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cherrys-writings · 2 years ago

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Captive

A lot of improbable things here for the time, but let’s pretend they’re not.

TW: physical abuse

ABDUCTED FROM HOME

Iowa language and science prodigy,(14) was taken from her home in the early morning hours. Her father and older brother were found by neighbors badly beaten, claiming that “uniformed men” took her. Their neighbor arrived at the normal time to take the girl to the medical college where he is a maintenance worker and she attends on scholarship.

Her family was the only witness to this tragic event that occurred on the eighth anniversary of her mother’s mysterious death. The brother (17) says, “It’s like they watched us for a long time before doing this. We didn’t know they were in the house until the screaming started; she put up a fight.” The girl genius was published in a medical journal for her ideas of using the same kind of electric wiring in our own homes to create prostheses that, “function exactly like a normal limb.”

Her physical description is given below along with her photograph. Distinct features include: glasses for bilateral astigmatism, left-handedness, and a habit of “finger fluttering”. Investigators are offering a reward to anyone with information that leads to her safe return.

***

“We’re going to be late again,” Steve scolded, “what held you up?”

Bucky reached into his bag and unfolded the newspaper, “A genius went missing. They published some of her writing, it’s interesting.”

Steve skimmed the article, “next thing you know there’ll be flying cars.”

****

When the guard showed her the article, Felicity knew she would never make it home. If these people could get a New York newspaper to wherever they were keeping her, they could find her anywhere. She didn’t ask questions when they gave her papers with equations to solve or chemical formulas to correct. Felicity hadn’t spoken since the night she was taken. Then one day they decided to let her out of her cell. A guard on either side of her, briskly walking through the wet tunnels.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shut up,” says the guard on the left.

“Are you letting me out?” Felicity let the littlest spark of hope into her voice.

“I said shut up,” the guard hit the side of her head with his baton.

She let out a shriek, tears clouding her view, as they walked further into the labyrinth. Seeming to go in circles before finally arriving in a room Felicity vaguely recognized, an operating theatre. She sniffled, gently rubbing the knot forming where she had been hit.

“WHAT did I say about keeping her undamaged?” A tall brown-haired man yelled from one of the chairs.

The guard that hit her answered quickly, “she was giving us some trouble. Wouldn’t follow directions to be silent.”

“Oh?” The man blinks, “she has problems following directions.” He stalks towards them, then kicks the knees out from the guard. He punches the guard repeatedly holding him by the collar with one hand, “SHE has problems following directions.”

Blood gushes from the guard’s nose, Felicity can’t look away. The situation was too horrifying to believe. Finally, the brown-haired man drops the guard’s limp form and kicks him, “perhaps you should worry about following your own orders. The soul-touched is not to be harmed in any way.”

Soul-touched? What kind of crazy is this man?

The brown-haired man stands over her now, blood speckling his face, “I’m sorry for all that, child.” He takes Felicity’s hand and leads her further into the room. “I am Commander Johann Schmidtt. The man sitting in the chair is Dr. Abraham Erskine and you are going to tell me what killed the man laying on the operating table.”

“What?” she stopped walking and stared up at the Commander.

He glared at her, nostrils flaring as he attempted to control his temper. She couldn’t stop the whimper as she shrank away from him, having already glimpsed what he’s capable of. Felicity flinched, whirling around to see she had backed into Dr. Erskine.

When did he get up?

He offered a small smile, holding his hands as if in surrender, “I hear you are a bright one. You were in medical school in the states, yes?” She nodded. “So you are familiar with a post-mortem. Will you work with me to find out why this man died?”

A choice? Do I even have a choice?

Felicity walked towards the operating table. The Commander smiled when she said in perfect German, “I will assist with the post-mortem.”

***

“Dr. Erskine, is there a way we can figure out why these men all have enlarged adrenal glands?”

