#rip alex mason

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Assigned | Alex Mason x Reader

Summary: Mason gets a new assignment, you, a woman under witness protection, and gets a bit too attached to you, too quickly.

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: smut, fingering, p in v, wall sex?, mild overstimulation, mentions of death, violence, strangulation, gun violence, very minor character death, fem!reader, blood, mention of 9/11, flashbacks, mentions of suicide, PTSD, cuddling, they sorta barely know each other but whatever

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: this was a lovely request from @leavemealoneplsandthx , honestly I don’t think this is good since writers block hit me like a freight train and it took me nearly a week to get it done, but I hope you can still enjoy<3

Requests are open!

His feet echoed against the marble floor, numbers, and voices clawing at the edges of his vision before he willed them away with a patience he’d been forced to learn.

It felt like it had been years since he’d been here, though he knew it had only been months.

The U.S. Capitol.

“As you know, your assigned staff psychiatrist, Dr. Adrienne Smith, and Chief Analyst, Ryan Jackson, have both determined you to be unfit at this moment to re-enter full service just yet.”

His shrink. Threatening suicide to her just to get his way hadn’t done him a favor.

And Jackson. That wasn’t a new name, he’d heard it before, probably just in emails and mission reports.

Mason was fit for service. He knew he was. He was in shape, mentally sound on a good day, he could hold a gun and he knew how to slit a throat. If Hudson would just send him back out—just for a moment, with Woods, he could—

“We’ve found you a new assignment, to keep you…occupied.”

Hudson’s nearly flat voice had almost a hint of suspicion, maybe even worry, though Mason had personally never seen Jason Hudson worried over anything simple, as it echoed around the large room they passed through, its dome-shaped roof with a painting at the top, the Apotheosis, it’s angels staring down at him with judgment.

Not like it mattered.

He already knew he wasn’t going to Heaven, anyway.

Forcing his mind to refocus, he narrowed in on Hudson, his own legs carrying him after the man, the itchy material of a suit annoying him. Hudson was also clad in a suit, the man having shaved for once, smelling of expensive cologne and aftershave. His head was smooth enough that Mason could probably see his reflection in it if he looked hard enough.

His eyes shifted to their surroundings, the marble carving as they left the rotunda room, shined dress shoes clacking against the floor a bit louder than Alex would’ve preferred.

Marble was everywhere, the white staining his eyes until he blinked, and then suddenly, they were at the door. He’d been here before.

A room. A round table, and as he walked in, he was greeted by John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

The numbers clawed at his mind, static from TVs surrounding a chair, electric shocks worming their way through his mind, secure keys, ascend from darkness, reign fire, unleash hordes, skewer the beast—wield iron—raise hell—freedom—

“Focus, Mason.” A familiar low, rustic voice with a Russian accent murmured.

No, it was George H.W. Bush sitting in that chair in front of him, Hudson gestured for Mason to step into the room, to take a seat after a simple salute, and Alex did.

“Mr. President.”

Hudson said with a nod, and Mason gave a little nod himself, shaking Bush’s hand.

The man looked analytical, watching, surely careful after the recent terrorist attack. The Twin Towers were ruined, and the Pentagon hit, though they were still attempting to cover it up, thousands dead and more injured.

An absolute mess.

“Mr. Mason, I understand that you are the best we currently have available for this.”

The door shut behind them, but Mason could still feel Hudson behind them. Not risking anything, not after the JFK incident. He could already see it in his head, Hudson’s hand on his pistol, finger all too ready to pull the trigger.

The door opened. Someone else stepped in, the pat of feet against the carpet reaching his ears, just as he stood and turned, reaching for a gun at his waist that wasn’t there, as he’d been banned from having weapons within the White House years ago.

Hudson was equally as alert, but visibly relaxed, giving Alex a clear motion to sit back down and settle as a woman entered, face hidden under the hood of a long jacket, guards on either side of her, and stood almost expectantly as the doors closed.

Bush stood, shaking hands firmly with the woman, before turning to Alex.

“This is…”

He paused, before shaking his head and continuing.

“You’ll know her as Sydney Harper. She is, at this moment, and for the foreseeable future, under extreme witness protection, as a witness to the killing of someone…important. That’s all you need to know.”

His new assignment. To babysit someone who’d witnessed a murder. If it had been him, he would’ve just put a bullet in your head and been done with it, no witnesses.

Mason had done witness protection only once before, and his assignment had ended up dead after running off on their own, claiming the measures they went to were too extreme.

Alex stood, going to shake your hand, only to be met with possibly the most wet-fish handshake he’d felt in quite a while.

“A pleasure, Mrs. Harper.”

Not your real name, surely, but witness protection meant you had an entirely new identity.

Not just a new identity, you’d need a new job, new interests, new hobbies, new clothes, everything. Witness protection was always a pain in the ass, especially for him.

Hudson cleared his throat, adjusting his dark shades to sit better on the bridge of his nose, giving a pointed glance to Mason.

“Mason, this is your assignment.”

And that was the nail in the coffin. No more missions for him, just this assignment.

Well, if his job was to protect you, then he’d do a damn good job at it, at least.

~

“So you’re…what? My professional babysitter?”

You asked, looking at the man across the table from the house you’d been taken to. Your ‘home’ now.

Files sat on the table, backstory, information, medical history, credit card info, everything about your supposed new life stored away so sterile and impersonally it almost stung.

Your name? Completely changed. Everything was changed, most likely done by a bored CIA department worker.

They’d find you a job in the future, according to Hudson, the bald man you’d talked with, and give you insurance, a salary, and more for you to “blend in” so nobody found who you were. Everything you’d loved about your past life was gone, however, so was the society that had always been suppressing you.

You were still adjusting, as culture shock settled in, to the newer freedoms you were allowed.

Where you’d previously been? It was nothing like now. And though the United States had its problems, its freedoms gradually disappeared as corrupt figures took over, at least you had the bare minimum of rights here.

You at least had the First Amendment, until they took those.

Until you fully adjusted and learned to blend in, your job was simply to stay alive, and unnoticed.

“Essentially, yes.”

The man looked bored, but paying attention, his eyes going around the room, identifying entrances and exits, though you didn’t know it. His hair was slicked back, the faint smell of a cheap gel coming from him.

He stood with his arms crossed, occasionally readjusting the sleeves of his shirt, having changed into some jeans, a loose shirt, and a black leather jacket that looked as if it had been through hell and back. A poor attempt at looking civilian, in your opinion, but god knows the man, “Mr. Mason”, as you’d heard him being called, looked like he wasn’t used to being anywhere other than a battleground.

“And you are…?” Your voice trailed off, looking him up and down, finding him to not be terrible eye candy, despite his shockingly stiff demeanor.

You at least wanted to know the name of your glorified babysitter, especially if he’d be stuck by your side for the next few months, years, or god knows how long.

He seemed a bit surprised by that, glancing up at your eyes, looking for the intent behind that question. He’d expected you to be frazzled, maybe quiet, withdrawn from witnessing a brutal murder, but you seemed quite the opposite.

Snapping at him, demanding, he found that he quite liked it. A woman of your caliber wasn’t one he found often.

“Alex.”

He answered simply, grabbing your new ID from the table, studying it for a moment, and slipping it into one of the many pockets of his pants. Your brows wrinkled as you tried to snatch it out of his hand before it was shoved away, failing.

“What was that for? That’s my ID, you know—“

He waved a hand dismissively, moving to the door of the small apartment the two of you were staying in for now.

“Yeah, yeah, got it, hon. I oughta start charging you for all these questions.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, I don’t even have any money!”

You slid your old shoes on quickly, running after him, his brisk walking pace combined with his long legs not exactly helping you keep up.

“I accept payment in other methods.”

He quipped back, raising a brow at you, the sass in his tone evident.

Maybe he wasn’t as boring as you’d thought.

You didn’t bother to bite back a scoff, looking at him as if he was insane, the both of you moving to the streets.

“Oh, please, I'm not that desperate,”

You retorted, glancing at the front of a store, as Alex led you inside, taking a deliberate step closer to you until you could almost feel his body heat against yours. His hand slipped around your arm, till the two of you were linked together like a middle school couple in the hallways.

Wondering if he was normally this protective over his assignments, you mused to yourself as you watched him immediately find the people in the shop, studying them, ensuring they weren’t a threat.

He must’ve seen your mouth about to open, because he answered what he’d assumed was about to come out of it.

“You’re going to need new clothes. Your old shit ain’t gonna cut it, we need something you’ll look “natural in”.”

The last bit of the sentence was said almost sarcastically by him, in a way that made you let out the slightest snort of amusement.

“I’m guessing that last bit is from Hudson?” You asked, amused, and he threw a small hint of a grin back your way, all the while leading you up to the women’s section.

There were racks upon racks of clothing, all of which seemed nice, the sort of comfortable that you would wear to a laid-back church, but also relax in at home.

Dresses, shirts, jackets, sweaters, pants, skirts, socks, even bras and panties, and a few selections of shoes awaited you. A worker was nearby, wearing a company uniform, tidy and neat.

Her blond hair was curled in beach waves, and she held a cigarette between her fingers, fluttering her lashes at you two—more notably, at Alex, as she let out a small giggle at the sight of you.

You thought she sounded like a squirrel high on cough medicine. Alex didn’t seem any more impressed than you. This time, your hand was the one to possessively slide around his arm, a strained smile filled with poison as you looked at the worker.

“Oh, well aren’t you two a cute couple—need any help..finding anything?”

For some reason, you didn’t want to tell her that you two weren’t a couple. Mason didn’t say anything either, gaze pinning the woman down in a way that didn’t even seem vaguely friendly.

“No thanks.”

He spoke carefully, his words measured with a sharp, precise calm that seemed unnerving even to you. The girl must’ve caught the hint, walking away as her shoes clicked against the floor.

A sound you liked.

Alex glanced down at your grip on his arm, your nails digging into his skin, leaving little crescent half-moons, and cast you a glance, amused and knowing, though a hint of his earlier eeriness remained.

“You’re enjoying this.”

You hissed at him, letting go of his arm and giving his foot a solid stomp on the toes, only for nothing to happen, as he was wearing steel-toed boots. Of course.

“Can you blame me?”

Military men.

Moving away from the living, breathing headache of a man you might’ve grown a bit attached to, you began looking through the clothing, trying to find something at least presentable to wear that was comfortable too.

He stayed by your side, achingly close, as you skimmed through a few of the lighter dresses, appropriate for the hotter weather that would probably be upcoming in this area. If you were going to get new clothes, they would at least fit the weather here.

“That one’s pretty.”

Alex spoke, gesturing to a floral dress, and he wasn’t exactly wrong. Its colors would match you, and it seemed the right fit.

But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

Looking it up and down, you grabbed it, evaluating it, until shrugging.

“It’s alright, I can try it on later.” He stayed nearly stuck to your side for the next thirty minutes, at some point his eyes lingering on that same worker, watching almost too carefully for your liking.

You glanced over at him, finally having picked out all of the clothing you were willing to try on, and potentially buy, only to catch him staring again. This time, he glanced at you, obviously seeing the pissy look in your eyes, and his brows furrowed a bit. Almost confused.

“I’m going to go try these on. Have fun staring at her all day.”

Maybe his neurons finally connected, because he opened his mouth to speak, maybe explain himself, until you stormed off, going to the changing room, hanging the clothes you’d picked out on the hangers.

You decided to try the dress he’d picked out first, maybe just out of spite, the venom churning in your stomach, or the fact that you hoped it looked awful on you just to get back at him.

Slipping your shoes off, you tugged your clothes off, leaving only the underlayer on, and moved to slip on the floral dress. The fabric was soft and a bit stretchy, letting it easily mold over your body, tight in the right places, but there was a pair of buttons on the back you just couldn’t get your hands on.

Sighing, you turned around, brushing your hair out of the way, looking at your back in the mirror to try and help with the buttons, failing miserably even at that.

If you had someone to help—just a bit, even Alex, as double-sided as he was, flirting with you then not keeping his eyes off of another woman, would be useful in this situation.

As if on cue, you heard footsteps entering the rows of stalls of changing rooms. Surely, it was Alex. The store hadn’t been too occupied when the two of you had entered, and it was likely him just trying to follow after you.

“Alex, can you come help me button this?” You called, and only silence rang out in the bathroom. A hint of embarrassment, that maybe it hadn’t been him, rose, but before it got far a knock sounded on your stall.

The small feeling that something was wrong hit, but you pushed it down, holding the back of the dress together with your hand as you slid the lock of the stall open.

It wasn’t Alex.

The sting in your face registered before the man before you, the one that you definitely knew was not Alex Mason, did in your mind. Then, you came to the realization that he’d hit you, and everything seemed to move in a blur, time slowing as you watched him move into the small stall-like room, pushing the door closed as he slipped a small, black gun out of his jacket.

Panic kicked in, your sympathetic nervous system kicked in as fight or flight took over, and common sense flew out of the window.

You tried knocking the gun out of the man’s hands, all the while moving forward and kneeing him in the crotch, his face blurring as you focused on the gun, hell, you’d later find you would barely be able to recall what he’d looked like at all, panic overriding everything else.

He let out a grunt, the gun being knocked loose, clattering to the floor, and you both lunged for it, him elbowing you as pain sparked through your nerves, and you biting the elbow that made contact with your face as hard as you could.

Your hand was close—just a few more inches—

He struggled to his feet, forgoing his earlier goal of grabbing the gun as he instead wrapped a burly arm around you in a headlock, squeezing your Carotid arteries and cutting off the flow of blood from your brain.

You tried yelling for help, finding no sound would come out at all. Your nails clawed at his arms, trying to pull them off to no avail.

Attempting to reach for the gun with your foot, you managed to get the tip of your sock on it, before the man grunted and kicked it behind him.

The dark spots in your vision grew bigger, the world turning to dizzy blotches of color as you tried to breathe, lungs burning, head throbbing. You couldn’t last much longer.

Just before you nearly succumbed to the lack of oxygen, you heard the smallest sound, though everything sounded as if you had cotton balls shoved in your ears, and it was of a gun cocking.

Your arms went limp, and the silenced weapon fired.

“Jesus—“

A familiar voice—Alex’s voice—spoke, shoving the man off of you. You took a gasp of air, throat aching and sore, as your lungs burned with each intake of air.

Your hands were shaking as you grabbed ahold of Alex, vision coming back in little spurts as you nearly hyperventilated, looking at the body of the man on the floor, now registering the full details of his appearance.

He’d been tall, taller than you at least, with dark hair and an unkempt beard, now with a bullet hole lying between his furry brows.

A little trickle of blood slid down his nose in horrifying detail, before Mason forcefully turned your head away, and you heard a shuffling noise, another stall opening and closing, and when you looked back the body was gone, and Alex stood before you with his arms crossed.

“You don’t get to run off like that—not when things like this can happen,”

He began, not even bothering to avert his gaze from your body, seeming to rather enjoy the look of the dress that hadn’t even yet been buttoned on you.

“Oh, right, as if you weren’t distracted by the employee, if I hadn’t known better I’d think she was your assignment.”

You snapped, hand going to pull the back of the dress together again as you gave him a look. His eyes narrowed as he took a step toward you, though not threatening, he knew better than to try and threaten you after such a close call.

His head tilted slowly to the side, in almost mocking curiosity.

“You thought I was trying to flirt with her?”

The words made that hint of embarrassment flare up again, the fact that you already felt a claim of ownership over a man you’d only met a day ago.

“Am I wrong?”

A step closer. You were up against the wall, swallowing thickly. He was mere inches away from you, breath fanning against you.

“You’re my assignment. She wasn’t.”

Wasn’t. Not isn’t.

He was closer, so so close, until you could smell the subtle hint of pine and snowy wilderness surrounding him, an intensity in his eyes.

You leaned forward, hands timidly going out to touch him, one landing on his shoulder. He stiffened as you slid your hand up his neck, all the way until cupping his cheek, hesitancy danced in his eyes as he tried to hold back, faltering when you leaned in just a bit more.

He reciprocated, gently pressing his lips against yours, before pulling back again.

For a moment, the air seemed still, and both of you simply stared in something like shock, until he reached forward, his calloused hand sliding to the back of your head as his lips collided with yours again, this time not gentle, a fierce kiss.

You leaned in, head spinning as your hands pawed at his jacket, sliding down his chest as his tongue shoved between your lips, being met by your own until your fingers caught on his belt.

Both of you pulled away only a moment to take a gasp for air, you being breathless for a different reason than a few moments ago. A much better reason, now.

“We shouldn’t..”

You breathed out as his hands went to his belt, yanking the metal clasp open and off, tugging the belt off and the front of his pants down. His brows furrowed as he palmed the bulge in his boxers, his hands soon moving to the back of the dress.

“But you want to. I want to.”

He murmured, leaning his body a bit into yours as his hands slowly tugged the clothing off of you, hand slipping into your drenched panties, running thick, calloused fingers through your folds.

Your breath caught, eyelids flickering shut just a bit as you felt his finger slip into your cunt, only testing the waters, as he soon scissored one more in—then another—and everything was a blur of motion and movement.

