly pulled you into a hug.

You sat there for a few minutes, crying silently with her arms around you until she pulled away.

“Go hop in the shower, hun,” She said softly. “Dan and Teagan will be around when you get out, okay?”

You nodded, and Jamie gave you a smile, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. You watched as she got up and left your bedroom, closing the door behind her. You dragged yourself out of bed and into your on-suite bathroom to shower.

After half an hour, you were sitting in your living room as your hair stylist, Dan, was doing your hair while Teagan, your makeup artist, did your makeup. Jamie was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, biting her lip as she read articles on her phone with your break up as the topic. Teagan picked up the setting spray and spritzed it over her work.

“You’re gonna do great, Y/N,” She reminded you with a soft smile as she started to pick up the mess of makeup brushes and makeup items that were scattered on your coffee table. “I’m sure it won’t be completely about Tom since it was scheduled before all this.”

“Yeah, they’ll have other topics to talk about.” Dan added as he finished your hair. You sighed, your shoulder hunched in as you sat there. Your phone was sitting in your lap and you pressed the home button to show the lock screen. Teagan noticed your background was still a photo of Tom hugging you from behind and she glanced up at you with a sad look. She watched as you stared down at the screen until it turned back off. Jamie then walked into the living room.

“You ready, Y/N?” You nodded slightly, getting up from your seat. Teagan and Dan grabbed the necessary travel bags they had for your interviews in case you needed a touch-up and followed you and Jamie out of your home.

It was not a very far drive to get to the interview and you were immediately swept into a room with a cheerful red-headed woman as your interviewer. She introduced herself to you and you gave her a smile as you shook her hand. You took your seat and Jamie gave you a water bottle.

“You got this, babes.” You gave her a tight smile before she walked back to stand by Teagan and Dan before cameras started rolling a few minutes later.

After Amanda, the interviewer gave a few introductory sentences and questions about your home life, she went straight into what you were dreading.

“So, Y/N, it’s been silent on your side of things in regards to your recent split with Tom Holland. What’s your perspective on all of this? What have you been thinking ever since this all happened?” The room was quiet after she finished talking, everyone waiting for you to answer.

“I think that if we had tried, it really wouldn’t have had to come to this.”

“What makes you think that?” Amanda asked, tilting her head, and you took a deep breath.

“He said this was for me and for my career,” You paused, looking down at your hands in your lap. “He’d said that he thought I was being weighed down by him. He didn’t even let me explain that he was wrong.”

Amanda nodded, understanding everything before she leaned forward slightly.

“What has been the hardest for you this past week?”

“I think that the worst part of it all was just losing him in general,” You replied, thinking back at the silence in your home. “He was my rock, my life. We did everything together and now I...I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without him around.”

“And what would you say to him, if you knew he’d be watching this?” You sat there for a moment, thinking.

“I’d honestly just ask him why he did this, why he didn’t give me any warning,” You answered, before sighing deeply. “And I’d tell him that I love him and that I miss him.” She smiled at that as you crossed your leg over the other.

“Has he spoken to you since word got out?”

“No, um, he has not…” You said with a sad smile, before looking back down at your lap for a moment.

Amanda took that as the cue to switch topics and ten minutes later, you were walking out of the studio with Jamie, Teagan, and Dan.

“You did good, Y/N,” Jamie told you after you all piled into your ride.

“She’s right. You’re very strong.” Dan commented, watching as you looked out the car window.

“I just miss him so much.”

When you got home, you made a beeline for your bedroom. You immediately collapsed onto your bed, missing the moments where Tom would be there to hold you in his arms when you needed it. You let out a sob, the tears you’d been holding in finally breaking loose.

After about fifteen minutes, Teagan softly knocked on your bedroom door, opening it.

“Hey.” She said, closing the door after she stepped in. You looked up at her through tear-filled eyes with a tired smile.

“Hi.” You watched as your makeup artist stood next to your bed.

“How are you doing?” You shrugged in response. “You wanna talk about it?”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

“Not right now.” She nodded, but concern was still written in her blue eyes.

“Alright,” Teagan said, moving back towards the door. “Well, Jamie said the pizza she ordered will come in thirty minutes.”

“Okay.” You said quietly and watched as she hesitantly left. You laid down on your back. What a hard day.

You’d told Jamie that you preferred to not go to any more interviews for a while, and she reluctantly obliged. You shooed her, Dan, and Teagan away, saying you just needed more time alone for a few more days.

The video from the interview was posted four days later, and everyone was talking about what you’d said. People seemingly were shocked that you’d been so open about it all. The video’s views were only getting higher as you looked through the comments. You smiled at the supportive words people were writing but you couldn’t help but wonder if Tom had seen it. You were purposely avoiding his social media pages and the articles to prevent any more pain, so you hadn’t seen if he’d said anything about it himself. Maybe he cared, maybe he didn’t. You just hoped he’d at least heard what you had to say.

It was sunny outside, and it’d been the first day in a while that you contemplated going out. You got dressed when you got the energy to leave the house, but before you could even make it down your stairs, the doorbell rang. You figured it was Jamie coming to check in on you, and you sighed as you made your way to the front door, opening it. There he was, Thomas Stanley Holland, standing on your doorstep, flowers in hand, like you’d been wishing he would.

You stared at him for a second, your jaw dropped, confused.

“Tom? What are you doing here?”

“Y/N, I am such a dickhead. I thought all this would’ve been better for you. I kept telling myself that you’d be happier just to get me through these two weeks, but that interview just made me break down. I don’t what I was thinking that night,” You were both crying then, ignoring the tears rolling down each others’ cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You didn’t say a word. You just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking in the scent that you’d missed so much.

“I thought you were out of my life for forever,” You embarrassingly cried into his chest as he used his free hand to smooth down your hair. “It’s been so hard without you here.”

“‘M so sorry, darling. I promise I’ll never hurt you like this ever again. I should’ve let you have a say in what I was trying to do.”

He planted a kiss on the top of your head before pulling you closer. He was thankful that you were forgiving him and taking him back after he caused all this drama and heartache.