All of a sudden, you were up against the wall of the dressing room, a certain Alex Mason holding you up with mesmerizing ease, fingers all of a sudden slipping out of you as quick as they’d come.

A pathetic whining sound left you, something you’d surely be embarrassed about later, or not, at the sudden loss of sensation.

“Easy, hon,” Alex cooed to you, his gentle voice a direct opposite of the way he harshly tugged his cock out of his boxers, and glancing down through hazy vision, you swallowed thickly.

Thick, not bad length-wise either, the tip weeping with pre-cum that he swiped away with his thumb before shifting, lining it up with your entrance.

His eyes met yours, looking for confirmation, and approval from you, and the little nod you gave was enough for him as he began slowly pushing in, a groan slipping from between his lips.

“Christ,” Mason cursed, brows furrowing as he slipped a finger to rub quick circles on your clit, eager to bring you the same pleasure he was feeling.

The warm intrusion of his dick in your cunt had you squirming, breathing out shaky breaths as your legs shook, pleasure lighting your nerves up as you threw your head back.

He began shallow little thrusts, the way his thighs shook telling you he wouldn’t last long either. You could’ve sworn he was letting out the tiniest little whimpers, his eyes shutting tightly, finger rubbing harder, faster on your clit, not giving you any mercy.

“Too much, I can’t—“

Too much too fast, the floodwaters built until the levees broke, and your orgasm came all too rapidly for you, your cunt clamping down around Alex as he let out a sharp, “Fuck!”, and then both of you were shaking.

His mouth was on yours, whether out of desire or the simple need to keep the both of you quiet, you weren’t sure but didn’t find the energy to care anyway.

After a few minutes, finally, he separated from you, gently pulling out and setting you down on the floor. You had to lean against the wall, gathering your clothes off of the changing room’s floor, and slipping your shirt on.

Your pants, however, were a different ordeal. After struggling to move your nearly numb legs into the holes, Alex cleared his throat, already having gotten himself back in order, and helped you into them.

After you’d gotten dressed, both of you just looked at each other for a moment and must’ve had the same thought, because you simply readjusted your hair, and he motioned to the door.

The walk back home was silent. You didn’t ask about who would handle the body, didn’t want to know more than you had to, and he seemed to prefer it that way.

Once you both got home, you took a shower, savoring the way the hot water burned away the sweat of the day, and soothed your aching throat from being constricted. You couldn’t help but wonder if the thing with Mason, the quick fuck, if it had been a mistake or not.

However, as you slipped into bed that night, clothed in some warm pajamas Alex must’ve stolen from the shop when you hadn’t been looking, you felt someone slip into your bed, warm arms cradling you and the familiar scent of pine and snow, you knew that your question was answered.

[ask-woods]

Do you ever miss him?

There’s a lot of people I miss, but Mason, yeah. Abso-fucking-lutely.

I coulda done more, not shot him in the head for one, but it’s high stakes in our line of work. We knew that. Stayed in anyway.

I’m still not used to not having him by my side, wonder what he’d think of me now. Stuck in some goddamn wheelchair while everyone else is out saving the world. But I’ve been trying to keep it together for his kid, David’ll need someone there for him.

I owe Mason that much.

[artistcalledbella]

sketches of Bell + portrait of Woods

[littlemissclandestine]

Why I think Russell Adler is going to make a comeback in COD 2024

WARNING⚠️: Contains spoilers for Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War and Call of Duty: Black Ops 2

Disclaimer: This is all just speculation on my behalf of course. I've just tried piecing stuff together for fun because Russ is one of my fave BO characters even though he's a bitch but i need more Adler content stat. <33

Let's get into it peeps. HEAR ME OUT.

Buckle up. Gonna be one hell of a ride folks 🤪

We'll start off with some random/background info.

Russ was born on February 12th 1937 so that would make him 53/54 in the Gulf War era. This actually isn't that old because if you think about it, Woods was about to turn 51 in 1981 during the Cold War campaign. What's a few more years?

We last saw Adler in action post-campaign in Warzone 1.0 cinematics but we've been kept in the dark about Adler's whereabouts post-1984 (after being brainwashed and killing Stitch LOL).

This meanie in a beanie wasn't forgotten about, oh no. He appears in the new cinematic intros on startup for both MWII (2022) and MWIII (2023). See below:

He was also featured twice in the 20 year anniversary video for Call of Duty whereas COD Ghosts didn't even get an appearance (ouch): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eL_w5HmxsPI

I personally believe Adler was a great addition to the Black Ops roster and is essentially the new Black Ops 'cover boy' now. Would be such a shame and a missed opportunity not to include a character like him in the upcoming COD. One who is morally grey, does whatever he deems necessary to get the job done - a bit like Cpt. Price in MW. Got the COD fans riled up about him brainwashing and pulling the trigger on Bell too - he's already got the spotlight in both a good and bad way.

Now, let's explore my main reasoning as to why I think Mr Shades 2.0 is most likely coming back in late 2024...

🎖️First up: Gulf War mission list 🔫

Here are some of the campaign missions that will be featured in Black Ops Gulf War. Obviously, this is subject to change, however, going off what we have, look closely...

Credit: @MWIIINTEL on Twitter/X

Safehouse guys...SAFEHOUSE. Takes you right back to Cold War, doesn't it? Ugh the potential.

🕵️ Next up: The campaign for COD 2024 will dive into the CIA's role/the Black Ops timeline 🕘

I took the following snippet from this official article.

From this, we know there will be a huge focus on the CIA and who's a CIA clandestine special officer? Mhm, you guessed it - Russell Adler.

Now, according to the events of BO2, it's evident which characters have the possibility of returning out of our original BO trio - Jason Hudson, Frank Woods and Alex Mason.

💫 Alex is presumed dead after Frank shot him so he's out the picture in '90/91 until 2025 when they canonically meet again.

🪵 Woods would be in his 60s during this time too so I'll let you decide whether that's too old for him to be in GW.

Edit: Woods got SPAS-12'd in the kneecaps on Dec 20th 1989 by Raul Menendez so uh...yeah

🧊 Hudson died on Dec 20th 1989 at the hands of Raul Menendez.

Feel free to check out this website (Call of Duty Wiki) for an outline of the events after CW to remind yourself. Here's a link to the Black Ops timeline from there.

➡️ Gulf War being a direct sequel to Cold War and what that could mean 💉

That brings me onto the rest of the safehouse crew. Since GW is a direct sequel to CW, it would make sense for some characters to carry over if possible:

We, as the player/Bell, get to choose whether Park or Lazar die (or both lovebirds) in 'End of the Line'. It's highly unlikely they'll return unless the devs make one decision canon maybe.

There could be a chance we see Sims again given his bond with Adler (Da Nang etc.), his age (late 40s in GW) and his status (alive).

That leaves the man himself, Russ. Everything from his age to the fact he's CIA and was the deuteragonist in COD 2020's campaign just makes sense for him to have at least a lil cameo or even a larger role, don't you think?

📱Finally: Hints from official posts 🔎

This post from Call of duty's official Instagram account kind of sealed the deal for me.

Oh lookie - they dropped syringe-lover's famous line in a zombies post. Why would COD just drop it so casually like that without a reason and years after CW came out? They could've said absolutely anything else but no, this was purposeful.

And that's all for this episode guys and gals!

Thank you for reading!! 🫂

Do what you will with all this information but I have concluded in my silly little brain that scarface is coming back.

How he's only in one game is beyond me. Won't get a character like him ever again. Seems like a cliché war dude at first glance but dig a little deeper into the details of the CW campaign, peel back the layers and get into his psychology and WOWZERS.

Am I delusional? Most definitely.

But the possibility he might be returning...that little bit of hope is enough for me and i won't shut up about it.

This will age horribly if he isn't in GW. Forgive me for feeding your delusions too in that case. Please?

What are your thoughts? Feel free to share them! 😊

------

EDIT: Y'ALL IT'S HAPPENING 😭😭

[laswells-ashtray]

Russell Adler is fiction. It's an identity he hand-crafted and moulded to fit himself. Nobody knows of the girl who disappeared many years ago and she'll stay lost in her home town, they may even bury an empty casket in her name.

But Russell Adler is a man with a job, a wife who's desperate to divorce him and the faint beginnings of a baby bump that he's having to use his jacket to hide because he was too egotistical to bring any shirts that weren't skin tight. Despite it all, he has work to do and the show must go on.

Frank isn't sure how he realizes but he does and he tells Alex almost immediately. Is it his place to? Definitely not but Russell Adler is the only man stubborn enough to prioritise CIA bullshit over sitting at home with his feet up because he's fucking pregnant.

It doesn't shock him. He grew up next door neighbour to a George, left home and came back to find Isabelle in his place. He told her that it was a shock to find out that George had a sister, she told him that very few people knew. They were both lying, they both knew and they both lacked a general amount of fucks to give.

But someone has to keep an eye out for Adler and someone has to rip him a new one for acting like an idiot. Therefore both he and Alex are required.

It isn't intentional the first time he catches himself helping Adler. They're all arguing, they're tense and boxed in together. It was bound to get physical. It's unsurprising that Adler steps in to try and separate people when first start swinging, he just wants them to piece together what little information they have and work with it.

But when he catches sight of a stray elbow swinging in the direction of the blonde's abdomen, it's instinctive to push his way between Adler and the oncoming assault.

He's far more gentle than he typically would be as he nudges Adler behind him, offering the two brawlers a firm smack over the back of the head and a warning to walk it off or take it up with him.

When he meets a pair of bewildered blue eyes behind a pair of shades, he watches the realisation flood Adler's face. He's been clocked.

Alex thinks nothing of finding out that Adler is pregnant. He's the only man Alex knows that would be ballsy enough to lead their shitshow of a mission while carrying a baby. The man hides it well, he'd call it impressive if it were anyone else but he wouldn't expect any less from the Russell Adler.

It's only by chance that he notices it. The way Adler's jaw is so tightly clenched as he takes in slow, deliberate breaths through his nose and stares blankly in front of him through narrowed eyes.

Alex Mason recognises nausea when he sees it.

He's careful as he nudges Adler's arm, pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket and nodding to the door. Offering him an out.

The other man says nothing as they walk but the quickness of his casual stride gives him away. Adler's out of the door before Alex can grab a bottle of water on his way outside.

He graciously ignores the sound of vomit splattering onto the stones below their feet, leaning back against the wall of their safehouse and staring out at the sky. He doesn't bother smoking, it would feel impolite in front of a man who can't.

He only holds the water bottle out as he hears Adler spit on the ground, trying to rid his mouth of the taste of bile. He's offered a quiet, hesitant thanks in return.

It becomes a common habit between him and Alex to "smoke" with Adler outside. The prideful man he is, Adler had tried to shoo him away the first time he had stood by his side as the man emptied the contents of his stomach. He would've left and offered the other man peace if he hadn't caught the unsteadiness of his stance when he stood upright.

He was one of few men who could help hold Russell Adler in a standing position without receiving a broken limb as a result of the blonde's mortification.

He asks out of an urge to fill the silence as opposed to genuine curiosity one day.

"You know what it's gonna be?"

It might be too early but he isn't sure, he doesn't have a lot of experience with these things personally.

The silence he's met with doesn't surprise Woods, he supposes that Adler might just be ignoring him out of irritation at being perceived in a state that he'd consider himself to be weak in.

That's until he catches the almost inaudible declaration.

"Boy, I think."

He nods. He can see a mini Adler. A little toddler walking around with a pair of sunglasses and a mini cigarette in hand. Maybe some face paint scars to match his dad.

"Just don't give it a stupid name."

Alex learns to keep a packet of tissues in his pocket after Adler's third nosebleed. It starts sporadically, the man is mid-conversation when the blood starts streaming down his face. The second time it happens is when he's asleep. Alex hears Adler get off of the cot he was napping on and turns to find him without his glasses, the tips of his fingers glistening a bold crimson that matches the smears under his nose.

He keeps the tissues handy in his right pocket and has one in hand as soon as he sees the trickle of red from Adler's nostrils. Using a hand on the other man's shoulder to guide him into a sitting position, leaning forward to avoid the blood flooding the back of his throat.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Frank wave away the suspicious glances that are thrown their way as the man drags his unwilling recipients into pointless conversation. He keeps his thanks to himself, no one seems to be in an accepting mood in their current state.

When the mission ends, neither of them hear about or from Adler for almost a year. Neither of them are surprised.

But when they finally do see him again and catch sight of a picture in Adler's wallet that the man accidentally left out for them to see, they're grateful.

Alex calls the baby a mini Adler and he isn't wrong. The tufts of blonde hair, the blue eyes peering at the camera and the tiny clenched fist are all Russell. Or, if the scribble of a name under the picture is correct, then Frank supposes that it's all Phillip.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Oh my goood this was a delectable read (it took me so long to get to reblogging this because I genuinely needed time to process, this is my 5th reread of it)

“Scare the goody goody Christian boy - make him run, and if he could, make the brat cry. However that wouldn’t last for longer than a few days.”

Literally the way you show Woods lashing out because of his own environment and upbringing, then slowly melting into Mason as he’s shown the bare minimum of affection and care has me clawing at the bars of my enclosure. Like enemies to lovers but better.

“Alex could beat him within an inch of his life and he’d cum, but knowing that Alex would never have the heart to do that felt so fucking nice - it brought him closer to the edge, tying tight knots in his stomach.”

HELLO?? THIS WAS POETRY

Woods taking comfort in the fact that he knows his closest friend wouldn’t give him a beating that he easily could (and one Woods would gladly take, probably think he deserves it too) and translating it to sexual pleasure because this hunk of trauma man probably doesn’t know how to deal with any affection other than through sex?? Oh my god. his pure undying trust in Mason that not only would Woods deserve whatever beating Mason gives him, but knowing that Mason would never give him one to begin with.

“All the want and shame came out in ropes spilled hot into his palm.”

I think it’s an insane parallel that Mason is the one who grew up in Church with the family, high expectations, etc, and Woods is the one who has the more “church mindset” of that core belief of shame in your identity and shame in wanting things. Crazy. And the overarching theme of shame?? Literally beautifully written to convey the struggles of a gay man in a time where gay men weren’t allowed to exist without persecution or being SHAMED for their identity.

“Alex Mason was a god damned angel; the halo of harsh sunlight glowing around his head. Frank could kiss the ground he walked on, and praise him, his salvation.”

Again, the religious parallels are crazy good, like the fact that Woods never was religious, even says this earlier, but that to him Mason is his deity and god and he would gladly worship him. Or the fact that the sunlight around Mason’s head is “harsh”, like how the fact that Woods is very much gay for his best friend is a harsh reality for him to accept, and an even harsher one for society at the time to even consider. That light is his salvation and also his damnation, but in the end Mason is his “god” figure.

Woods probably has never been the church before at this point, he just sees a god as someone who has ultimate authority over you im assuming, so he’s just…saying Mason has complete power over him with no reservation or exception? Absolutely lovely.

“Frank knew his skin.”

Something about this line just stands out to me, because you can know someone’s skin, but then there’s knowing someone’s skin. Like to a degree where you have to be around them a lot lot. Woods knowing Mason’s exact scent, and knowing what he looks like vividly enough to imagine fucking him is an entire new level of intimacy with someone.

He’s been in the trenches with this guy, and depending on the era in which this was written, there’s the Cold War, the entire menendez situation (he survived im dying on that hill), the numbers, everything and he loves every single ugly part of this guy. They’ve seen each other at their worst and best and Woods still fell for him, knowing exactly how messed up he was, that he was in a probably loveless marriage, letting Mason suffer that pain because he didn’t know how to help, but still knew Mason enough to know that he’d always come crawling back, and when he did, he would know Mason still, know his skin, despite how scarred it might be.

Idk that was just really cool to me.

Sorry for yapping, this was just pretty awesome like really awesome and thanks for the shoutout :D, I love tragic gay men </3

This is going in the reread folder!! It will be revisited countless times and my great grandchildren will be told this tale eventually!

Some Enchanted Night (I'll be with you.) | Unrequited Frank Woods / Alex Mason

Minors Do Not Interact

Summary: If it wasn't a crime, Frank would love Alex. He'd love him until the bitter end of the world. If it wasn't a crime, he'd dare to say he loved him.

Word Count: ~1.3k words

Trigger Warning: Substance Use (Alcohol, Marijuana), Era Typical Queerphobia (transphobia, homophobia), mentions of houselessness, mentions of violence, religious Iconography Content Warning: p in a, masturbation, overstimulation, oral; masc receiving, angst

Author's Note: Ahhh! This exciting, my first fic on here! Huge thank you to Qwim ( @qwimblenorrisstan ; check out her writing! It's absolutely lovely! ) for inspiring me to get back into writing fics! And also, for those of you who like a song / artist recommendation to listen to while reading this: check out Miss Misery (early version) by Elliott Smith or anything from his discography. I hope you enjoy!