“What are we gonna do about all the people?” You murmured, looking up at him.

“We’ll figure that out later, love. A few moments alone wouldn’t hurt.” He chuckled, wiping away a stray tear on your face. You smiled as he laughed. Oh, how you missed that wonderful sound.

“Alright.” You pulled him inside and found a vase for the beautiful flowers he’d bought for you and after you found a pretty spot for them, he pulled you in for a kiss that was very overdue.

After pulling apart, you rested your foreheads against each other.

“God, it’s good to be where I belong,” He grinned before kissing your soft lips once more. “With you.”

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writethehousedown · 4 years ago

Text

New sensations, sweet temptations: chapter three (Crygi, jan/rock) - Winter

a/n: chapter 3 time! ice cream date with crystal and gigi? amazing! thanks to zyan and vic for helping me with spanish and emerald for the french and putting up with me sending chapters the day before they go up, enjoy and catch me @soulfulwinter if ya wanna say hi

The realisation hit Jan hard. How long had this been in her? Had she been unaware of these feelings for years? How repressed was she? Everything quickly became overwhelming but she held herself together to avoid the potential questions from Rock.

They ended their conversation and went their separate ways soon after. Jan refused to let herself show any shred of her inner conflict but that didn’t stop Rock from picking up on it. She knew better than to press the matter, only hoping that the blonde would talk about her feelings at some point rather than bottling it all up and burying it.

When she got home, Jan let herself start unpacking everything. Of course the only thing she could think of was the cute pink-haired girl that was the cause of all this confusion. How would Rock even feel knowing she was the catalyst? Jan knew she would apologise, despite her having no fault in the matter. Rock would feel guilty for most things, it was in her nature and Jan wished it wasn’t. Sometimes she was too nice for her own good.

But it was that genuine sweetness that made Jan’s head spin. She knew her friend was cute, she wasn’t blind. But it went much deeper than that. Rock got her on a level no one else could come close to. She knew exactly what set the blonde off and how to deal with her in the rare times she would let herself dwell on negative feelings. While Jan always tried to move on and not let negativity get to her it got increasingly hard when everything was confusing and nothing was making sense.

She liked Rock. But how did she deal with it?

—

The same day had been incredible for Crystal and Gigi. The pair never could communicate their feelings, with Gigi struggling with feelings in general and Crystal almost never able to communicate crushes because of the anxiety that paralysed her at the thought of it. A situation that saw no end any time soon needed intervention if it was to move forward.

That was when Nicky took it upon herself to speed up the mutual pining of the pair of useless lesbians.

“Gigi, everyone is starting to split off. Go take the girl out for ice cream and if you don’t make a move or tell her then I will tell her everything.”

“But what if she doesn’t-”

“T'es vraiment idiote, arrête de te mettre la tête dans le sable et fais quelque chose.”

“All I got from that was sand.”

“I’m not translating for you. Go learn another language then you can insult people to their face without them realising.”

Gigi was left stumped, although Nicky had that effect on people when she’d had enough of what they were doing. She knew it was pointless to fight it. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of the French girl’s irritance.

——

With her heart twisting in anxiety, Gigi felt a rush of emotions when she entered the ice cream parlor with Crystal, her curly green bob bouncing as she walked that made Gigi feel more gay than she ever knew possible. Crystal just had that effect on her.

Getting Crystal to wait patiently in a line was the difficult part. She was never much of a patient person, nor was Gigi but she learned to fake it, so she turned to the redhead and started rambling about ice cream flavours.

“-Oh but lemon is really good! It’s kind of sour though. Do you like sour things Geeg? It would explain the faces you make sometimes when Nicky gets annoyed at you for stuff.”

That last part made the redhead send an unamused expression to the girl, Crystal just let out a giggle that made Gigi’s heart flip. Could she stop being so cute?

“Oh but what about strawberries, they’re red like your hair!” Crystal grinned proudly, gesturing to Gigi’s hair. It did remind Crystal of strawberries sometimes, she’d compare them while idly staring at her. She claimed it was normal, who wouldn’t stare at Gigi Goode when given the chance. Crystal swore anyone would and if they wouldn’t then they clearly couldn’t appreciate the beauty in front of them.

Once getting to the front of the queue, Crystal excitedly looked over all the options before deciding on a strawberry flavour, reminding her of the girl she adored. She went to get the money out for it before Gigi stopped her, paying for them both.

“Oh Gigi how gentlemanly of you! Paying for the lady?” Crystal nudged her playfully, Gigi swore she sounded flirtatious but it was likely just her imagination.

“Well, I know how to treat a lady right.” Gigi returned the playful attitude, unable to hold back the dumb grin that took hold when Crystal acted like this.

They soon sat down, enjoying their ice cream before Crystal realised something.

“So you’re having lemon? I mean it fits, it’s pretty sour like you.” The glee in Crystal’s tone made Gigi want to squeeze her. That girl was incapable of not being cute at all times, or so Gigi was convinced.

“Oh? All I heard from that is it’s pretty like you. I’m glad you think I’m pretty, Crys.” Gigi decided to be more confident, for once trying to play into the flirty edge Crystal had been using all afternoon.

“Eres tan jodidamente hermosa que don’t know how to cope” Crystal blurted without thinking, she noticed Gigi’s puzzled expression and almost squealed due to how cute it was. She clearly didn’t understand what had been said and that made Crystal’s anxiety loosen up slightly.

“I love when you speak half in Spanish and half in English, it’s adorable Cryssie.”

Crystal felt heat rising to her cheeks at the comment. The nickname alone sent her reeling. But Gigi found something she did adorable? Even more so than cute, she found it adorable. Was she flirting? Crystal felt a rare surge of confidence, deciding to play into it. She could always shake it off as friendly flirting, like Jaida always claimed was what happened between her and Nicky.

“You do some adorable things yourself, miss Goode.”

It was Gigi’s turn to be flustered, Crystal flirting back was not what she expected but it made her heart race and her stomach flip.

Seeing a flustered Gigi made Crystal let out a quiet squeal.

“What? Why did you make that noise? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Crystal regarded Gigi with a sly grin, staring at her with a cute look of something Gigi hadn’t seen before.

“Nothing, nothing. You’re just cute when you’re flustered.”

The comment left Gigi’s whole face turning red, making Crystal let out another squeal of adoration.

“You’re cute, cielo.”

“Cielo?”

“Oh it means sky, but it’s meant as a term of endearment.”

Gigi was confident now, Crystal knew full well what was going on. Calling her Spanish terms of endearment wasn’t that strange of a thing, but right now it added fuel to the fire that was her feelings.

The flirting continued, at one point Crystal wondered aloud what Gigi’s ice cream tasted like. Had anyone else said that, she would have replied that it was lemon flavour as deadpan as she could muster. But all she could do was offer Crystal a lick.

There was nothing straight about this. Not flirting with a girl, and then offering each other a lick of their ice cream.

It had taken Crystal until they were leaving to muster up the courage to actually make a move, as they were about to get their separate ways, she grabbed Gigi’s hand.

It was now or never, she prepared herself as Gigi looked at her, confused.

“Hey Geeg, we should do this again sometime. I’ll pay for us both next time, it’ll be fun.”

“It’s a date.”

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #jan sport/rock m sakura #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jan sport #nicky doll #new sensations sweet temptations #winter #fluff #lesbian au #high school au #concrit welcome #summer lovin' 2020 #day 3: ice cream #submission

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phoebehalliwell · 4 years ago

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Oh now I’m curious! What do you think kids between Leo and Paige would be like? (also what’s the name of that outtakes YouTube video because all of tumblrs links seem to be broke for me the last couple days :(

the raw footage is from a channel called the source of all bloopers (& yes their icon is the source)!

in regards to paige x leo i’m gonna start by linking my initial paige x leo post from the crackship era bc it really touches on the think i think would define their relationship which is just like undeniable goodness like a love for people and helping people and sort of viewing the world wide eyed and with optimism and then adding that to paige’s half whitelighter and leo’s full whitelighter like these kids are gonna be Whitelighter-y man. like i would say the most whitelighter-y out of anyone in the canon next gen would be mellie but lemme tell you these kids would leave her in the dust. i think they’d all also be really creative and clever and quite frankly stubborn as all shit. one of them would be really good at lying and the another one wouldn’t be to tell a lie to save their life. i’m not sure how many kids paige and leo would have because they were both raised as only children so i feel like that really lends itself to having only one child as they both had relatively good childhoods themselves But y’know it’s the whole charmed thing i feel like they would have a bigger family especially now that paige has sisters it’s not like she doesn’t like having sisters idrk how many um magical kids are like up for adoption bc i wouldn’t mind if leo and paige like adopted kids who were like lost or maybe kicked out of their homes because of magic like they could have raised tyler together why not okay here’s what i think i think if they raised tyler together i think piper x dan or whoever she ends up with would end up having kids relatively fast dan especially seems very pro-dad so i could see a baby showing up by season five meaning tyler would then have a bunch of “younger” siblings but idk i think he’s be hyped i think he would like hanging out with babies tho i think he’d be super anxious at first worried he’s accidentally going to torch the baby (bc theoretically in this au he didn’t bind his powers because he’s training to y’know be a witch) but like paige and leo use their whitelighter knowledge and support and you know blah blah blah the point is there’s sort of like a full family here i think roughly around season 8 ish they’d probably have a kid of their own bc like. idk piper and dan probably would already have their set of three idk what exactly phoebe would be doing in this timeline but like. this is a whole ass family and i think they’d be like hey lets y’know build our family i think the twinship came from henry’s side so i think their first kid would just be one daughter and tyler would be like. halfway through high school at this point (oh btw tyler turned 30 this year so um. yeah. that’s fuckin weird). and then whenever i’ve seen couples have another kid while the kids they already have are like in high school (which to be fair, is only twice), both times they didn’t have one kid but rather two so the new baby would be alone on their end of the number line and feel severed from their siblings, which like, if you can pull that off i totally agree with. so i think paige and leo would have another kid idk boy or girl but i’m going to say girl probably with a year and a half split between the two round out the total of kids to three, but there’s no power of three as y’know tyler while being a witch is not a member of the warren line and ik i always say it’s not about the biological aspect so much as it is the siblinghood but i think tyler still identifies as a michaels not as a warren like he says like here’s my mom and dad paige and leo but i think he still has a part of his identity rooted in his michaels last name. so. okay so the kids let’s do names tbh we could say samantha and christina and have them all be named after fathers i think paige is like 10x more likely to name her kids after her adopted parents as opposed to her biological ones But we never got her parents names so sam & chris it is i think sam technically being the eldest ssould have the most powers and since she’s like 75% whitelighter i think i’m going to be drawing from that power bank more than i will the powers of the warren line you know what we’ll give her the glamoring - omnilingualism - empathy - mimicry pathway and she can orb i think she’s set up to be a bleeding heart but i think she’d actually be stubborn as all shit and while she’d be kind she really isn’t well a bleeding heart she doesn’t really believe in gently hand holding and being the one to fix someone that’s not her vibe she doesn’t believe that’s her burden and she’s not big on second chances. however, given her power set, she can tell if someone’s truly remorseful and will forgive them, but if that’s not there, then they’re kicked to the curb man. christina i think well she can orb i think i’m going to give her the telekinetic powers so like the triple set of orb - tlk - tlkorb idk if she really needs another power i also like it because between the three siblings we can match tyler’s firepower to pipers, sam to phoebe, and this way christina would be like prue/paige

#paige matthews leo wyatt tyler michaels come together to form the most powerful two first names dynasty the world has ever seen #charmed #paige x leo #next gen #charmed next gen #💌

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pi-cat000 · 5 years ago

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MSA time travel idea (part 35)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25 Lewis POV 3, Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34

Part 36: here

LEWIS POV:

Whereas he barely felt the knife stabbing into him, Lewis definitely feels it come out. It doesn’t help that the thing pretending to be Arthur seems to be going out of its way to cause as much pain as possible. And yes, there is a lot of pain. Even with a whole lot of adrenaline smoothing over the worst of it, it is probably the worst thing Lewis has ever experienced. It briefly whites out his vision, so he almost misses Arthur as he steps out of the torchlight. What Lewis does see, in amongst the white spots, is that twisted uncanny smile, smug and self-assured. Nothing like any expression he has seen Arthur make before. It’s all wrong.