Shame was such a potent poison. Easy to suck down like Foxglove, forgotten quick until much too late, when it resurfaces in a hot rush. Dizzy with sensation he waded through the thick of existence; summer wind rippling clothes taut around his frame like a jealous lover clawing his chest, a distant harsh light burning into his vision. Frank stumbled to his bed (bottom bunk, wedged between the farthest wall and another bunk) at the depressing rolling pin they called the barracks. A large rectangle of concrete with a handful of sad excuses of windows; no better than a prison.

He realized how much he hated reserves, and threw himself onto the mattress. When the metal frame squealed under him, Frank groaned and covered his ears. Through the halls of the barracks, life echoed. Some other young bastards like him laughed amongst themselves, their stories bleeding together in the sick in his skull.

They first bumped into each other as boys at the pathetic church Frank took refuge in as a young bastard child. It was war-time, and Frank was a bitter boy at 14. Alex was no older than 11, still baby faced and hardly tall enough to look him in the eye. Frank remembered how much he hated him, with all the vitriol a pubescent teen could hold, and hated the world. How lucky was the brat to have a ritzy family to go to church with, how cruel the world was to him for denying him that. He couldn't afford sadness. And so he figured to make the kid hate the world too. Hate, hate, hate. Scare the goodie-goodie Christian boy, make him run - and if he could, make the brat cry. However, that wouldn't last for longer than a few days. The hate he had for the world melted away one day. In the genuine eyes of the boy, no less. Frank was starving, and the kindness Alex gave him alongside a hefty bag of tough jerky - that kept him going for a few days. And Alex had a heart, strong enough, kind enough to forgive him for his teenage angst. How could a rotten kid like him deserve that? And since then, they had each others backs. They were thick as thieves, young and stupid and free, until the soldiers of the war came home, then Alex had to disappear back to Alaska. Years passed, and they were much older, rolled into the military for basic training. Alex, then Private Mason, was the one to find him. From the way he'd grit his teeth and choked back his rebellion, Alex damn near tackled him when they were dismissed and the crowd dispersed. Time did nothing to break their bond, but the two of them grew into different men; Alex became a captain, joined the CIA, and then went and got himself married.

Frank stunk of good weed and exotic beer and the best sex 5 dollars could buy. Sweet perfume and his shit cologne clung to his sweat. The ghost of a ladyboy's hips fit nicely in his calloused palms. She was delectable, slender and tall with a glow Frank only had the pleasure to admire from afar; nice and tight, moaning into the motel mattress he pushed her into as he rutted into that delicious spot in her ass and made her cum. It was nice, but all he could really think of while fucking her was of his lips dreaming of the seam to Alex's shoulder and neck, and how much sweeter he would've sounded under him. He would've fit better.

His cock was half-mast, and his sloppy fuck with a cheap whore wasn't good enough. Frank couldn't decide if he was drunk and stupid enough to jerk off then and there. He gruffed, took a hand and trailed down his stomach. Hooked a thumb under the waistband of his dusty fatigues and furrowed his brow. Frank just laid down but was too restless to stay down. He swung a heavy leg out and levered himself up with a small groan. He shoved a hand into his pocket, pinning his partial boner down. When he turned his head to look to the door, the world spun. It was a struggle to toddle his way out, stumbling over himself like a fool - nothing out of the ordinary for him at this hour. Frank kept an unsteady yet brisk pace to the washroom, praying that nobody was there and nobody would come as his shoes squeaked against the floor. At the doorway, he pivoted on the flats of his feet. A sharp turn right and he sat himself in a dark corner. Frank shifted the hold on his cock, kneading the tip to keep himself going before taking back his hand. Pulling his waistband down, he fished himself out and held his cock. He shuddered at the lukewarm chill kissing his length.

Frank sucked in a breath. He pumped his hand and settled into an slow, easy pace, letting his mind drift.

He knew Alex. For well over 30 fucking years, from the sad little brat he met back in Pennsylvania to the war machine he was now, he knew him.

Frank knew his skin. The salt of his muddied palms, always smelling of pine and fresh air - it washed out the taste of decay on his tongue and cleared out the weeks of rot from his lungs. Alex hoisted him up, dragging him through the jungle to safety, his strength - the muscles under that skin, forever pressed into his sickly frame - now filled in with good fat and vigor. Frank was never a religious man - God did nothing for him. Alex Mason was a god damn angel; the halo of harsh sunlight glowing around his head. Frank could kiss the ground he walked on, and praise him, his salvation.

He snuck another hand down and tenderly kneaded at the heavy sack between his legs. Frank bit back a groan. His slick hand slipped to his wet tip. He worked out a heavy bead of precum with a thumb. Wishing for Alex's touch, anything would work. Anything. Alex could beat him within an inch of his life and he'd cum, but knowing that Alex would never have the heart to do that felt so fucking nice - it brought him closer to the edge, tying tight knots in his stomach.

God, he wanted him so bad. So he'll steal Alex away, adore him, and fuck him endlessly in his paltry dreams.

In his dreams, he'd make Alex come undone - beautifully - and build him back up; again and again, over and over, and make him forget of everything wrong in his life. Frank would take him down to the hilt and do his damn best to not gag. He'd listen to Alex's ragged breathing and incoherent babbling as he grabbed desperate handfuls of Frank's hair and struggle between wanting more and needing a breather. 'Oh god, Frank. Holy fucking shit,' he'd say, 'I can't - fuck I can't - !' And when the younger man'd cum, Frank would lap him up with a smile and swallow it down. And in the afterglow, Alex would smiled at him. He wanted that smile. But it was never going to be his.

With a strangled in-between of a groan and a sob, Frank gripped his cock hard as he came into his hand. All the want and shame came out in ropes and spilled hot into his palm. With a guilty, hollow look in his eyes he sat there, panting and sweating himself sober.

If it wasn't a crime, he'd love him. He'd love him until the bitter end of the world.

If it wasn't a crime, he'd dare to say he loved him.

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 18: CHIRON THROWS A PARTY

Alex started shouting reading in delight, and only continued in that way, "and we all know Chiron's family throws the best parties!"

Annabeth was a third worried about Oceanus, a third worried about Percy, and a third worried about her eardrums as she gently tapered, "but Chiron's throwing the party. Perhaps he has something planned more mellow, with hot chocolate and Dean Martin."

"Odd time for a party if so," Magnus offered in peace.

Thalia was mildly impressed Alex couldn't get a hint off Annabeth about even rainbow afros in the near future. She really had her shit together.

Alex frowned at Annabeth killing her vibe but nodded and continued reading a touch more in the normal hearing range.

Midtown was a war zone. We flew over little skirmishes everywhere. A giant was ripping up trees in Bryant Park while dryads pelted him with nuts. Outside the Waldorf Astoria, a bronze statue of Benjamin Franklin was whacking a hellhound with a rolled-up newspaper. A trio of Hephaestus campers fought a squad of dracaenae in the middle of Rockefeller Center.

Those who had never been to New York just heard landmarks and monsters being smashed together like wrong puzzle pieces. They understood the gravity of what they were hearing, simply because of the look on Percy's face. As if every new crack he'd traveled over was a new vindication he sought.

I was tempted to stop and help, but I could tell from the smoke and noise that the real action had moved farther south. Our defenses were collapsing. The enemy was closing in on the Empire State Building.

The sense of gravitas in Alex's voice always did sound like she should have all attention around the campfire. Even those who were in the know had a way of listening in and left breathless at what was going to happen.

We did a quick sweep of the surrounding area. The Hunters had set up a defensive line on 37th, just three blocks north of Olympus. To the east on Park Avenue, Jake Mason and some other Hephaestus campers were leading an army of statues against the enemy. To the west, the Demeter cabin and Grover's nature spirits had turned Sixth Avenue into a jungle that was hampering a squadron of Kronos's demigods. The south was clear for now, but the flanks of the enemy army were swinging around. A few more minutes and we'd be totally surrounded.

"We have to land where they need us most," I muttered.

That's everywhere, boss.

"We've only just started this one and the horse already gets the gold star," Jason looked pretty proud of Blackjack earning that.

Percy nodded seriously. "Right, so, our options include splitting the island in half and hoping Kronos takes the part that doesn't have the Empire State Building-"

"Pass," Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"Or shutting the hell up, Jason, to see what we do about it," Percy concluded.

"I'm sort of leaning towards the first option though," Thalia said honestly, "like honestly, I'd just kind of like to see you try."

"You're all hopeless," Nico said in true bafflement how they'd survived this night.

"We're all heroes," Percy reminded with pride, "hopeful, hero, hhhh-" he stammered on another H word.

"Hobgoblins," Alex offered.

"Humanitarians," Magnus grinned.

"Honorable, hopeful, heroes," Jason offered, immediately getting back on Percy's good side as he gestured to him with a nod of thanks.

Alex huffed and called them all a bunch of hobgoblins before she continued.

I spotted a familiar silver owl banner in the southeast corner of the fight, 33rd at the Park Avenue tunnel. Annabeth and two of her siblings were holding back a Hyperborean giant.

"There!" I told Blackjack. He plunged toward the battle.

"No offense to Annabeth in the slightest," Will couldn't help but say through only slightly gritted teeth, "but that's really who you thought needed the most help?"

"No," Percy dismissed at once her injured shoulder had any play in this thought...even if he wouldn't deny it either. "I came to ask her like I would Chiron on top of that hill where forces needed me most."

I leaped off his back and landed on the giant's head. When the giant looked up, I slid off his face, shield-bashing his nose on the way down.

"RAWWWR!' The giant staggered backward, blue blood trickling from his nostrils.

"Does it taste like an Icee?" Alex grinned.

"I didn't lick it!" Percy yelped in disgust.

"Your loss," she shrugged.

I hit the pavement running. The Hyperborean breathed a cloud of white mist, and the temperature dropped. The spot where I'd landed was now coated with ice, and I was covered in frost like a sugar donut.

Alex laughed in delight that further sweets just reinforced her idea of these guys showing up in the next imagining she had of visiting Canada in a complete Willy Wonka mayhem.

"Hey, ugly!" Annabeth yelled. I hoped she was talking to the giant, not me.

"Both?" Magnus smirked.

"No Magnus," Annabeth chuckled, "I meant the giant."

"I don't know, the two looked pretty similar right then, that's not a great defense," Thalia smirked.

"You weren't there, shut it zappy," Percy huffed.

"I don't need to be there to know how you look covered in donut powder, I've witnessed that mess," she chuckled.

Blue Boy bellowed and turned toward her, exposing the unprotected back of his legs. I charged and stabbed him behind the knee.

"Just as planned," Annabeth told Will.

"You planned on Percy descending from above to stab that thing while you distracted him?" He asked in disbelief.

"He's very handy that way," Annabeth shrugged. "I wouldn't have even been surprised to see him tame that pig."

Will couldn't even be mad if they were joking. The two did work best together.

"WAAAAH!" The Hyperborean buckled. I waited for him to turn, but he froze. I mean he literally turned to solid ice. From the point where I'd stabbed him, cracks appeared in his body. They got larger and wider until the giant crumbled in a mountain of blue shards.*

"Why was that somehow more disturbing than turning to dust?" Magnus asked.

"More visually destructive," Alex said with relish.

"They won't turn to dust and vanish as fast," Nico agreed.

Magnus's frown grew as he realized they were right and decided to set aside for now why that did deeply bother him about all these monsters.

"Thanks." Annabeth winced, trying to catch her breath. "The pig?"

"Pork chops," I said.

"Good." She flexed her shoulder. Obviously, the wound was still bothering her, but she saw my expression and rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Percy. Come on! We've got plenty of enemies left."

She was right.

"Mmmmm," Annabeth closed her eyes and savored that.

"About the enemies, you only get to enjoy that half as much for not being fine in the shoulder," Percy huffed.

"Mm," Annabeth mocked, trying to sound just as savoring with a serious face.

The result caused them all to snicker like idiots.

The next hour was a blur. I fought like I'd never fought before—wading into legions of dracaenae, taking out dozens of telkhines with every strike, destroying empousai and knocking out enemy demigods. No matter how many I defeated, more took their place.

Percy had been fighting for his life since page one of this mess.

This felt like more. Heavier. Nine times out of ten Percy was outside of Camp facing down these threats, but this time Camp had come to defend his home, and it didn't feel like there was an end goal in sight this time of running them all out. Even if they won this day. More would always take their place.

Annabeth and I raced from block to block, trying to shore up our defenses. Too many of our friends lay wounded in the streets. Too many were missing.

Will fidgeted with the beads of his camp necklace. He officially had more than Micheal at the end of last summer. The assortment of colors always stood out on his neck when he looked in the mirror, like flashes of eyes he'd never see again.

As the night wore on and the moon got higher, we were backed up foot by foot until we were only a block from the Empire State Building in any direction. At one point Grover was next to me, bonking snake women over the head with his cudgel. Then he disappeared in the crowd, and it was Thalia at my side, driving the monsters back with the power of her magic shield. Mrs. O'Leary bounded out of nowhere, picked up a Laistrygonian giant in her mouth, and flung him into the air like a Frisbee.

Annabeth used her invisibility cap to sneak behind the enemy lines. Whenever a monster disintegrated for no apparent reason with a surprised look on his face, I knew Annabeth had been there.

But it still wasn't enough.

Jason felt as if he were being held captive by his own mind. The sounds and smells flashing by to fast to get a real grasp on, the emotions that kept peaking and rolling back out of him while he sat in a green bean bag at the bottom of the ocean. He knew every flick of the wrist Percy had made, but everything felt a step off from truly connecting he felt a little madness creeping in what the heck his old life really was until he forced himself to focus on Alex reading with her whole self, Percy's manic grin, Thalia lounged out in her seat still fiddling with her bracelet. This was real, at least. These weren't moments a god could take away from him again. He wouldn't let it happen.

"Hold your lines!" Katie Gardner shouted, somewhere off to my left.

The problem was there were too few of us to hold anything. The entrance to Olympus was twenty feet behind me. A ring of brave demigods, Hunters, and nature spirits guarded the doors.

Alex's voice shook rarely, but it did now as she realized this was Rachel's drawing, again. Just popping up in Percy's near future. And she was on her way there...somehow. She kept it together well and barreled through the moment, still reading with a thrill in her voice for the idea of being in that action, but Magnus saw it.

I slashed and hacked, destroying everything m my path, but even I was getting tired, and I couldn't be everywhere at once.

Behind the enemy troops, a few blocks to the east, a bright light began to shine. I thought it was the sunrise. Then I realized Kronos was riding toward us on a golden chariot. A dozen Laistrygonian giants bore torches before him. Two Hyperboreans carried his black-and-purple banners. The Titan lord looked fresh and rested, his powers at full strength. He was taking his time advancing, letting me wear myself down.

Alex felt the internal urge to puff up and hiss. To transform into a chimera and use all three heads to deal with this. To throw a slushie with some human teeth in all their faces. This entrapment down here really was starting to affect even her creativity when that's all that came to mind before she just audibly grumbled for a moment before moving on.

Annabeth appeared next to me. "We have to fall back to the doorway. Hold it at all costs!"

She was right. I was about to order a retreat when I heard the hunting horn.

It cut through the noise of the battle like a fire alarm. A chorus of horns answered from all around us, echoing off the buildings of Manhattan.

I glanced at Thalia, but she just frowned.

"Not the Hunters," she assured me. "We're all here."

Alex threw Annabeth a look of fond excitement. She'd known all along the party ponies were coming but had tried to tamper her expectations they weren't going to until the end of the chapter and perhaps only a handful of them would be there with more paintballs.

This, sounded like fun.

"No international league heading in?" Jason asked her, knowing the real answer, still imagining girls in kilts and bows showing up for his own amusement.

"Not unless I was finally unbanned from Saskatchewan," Thalia shrugged. "Long story," she promised at the many confused faces.

"Then who?"

The horns got louder. I couldn't tell where they were coming from because of the echo, but it sounded like an entire army was approaching.

Alex grinned. She read giddy, with such mayhem and delight it would have been infectious to Ethan or possibly even Kronos himself to get hyped about his own demise coming. Annabeth, at least, got a moment to smile and imagine Luke with that old challenging smile on his face to hear of an enemy being thwarted.

I was afraid it might be more enemies, but Kronos's forces looked as confused as we were. Giants lowered their clubs. Dracaenae hissed. Even Kronos's honor guard looked uneasy.

Then, to our left, a hundred monsters cried out at once. Kronos's entire northern flank surged forward.

I thought we were doomed, but they didn't attack. They ran straight past us and crashed into their southern allies.

Percy was already blinking like he was trying to get the dust out of his eyes. The monsters had already started to blur together by that time. The slightly different shades of their skin and the little details they each had in their armor had faded to nothing in his mind but where next to swing his sword. Seeing them run right past him, flee and then explode on their allies' own weapons, coating the streets in glittering sand that was dispersed moments later as more took their place amid those horns really messed with him and put in perspective while an entire army just watched in terror really had made him feel small for just that moment.

A new blast of horns shattered the night. The air shimmered. In a blur of movement, an entire cavalry appeared as if dropping out of light speed.

"Yeah, baby!" a voice wailed. "PARTY!"

A shower of arrows arced over our heads and slammed into the enemy, vaporizing hundreds of demons. But these weren't regular arrows. They made whizzy sounds as they flew, like WHEEEEEE! Some had pinwheels attached to them. Others had boxing gloves rather than points.

"Centaurs!" Annabeth yelled.

"So, I think the Party Ponies have arrived," Will said conversationally.

"And they're going to smash everything in their sight charged on the power of awesome!" Alex yelled like a child high on soda and cursed knowledge. They were already resigned to pissing off the ocean titan and letting her have her fun.

The Party Pony army exploded into our midst in a riot of colors: tie-dyed shirts, rainbow Afro wigs, oversize sunglasses, and war-painted faces. Some had slogans scrawled across their flanks like HORSEZ PWN or KRONOS SUX.

"That's going to be my license plate one day," Alex declared, reading each new thing as if a treasure trove of a lifetime. Maybe Loki Sux instead.

Hundreds of them filled the entire block. My brain couldn't process everything I saw, but I knew if I were the enemy, I'd be running.

"I'm so disappointed in your brain," Jason groaned. He wanted every messy detail of this just as bad.

"I am too," Percy nodded. He knew his friends loved this kind of stuff and really was sorry he couldn't give them better visuals. Stupid brain.

"Percy!" Chiron shouted across the sea of wild centaurs.

"Chiron and Percy, parting the sea of wild centaurs and creatures to get to each other," Thalia gave a mock sniff. "It's such an amazing story of mentor and mentee-"

"I'm going to turn you into a manatee," Percy scowled.

He was dressed in armor from the waist up, his bow in his hand, and he was grinning in satisfaction.

"I half imagined him showing up to this in his tweed jacket," Nico admitted.

"He's worn that once guys, while pretending to be a real teacher at my school," Percy chuckled.

"What do you mean a real teacher?" Annabeth looked at him in disappointment. "He's literally the trainer of all hero's seaweed brain."

"Like, grading papers, and Paul- no, but- boring, no," Percy groaned that wasn't right either and waved at Alex to just get back to the fun stuff.

"Sorry we're late!"

"DUDE!" Another centaur yelled. "Talk later. WASTE MONSTERS NOW!"

"That centaur knows how to live," Alex nodded in agreement.

"We haven't slayed one monster in here," Percy agreed in mild disappointment. "Guys, do we talk to much?!"

"Yes," they all agreed, not that it was going to stop a single one of them.

He locked and loaded a double-barrel paint gun and blasted an enemy hellhound bright pink. The paint must've been mixed with Celestial bronze dust or something, because as soon as it splattered the hellhound, the monster yelped and dissolved into a pink-and-black puddle.

Alex's laugh was subdued at best, even for that badass moment though. She couldn't recklessly laugh at that harm done anymore without picturing Mrs. O'Leary crossing her paws over her nose in Percy's apartment. Even Magnus couldn't have a vindictive laugh over this happening to a monster dog with that look on her face.

"PARTY PONIES.'" a centaur yelled. "SOUTH FLORIDA!"

"As opposed to North Florida?" Jason asked blankly.

"Bet the Flordia Georgia line is an epic meet-up spot?" Percy shrugged.

Somewhere across the battlefield, a twangy voice yelled back, "HEART OF TEXAS CHAPTER!"

Will pressed his hand to his heart and started humming something. Nico just thought what a lovable dork he was no matter the song.

"HAWAII OWNS YOUR FACES!" a third one shouted.

It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Annabeth tried hard to hitch up a mock sob, but it came out to much as a laugh to be anything more than adorable to Percy.

The entire Titan army turned and fled, pushed back by a flood of paintballs, arrows, swords, and NERF baseball bats. The centaurs trampled everything in their path.

"Run, wild horses, run!" Will said with a static kind of energy that got the others just as hyped as Alex could. He'd been running around trying to ensure the sick and injured had gotten inside first, he'd been snatching up supplies so fast the Stolls would have been proud, he'd been having to deal with his own chaos and really hadn't even been aware these guys showed up until one tapped him on the shoulder and offered help. He was pretty sure it was one from Colorado and had still instantly said yes without question.

"Stop running, you fools!" Kronos yelled. "Stand and ACKK!"

Alex really drew that noise out too, making it sound wet and painful, leaving no one in doubt Kronos had not managed to finish saying the word attack.

That last part was because a panicked Hyperborean giant stumbled backward and sat on top of him.

The lord of time disappeared under a giant blue butt.

Through an effort Hercules would never bother with, Percy refused to let himself laugh at that like most everyone else did as Annabeth bit her lip. He was pretty sure that should earn him a free pass for laughing at something inappropriate in the future. Jason might even laminate it for him.

We pushed them for several blocks until Chiron yelled, "HOLD! On your promise, HOLD!"

It wasn't easy, but eventually the order got relayed up and down the ranks of centaurs, and they started to pull back, letting the enemy flee.

Thalia's face was flushed with joy, still panting just a bit from her laughter at Luke's stupid face vanishing under an icy ass like he wholly deserved, the ghost of adrenaline she hadn't properly felt in days still pumping through her. Once this high had worn off she'd been so exhausted she'd nearly fallen asleep climbing some stairs!

"Chiron's smart," Annabeth said, wiping the sweat off her face. "If we pursue, we'll get too spread out. We need to regroup."

"I mean, yeah, but," Alex gestured to the book and the chaos being taken away.

"I'll personally sign you up for the next scavenger hunt at Camp, nothing gets more chaotic than that," Annabeth promised.

"Deal," Alex shrugged without further ado.

"But the enemy—"

"They're not defeated," she agreed. "But the dawn is coming. At least we've bought some time."

I didn't like pulling back, but I knew she was right.

"How to sum up them dating," Will and Nico said at once before they both busted out laughing. Annabeth and Percy exchanged unamused looks at this somehow continuing long past the point it was funny, but as constantly proven, they knew when to pick their battles.

I watched as the last of the telkhines scuttled toward the East River. Then reluctantly I turned and headed back toward the Empire State Building.

We set up a two-block perimeter, with a command tent at the Empire State Building. Chiron informed us that the Party Ponies had sent chapters from almost every state in the Union: forty from California, two from Rhode Island,

"Rhode Island slacking," Alex sniffed. "It's right next door!"

"They're, congressional appointments, of centaurs," Magnus said in fascination. "Like, they sent some by population? Is there a centaur president?"

"Ah, no," Annabeth shook her head with a smile. "Don't overthink it cuz."

"Right," he chuckled, imagining that would be Chiron anyways and he already knew what a hectic leader that guy was.

thirty from Illinois . . . Roughly five hundred total had answered his call, but even with that many, we couldn't defend more than a few blocks.

"Just topple over one unoccupied building, that's all I'm asking for," Alex crossed her fingers hopefully. "Brick launcher grenade gun!"

"They could too," Jason said with mingled dread and delight for that idea.

"Dude," said a centaur named Larry. His T-shirt identified him as BIG CHIEF UBER GUY, NEW MEXICO CHAPTER.

"Are all the Hells Angels just secretly centaurs? Is there a centaur gang?" Percy asked.

"The only turf war they'd have is best licorice supply runs, I think we're safe from that," Annabeth shrugged.

"That was more fun than our last convention in Vegas!"

"Yeah," said Owen from South Dakota. He wore a black leather jacket and an old WWII army helmet. "We totally wasted them!"

Chiron patted Owen on the back. "You did well, my friends, but don't get careless. Kronos should never be underestimated. Now why don't you visit the diner on West 33rd and get some breakfast? I hear the Delaware chapter found a stash of root beer."

"Root beer!" They almost trampled each other as they galloped off.

"I got it," Thalia snapped her fingers, "they argue over which brand is better and that's why they all have to live separately!"

"How many brands of root beer are there?" Percy asked blankly.

"3,192," Alex said without hesitation.

There was a long pause before nobody decided to ask how serious that answer was.

Chiron smiled. Annabeth gave him a big hug, and Mrs. O'Leary licked his face.

"Ack," he grumbled. "Enough of that, dog. Yes, I'm glad to see you too."

"Chiron, thanks," I said. "Talk about saving the day."

He shrugged.

Nico smacked the side of his head. "I finally figured out where you got it from!"

"Yeah Nico, after the second time you've saved the world, it is kind of not a big deal," Percy shrugged.

Nico wouldn't know. He'd only kind of helped once.

"I'm sorry it took so long. Centaurs travel fast, as you know. We can bend distance as we ride. Even so, getting all the centaurs together was no easy task. The Party Ponies are not exactly organized."

"Noooo, say it ain't so!" Magnus chuckled.

"I mean, they're about as organized as Percy's camp, aka being held together by an awesome speech and the thrill of surprise attacks," Alex nodded. "I think it works."

Percy kind of wanted to be offended, but like, she wasn't wrong.

Percy kind of wanted to be offended, but like, she wasn't wrong.

"And a sense of family, loyalty, duty?" Annabeth prompted with a frown.

"Don't forget the duct tape," Thalia chuckled as Will hid his wince. Maybe Annabeth wouldn't admit they'd been fighting family amidst those monsters, but he didn't forget.

"How'd you get through the magic defenses around the city?" Annabeth asked.

"They slowed us down a bit," Chiron admitted, "but I think they're intended mostly to keep mortals out. Kronos doesn't want puny humans getting in the way of his great victory."

"So maybe other reinforcements can get through," I said hopefully.

"What other reinforcements are there?" Jason asked critically. He didn't mean to sound so sharp, but he did all the same. There was an electric storm still simmering in his brain that felt like it was zapping every part of him from the inside if he tried to concentrate on any blurry idea to long and it was giving him a serious headache.

Chiron stroked his beard. "Perhaps, though time is short. As soon as Kronos regroups, he will attack again. Without the element of surprise on our side . . ."

I understood what he meant. Kronos wasn't beaten. Not by a long shot. I half hoped Kronos had been squashed under that Hyperborean giant's butt, but I knew better. He'd be back, tonight at the latest.

"Well there goes my master plan," Alex sighed. "All those years of practice training that guy to squash things with his ass, wasted."

"Have no fears Alex, you'll move onto your next passion project soon," Magnus said with complete confidence.

"Yeah," she agreed with a longing sigh all the same.

"And Typhon?" I asked.

Chiron's face darkened. "The gods are tiring. Dionysus was incapacitated yesterday. Typhon smashed his chariot, and the wine god went down somewhere in the Appalachians.

Nico spluttered on a painful sounding laugh. "Even Chiron calls him the wine dude?"

"The wine god," Will corrected in a posh voice. "And I'm sure Mr. D's threatened to turn him into a table a few times for it."

No one has seen him since. Hephaestus is out of action as well. He was thrown from the battle so hard he created a new lake in West Virginia.

"I really hope some mortal thinks that's an asteroid bringing the dinosaurs back," Percy laughed.

"Percy, no," but Annabeth stopped with a sigh and let him have his fun.

He will heal, but not soon enough to help. The others still fight. They've managed to slow Typhon's approach. But the monster can not be stopped. He will arrive in New York by this time tomorrow. Once he and Kronos combine forces—"

That's all they'd been hearing of this problem from the start, and it somehow just got worse every time they heard it. Even if, beyond all hope, Percy had somehow stopped Kronos with one stupid decision, how the heck had that been stopped?!

"Then what chance do we have?" I said. "We can't hold out another day."

"We'll have to," Thalia said. "I'll see about setting some new traps around the perimeter."

She looked exhausted. Her jacket was smeared in grime and monster dust, but she managed to get to her feet and stagger off.

Annabeth had watched her go with such a tight pain in her throat she wondered if she'd accidentally swallowed some monster dust. Thalia hadn't even glanced back at her. She'd gone off to do her next task with the stoic, stiff shoulders of Luke watching them fall asleep and promising to get more firewood.

"I will help her," Chiron decided. "I should make sure my brethren don't go too overboard with the root beer."

"No such thing as too much fun," Alex huffed.

"I'd believe you'd find it even before the Party Ponies," Annabeth agreed.

I thought "too overboard" pretty much summed up the Party Ponies, but Chiron cantered off, leaving Annabeth and me alone.

"That was strategic," Annabeth huffed how unsubtle he was. She owed him a good nerf arrow.

"I know right, he just got there and he's already running off again," Percy huffed with a frown what on earth he meant by it. He would have thought Chiron would want to stay and chat for more of an update.

She cleaned the monster slime off her knife. I'd seen her do that hundreds of times, but I'd never thought about why she cared so much about the blade.

"Not really something I ever would have questioned," Alex shrugged. "I notice you never clean your blade Percy. Just because it's magic doesn't mean it might not like a good polish every once in a while."

Percy rubbed awkwardly at his nose and had nothing to say to that.

Jason suddenly felt the strong smell of polish in his nose and had an odd deja vu moment of being in an armory doing just this and smiled. He turned eagerly to Nico and asked, "how do you polish your sword?"

Nico grinned and started talking about more deadly rivers that could probably do worse to you than wipe your memory or kill you, like put gravel in your shoes or something worse, but Percy was distracted from listening by still watching Annabeth until someone shut the pair up.

She'd spent the entire time fiddling nervously with her hair, a long lost look in her eyes. He finally let the impulse win and traced the side of her neck with a question in his eyes. What the hell had she been through while he'd been away?

Annabeth caught his fingers and smiled but shook her head. Not now. That was okay. He'd wait as long as she needed.

"At least your mom is okay," I offered.

"If you call fighting Typhon okay." She locked eyes with me. "Percy, even with the centaurs' help, I'm starting to think—"

"I know." I had a bad feeling this might be our last chance to talk, and I felt like there were a million things I hadn't told her.

Athena, her stoic, absent mother, was far from her highest concern, Annabeth shook her head. Though of course her brain had been able to process plenty of concern all around. Chiron darting in and out and around everyone while sparing her a smile first had been that way since she'd arrived. Her dad was on the other side of the country, safe away from the monsters, from her.

It had been Percy she'd wanted, and him who had stayed right there.

"Listen, there were some . . . some visions Hestia showed me."

"You mean about Luke?"

Maybe it was just a safe guess, but I got the feeling Annabeth knew what I'd been holding back.

"I always just assume Annabeth can read your mind and has just been politely not informing you," Magnus nodded.

"That's not polite," Percy frowned.

"Um, or possible," Annabeth gave them a strange look.

"Right, that too," Percy waved off.

Maybe she'd been having dreams of her own.

"She's been having dreams about your dreams?" Will asked excitedly. "Dreamception?"

"This is somebody's nightmare around here," Nico rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," I said. "You and Thalia and Luke. The first time you met. And the time you met Hermes."

Annabeth slipped her knife back into its sheath. "Luke promised he'd never let me get hurt. He said ... he said we'd be a new family, and it would turn out better than his."

"Which, isn't going well," Magnus said in the kindest, most respectful voice anyone could make that sound.

"Right on the money," Annabeth nodded slowly as she leaned back into Percy's side, fingers still linked together. She really didn't know what she'd do without him in all this.

Her eyes reminded me of that seven-year-old girl's in the alley—angry, scared, desperate for a friend.

Thalia bit back a miserable sigh at how much she'd failed her too. Never on purpose, but enough that she wasn't in this moment and felt every hammer swing she deserved for it in the heart.

Annabeth sighed and gave her a good hard nudge with her foot. She wasn't going to let Thalia keep blaming herself for all that happened since then. There was enough to go around.

"That I can't face Luke," she said miserably.

"Hey, look how well you know me though," Thalia said with a genuine smile.

"Yes, your faith in me is everything," Annabeth said with a sad, sarcastic smile.

Thalia tipped her head and looked back at the book with the unsettling feeling this was about to get worse.

I nodded. "But there's something else you should know. Ethan Nakamura seemed to think Luke was still alive inside his body, maybe even fighting Kronos for control."

Annabeth tried to hide it, but I could almost see her mind working on the possibilities, maybe starting to hope.

Thalia let out a puff of breath and looked into her miserable eyes. "I'm not happy to be right you know."

"Well that's always good to know," Annabeth nodded as the two watched each other for a few moments before looking away.

"I didn't want to tell you," I admitted.

"But you did," Annabeth said in relief, just for him. He kissed her temple and couldn't think of anything else to say, but it was more than enough for her.

She looked up at the Empire State Building. "Percy, for so much of my life, I felt like everything was changing, all the time. I didn't have anyone I could rely on."

I nodded. That was something most demigods could understand.

'Most, but not him,' Will shook his head. He'd wondered a lot during this if Percy really knew how good he had it, the best of both worlds in his parents, all three of them.

"I ran away when I was seven," she said. "Then with Luke and Thalia, I thought I'd found a family, but it fell apart almost immediately. What I'm saying . . . I hate it when people let me down, when things are temporary. I think that's why I want to be an architect."

"To build something permanent," I said. "A monument to last a thousand years."

She held my eyes. "I guess that sounds like my fatal flaw again."

Most everyone around Camp knew that that was 'her thing.' Her go to if someone had a project, her specialty. Someone who was even paying attention could probably even piece together that was her fatal flaw.

Percy was still the only one she ever talked about this with. The one who made her feel like she could tell him anything and he'd never judge her for it. He'd shared his mortal spot with her. How could she ever be afraid to share anything with him?