Lewis doesn’t remember kneeling, but he must have because suddenly Vivi is crouched in front of him, supporting his weight, preventing from face-planting into the concrete. Quickly, she ties her scarf around his side.

“I’m fine,” He mutters, trying to wave her away, “Go after Arthur.”

“You’ve been stabbed,” Vivi objects, frustrated, adding, “…and I can’t,” blue eyes meeting his before flicking over to Mystery who is blocking her way. The dog is glowing red, and his growls make Lewis’s neck prickle with unease despite not being the target. Right. Because, not only is Arthur possessed by that thing, but Mystery is a supernatural whatever as well. If he weren’t in so much pain, the revelation would be more impactful.

His next words are drowned out by another louder shout.

“ALRIGHT ASSHOLE…STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Both he and Vivi turn. Lewis stares openly at the middle-aged man who seems to have materialised from the gloom, holding a shotgun that moves between all three of them, landing on Arthur.

“Nobody move.” Is ordered in a tone consisting of visibly uncontained rage which doesn’t bode well in the slightest. Just when Lewis thinks they are done with the nasty surprises, another one comes crawling from the woodwork. Lewis struggles to stand so he’s ready to run if need be, his side throbs with a spike of intense pain.

The man, Lewis vaguely recognises him but, with the darkened surroundings, he is hard to really place, addresses Vivi, “Never heard of Arthur huh?”

Vivi stiffens, and Lewis realises, with a quick note of leather clothing, that this must be the leather-wearing crazy guy from earlier. Though, given the circumstances, perhaps he isn’t as crazy as initially thought.

“Good thing I didn’t believe yah now isn’t. You kids are in some real shit,” The man glowers past them, “I finally got ya. Nowhere to run now.”

“I’m sorry. Have we met? You human’s all look alike,” The body snatcher, Lewis refuses to think of this thing as Arthur, sounds mildly irritated.

“You fucking know who I am!”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” Lewis recognises one of his chef knives as it is waved around flippantly.

“Sonofabitch. You’re going to regret messing with…”

“Hold it. Wait…” The body snatcher interrupts, clicking its fingers, “I remember. Wait. No…I’ve lost it. Maybe give me a hint?”

The man’s face twists into a snarl of furry, “Slimy rat-bastard…If you think for one…”

“Oh! I’ve got it! Mickey. No. Micky. Yes. Apologies. You were such a useless, forgettable host that it completely slipped my mind.” If the body snatcher is trying to make the other man mad, it is succeeding. Worried, Lewis observes the livid expression on the gunman’s face. Even in the dark, the rage is very apparent.

“How is that gunshot wound treating you? It looks infected.”

“How about I give you a matching one, and you can tell me all about it!?”

“Tch,” Arthur’s green eyes narrow losing some of their humour. Then, seemingly addressing none of the people present, it comments, “And this is exactly why leaving hosts alive always backfires.”

Before, when the creature had been supposedly conversing with Mystery, it had made clear eye-contact with the dog. Now, it gestures loosely into the middle distance. It’s talking to Arthur, he realises, and it simultaneously fills him with hope and makes him sick to the stomach.

“They all get this notion in their head that it’s my fault their pathetic lives went down the toilet. And then it’s all ‘you’ll pay for this’ and whatnot.” It turns Arthur’s eyes back to Micky, “I suppose you’re still mad about your brother. Dan was it?”

“Don’t say you dare say his name!”

“Dan? Short for Daniel? The most promising exorcist in three generations and far better than you could ever be? That Daniel? …Maybe if you’d been even half of what he was, you wouldn’t have been possessed so damn easily. I mean, this kid put up more of a fight, and he’s pretty much a walking collection of neurosis.’”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

“Did you even go back to bury him, or did you just leave him there? What happened to all the ritual, funeral nonsense to send his soul on its merry way? How disrespectful.”

The gun clicks. It’s like it wants to get shot! Lewis feels Vivi tense beside him and knows that she has come to the same conclusion.

“Stop!” Vivi lurches uprights, trying and failing to dodge around Mystery. “If you shoot, you’ll kill Arthur!”

“That fucking brat sent us to our deaths. He’s just as guilty.”

The body snatcher sniggers, “I’m sure Dan would be very unimpressed at how you’re threatening this poor innocent human. I mean, if he weren’t a shish-kebab at the bottom of a cave.”

A loud, almost animalistic, yell. In the fraction of an instant before the gun goes off, Arthur’s body lurches to the right. For a moment, it looks like Arthur might manage to dodge. Lewis’s breath catches.

Crack.

The gun fires. Arthur flickers. It is as if, for a split second, there are two people overlayed atop each other. If the body snatcher is planning to dodge, protecting both itself and Arthur, it fails, stumbling, visibly hurt.

Next, there is an explosion of energy, briefly lighting the space with ominous red. From the flash leaps a giant canid creature with many lashing tails, obstructing his view. The gunman, obviously just as surprised by its appearance, turns wildly, aiming the gun at the new threat. A second shot discharges with another loud crack, point-blank, right into second monster’s chest. The giant- Lewis thinks it might be a fox- doesn’t falter, slamming into the gun-wielding maniac, jaws closing on the weapon.

“Arthur!” Vivi’s voice snaps his attention back to Arthur. Lewis is not sure where the bullet has hit but the way the body snatcher’s face twists, spitting to itself, “You little shit,” before toppling over backwards, means it hit somewhere. He struggles to follow Vivi, who has already run forward, ignoring how his side burns and his breath is more laboured than it should be. Lewis hurries up to his prone friend, spotting the quickly spreading stain of red on Arthur’s left shoulder.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Vivi mutters, “Bleeding…that’s a lot of blood. Need to control the bleeding.” She pulls off her shirt, placing it over the wound, pressing down. Arthur’s eyes snap open, bright green, focusing on Vivi and then on him. They flicker to golden-brown.