Years ago in the Sea of Monsters, Annabeth had told me her biggest flaw was pride—thinking she could fix anything. I'd even seen a glimpse of her deepest desire, shown to her by the Sirens' magic.

Annabeth had imagined her mother and father together, standing in front of a newly rebuilt Manhattan, designed by Annabeth. And Luke had been there too—good again, welcoming her home.

"I guess I understand how you feel," I said.

"Liar," Annabeth chuckled.

"Yeah," Percy agreed. He knew he'd never understand every part of her, but he did try.

"But Thalia's right. Luke has already betrayed you so many times. He was evil even before Kronos. I don't want him to hurt you anymore."

Annabeth pursed her lips. I could tell she was trying not to get mad.

"And that was going so well," Jason said in surprise. She hadn't even pulled her knife back out.

"Yeah, first time for everything," Percy agreed in surprise.

"And you'll understand if I keep hoping there's a chance you're wrong."

I looked away. I felt like I'd done my best, but that didn't make me feel any better.

Annabeth struggled to swallow as his hand held hers tight enough to never let go. Gods this somehow kept feeling worse the longer they were dragged over each letter.

Across the street, the Apollo campers had set up a field hospital to tend the wounded—dozens of campers and almost as many Hunters. I was watching the medics work, and thinking about our slim chances for holding Mount Olympus. . . .

And suddenly: I wasn't there anymore.

I was standing in a long dingy bar with black walls, neon signs, and a bunch of partying adults. A banner across the bar read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOBBY EARL. Country music played on the speakers.

"Friends in Low Places?" Magnus nodded without surprise. It was barely even a shock to his system Percy had just been yanked out of his own head to deal with another gods mess.

"Does any other country song exist?" Percy chuckled.

Will opened his mouth with a pained look at the pair before closing it slowly, knowing that rant would fall on deaf ears.

Big guys in jeans and work shirts crowded the bar. Waitresses carried trays of drinks and shouted at each other. It was pretty much exactly the kind of place my mom would never let me go.

"In public?" Thalia said in understanding.

"Places where alcohol and those outfits are in one room," Percy huffed. "Mostly the alcohol!"

"We need to get him drunk one of these days, just to see if it'll finally be the thing to piss of Sally," Thalia rolled her eyes.

Somebody was clearly in a terrible mood. "Pass," Percy said at once. The stench reminded him of Gabe without even bothering to indulge the other stupid part of that.

I was stuck in the very back of the room, next to the bathrooms (which didn't smell so great) and a couple of antique arcade games.

"Oh good, you're here," said the man at the Pac-Man machine. "I'll have a Diet Coke."

He was a pudgy guy in a leopard-skin Hawaiian shirt, purple shorts, red running shoes, and black socks, which didn't exactly make him blend in with the crowd. His nose was bright red. A bandage was wrapped around his curly black hair like he was recovering from a concussion.

"So he blended right in like a sore thumb," Nico said, blinking spastically at the setting.

"Accurate," Percy nodded.

I blinked. "Mr. D?"

He sighed, not taking his eyes from the game. "Really, Peter Johnson, how long will it take for you to recognize me on sight?"

"About the same time as when he gets his halo," Alex rolled her eyes.

"About as long as it'll take for you to figure out my name," I muttered.

"Oh, so much never!" Magnus laughed, clasping his hands together in mock praise.

"An infinite amount of never, that's the answer to some riddle out there," Percy laughed along.

"Where are we?"

"Why, Bobby Earl's birthday party," Dionysus said. "Somewhere in lovely rural America."

"It's not a very lost Lestragonian is it?" Nico asked, vividly remembering their names had a similar ring.

"Don't stereotype Nico, lots of normal people have names like Earl, and they're just your everyday pieces of crap," Will rolled his eyes hard. If they were going to make jokes about the South he might as well get his digs in with another classic country song coming to mind.

"I thought Typhon swatted you out of the sky. They said you crash-landed."

"Yes, but Chiron never said where," Jason agreed. "Why wouldn't he land in a bar? Makes sense to me. Bars have wine."

"They're not magnetically drawn to their domain when they crash land," Annabeth sighed.

"Yeah, but I bet you anything if Hepahsuts had drawn me in for a one-on-one, I'd find myself in a very tiny tool shed with him throwing saws around and complaining about their dullness matching mine," Percy sighed.

"Your concern is touching. I did crash-land. Very painfully. In fact, part of me is still buried under a hundred feet of rubble in an abandoned coal mine.

"Huh," Percy and Jason said together with interest they'd been wrong.

Annabeth just smiled and rolled her eyes at these idiots.

It will be several more hours before I have enough strength to mend. But in the meantime, part of my consciousness is here."

"At a bar, playing Pac-Man."

"You sound a tad jealous," Alex chuckled.

"Eh, I prefer Street Fighter eating my quarters," Percy shrugged. There was a retro arcade not far from one of his favorite movie places he didn't get to visit enough, but his high score was still in the top ten.

"Party time," Dionysus said. "Surely you've heard of it. Wherever there is a party, my presence is invoked.

Percy yelped and covered his ears at the idea of such a future pain in his ass. "I take it all back! Alex and anyone else is forbidden from ever throwing me a party!"

"Awww, come on Perce, I promise to keep him in the back with an arcade machine," Alex looked like a kicked puppy.

Percy's heart instantly crumbled. "Yeah, well, fine, but nobody had better involve singing."

"Deal," she instantly agreed. She winked at Will though when he looked away, who instantly grinned back.

Because of this, I can exist in many different places at once. The only problem was finding a party. I don't know if you're aware how serious things are outside your safe little bubble of New York—"

"Safe little bubble?"

"Come on Percy, you'd know this was a trap if he wasn't delusional on all that partying," Thalia shook her head at him.

"Yeah, yeah, one thing is normal in this crazy world," Percy huffed.

"—but believe me, the mortals out here in the heartland are panicking. Typhon has terrified them. Very few are throwing parties. Apparently Bobby Earl and his friends, bless them, are a little slow. They haven't yet figured out that the world is ending."

"Don't know what he's on about, sounds like the perfect time to throw a party," Alex chuckled.

"Yeah, that tracks," Jason nodded without surprise.

"So . . . I'm not really here?"

Magnus couldn't even be upset and surprised that Percy had legitimately thought he'd just been yanked off the street like that. Considering where he'd woken up without memories. It really wasn't that far-fetched.

"No. In a moment I'll send you back to your normal insignificant life, and it will be as if nothing had happened."

"Yes please," Percy sighed. He might even be grateful for a memory wipe!

...unless Dionysus had gone to far. That actually seemed likely.

"And why did you bring me here?"

Dionysus snorted. "Oh, I didn't want you particularly. Any of you silly heroes would do. That Annie girl—"

"Annabeth."

"The point is," he said, "I pulled you into party time to deliver a warning. We are in danger."

There was another long, awkward pause where even Alex looked disconcerted because she hadn't caused it this time.

"As opposed to?" Percy finally asked into the silence.

"Um, Norwegia? Do they have anything bad going on right now?" Nico finally answered.

"To hell if I know!" Percy threw his hands up, long overdone with these gods making no sense and expecting him to keep up.

"Gee," I said. "Never would've figured that out. Thanks."

"Can't say he never helped guide you," Will chuckled.

"Yes I can," Percy huffed.

"It would just be a lie?" Will tried in vain.

"No Will, I know full well when I'm lying," Percy smirked.

He glared at me and momentarily forgot his game. Pac-Man got eaten by the red ghost dude.

"Erre es korakas, Blinky!" Dionysus cursed. "I will have your soul!"

"Appropriate reaction to be honest," Jason nodded.

"Competitive streak, locked and loaded," Percy pointed at him accusingly.

"I, well maybe, I don't know," Jason frowned before he shrugged and decided against arguing the point. He had a strange feeling he'd once strangled someone with a controller, but he wasn't sure if it was a monster or not and that was kind of bothersome.

"Was nobody going to translate that awesome Greek cuss so I know what I'm saying when I use it?" Alex pouted.

"He said go to the crows too," Nico offered with the same helpful smile as the first time.

"Oh, I see, now I know where she got it from," Alex grinned at Annabeth, who didn't bother to look embarrassed as she shrugged.

"Um, he's a video game character," I said.

"That's no excuse! And you're ruining my game, Jorgenson!"

"Jackson."

"Whichever!

"No, no, Percy Jorgenson should very much be discussed more. What's his life like?" Magnus chuckled.

"Going to Giants games, living his best life I assume," Percy sighed.

Now listen, the situation is graver than you imagine. If Olympus falls, not only will the gods fade, but everything that is connected to our legacy will also begin to unravel. The very fabric of your puny little civilization—"

The game played a song and Mr. D progressed to level 254.

"Ha!" he shouted. "Take that, you pixelated fiends!"

"Um, fabric of civilization," I prompted.

"And Pac-Man is a part of that, gosh Percy, let the man prioritize his way," Jason grinned.

"I'll set Blinky on you, don't test me," Percy promised.

"Yes, yes. Your entire society will dissolve. Perhaps not right away, but mark my words, the chaos of the Titans will mean the end of Western civilization. Art, law, wine tastings, music, video games, silk shirts, black velvet paintings—all the things that make life worth living will disappear!"

"This is not news," Thalia frowned as she looked from the book to Percy. "He didn't really think you were tempted by Prometheus did he?"

Percy shivered, something tight lodged in his throat. He couldn't breathe for several moments as his head swam, that stupid jar leaping to mind strapped into the backseat of a car-

Annabeth put her arm around his shoulders. She held him close as he leaned into her for the stability he desperately needed right now as his head swam without the rest of him.

She ran her fingers gently through his hair until his breathing labored into something more even and Alex kept going without question.

"So why aren't the gods rushing back to help us?" I said. "We should combine forces at Olympus. Forget Typhon."

He snapped his fingers impatiently. "You forgot my Diet Coke."

"Gods, you're annoying." I got the attention of a waitress and ordered the stupid soda. I put it on Bobby Earl's tab.

"Is that illegal?" Magnus frowned. "It feels like that should be illegal."

"I honestly don't think anyone here knows," Will admitted. None of them were exactly law-abiding citizens on the regular.

"Fair enough," he nodded.

Mr. D took a good long drink. His eyes never left the video game. "The truth is, Pierre—"

"Percy."

"Posey," Thalia offered with a smirk at Percy, who groaned in dismay. He just knew she'd find a way to tell his dad he'd once accidentally called him that.

"Nah, got to give him one thing, he's never called Percy a Polly," Alex said in delight. "I was thinking Peitro though, or Picholo."

"I'm so glad I wasn't named after an instrument," Percy frowned and knew he owed his mother yet another thanks in his life.

"—the other gods would never admit this, but we actually need you mortals to rescue Olympus. You see, we are manifestations of your culture. If you don't care enough to save Olympus yourselves—"

"Like Pan," I said, "depending on the satyrs to save the Wild."

"Yes, quite. I will deny I ever said this, of course, but the gods need heroes. They always have. Otherwise we would not keep you annoying little brats around."

"I feel so wanted. Thanks."

"You really should," Annabeth was blinking at him like a new riddle to solve. "I don't think he's ever said that out loud. You must have done something during the battle to really get his attention Percy." Short of creating an ocean of Diet Coke, she couldn't think what he'd done to earn this audience.

Percy realized he hadn't yet mentioned the bit where Dionysus had pulled him aside and basically told him he'd cured Chirs and he was sad his son was dead. It was one of those things he was used to the others all knowing. He'd kind of become Mr. D's fall guy for the entire camp after that he supposed. The good and the bad.

"Use the training I have given you at camp."

"What training?"

"You know. All those hero techniques and . . . No!" Mr. D slapped the game console. "Na pari i eychi! The last level!"

"And that means?" Alex asked eagerly, this time looking around at Nico expectantly.

Nico grinned in a way that already made Will blush before he said, "that one's something more in line with what Will would call Hera."

"Ah, fantastic update, thank you," she chuckled while Will sighed without much regret that was never going to die.

He looked at me, and purple fire flickered in his eyes. "As I recall, I once predicted you would turn out to be as selfish as all the other human heroes. Well, here is your chance to prove me wrong."

"Yeah, making you proud is real high on my list."

"Like, right up there with getting kissed by an empousa," Thalia said in a really good simpering act.

Percy high fived her in agreement and Annabeth really kept telling herself she should move so they'd stop doing that across her face.

"You must save Olympus, Pedro!

"Remind me to send Pedro a thank you gift," Percy rolled his eyes.

"Sounds like you might have to learn some Spanish, personally I'd just take credit for it," Jason shrugged.

Leave Typhon to the Olympians and save our own seats of power. It must be done!"

"Great. Nice little chat. Now, if you don't mind, my friends will be wondering—"

"There is more," Mr. D warned.

"Oh thank gods," Magnus clutched at his shirt over his heart. "This just wasn't dire enough yet!"

Alex patted his shoulder and knew in that moment he'd love a good theater camp.

"Kronos has not yet attained full power. The body of the mortal was only a temporary measure."

Annabeth licked her suddenly dry lips as her eyes darted around like she expected to find an angry mob with pitchforks appearing out of nowhere. It made no rational explanation, she kept trying to scold herself, but that did no good. She half expected them all to laugh at her, to throw in her face they'd known all along that Luke was just a pawn, a means to an end, and he'd deserved this.

None did, and she started feeling dizzy with her own relief until Percy put his arm around her in turn until she caught her breath and her eyes stopped burning so bad. Gods she missed Luke so much.

"We kind of guessed that."

"And did you also guess that within a day at most, Kronos will burn away that mortal body and take on the true form of a Titan king?"

"And that would mean . . ."

Dionysus inserted another quarter. "You know about the true forms of the gods."

"Yeah. You can't look at them without burning up."

"Kronos would be ten times more powerful. His very presence would incinerate you. And once he achieves this, he will empower the other Titans. They are weak now, compared to what they will soon become, unless you can stop them. The world will fall, the gods will die, and I will never achieve a perfect score on this stupid machine."

Alex read all of that without to much surprise. It really was a constant case of, 'how could this get any worse?' and then she got her answer and just moved on. It had kind of been the track record of her whole life anyways.

Nobody was really up for arguing the point with her. It's not like it was new information anymore than, 'Percy needed to save the world or we'd all be dead.'

Maybe I should've been terrified, but honestly, I was already about as scared as I could get.

Jason mock rummaged around in his pockets. "Hang on, I have a meter I need to check for that."

"Where haven't I threatened to shove that yet?" Percy tapped his chin, before he snapped his fingers. "Ah, into your belly button!"

Jason theatrically covered his stomach with a horrified expression and the two idiots chuckled for a moment while Thalia and Annabeth exchanged bemused looks.

"Can I go now?" I asked.

"One last thing. My son Pollux. Is he alive?"

Alex really hated herself for the emotion that gripped her voice. That her mind flashed to her father for just a second, then Loki, before she slammed her fist into an already destroyed washing machine in her mind that made something fall out with a clunk to scatter those stupid images away. She knew what she was telling herself, it wasn't denial, it was just anger it wouldn't go away.

I blinked. "Yeah, last I saw him."

"I would very much appreciate it if you could keep him that way. I lost his brother Castor last year—"

"I remember." I stared at him, trying to wrap my mind around the idea that Dionysus could be a caring father. I wondered how many other Olympians were thinking about their demigod children right now.

Will caught Percy's eye and held it to let him know he wasn't alone. That he'd really felt that, been thinking it too. He'd wondered how useless his prayers were while sending them to his dad. The fact that Mr. D even bothered to pull one camper aside to check in, in his own way, really made him believe for a moment that even if he hadn't gotten an answer, his prayers had been heard.

Or that Pollux hadn't been making any.

And he wasn't sure which it was.

"I'll do my best."

Magnus heard that as, when he went to visit his cousin there, he should expect to see a pudgy blonde kid chilling at a cabin alone. The one with grapevines all over it probably. Percy's best wasn't always the solution to everyone coming out alive, but it was as close as he'd ever expect.

"Your best," Dionysus muttered. "Well, isn't that reassuring. Go now. You have some nasty surprises to deal with, and I must defeat Blinky!"

"Nasty surprises?"

He waved his hand, and the bar disappeared.

"Would the gods stop doing at least that," Percy heard it in his own voice, tried to reign in the reverberating power that could easily topple the room they were in, but man was it heard. "If they know something helpful, next time start with that!"

It took every bit of his concentration not to form his hands into fists and draw Riptide and figure out how to go back to his subconscious or whatever and at least break that stupid machine!

"I don't think their brains are exactly linear like ours Percy," Annabeth reminded patiently.

"Then I'm going to start the conversation by setting three alarms so they think they're running out of time and actually tell me this stuff while the first two to go off! The third one's because I'm positive I'll actually want them to stop talking by then," Percy sighed.

"Good plan. Hope it works out for you," Annabeth sighed right with him at whatever god he decided to test this theory on.

I was back on Fifth Avenue. Annabeth hadn't moved. She didn't give any sign that I'd been gone or anything.

She caught me staring and frowned. "What?"

"Um . . . nothing, I guess."