“Arthur?” Vivi breaths, also noticing the change.

“Vi…”

“Shh. Don’t speak. Everything will be okay. I don’t think its hit anything important. Just lie still.”

Gold flickers to green again, and Arthur grins, “What’s…up. You…goin…watch him die …with me?” The words get chocked off when the gold returns. The smiles twists into something more pained. Lewis leans in as Arthur tries to speak again.

“No.” Vivi puts out a hand, leaving a red mark on his shirt, “Don’t make skin contact.”

Green and gold flicker again, so fast that the two colours bleed into each other like coloured ink running together. “Even if …you save him…I’ll be here. You’ll never get me out…He’ll be mine for…” It’s the body snatcher, struggling to form words as blood trickles out the corner of Arthur’s mouth.

“Don’t talk,” Vivi snaps. The hand nearest to him twitches, trying to touch her wrist. But the blood loss has made it slow and lethargic, allowing Vivi to draw away.

“Lewis, hold his arm down so it doesn’t try to grab me. I need to keep pressure on this. Do you have your phone on you? We need to call for help, like an ambulance, and….”

Vivi’s instructions wash over him as he stares at the hand then back at Arthur. If they do save Arthur, then they would be right back to where they started, with this thing piloting around his friend’s body. Probably, hurting Arthur in the process because he can’t imagine that it’s a present experience. Lewis takes his phone from his back pocket and places in on the ground.

“Lew…is.” It’s Arthur again, barely managing to speak, breathing hard as Vivi pushes down, stemming the worst of the flow. Even the two words sound so defeated and sad. Lewis can’t just do nothing. Not when he can save Arthur from this thing. In that moment, in the seconds between Arthur’s breathing and the sounds of fighting behind him, Lewis reaches to take Arthur’s hand.

“Look after Arthur.” He orders. Vivi makes a brief noise of objection, but it is too late.

Skin against skin.

Arthur’s hand is unnaturally cold.

There is a sharp pain in his palm which travels up the limb. Quickly, he lurches upright, stumbling two steps back to get as far away from Vivi and Arthur as possible. A portion of his arm begins to turn a sickly green, which travels up towards his shoulder. Arthur, the real Arthur, is now the picture of horror.

“W…hy?” His friend coughs. Lewis finds he can’t respond, body frozen. Slowly, green creeps, inching along, making his skin crawl.

Then, a heavy weight hits him from behind, causing him to stagger. Jaws and sharp teeth clamp down around his upper arm, halting the green. One large, red eye stares at him, almost apologetic. As if moving in slow motion, Lewis sees the fox bite and hears the crunch of bone splintering. Blood droplets spin hypnotically in the air.

It is probably fortunate that, right then, Lewis is yanked back and away. If he can’t handle the pain of a stab wound, he can’t imagine enjoying the sensation of having his arm ripped apart. This is what Lewis thinks while he falls into deeper, more complete darkness.

He is falling, nothingness surrounding him. He is falling right up until he isn’t.

Above him, a ceiling fades into view. Confused, he blinks at the pale grey roof overhead. Is he dead? He doesn’t feel dead. Hurriedly, Lewis sits upright, grasping for his arm. It is still there, attached to his shoulder, no worse for wear. Except, Lewis’s eyes widen, watching the limb flicker, disappearing then reappearing. He can feel it and move it, but when he stares at it for too long, it doesn’t seem real. Transparent.

“…have known… too good to be true….It’s always too good to be true…” The irritated voice, though muffled, is familiar. Lewis twists, searching for its source, finding himself on the floor of a grey-coloured version of the Kingsman workshop. However, unlike Kingsman Mechanics, which was always alive with activity and the sound of machinery, everything here is still and eerily silent. Through the open garage doors, instead of the Tempo desert, Lewis sees an expanse of endless grey void. Across the floor and ceiling spreads several jagged cracks like the room is seconds from falling to pieces.

“…there was no way in any of the hells that some punk human would get away with breaking The Rules and not have it blow up in their stupid face...”

Leaning against the workbench, a few feet away, is Arthur. Only, it’s not Arthur. The skin is tinted green, not unlike his arm in those brief moments before Lewis was pulled down here.

“…and I just got suckered in like some witless porn.” Growling, kicking the bench irritably, not-Arthur grumbles, “What a waste of potential.”

Slowly, Lewis tries to climb to his feet without catching its attention. He is unsuccessful because, no sooner has he moved, its eyes snap to him. Now, instead of bright green, they are flecked with golden yellow.

“Hello Lewis,” It greets in a voice so like Arthur’s that it grates on Lewis’s ears. A larger crack appears across the ceiling, lengthening, almost splitting the room in half. Grey dust rains down around them, and the room shakes.

“Nice of you to stop by, even if it is for a few seconds. I was so looking forward to possessing you too. It really is a shame.”

Lewis glares at the twisted, mock version of his friend, who, despite everything, is still grinning. Now his mind is no longer muddled with the pain of a stab wound, there is new mounting anger. He clenches a fist.

“What’s the matter big guy? Had a rough day? Not often you get stabbed by your best friend now is it?”

Lewis should be scared. This thing has made it apparent that it didn’t give two shits about killing him. Hell, this bastard had stabbed him. Lewis glances briefly at his side. There is no wound to be seen. In his mind’s eye, he sees the last few minutes flash past. He can see Arthur, in pain. His best friend had looked so defeated. Somehow he knows it is this things fault. Everything until now, all the supernatural weirdness and confusion, this thing is at the centre of it all. No, Lewis isn’t scared. He's furious.

"There's the Lewis I was waiting to see. None of that sentimental concerned crap…only anger,” The fake-Arthur grins wider, noting his rage.

"This is your fault." He snaps in lieu of a proper come-back, taking an aggressive step forward clenching and unclenching his fist. "What did you do to Arthur.”

“Hehe, still more worried about Arthur? You really should adjust your priorities, considering there is a high chance that my removal will kill you. Losing an arm isn’t pretty.”