"That really was nothing to you too," Magnus sighed. Just another day in the life of Percy Jackson, being dragged across the country only in his head to have a conversation with the wine dude who also wasn't really there!

"I know the important things in my life," Percy grinned.

I gazed down the avenue, wondering what Mr. D had meant by nasty surprises. How much worse could it get?

Magnus felt the urge to cover his eyes and whimper pre-monster arrival. Just to get it out of the way now.

My eyes rested on a beat-up blue car. The hood was badly dented, like somebody had tried to hammer out some huge craters. My skin tingled. Why did that car look so familiar? Then I realized it was a Prius.

Paul's Prius.

With every new descriptor Alex's voice had gotten a little quieter, a little more shaken. This wasn't her spooky, telling ghost stories over a fire voice where she tried to make herself sound scared to up the mood. She was legitimately upset at realizing Percy's parents could be hurt much more than some dents in the hood of a car, and Percy was as touched as he suddenly was panicked. It was a very strange feeling that stole his spurt of action but left him feeling sick with the need to do something.

I bolted down the street.

"Percy!" Annabeth called. "Where are you going?"

Paul was passed out in the driver's seat. My mom was snoring beside him. My mind felt like mush.

The fact that she was asleep was of interest to note to those not in the know, but not enough to do more than exchange surprised looks.

Rachel was on her way there, and she'd be asleep for whatever message she wanted to deliver. That was yet another disaster on the horizon while he was processing this one with his face an entire mask of pain.

How had I not seen them before? They'd been sitting here in traffic for over a day, the battle raging around them, and I hadn't even noticed.

"We don't come with built in radars Percy," Annabeth gently reminded as they held each other's hands so tight. "I've tested."

Percy gave her a shaky smile, his mind a complete mess he expected to collapse any second. They'd possibly have to start this all over again and build himself back from the ground up. But she kept smiling back and didn't let go, so that was okay.

"They . . . they must've seen those blue lights in the sky." I rattled the doors but they were locked. "I need to get them out."

"Percy," Annabeth said gently.

"I can't leave them here!" I sounded a little crazy. I pounded on the windshield. "I have to move them. I have to—"

"Percy, just . . . just hold on." Annabeth waved to Chiron, who was talking to some centaurs down the block. "We can push the car to a side street, all right? They're going to be fine."

My hands trembled. After all I'd been through over the last few days, I felt so stupid and weak, but the sight of my parents made me want to break down.

Percy had been scared plenty of times over the course of this, but it was usually coupled in with adrenaline and determination and anger. The kind of grit that made him defeat the next monster, gave him the strength to know that even if he hadn't saved everyone from his past at least he'd never forget them again and try not to make the same mistakes.

This is how Kronos could have defeated him all along, he could feel it in his bones. Yet mortals were beneath his notice, and so she'd sat by untouched but always there at the heart of all this.

Chiron galloped over. "What's . . . Oh dear. I see."

"They were coming to find me," I said. "My mom must've sensed something was wrong."

"Most likely," Chiron said. "But, Percy, they will be fine. The best thing we can do for them is stay focused on our job."

Then I noticed something in the backseat of the Prius, and my heart skipped a beat. Seat-belted behind my mother was a black-and-white Greek jar about three feet tall. Its lid was wrapped in a leather harness.

Percy glowered at the book in the kind of way that made Alex confident he wanted to throw the book in her hands out of the ocean and possibly her along with it if she held on to tight. She ignored it best she could and relied on Annabeth and Thalia to remind him why that was a bad idea. She'd actually never done something like that before, but hey, first time for everything.

"No way," I muttered.

Annabeth pressed her hand to the window. "That's impossible! I thought you left that at the Plaza."

"Locked in a vault," I agreed.

"How do you put something in a vault wrong Thalia?" Jason decided not to let that moment pass without a tease.

"When Percy's involved," she said with a straight face. "It was his magic item and he set me up to fail."

"I'm sure you deserve it for something," but Percy was so jittery he couldn't think straight, couldn't think up one instance over the past where she'd messed with him. All his mind could latch onto was his mom, dropping him off at another new school with another hopeful smile, the songs she'd hum while she was baking, the dark circles under her eyes and the sense of joy radiating off of her for a good night's work. Gods he'd be lost without her.

Chiron saw the jar and his eyes widened. "That isn't— "

"Pandora's jar." I told him about my meeting with Prometheus.

"I thought it was a pithos?" Jason felt the strain in the room and strived to do what Percy did best, give a little levity to it. "You told him about Prometheus giving you Pandora's Pithos Percy, remember how pithy that sounded?"

Maybe word play wasn't everyone's cup of tea in amusement, but he at least got a few smiles and eye rolls for his attempt, which made all the world to him to feel like he hadn't failed.

"Then the jar is yours," Chiron said grimly. "It will follow you and tempt you to open it, no matter where you leave it. It will appear when you are weakest."

"Forever?" Magnus frowned. "Like you have a new Riptide? Man, talk about something in serious need of a regift."

Percy had the brief thought that he should give it to Rachel. She'd probably paint over it and make it look more fun and tempting to open, but she'd also been dealing with hopeless situations with much more style than he'd ever have so she just seemed the obvious choice.

He got a pained spike to his brain for the thought and his eyes flickered to Annabeth with guilt instantly so he decided not to voice any of that.

Like now, I thought. Looking at my helpless parents.

I imagined Prometheus smiling, so anxious to help out us poor mortals. Give up Hope, and I will know that you are surrendering. I promise Kronos will be lenient.

Anger surged through me. I drew Riptide and cut through the driver's side window like it was made of plastic wrap.

Alex grinned at all the mayhem Percy's sword could cause he didn't indulge in nearly enough. "Did it have that smooth feeling like when scissors glide through wrapping paper?"

"Yeah, actually," Percy's smile was a tad diabolical and Annabeth swallowed in horror how many cars were going to be broken into when those two teamed up.

"We'll put the car in neutral," I said. "Push them out of the way. And take that stupid jar to Olympus."

Chiron nodded. "A good plan. But, Percy . . ."

Whatever he was going to say, he faltered. A mechanical drumbeat grew loud in the distance—the chop-chop-chop of a helicopter.

Rachel's insane deal to go to a finishing school all so she could have a chat with Percy hadn't been mentioned in a few hours, what with the constant battles and deaths and centaurs appearing, but boy did they not get a choice now but to think of all the problems, implications, and disasters that were about to happen!

On a normal Monday morning in New York, this would've been no big deal, but after two days of silence, a mortal helicopter was the oddest thing I'd ever heard.

He'd felt it in his chest, the reverberating machine that disrupted his world overtaking the rest. The ground hadn't actually been shaking, but he'd been so loopy from seeing his parents he wouldn't have been surprised to see drinks shaking and windows rattling like the arrival of that machine had smashed them back together.

A few blocks east, the monster army shouted and jeered as the helicopter came into view. It was a civilian model painted dark red, with a bright green "DE" logo on the side. The words under the logo were too small to read, but I knew what they said: DARE ENTERPRISES.

"Did you, ever get a ride in that Percy?" Will's voice was choppy as he strived for his usual cheerful voice but knew it sounded fake. Gods that helicopter crash had been terrifying. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to sit through another action movie with an explosion again without shivering at the heat and noise.

My throat closed up. I looked at Annabeth and could tell she recognized the logo too. Her face was as red as the helicopter.

Trouble and danger afoot, Nico didn't even roll his eyes in surprised annoyance this time because of course Percy looked to her first.

"What is she doing here?" Annabeth demanded. "How did she get through the barrier?"

"You're asking me?" Percy looked so wounded and confused as he sat deep in his seat.

"I'm asking her as soon as I can," her scowl was more light and playful than anything, but Percy felt like he was in trouble for some reason.

"Who?" Chiron looked confused. "What mortal would be insane enough—"

"Rachel Elizabeth Dare," Thalia answered with pride.

"Yeah, not something I'd brag about right now," but Jason couldn't help begrudgingly sounding the same. She really was something, charging into the unknown for her friend. It was as admirable as someone could be.

Suddenly the helicopter pitched forward.

"The Morpheus enchantment!" Chiron said. "The foolish mortal pilot is asleep."

I watched in horror as the helicopter careened sideways, falling toward a row of office buildings.

Even if it didn't crash, the gods of the air would probably swat it out of the sky for coming near the Empire State Building.

I was too paralyzed to move, but Annabeth whistled and Guido the pegasus swooped out of nowhere.

You rang for a handsome horse? he asked.

"Come on, Percy," Annabeth growled. "We have to save your friend."

"Well don't sound so happy about it Annabeth," Alex said with a strained smile she still tried hard to make casual. "You should be used to this by now!"

"It was Rachel's turn for this, wasn't it," Magnus groaned as he watched Percy get up to take the book. "Gods, is there a ticking clock on this? Are you guys going to have to rescue me by association?"

"Possibly," Percy said sheepishly.

Annabeth waited patiently until he got back beside her before swatting him on the back of the head with a very calculated scowl for trying to scare her cousin.

To her surprise though as Percy flipped to the next chapter as if nothing had happened, Magnus just sighed as if he were already resigned to it. He obviously knew Rachel was fine and they had rescued her. He really was taking this much better than she ever would have dreamed.

PJOPJOPJO

*This was legitimately one of the stand-out kills for me from my first reading of the series and I tried to analyze why upon this reread and I think I've narrowed it down to this reason. Instead of dust like every other monster, it's imagining the pain and anger frozen on the monster's face as he collapses to blue shards that stayed there until they melted long after the fight was over. Something about deviating away from the usual formula I guess?

[cookinguptales]

Okay so now that I've had some time to digest and think about Late Night with the Devil, some thoughts.

Sorry in advance, this got really, REALLY long as I rambled about all-male secret societies, who and what was possessing whom throughout this movie, literal and metaphorical hauntings, how fame and fortune tempt us all to give up our humanity, and uh. Family youtubers.

I really enjoyed the film, but I do have to wonder, to start with, if other people will get all the allusions...? I didn't think about it until later when I was reading confused posts by other viewers, but I guess the film does kind of predicate on a lot of somewhat arcane knowledge. Like you can understand what's going on without it, but I do think you get a lot more enjoyment out of it if you have a good working understanding of, like, the Satanic Panic of the 70s, the parapsychology/esper craze, James Randi's whole thing, Anton LaVey, Waco, late night hosts like Johnny Carson, and of course the Bohemian Grove.

The Bohemian Grove is kind of... like, obviously a lot of the people making up conspiracy theories about that recently are alt-right assholes (see: Alex Jones), but it is very much a real thing. It's kind of a modern Masonic situation, imo, where you get these big groups of rich, influential men together and they do silly, juvenile vaguely pagan frat boy shit. It's edgelord stuff. But because they are secretive and they are powerful, people come up with all of these conspiracy theories about them.

(I mean lbr that's kind of the history of the occult in general, isn't it? lmao. People ask me if I was afraid when I was studying secret societies and occultism and it's like -- no, these were by and large just rich assholes fighting over headcanons about rituals that they made up based off of deeply faulty scholarship. But I digress.)

The fact of the matter, though, is even if the actual rituals and stuff are kind of silly, the main focus is really rich, powerful men meeting up with other rich, powerful men and networking like crazy. It does keep the rich rich, the powerful powerful, and political resources focused on men. Like the Masons, women aren't allowed in the Bohemian Grove -- and women in politics have bitterly criticized the way that they're being excluded from this kind of networking.

(God, it's so fratty. It's so fucking fratty.)

So in that respect, it is kind of something to be feared.

And... I do think you see that aspect of it reflected in Late Night with the Devil. The consolidation of power, the networking with shitty people, and the way that women are "sacrificed."

[massive spoilers for the entire film to follow!]

I do think I want to see this movie again to firm up some of my ideas, because I suspect that there are a lot of details that I missed the first time I watched this. (And I really should have watched the open captioned version of this; I couldn't understand a lot of what the demon was saying, rip.) But here are some initial thoughts.

The heart of this, obviously, is the demonic presence at the Grove and the way that men go there to sell their soul for power. In a very literal sense, that's what's happening in this film and it's what happened to Jack Delroy. He made a deal with a demon for fame, and that demon ended up taking everything from him to achieve that.

But... metaphorically speaking, it seems clear that Jack Delroy was very willing to make human sacrifices in his day-to-day life. He may have literally (and I think accidentally) sacrificed his wife's life to a demon at the Grove, but he very consciously and willingly sacrificed her for fame when she was alive, too. I mean... imagine having a spouse who is actively dying of cancer and making her make an appearance on your show two weeks before she passes. For ratings. Imagine how much it must have physically taxed her. Imagine how difficult it must have been for them both emotionally. It even could have hastened her death. But he was still willing to do all that for views. He sacrificed his wife, his home life, and his overall privacy for views.

(Family youtubers, anyone? 🙃)

He's also willing to sacrifice his girlfriend, his crew, his audience, and a little girl for ratings. Gus, his voice of reason. He was willing to humiliate him onstage and wouldn't let him go home when he was scared. His audience, whose trauma he was entirely willing to capitalize on through Christou's act. His gf, who I'd argue was probably using Lilly as well, was totally thrown to the wolves when he realized it'd make good television.

Like -- yes, there were supernatural forces at play. Supernatural forces claimed these lives. But Jack sure as shit wasn't being very careful with them, and these supernatural sacrifices always, always mirrored his mundane ones.

(I mean... he performed a human sacrifice of a little girl on national television while in a hallucination about using the sacrificial dagger on his dying wife. It wasn't subtle. lmao)

Moreover, the producers of the show were also very willing to put people in harm's way and capitalize on tragedy for ratings. So... there's a really unsubtle message here about fame and capitalism and the way it tempts you to sacrifice your humanity to get ahead.

(MAYBE LIKE UNDERMINING YOUR ARTISTIC INTEGRITY BY USING AI INSTEAD OF HIRING ARTISTS, IDK)

I'd in fact argue that pretty much everyone who got on that stage that night sacrificed their humanity a bit for fame, with the possible exception of Gus. Gus was the voice of reason, but I mean... he was still there. Maybe a message about how once you get in, you can't get out. :(

But yeah, Jack's obvious, but also Christou, who was willing to use people's trauma for fame. June, who was willing to use a little girl's incredible trauma to advertise for her new book. Carmichael, who got off on humiliating people just to make himself seem smart.

Like... they all started with a kernel of something good (wanting to help the grieving, wanting to help traumatized children, wanting to stop charlatans) but in the end, show biz turned all those urges into the most amoral, selfish, and cruel versions of themselves.

And all of those people crumbled when they were confronted with something real.

(Side note, our theater was in hysterics when Carmichael tried to offer the demon the check. lmao)

Truthfully, it felt like all of them had made their own individual deals with the devil years ago. Halloween 1977 was just the devil finally coming to take his due.

That's the main message of the movie, I think, but there are still some smaller details I want to talk about.

The Grove itself was an obvious allusion to the Bohemian Grove, which is a secret society of powerful men who meet amongst the redwoods in Northern California. Their mascot has always been an owl, which is why you repeatedly see the owl motif throughout the movie. (Happy Owl-ween, the owl mask, etc.)

Abrasax makes sense as a demon to choose (the strong historical associations with magic and demonology, the reoccurrences in many world religions (and occult groups), the role in Gnosticism, etc.) but there seem to be vibes of Stolas, an owl deity who communicates arcane knowledge to humans in exchange for their souls, as well. I noticed a lot of little allusions to Abrasax throughout the film even before Lilly started manifesting, like the movie being shown after the show being about Abrasax.

Lilly... She was rescued from a cult that seems to be a hybrid of Anton LaVey's Church of Satan and the Branch Davidians who died during a siege by the US government in Waco, TX. (Like the cultists in the movie, their compound caught fire when they were being raided. IRL, it's unclear whether the fire was started as a suicide cult situation or if it was started by the actions of the government as they tried to flush people out.) In this cult, girls were sacrificed at age 13, and all who witnessed that sacrifice would fall under the control of Abrasax.

So... she was rescued at age 10. Three years have passed. So she is now 13, the age at which these girls were sacrificed. She was due, in other words. Who and what was possessing her... that's the question, I guess. Demons, historically speaking, were known to speak foreign languages, speak in the voice of other humans, have psychic knowledge their hosts shouldn't know, etc. So she did exhibit symptoms like that.

I think... there are a couple of options here. There's Abrasax specifically, there's June's theory that she was possessed by a minor demon, and there's Minnie. Or a combination of the three.

It's pretty clear that Minnie's presence is felt throughout the whole taping. You can see her reflection various times throughout the movie, she manifested through Christou, and obviously you see her in the tape playback.

(And when I say my theater YELLED. lmao)

The question is, though... Is it really Minnie? And if it is, what does she want? Has she been haunting Jack all along? Is she there because, as it's the first Halloween after her death, it's her last chance to deal with her unfinished business? Did the demon allow her to manifest? Or was the whole thing an illusion created by the demon all along?

(I'd like to note here that, historically speaking, there was a theory that ghosts aren't actually real. They're actually demons masquerading as the spirits of departed loved ones, and they want you to summon them and listen to them so they can tempt you away from God. You can read this in the writings of a lot of the ancient Christian theologians. Or you could have talked to my grandmother, who also told me this when I was a kid! :') But she's dead now so I guess you'd have to do a summoning and find out for yourself.)

All that said... I come down between two current theories. I'd have to watch it again to firm up my ideas.

The first theory is that she's been trapped on earth for the past year, but because it's Halloween, she can haunt them. They mention at the beginning of the film that Halloween is a recent spirit's last chance to take care of unfinished business. So this could have been the case with Minnie. That said... what exactly was her unfinished business? Was she trying to protect Jack and the others? Or hurt them? Was she angry, or was she just, as Christou said, sad? Was her "an unmarried man wearing a wedding ring" referring to the way that Jack was grieving her and still wearing his ring, or the way that he wasn't much of a husband to her when she was alive?

The second theory is that, when she was sacrificed to Abrasax, she became a part of that legion. She was, like Lilly and the other little girls, essentially raised to be sacrificed, and once she was, she joined everyone else who is under the control of the deity. It's still hard to sense whether she was trying to help or hurt throughout the broadcast, but it explains her presence (she came with Lilly, not Jack) and how she was used during Jack's hallucinations to ultimately get him to perform the sacrifice on Lilly, thus bringing all audience members (both in the studio and at home) under Abrasax's control.

Either way, Minnie, in this film, is literal ghost haunting the stage -- but also a metaphorical one. The ghost of all of Jack's past misdeeds and the humanity he's sacrificed to get ahead. She's guilt and she's shame and she's desperate grief, and I guess it's no wonder that the negativity surrounding her was enough to kill Christou when he touched it.

I do think it's fascinating that all of the women in this movie are, in a very real and physical sense, sacrificed for the aspirations of men. (The little girls are sacrificed, Minnie died of a mysterious cancer, June dies because Jack pushed for her to stay, etc.) But metaphorically speaking that seems to be the case as well. They're constantly expected to put their own comfort and safety aside for the men in their lives, and their own aspirations are consumed by the men's.

Like I said, it feels very telling that women aren't allowed at the Grove. Women are constantly being denied power in this movie (or are only allowed power when it's in service to a male costar/deity) and it's largely because they just don't have the connections that the men do. The deals were made while they weren't in the room, essentially.

I'm not sure if that was a conscious choice being made, but it does seem to dovetail nicely with the strong, strong sexism and male privilege present in real-life secret societies of powerful men that disallow women. Like June only getting to shill for her book because Jack let her, women are only allowed at the real-life Bohemian Grove in very limited areas -- and only as a male member's guest.

Um... back to Lilly, though. What the hell is possessing her? She speaks as Minnie a few times, but that could be because Minnie is a part of their legion or just because she's trying to freak out Jack. Demons are known to lie using the voices of loved ones. Minnie's presence could have been influencing her, but I definitely don't think that's all that was in there.

The question, really, seems to arise from what June said about Lilly changing like a week ago and how she started talking about Jack nonstop. At least one presence in Lilly seems to be the same deity that Jack spoke to in the Grove when he was making his deal with the devil (so to speak) because it mentioned that encounter. But is that the only one in there? Is it the same deity that's always been in there? Or did it come to her only a week ago as a way to get to Jack and complete their contract? ("It is done.")

Lilly refers to her demon as Mr. Wriggles (which feels like an Exorcist allusion) and it seems like she has a pretty good lid on it. And when that demon is brought out of her by June, it seems confused and frightened. But Lilly is pretty clearly possessed the entire rest of the broadcast, so really the two options are that she was faking the entire time just to fuck with them (entirely possible) or there were two different deities, perhaps the original (lesser) one put in her in the cult and Abrasax(?) newly arrived to claim Jack and his audience.

It's fascinating watching her, because you can see her slip in and out of a possessed state several times when people aren't paying attention to her (jerking, spacing out, etc.) but it's hard to tell whether that's different presences coming in and out of control, her "talking" to what's inside her, etc. Again, this is a thing I think would benefit from multiple viewings. I'm really not sure if the Grove creature is new to her body or if it's been there all along biding its time, and it's only changing its behavior now because it wanted to be on tv.

While her recently changed behavior seems to lean towards the former, I am sort of stuck on the detail that Jack said early on, that he read June's book and couldn't stop thinking about it. That could just be normal fascination (and he did end up having an affair with her) but it could also be demonic intervention. That would indicate that the demon was manipulating him into putting Lilly on TV long before a week ago.

What is not really up for debate is that the presence inside Lilly now is one that has connections to Jack through the Grove and promised him fame. Lilly (before she was visibly possessed) alludes to this promise by telling Jack that he'll be very famous after tonight. And once the ritual starts, she is seen taking electrical energy from the set and cameras. She is literally getting her power from the audience viewing the sacrifice. (It's very Ringu.) And after Jack stabs Lilly, the studio audience, audience at home, and presumably real-life audience watching this movie, are all put under Abrasax's control.

("Hail Abrasax" is seen multiple times throughout the film, which might also imply that the documentarians themselves are trying to spread this contagion after watching the video.)

Uh... a few more small things.

Carmichael Haig is obviously James Randi. Like Houdini before him, Randi was also a stage magician who dedicated his life to exposing "supernatural" charlatans. He did indeed offer a huge sum of money to whoever could prove him wrong. Carmichael even looked like James Randi. (Though I'd point out that "Haig" is the name of the man who constructed the owl statue at the real-life Bohemian Grove!) I suppose it makes sense that he'd be such an asshole in a world where demonic possession does actually exist.

The one thing I'd say is... it's hard to say whether this was a case of the filmmakers not thinking through implications or if this really was a nasty joke, but Randi was, IRL, gay. He came out late in life and got married to a man shortly before he died. So the implication that Carmichael, in the movie, wanted to join the Grove largely because he was perverted is... iffy. Carmichael was never stated to be gay in the movie (that I noticed) and it's hard to suss out whether the orgies he was talking about were relating to the all-male membership of the Grove (i.e. a gay orgy) or the women that these powerful men had hanging all over them (i.e. a... less gay orgy) and I do think which they were implying has major implications for what they were saying about a man who was, IRL, gay.

Like... if the implication was that he must've been willing to hurt people in order to have wild sex because he's gay, that's uh! Not great! But if the creators didn't realize that aspect of Randi's life (it was less publicized because, as I mentioned, it happened later in his life) then they might have just been pushing on that trope of powerful men using women.

Really, really hard to say.

Next, Christou. Christou... it's hard to say whether the man was psychic at all. It's clear that he was doing a lot of fake-ass cold reading beforehand (though I do want to go back through it and see if there really was any allusion to a Peter- character involving the skeleton) and was using interviews to find grieving audience members. (Two practices that James Randi talked about a lot IRL.) But he also did have a very real experience when he sensed Minnie and, while overwhelmed, didn't seem particularly shocked by it.

If I had to guess, I think that Christou does have some psychic powers (which is why I want to investigate the Peter thing) but can't control them well and is easily overwhelmed by real phenomena. He plays things up for the cameras (I noticed his accent slipped when he had his real experience, lmao) but I wouldn't be surprised if, like everyone else on stage, there's a kernel of something real in him.

Finally... that fucking skeleton! I want to do an entire watch through just to examine that guy. He was in the flashbacks about the Grove, so I think it's likely that he might've been a member of that. He also is the only one who refuses to take off his mask, which seems to relate to the dialogue at the beginning of the film about wearing a mask to protect yourself from spirits during Halloween. I think he's definitely in on what's going on, to some extent, but it's hard to figure out exactly in what capacity. Was it a Grove member, or maybe a cult member? A follower of Abraxas? Was it actually the personification of Death?

Hard! To! Say!

Like I said, I really do want to rewatch this movie to pay more attention to small details I might've missed in the theater. I'm also looking forward to seeing it with subtitles. It wasn't a perfect movie, but it was intriguing and original enough that I really enjoyed it and want to watch it again to puzzle through it. Really, the one big mark against it was the brief use of AI, which is just -- god, it's infuriating.

It's such a small part, so it would have been so easy to not do. (Apparently it wasn't even IN the first festival showing.) But it kind of pollutes the whole movie, especially when such a large message is not fucking over real people in the quest for success in the media landscape.

Plus, it just kind of looked like shit.

I know it's probably a lost cause, but I would be thrilled if they hired a real artist and redid those images for the Shudder release. It would be so easy to fix, and it would make the movie a lot better. Those commercial breaks were so funny and if they had better interstitials (that didn't make you feel icky just looking at them) then it would boost an already great film.

I just. I don't even know why they did it in the first place. I'm guessing, based on the fact that they weren't in the original screenings, that they were pressed for time to finish things...? But come on, surely you can find some artist who can do something quick for you. It wasn't even a moving image.

So uh... yeah, I guess that's where I'm at. It was an interesting (if slightly hokey) movie pulling together a lot of threads to make something cool and mysterious, I liked a lot of the acting (particularly Jack Delroy's) and set design, I wanna chat with people about it -- but I can't really in good conscience fully recommend it because of the AI thing. It's just such a disgrace to artistic integrity. Here's hoping they hire a real fucking artist.

[the-bus-called-graveyard-8]

Madagascar: Film-to-Book Changes & Details (part 2 of 4)

Zuba does not continue chasing the hunters after he gets shot—he is too hurt from his injury

Instead of Central Park Zoo or City Zoo, we are now calling it the New York Zoo

When Nana is interviewed by the news, the caption across the screen reads "Nana: Grand Central Hero". When she notices the camera focusing on her, she yells "What are you looking at?" and whacks it with her purse

When Mort arrives at the plane, Julien and Maurice imply they had tied him up to prevent him from coming

When Alex confesses to breaking Marty's iPod, Marty laments that he'd had 10,000 songs on it. Alex teases him, "Neil Diamond didn't make 10,000 songs." Marty starts hitting him for dissing Neil Diamond

Julien dubs his new kingdom "Madagafrica"

The penguins don't get to run over Nana with the tour jeep :/

While preparing for the Rite of Passage, Alex paints his entire face white with black lipstick and black stars around his eyes, like a mime

Melman has a receptionist named Sandy. The giraffe who tells him about Joe's fate is named Harland.

The scene where Mason and Phil bring the army of chimps to help fix the plane is skipped, RIP "I'd like to kiss you monkey man"

The scene of Nana rallying the tourists is also skipped

The discovery of the dried-up watering hole goes in a slightly different order—when Makunga tells the other animals they'll have to fight for the water, they all assert their preference for Zuba. Makunga then tells them they should go upriver and find out what happened to the water. Alex does not announce himself—after hearing this, he quietly leaves to find Marty.

As they leave the reserve to go upriver, Marty asks how Alex had found him amongst the other zebras. Alex says his line from the very end of the film—"I can look into your eyes and know it's you."—before looking at the scar on Marty's butt

Immediately after this, the story cuts to Marty arguing with Skipper about using the plane and Mason blackmailing Skipper. Several pages later, we have the scene of Alex and Marty finding the dam and being ambushed by the tourists. I'm guessing this is an editing error

Upon finding the dam, instead of pondering dynamite, Alex says they will need more manpower. Marty suggests getting Zuba. Alex replies he was more thinking of the penguins.

One of the zebras who had watched Alex and Marty leave runs to tell Makunga what they're doing. Makunga then goes to retrieve Zuba

Marty still fetches Gloria and Melman from the volcano, but there is no indication they were on the plane for the rescue and they do not appear again for the rest of the book

When Zuba joins Alex in dancing for the tourists, he tells Alex he doesn't know what he's doing. Alex tells him not to worry and, pointing to Zuba's birthmark, says "you were born with it!", echoing Zuba's words from earlier

Nana does not have a gun during the plane escape—Hula Girl subsequently suffers no injuries

Zuba does not insist on him and Alex jointly taking the role of Alpha Lion—Zuba instead accepts his role back and announces that drinks are on him. The book ends here, with no wedding between Skipper and Hula Girl and no penguins leaving with the plane

Mort is never seen again after he falls off the plane in the beginning—we are left to assume he died, smh

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Wasted Warmth | Mason x Woods

Summary: Alex Mason is destined for death, but the way it happens isn’t what Woods ever expected, or was prepared for.

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: major character death, graphic depictions of war, violence, injury, homophobia, failed surgery, suggestive lines, religious symbolism

A/N: this is inspired by that one episode of greys anatomy (s4 e14) bc sad gay men, this is like, yknow, really angsty, enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Frank Woods had always assumed that if Alex Mason were ever to die, it would be on the dirty fields of Vietnam, screaming and gunfire pounding into his ears, dirt caked under the fingernails of the hands he would cradle Alex’s cheek with.

Mason would cradle his wound, fatal, they both knew it, as he looked up at Frank, something pleading in his eyes, a look he’d seen in a dying animal more than once.

But there was nothing he could do.

So he’d pick him up, savoring the warmth he felt in Mason’s body, knowing it might not last long, and drag him slowly to cover, battlefield long forgotten.

Damn the war, damn it all when his reason to fight was gone. Forget the glory, the patriotism, he’d thought he would have so long.

It had always seemed like he would have forever, to tell Alex, how he felt, he had always planned to do it at a Burger Town, for old times’ sake, or maybe while slipping an onion ring on Alex’s finger. Stupid, now that he looked back, getting a bit of a hysterical chuckle out of him, tears building in his vision, blurring everything.

Men ran past them as he set Alex against a tree stump, kneeling down, leaning in, and studying the man’s features.

Frank’s palms were gentle with rough callouses, as his eyes flickered up and down, taking in every detail. The subtle pain on Alex’s face, the scruff from his unshaven face, his broken and reformed nose, the little scrunch between his furry brows, all of it.

Most of all, his eyes.

The eyes he thought he would have the chance to see forever, in an impossible future where they could have a wedding, maybe force Bowman to be their best man, where he could look into Alex’s eyes as their lips touched, as their marriage was consummated between the sheets, as Woods would slip behind Mason while he cooked in the morning, light spilling through the window and illuminating the small smile on Alex’s impossibly perfectly rugged face.

He couldn’t give him a son, couldn’t give him a daughter, but he could give Alex himself, bare his soul to him in time he’d had the illusion of thinking he had.

But now, as he cupped Mason’s dirt-stained face, lips parted, the beginning of a haze starting to glaze over those lovely dark green eyes, flecked with brown, pieces of Woods’ filthy stained soul, even in death he wore him on his sleeve, Frank realized he was out of time.

He’d been running for so long, from his father, his debt, the memories of the war—the hell he’d already been through, the secrets he kept, that he hadn’t realized he’d run Mason straight into Death’s soothing, selfish arms.

Frank would watch, as the hand pressing against the bullet wound between Alex’s ribs, coated in red, slowly loosened, shaking with adrenaline that slowly faded as his life did as well.

“Frank…”

Alex would gasp, wheezing, gasp for air, fighting for him, always fighting. Woods reached forward warm tears licking their way down his cheek, dripping down as they must’ve landed on Alex’s dirty pants.

“Alex—I’m sorry, please, you’ll—“ He stammered, hiccuping out, watching as Alex lifted a bloodied finger to Woods’ mouth, pressing it against him, leaving the thick fluid on his lips.

“Shh..just, just be here.”

Alex slurred out, head trying to bob forward, being abruptly pulled back up as Mason fought to keep his full motor control, arms loosely folding around Frank, as Woods began sobbing, the cacophony of the terrible music of battle around them seeming to almost fade away as he collapsed into Alex’s lap, curling up against his chest.

“You can’t leave me here, please, I can’t do this alone,”

He’d beg, to no avail as Alex stared out at the sky, alight with bullets flying and explosions that he could almost pretend were fireworks, that it was 4th of July again, and he was watching the fireworks with a certain rough boy he’d met at basic training.

As his skin slowly turned cold, he breathed out his final breath with the smallest of smiles on his face, a final gift for Frank.

Woods didn’t look up for the longest time, though feeling the arms around him going limp and falling, he only let out choked sob after choked sob, and only when the background noises had faded, and he was all alone in his thoughts with the dead surrounding him, did he dare to glance up.

His skin wasn’t too pale yet, but his eyes, whatever had been in them, the soul, the spark that had enthralled him from the start, was gone. Ascended or descended, wherever it had gone, he had no clue.

Frank Woods would lean forward, and as if sealing the deal, putting the final nail in the figurative, though mentally literal, coffin, he pressed his lips against Alex Mason’s.

Cold.

Mason would lie in a shallow grave dug by Woods, fingernails cracked and some even breaking almost completely off, hands bleeding from sharp rocks and sticks in the soil, or shrapnel left over.

He was Mason’s dog. What could a dog do but dig?

In the end, he’d lie down alongside him, probably taken for one of the dead in the end as well, cradling his lover from life until death.

But no, that wasn’t how Alex Mason died. That was only how Alex Mason died in his nightmares, the memories that almost felt real, but weren’t, and it almost wouldn’t been easier if he’d died that way.

After the war, almost dying in the trenches, going through hell and back, learning to deal with the flashbacks together, keeping their love underground for so long, and eventually becoming comfortable with the fact that it grew roots instead of branches, Alex Mason had a tumor.