Lewis twitches. The rage builds. It builds in waves, expanding to fill his chest and, before he knows it, he’s across the room, picking the fake-Arthur up by the shirt, and slamming into a wall. There is no real-Arthur here to hold him back. He wants to wipe that smile off its face and make it pay for all the stress and hurt it has forced on all of them in the last few days.

“What happened to Arthur!”

A scoff of contempt. “Nothing happened to Artie, aside from getting shot, he’s back in his body. All he had to do was sit back and not interfere, but instead, he got in the way like the suicidal little shit he is. I’d watch out for that, your friend is a real basket case.”

Lewis sees fire and red. He slams the creature against the wall, causing new cracks to form and spread like a spider web. It feels unevenly satisfying to hurt this creature. It feels good right up until the body snatcher turns its face into something that looks almost exactly like Arthur. No smug smile. Just pain. If it weren’t for the green skin, Lewis might have believed it.

“So willing to hurt Arthur. You’re giving me goosebumps.”

His grip falters. “You’re not Arthur,” He retorts.

“No. But I look like him. Not that that matters when assigning blame. No wonder Arthur is scared of you.”

His anger simmers down into something more akin to apprehension. Before, outside his family diner, the demon had said something about knowing the truth behind Arthur’s reason for avoiding him. What did this thing know?

Lewis grits his teeth, "I didn't do anything to Arthur. I couldn’t of. It must be something else. Another variable." That’s what Vivi said, and she is right. Why does it sound like he's trying to convince himself now?

"Is that what you think, or is that what our good friend Vivi thinks? She's smart, I'll give you that, a real catch, but you can't rely on her for everything. You have to make your own decisions based on what you want. You know Arthur is scared. You saw it. Pure fear."

The body snatcher gives him a shove in the chest, forcing Lewis to drop the other to the floor. Tense, he watches it spend a moment straitening its shirt in a very Arthur-like move. Suddenly, he feels very guilty despite knowing this was only a replica of his friend.

It grins again, glancing up, “I can show you, you know. I have Arthur’s memories. I can leave them behind before I’m forced to leave." More cracks are appearing now, covering every surface like one half of the room is about to fall away. Deliberately, fake-Arthur leans towards him, “What do you say?”

“Arthur will tell me the truth when he’s ready.” Lewis wants to object further but finds the words stuck.

It laughs, an unpleasant sound, full of malice, “Not if he thinks the truth will hurt you. He’ll continue lying for forever if he thinks it’ll protect you. Besides, you might die right now, so Arthur might not even get the chance. Then you’ll never know.”

Uneasy, Lewis swallows, realising that it is right. Arthur would lie to protect him and Vivi. It is probably the reason why he’d been lying for the last few weeks. Lewis frowns down at the ground, breaking eye contact, trying to work through what he actually wants and not liking the answer. Its got him. Despite knowing that having Arthur’s memories is a bad idea that it will cause more harm than good, he finds he doesn’t care.

"Well, do you want the truth or not? Quickly now, I don't have a lot of time here."

Why is Arthur scared? He needs to know why. He desperately needs to know.

“I want to know.” He says it before he can really help it.

One elongated step and the body snatcher is suddenly close, acting before Lewis can change his mind. He attempts to move back, but the body snatcher is reaching up, grabbing his collar, yanking him down to eye level, “Good choice.”

Lewis instinctively pulls back, but the faker's eyes swirl hypnotically, shifting to a more potent green, holding him in place.

"It’s been nice talking, I think I’m beginning to see why Arthur’s so damn obsessed with you, so much delicious internal conflict...but alas our time is up.”

The walls around them crumble, splintering apart.

“It may be a day, a year or even a few decades, but I’ll be back so we’ll meet again. That's a promise."

The workshop dissolves.

"Until then, enjoy Arthur’s memories. And remember, you wanted this."

Note: Lewis joins Arthur in the pit of bad decisions.

Part 36: here

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julienschuester · 4 years ago

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KISS IT BETTER

WHO: @ivystjamess & @julienschuester WHERE: st. james residence WHEN: 10/08, evening WHAT: after a brutal tennis match between ivy and darcy that resulted in baby raine’s...beheading...julien goes to ivy’s to comfort her on his birthday.

JULIEN: When Ivy stormed out of glee club rehearsal after everything that had gone down between her and the Canaries, Julien wanted nothing more than to follow her out of the choir room and comfort her. He felt guilty about everything that had happened with Darcy and the last thing he wanted was for Ivy to be upset or worse…upset at him. But when Dan took the floor and announced that it was best to let Ivy cool off, Julien wilted. He stayed put in his seat and although he was pretty downtrodden through practice, he powered through it. Once it was over, Julien hitched a ride with Dan back to the Schuester residence where a birthday dinner was already made and presents were wrapped and ready to be exchanged. Julien put on a smile for his parents and siblings as he went through the motions of a traditional Schuester birthday celebration until finally, he was granted permission to be excused. He wanted to be more present and engaged during his little family party, but all he could think about was Ivy. How was she? Had she iced her bruises? Had the Canaries done more harm than she’d let on? He was spiraling in a mess of ‘what ifs’ and knew the only way his brain would calm was if he saw her. Julien ran up the stairs to his bedroom and quickly changed into some casual grey sweatpants, his favorite hockey sweatshirt and his glasses. He was already half way out the door, ignoring his mom’s ’where are you going?’ when he realized he’d forgotten a hat. Oh well. Julien didn’t like driving a car that had the word cheater scrawled into the side, but these were desperate times. He got into the Schuester mobile, which now had fresh wheels thanks to Julien’s summer savings, and sped to Ivy’s in record time. He parked a couple of blocks away (just in case her parents were around) and lightly jogged the rest of the way to her house. He moved stealthily once he reached her yard, doing his best to avoid any light sensors as he made his way through the bushes towards Ivy’s window. Jackpot. There she was, hunched over her desk doing what Julien could only assume was homework. He took in the sight of her for a moment, heart racing as a goofy smile danced its way on to his lips. Even angry and pouty, Julien couldn’t get enough of that face. Don’t get distracted, he reminded himself. Right. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the physically demanding task that was scaling the side of her house and then he was off. He had done the climb a couple of times before and it got easier each time...but not easy enough. He made it to her window in minutes and once he reached it, he tapped twice before he started trying to pry it open himself. “You gotta let me in legs,” he whisper yelled, slightly straining to keep himself up, “it’s my birthday wish.”

IVY: Tonight now marked twice in a row that Julien had come to her house tapping on her window. If Come to my Window hadn't been an anthem for sapphics everywhere for the better part of the last 50 years, Ivy probably already would have been preparing an arrangement for her and Julien. Her heart just wasn't in it tonight. After the worst day in what was shaping up to be a horrible week, Ivy had no song in her heart. Not only was a duet arrangement out of the question, but so was social interaction. It was so cruel of fate to not only give her a baby to tend to after the summer she had, but it was crueler to have it taken from her, and cruelest for everything to have blown up on Julien's birthday. She had pinky promised him not to be mad at him on his birthday, which she totally broke during glee club earlier. That bummed her out even more. With some time and cooling down, to no one's surprise, Ivy wasn't angry. Just hurt. Hurt Darcy had masterfully pulled off a villainous scheme, hurt that none of her teammates seemed to care, and hurt that Julien couldn't step up to the plate and defend her. It was all too much. Joey had texted her a few times about arranging a funeral for Raine over the weekend, but she left him on read. Everything about this situation was tender and she just wasn't feeling like herself. She cashed in on skipping both glee and Grease rehearsal and went home almost instantly where she dove into trying to do her homework. It was a slow and strenuous effort. It felt like anytime she got a good pace going, something set off the tears. Whether it be the envelope with Julien's birthday present sitting pretty on her desk, moving her rapidly bruising body in the wrong way, or the eerie absence of Raine's oh-so-annoying cries, there always seemed to be something that triggered the waterworks. Luckily, when Julien asked to be let in, Ivy was about an hour past her last cry session. For a brief moment, she stared at him dubiously until he clarified it was a birthday wish. Shoot. She couldn’t turn down a birthday wish. Wincing slightly as she rose, Ivy moved to open her window and help Julien climb in. Once he was in safely, Ivy filled the silence with the soft sounds of her shutting her window, closing the curtains, locking both her doors, then putting on some music to mask their inevitable conversation. She gave room for Julien to begin first, but painfully aware of the fact he wasn’t the most articulate, she broke the ice by grabbing the holographic red envelope with Julien and an assortment of hearts scribbled onto it. It wasn’t Ivy’s best gift, but she was confident her boyfriend would be happy to attend a Blackhawks game. She held out the envelope with an almost somber, “Happy Birthday.” This was the extension of her olive branch. Just to be explicit though, she added, “Sorry for calling you a musical slut and a cheater and like all that stuff. I didn’t mean it. I was just like being stupid.” she murmured, wincing once again as she sat on the foot of her bed. “Are you gonna open it?”

JULIEN: For a split second, Julien thought Ivy wasn’t going to let him in. He was moments away from panicking and probably tumbling down to the ground when she finally moved from her seat and opened the window. Once Julien was on his feet inside her bedroom, he wiped the beads of sweat forming on his forehead from the physical exertion and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger. As he smoothed out his sweatshirt and caught his breath, Ivy moved around the room like a busy body, taking all the necessary precautions to make sure they weren’t caught by her parents or sister. His eyes followed her as she moved around the room. Ever since they had officially gotten together, Julien felt inexplicably more self-conscious about saying the right things. Maybe self-conscious wasn’t the right word…but he just wanted to make Ivy happy. Getting to this point in their relationship had been a long and dramatic road, so the last thing he wanted to do was mess it up by acting rashly or doing something dumb. So as he stood there, letting his bottom teeth graze his top lip as he performed mental gymnastics trying to figure out where to start, Ivy took the lead by sticking a red envelope in his general direction. “For me?” he asked, almost surprised by the gesture, “woooow.” Julien stared at the envelope in complete awe before he even looked at what was inside. Whatever it was, it was from Ivy. To him. It could’ve been a $2 bill and he would’ve been over the moon. Before he could open it, Ivy was apologizing for what had gone down earlier in the choir room. A warmth filled his chest as she took back all of the things she’d said. It was water under the bridge for him. “You don’t have to say sorry,” he assured her, glancing down at the envelope again, “I’m sorry—“ but before he could say it, she was asking him to open the gift. Okay, maybe his apology could wait. He somewhat carelessly ripped open the envelope (but not before admiring all the little hearts she’d drawn around his name on the back of it) and quickly removed the two tickets that were inside it. He stared at them, mouth agape, for a second too long as he slowly read over the words. Blackhawks vs. Blue Jackets. A genuinely touched smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked up at her. “Ivy,” he cooed, quite literally fighting the urge to dance in place by excitedly making his way to the foot of her bed and sitting next to her, “this is the best gift. Did you know I’ve never been to a Blackhawks game? You’re seriously the best, I love—“ a pause as he let out a bashful little laugh and cleared his throat, “I love it. I really love it. I can’t wait to ask the prettiest girl in school if she’ll go with me…” He turned to look at Ivy then, his eyes notably softening when it dawned on him how sad she still looked. He put the tickets back in the envelope and then placed it down on the bed before giving Ivy his undivided attention. “I’m really sorry, legs,” he started, gently reaching up and placing his hand on the side of her head to softly strum her cheek and her hair, “what happened to you today was…so messed up. The next time I see Darcy…” Julien wasn’t an angry person, but now that he’d had some time to process, even saying her name left a bad taste in his mouth, “I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind. You didn’t deserve that. And I’m…” it felt silly to say, but it needed to be said, “I’m sorry about Raine. I know he was just a robot baby, but still.” Julien was great with words when it came to group pep talks, but he notably struggled with being articulate in more intimate one on one conversations. “I’m just sorry,” he concluded, holding her gaze before letting his eyes assess the damage done to her by tennis balls. “I want to hug you or hold you or something but I don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted, clocking the welts on her arm. Looking around, he scooted back on her bed until he could lean back against her pillows. “Come here,” he urged her, opening his arms, “birthday wish.”