An invasive tumor.

And Alex Mason wasn’t a man for paperwork. He’d never changed his emergency contact, figured there was no point in it, considering how his entire life was emergency to emergency, and it had come back to bite him in the ass, when his father showed up at the hospital, as he lay in a bed, in a hospital gown, with Frank standing by his side.

“You’ll be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

He wouldn’t be.

The surgery was high-risk. They both knew it. The chance Alex was going to die was higher than the chance he’d survive the surgery, let alone it would be successful.

They’d survived the war for each other, just to be damned over by a tumor, a little invasive mass, the invasive part not too unlike the man walking through the hospital doors, not suspecting anything.

Woods looked at Mason, and despite it all, he could see the fear lingering in his eyes, but it was the hint of acceptance he hated more than anything. There was nothing to accept about this, the utter thieving of Alex from him, after all they’d gone through, they earned this.

They deserved this.

Leaning down, Woods pressed his lips against Mason’s, savoring the warmth beneath his skin, and this time, Alex reciprocated, as they shared one last desperate kiss fueled by a fool’s hope, the only gas in his tank.

They heard the door open, and watched in silent horror as Alex’s father, having long lost the title of ‘dad’ walked through, accompanied by a nurse.

They separated quickly, but not fast enough.

The man’s eyes widened as he cleared his throat, readjusting his jacket, standing in the doorway before entering, still standing in the corner farthest from Alex.

Nobody spoke.

Alex didn’t move. All Woods could do was shift to where the man couldn’t see Mason, giving the nurse a jerk of his head, and giving Alex a final squeeze of his rough hand, watching him get wheeled away.

The walk to the waiting room was silent, and so was it when Alex’s father chose to sit one chair away from Frank, almost as if expecting the ghost of Mason to sit between them and mediate.

Woods used anything to distract himself, magazines, books, paintings, watching the front desk woman type, doodling with a paper and pen, every single thing he could think of.

His thumb fiddled with the button of his messy dress shirt, anxiety building by the minute. Alex could be dead by now, bleeding out on a foreign table instead of in his arms, cut open and mutilated by doctors.

It was only 15 minutes until, when his father finally spoke.

“Didn’t know you and him were—“

“Don’t.”

Woods snapped, his tone tense with worry and built-up frustration. The man who’d tortured Alex during his childhood, made him flock to the army during the Korean War, preferring death in foreign lands against a foreign enemy over his own father, was sitting right next to him.

The urge to punch him in the throat was strong, like an itch Frank couldn’t scratch.

10 minutes until, when he spoke again.

“Probably ‘cause I got him them damn vaccines,”

He muttered, and that time, Frank didn’t hold back, rising from his chair and looking the man dead in the eye, disgust etched on his face.

“The fuck did you say to me? Don’t think it’s your business who he’s fucking, considering you’re married and had a goddamn harem, yourself.”

He and Mason had long talks about his father in the past. Woods knew plenty about him.

He watched with not nearly cruel enough satisfaction as the man’s fingers twitched, clearly itching for a fight as well, his jaw clenching as he stood.

It was 5 minutes until, when he pointed an accusatory finger in Frank’s face.

“You made him like this, he was normal before—“

“He was being abused!”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let him get close to you, Pennsylvania’s filled with your kind—“

3 minutes until.

It was a blur of motion, somebody threw the first punch, and then blocked, parried, hit again, kicked, someone hit somebody’s finger, and before he knew it, two minutes had passed, and Alex’s father was lying on the floor, his bloody nose matching Woods’.

Nobody tried to stop it.

Too understaffed for anybody to care.

Then, it was 0 minutes until, a nurse came out, the tear line of her eyes red, and his heart dropped.

Mason’s father stood, only sitting when the nurse let out a shaky breath, sitting in a chair across from both of them. Woods didn’t sit, eyes wide with disbelief, sure, it had been dangerous, but Mason didn’t get to die.

This kind of thing happened to other people, not him.

Not him.

None of the words she spoke in that achingly soft tone made sense, not as Woods’ breathing sped up, angry tears beginning to well up. He needed to hit something, someone.

It wasn’t fair.

They didn’t get to take his Mason. Not his. They could have anybody else, just not his.

He needed him.

Frank’s legs must’ve carried him to the bathroom, because the next thing he registered was the sharp sting of the glass from a mirror fracturing around his fist, shards embedding themselves in his flesh, his mouth open in a scream that wouldn’t come out.

He had so many words, so many things to say to Mason, things that he’d been waiting for the right moment to reveal, or that had just been stuck in his throat, and now they came out all at once in each dysfunctional sob.

He wasn’t sure how long he cried. His perception of time was gone, it felt like he was drifting freely in space, with no harness.

Every tear held a hidden “I love you”, unspoken, until the door opened, and a warm arm wrapped around his shoulder, rough, but not angry, as it led him to a room with a table, and a cold, sterile body lying on it.

Frank hiccuped, gasping for air, as he walked to Mason’s head, tears pouring down his cheeks, never seeming to run dry, as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against Alex’s cold skin.

The last warm thing that touched Mason’s body was Frank’s tears, landing on his cheeks, and spilling down the sides of his face, like a final mocking gesture from whatever god was out there.

He stayed like that for god knows how long, getting up despite gravity pressing down on him like a wet blanket, only to see Alex’s father staring down at the body, then looking at him, with the smallest hint of understanding amidst the disturbed look he held.

Woods sniffled, wiping the tears from his cheek, his lower lip trembling despite how he tried to make it stop by biting it until he drew blood.

Alex’s father—no, this was Alex’s dad, who reached into his pocket, pulled out a metal object, and put it in Frank’s hand.

Mason’s dog tag.

“He would’ve wanted you, to, uh, have it.”

The man spoke with a swallow, glancing to the side, then at the body, clearly trying to hold back tears, and failing as a few rolled down his cheek, enabling the rest to fall as it became uncontrollable.

He took a step forward, wrapping an arm around Frank, and Woods clung to him, both sobbing into each other, getting the warmth they’d missed out on from the now forever-cold empty corpse lying before them.

Frank took the dog tag, sliding it around his neck, taking the main metal piece with Alex’s name on it, and kissing it like a rosary, hands going into a praying gesture as he worshiped his god the only way he knew how.

[ask-woods]

Hey Woods, I hope you are doing well.

I was curious, how was David's and Mason's father-son relationship. Did you help raise David in some ways?

Also, how's David doing? Is he doing we'll?

David and Mason’s relationship?

It was strained, to be honest. With the kid’s mom not in the picture, Mason was all David had, and after everything the bastard went through…he wasn’t exactly mentally sound.

Mason promised David he wouldn’t go back out into the field, and he didn’t keep that promise. After Mason died, I raised David best I could.

I think he’s doing well now. David “Section” Mason, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when he went military. Me and him visit his dad’s grave some days, he likes keeping this old man some company.

I just wish he’d go home and stay there. Military’s had enough out of his life.

[bluebellwrenart]

CoD OC Dump #1 - [Black Ops Edition]

Decided to cure my art block by doodling all of my OCs so that I have an excuse to talk about them. Started off with my many CoD characters, so here's the first set. Names and info under the cut.

[Goes upper right -> lower left -> upper middle -> lower middle]

Joanne Locklear — Because not everyone has to be the most epic soldier or spy to ever soldier or spy, Joanne is one of my civilian characters.

A med-student with a clinical interest in neurology (and a personal/non-professional interest in psychology) only partly because of her husband (drumroll, please), Alex Mason. She's my OC version of Mason's wife.

Her parents own and run a bar & grill in Fairbanks, where she works part-time when she's not busy with school, and her father happened to have grown up and served in World War II alongside Mason's father. They were friends because they were the same age, they were classmates, and also because when they were little their dads made them. She's half-Alaskan Athabaskan through her mom, half-white through her dad.

Lillian Scott — An analyst in the CIA with a specialty in linguistics and a knack for codes as well, her main role in my fanfic series is to serve as a translator, gather intelligence, analyze said intelligence, and so on and so forth. She serves a mainly supporting role as far as operations are concerned, and she's fine with that. After all she is a scrawny little nerd (affectionate) and although she can fight if necessary she isn't exactly great at it. It's too much for her poor constitution.

A fun fact is that she can actually shoot really well (girl is Appalachian born and raised, she grew up hunting, what did you expect) it just hurts her hands and she kind of needs those. Also she's paired with Weaver because if you know me then you know that I love me a man with an eyepatch and a tragic complex backstory.

Nadezhda "Bell" Belkina — An OC!Bell because you can't give me a faceless protagonist and expect me NOT to make a very long and intricate backstory for them (if you know about my AC fanfics then you know exactly what I'm talking about). Abandoned on the streets, taken in by Perseus, something of a prodigy, then brainwashed by Adler through the MKUltra program...you know how it be.

She and Woods end up bonding over the fact they both spent their childhoods on the streets.

Claire Anderson & Michael Isaacs — AKA Svetlana Andreyeva and Mikhail Isakov, both KGB operatives planted in the U.S. to assume American identities, their job was primarily to track down and kill rogue operatives/traitors. The problem with that is that both of them ended up really liking their fake lives in America, and were tempted to defect. Claire defected to the CIA, Mike/Misha was killed before he could. By Russell Adler no less.

Oh, and speaking of him, Claire is his ex-wife. She wasn't his ex until after he shot Mikhail, though. And then tried to shoot her too. Yeah, you can see why their marriage went up in flames. Somehow they worked out their problems enough to work together in the 80s...and again in the 90s. RIP Mikhail though.

[crossbackpoke-check]

find a blorbo (nhl tag game)

RULES: Go through the roster of each NHL team and find at least one player that you can root for.

tagged by @bondedpairs!! when i say too many teams to count and here for the narrative um. i may not have lied. this is not an extensive list of my blorbos but in order to make it not ten thousand years long i made up the rule that i had to do it straight from memory :)

anaheim ducks: as evidenced by recent events i DO like mason mctavish and trevor zegras but i have to honor laura and mention troy terry and beloved goalie gibbie*

boston bruins: oh for sure brad marchand… can i say patrice? one of the charlies got traded but i think mcavoy is still there because gryz is gone, brandon carlo is there still i think

buffalo sabres: cozens & thompson, owen power, rasmus dahlin, ukko pekka luukkonen

calgary flames: is chris tanev still here? is markstrom still here?? noah hanifin?? as a last resort i’ll say blasty

carolina hurricanes: aho & jarvy & teuvo teravainen & brent burns is still playing maybe? i know sepe got traded

chicago hockey: the bedsy narrative is compelling but ANDREAS ATHANASIOU MY BELOVED reunited with tyler bertuzzi… that’s the real story. also i like foligno

colorado avalanche: gabe landeskog, whatever ross colton & miles wood have going on, natemac + jo, mikko

columbus blue jackets: have long been on the merzlikins train, have been swayed to the darkside of umich boys (brindley, kent johnson, fantilli, blankenburg who is now on nsh)

dallas stars: seggy! mush! roope + miro and otter and robo and wyjo (rip ty dellandrea) and harls! etc.

detroit red wings: MOST players. dilly larks, moritz seider, jv, raymond, rasmussen, kitty, lyon, etc except for k*ne

edmonton oilers: mcdrai, ofc. nugent-hopkins, nursey, rip vinny & skinny

florida panthers: tkachuk, reinhardt, sasha barkov, verhaeghe (is there still?)

los angeles kings: adrian kempe… kevin fiala… danault… quinton byfield & alex turcotte

minnesota wild: kirill, marat, fleury, brodes, fabes, boldy, moose, middsy, spurge… god’s perfect idiots

montreal canadiens: going out on a limb here to say martin st. louis but also xhekaj (both), slafkovský, suzuki, my austrian reinbacher, yes fine cole caufield

nashville predators: MOST BEAUTIFUL D PAIR IN THE WORLD GRADY SKJEI AND ROMAN JOSI!! juuse, evangelista, isn’t stamkos there and also someone else who absolutely should not be

new jersey devils: nico… tuna (tatar), dawson mercer, siegenthaler, dougie hamilton, yes the hugheses whatever

new york islanders: barzy, zeeker & marty, anders lee, noah dobson lol

new york rangers: mika & chris, lafrenière & k’andre, shesterkin

philadelphia flyers: frosty & beezer and tk and sanny and the new baby michkov and coots and scooty loots and foerster etc etc. you know the Guys

pittsburgh penguins: the two headed monster but also compelled by rutger mcgroarty, and kevin hayes was there!!!

ottawa senators: timmy stü & brady! josh norris! the evolution of shane pinto! ullmark now and brännström and claude giroux and chabot

san jose sharks: ekky, thrun, mario, borde, logan couture, shakir, that other vaguely blond rookie

seattle kraken: brandon tanev, andre burakovsky! grubauer & d’accord also

st. louis blues: jordan kyrou, nathan walker (is still there?), rob thomas? is parayako still there?

tampa bay lightning: hedman, point, they dumped so many guys after the cup run… is kucherov still there or is he in nashville?? anthony cirelli (notable for being made out with by pat maroon)

toronto maple leafs: mitch, jt, willy, alex nylander, kniesy, dewar, et

utah hockey: crouse, keller, tuba

vancouver canucks: quinn, brock, petey, jt, garly, höggy, i want to say dakota johnson, elias lindholm?

vegas golden knights: brandon montour is here now… alex pietrangelo, so sorry to one i can’t remember who loves the lions it will come back to me

washington capitals: full of love and stupidity. oshie, nicke/ovi, pierre-luc dubois, dowd, vrána, milano

winnipeg jets: adam lowry!! josh morissey and kc and morgan barron, also vladdy my beloved

tagging @stillfertile + @colap1nto + @songsandswords + @moregraceful if they haven’t done it yet, i know they follow at least a couple teams. if anybody else wants to play i love adopting blorbos!!

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 3C, MATCH 4 OUT OF 4!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Princess Petra:

They are Cinderella Spiderman style. She chose to keep her powers after midnight so now she no longer has the ability to fall in love. 🥺

Harper:

Despite this being a very late-series Wizards episodes, it is one of the most iconic ones in my brain. I don't know why. Anyway I love Harper underrated character.

The way the Wizards of Waverly Place told the story is so fucking funny. Harper wants to read the story of Cinderella to a bunch of orphans, but makes the mistake of reading through Alex's magic storybook, which drags her into the story of Cinderella. As Cinderella. The story blends into the Three Little Pigs because Alex rips pages out her books to make it shorter and Mason the Werewolf is the big bad wolf coming to eat Justin, Max and Zeke with pig noses. Somewhere along the way David Hasselhoff and a caveman appear in an attempt to fix the story. And at the end Harper yells at a bunch of kids :D

[imagoddamnonionmason]

7, 13 and 14 for Jodie!

Ahhhh! Hello again darl! Always a pleasure seein' you here <3

Right to it!

7. Is your character good with kids?

Yes and no - it's complicated. On one hand, Jodie does have a natural knack for being good with kids, as long as she doesn't have to deal with them in a prolonged manner. On the other hand, she ends up losing that natural ability to be good with them when her anxieties and self-doubt takes over. She has a lot of internal conflict, feeling like she's the least qualified person to be caring for/babysitting/interacting with children past a surface level because of who she is. Jodie has blood on her hands. Children are innocent creatures and she has blood on her hands, she's a killer, a monster- The only child she's ever interacted with for longer than a 'hello' is Alex Mason's son, David. Later on, she faces the biggest challenge of her life to date when she becomes a mother. There's a lot of trauma there, something that I'll discuss at a later date, but know that her daughter, Ashley, forces Jodie to face her inner demons and overcome some of them.

In the pirate au, she's good with them, as she hasn't had the same trauma as the canon universe.

13. Who is the closest person to your character?

Frank Woods.

14. How did they become so close?

I will be honest with this one, I am still working on how they got so close to end up being married and having a kid together. Like, who are they? them? married and a child, who would have thought? Goose should have thought because I made Jodie and this entire narrative ugh What I can say about it is that they both, during the campaign, inwardly acknowledged that they found the other physically attractive but it went no further than that. You know, no emotions attached or anything. They're colleagues, soldiers, feelings can't come into the mix. But then after the campaign, when she is taken on, albeit reluctantly at first, by Hudson and the CIA, there's a lot of opportunity for them to work together. Now with everything being out in the open about who she is, her past, there's security that she's gonna be sticking around for a while; Jodie's feelings progress and she finds herself fancying the man. WHICH SHE IGNORES TO BEGIN WITH BECAUSE WHAT ARE EMOTIONS. But, yeah, anyway, eventually it becomes obvious that they feel a sort of way about each other and Mason is sighing in the background because dammit Frank fucking say how you feel already this is painful to watch- Like I say, it's in the works; I, myself, find the starting point of a relationship the most difficult and awkward part and prefer skipping it. But, that's not natural and I have to acknowledge that they start somewhere... rip me.

Thank you, as always, for the ask, my friend!! It is always appreciated <3

Goose

[wrldwqv]

Jesse Mason in Alex's current age.

RIP

@matthew-and-tirreny @n1k0las