IVY: This birthday wish business was going to be the death of Ivy. It had landed Julien, cute as ever, in the center of her room. From the way he pushed up his glasses to the way his sweatshirt hung over his frame made it increasingly difficult for Ivy to feel as sad. Though, as much as she apologized and engaged in conversation, nothing could stuff those sad feelings back into her heart. Julien's response to her apology in addition to his own brief one had her feeling a little better. Despite that sadness lingering, Julien's smile when he opened the envelope to the tickets momentarily made this horrendous day feel entirely worth it. With his smile like Christmas Morning and his eyes like Fourth of July fireworks, Ivy was hardly thinking about apologies. The way Julien said her name made her heart pound desperately in her chest. She was glad he liked the tickets so much. As he sat beside her, definitely a little needy, Ivy grabbed hold of his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. Maybe had she not felt so off she would have been more vocal. That wasn't the case, so instead she sought comfort in Julien's touch and provided him with a soft "No, I didn't know you've never been, I just like assumed you would have by now." His 'I love--' resulted in Ivy lifting her head to look at him. Was he about to--? No. He loved the gift. A lot. Clearly. Maybe the tickets were a better gift than she had initially anticipated. Now looking at him, Ivy felt a warmth that enabled her to smile. "Hm, well I hope she says yes because I heard she's like totally cute in a hockey jersey." Ivy said very seriously. The burst of feel good energy faded quickly as Julien once again brought up the events of the day. Still, she leaned into his touch and hummed softly at his claim he was going to give Darcy a piece of his mind. Ivy didn't entirely believe that, but didn't want to complain either. Her and Leo always fought when she brought up things like this that upset her. She didn't want to be dramatic and let the same happen with her and Julien. He was too special. Remaining quiet for a moment as she tried to find the right words, Ivy hummed to herself again. "We really like, don't have to talk about it. Seriously. It's like so totally...yesterday's news." she insisted after inhaling sharply. She'd get over it. "Okay it like, doesn't even hurt that bad--" That lie was a little more obvious, but she wanted to be held regardless. Luckily, her boyfriend seemed to pick up on that as he adjusted his position and fully settled on her bed. Crawling up to him and curling into his side, Ivy's doting gaze inevitably fell on Julien, "So like, what do you want to do? Watch a movie?" she asked, then threw in a playful, "You only have fifteen more birthday wishes to cash in before midnight, Jules. Choose wisely."

JULIEN: Ivy wasn’t particularly good at hiding her emotions, so despite Julien not being the most intuitive person, he could see very clearly that she was in need of some tlc. From the way she stared up at him with those sad blue eyes to the way she clung to his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, it was obvious that the bad feelings from the day were lingering. Julien pushed aside his excitement over his birthday gift and decided right then and there that despite it being his birthday, Ivy would be tonight’s focus. That was why he’d come to her house after all. The two bantered briefly before Julien launched into his own apology but Ivy wasn’t having it. Julien always liked to talk through his feelings (mostly out of necessity because he never knew how exactly he felt about things), but his girlfriend didn’t seem to want the same so he wasn’t about to force her to talk about what happened. Maybe it was best not to dwell. “Okay, Titan Times,” Julien sighed out with a soft, closed-mouthed smile, “yesterday’s news then. Out of sight, out of mind.” And that was that. Next thing Julien knew, he was scooted all the way back on her bed with Ivy curled up cozily at his side. All was right in the world again. With one arm around her, Julien very gently circled a fresh bruise on her arm with all the caution in the world to not apply any pressure and cause her pain. Her question made him chuckle slightly as he tilted his chin downwards to look at her. “We could watch a movie,” he mused, insinuating that they could if she wanted to, “but I’d rather just talk to you.” At the mention of his whopping fifteen remaining birthday wishes, his expression changed like something dawned on him suddenly. “You wanna know what’s crazy?” he asked, brows raised, “I’ve been here for like ten minutes and you haven’t even kissed me once.” Julien clicked just tongue and shook his head disappointedly. “Kind of mean to do to the birthday boy if you think about it...” he sighed dramatically before playfully kissing the top of her head and hugging her towards him just a little tighter.

IVY: On top of all her other bad feelings about this wretched day, Ivy presently felt the worst about being so glum on Julien's birthday. He only turned seventeen once and the last thing she wanted was for this day to be shrouded in her own selfishness. Sure, it would be a struggle to let go of that overbearing feeling that she was right and he was wrong for not standing up for her in the choir room as is, but laying curled into his side soothed that burn. ( At lease, temporarily.) Fantasies of them at the Blackhawks game swirled in and out of her mind, but for the most part Ivy's focused remained on the gentle circling of his thumb around one of her numerous bruises and the comfort of his natural scent wafting into her nose. Beyond being talented and sweeter than she could ever be, Julien had a natural gift when it came to cheering her up. Ivy could only hope she provided him with that a sliver of reassurance he so easily gave her. That was beside the point though. As Julien confessed to preferring to speak with her over all else, a familiar thumping radiated throughout her chest as she smiled up at him with nothing but sheer adoration. "You're so sweet, I swear you're like giving me cavities." she teased, only for her own brows to quirk upward at his next comment. "a whole ten minutes?" Ivy repeated quietly as if she too were in shock. Now that all the upset glances and brooding sighs had passed, Ivy found herself warming up to their usual playful routine. Giggling at the dramatic sigh of Julien's own, Ivy propped herself up on her elbow, "Okay, well like, we definitely cannot have that on your birthday." she agreed before leaning down and granting him a quick peck. "You've got fourteen left, lover boy." She said, still gazing down fondly at him. Less desirable feelings from the day feeling more and more distant, Ivy drawled "Wanna like cash them in for more kisses or...?" before closing the space between them once more. Ivy didn't need Julien to speak to know the answer was yes. So as she moved her lips against his own, she began to familiarize herself with the idea that if she were ending her night making out with Julien in her bed, maybe this day hadn't turned out so horrible after all.

AND SCENE.

#kiss it better #para #p: ivy #ivy #discord para

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