“I’ve told you a thousand times, child, all me Abe or Abraham,” Erskine sighed, “To answer your question, no. I would prefer to spare you from seeing the whole picture.”

Felicity dropped the organs into a bowl and washed her hands, hoping Erskine would leave rather than continue adding frustration. Sitting at the desk, she began recording her findings to later report to Schmidtt.

At least here no one ties my hand down or hits it every time I try to write.

When a door slams, Felicity doesn’t react, having lost count of the endless days walking from her cell to the operating theatre, examining the latest unfortunate man, prepare her report, and walk back to the cell. There had been few changes since she’s been here, the pipes have stopped freezing and the walls aren’t as wet. Then her chair is ripped from under her. Landing hard on her knees, Felicity blinks up at the Commander.

“You have been here seven months and I have no results,” he spits, “Is Erskine deliberately sabotaging your work?”

She keeps her eyes on the ground as she stands, “my work has been examining the deceased volunteers. Dr. Erskine does not keep me from doing that.”

Schmidtt grabs her jaw, forcing her to stand taller and meet his eyes, “Has he told you what they volunteer for?”

Felicity tries to shake her head, but Schmidtt holds firm, wanting explanation. “He said they are soldiers in training who want to do better.” The Commander accepts the lie quickly seeming satisfied, he lets go.

“Follow.”

He briskly walked towards the door, no indication of where they were going. The tunnels, although wet, are well lit as they traverse the route Felicity walks daily. Until they turned left, walked up a stairway, and onto a metal catwalk. Felicity looked down, nothing but hard concrete and a few men below them. Several turns later, they are standing in an office lit by afternoon sun. Having forgotten who she was with, she ran to the window. Pressing her hands on the cold, smooth panes.

Seven months.

Has the sky always had so many shades of blue?

She wipes at the tears streaming down her face and turns around.

“You have done decently given your lack of knowledge of the overall goal. Your findings and analysis reports have aided in marginal improvement on Erskine’s end,” Schmidtt said, “As of now, you are my most valuable asset. Enjoy your birthday gift.”

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #steve rogers #stucky #stucky x reader #slow burn #anachronistic #fanfiction #super soldier #bucky barnes x steve rogers #marvel fanfiction #fandom

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saintmeghanmarkle · 11 months ago

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Prince Harry Partying in Miami with P Diddy? by u/somespeculation

Prince Harry Partying in Miami with P Diddy? Diddy’s case that names Prince Harry is from 2022-2023 timeframe. What parties would Harry have been at solo that Meg wouldn’t have been at during that time frame? Meg would have loved to be at a celeb filled party, but the case only names Harry. Logically, where would Harry have been solo where Diddy also would have been? The case names LA, New York, and Miami. The feds raided Diddy’s LA and Miami home.Harry flew out of the Miami airport solo either in 2022 or 2023. I’ve been searching but can’t find the articles that mention this detail anywhere anymore. In this sub it was speculated he may have stayed at Nacho Figures Miami home. Who can find the link to that post? Was this before he left solo for Well Child and Invictus Germany in 2023? (Remember, Meg flew out separately only days later and met him there, with the Archewell staff in tow.) or was it when he was flying in and out of the Japan, Singapore polo appearances with Nacho (part of the 2022 Los Padres and polo jet setting)? Or Harry’s solo Coronation appearance? Who has the link to confirm this?For sure Harry stayed solo in Miami and flew either in or out solo during the same time frame as Diddy accusations. I need help from fellow sleuths for when Harry was flying solo, and/or in Miami solo at that time. Diddy also is known for throwing big house parties at his home in Miami.(The other possibility is the Inter Miami game Harry attended solo in LA in Sept 2023. Tons of celebs attended the game, including the Beckhams since David has an ownership share. This would also have been an opportunity, theoretically, for Diddy to throw a big LA celeb party.)Not confirming any allegations. Trying to figure out if there is something to this potential overlapping timeline. Could this be the connection? post link: https://ift.tt/jdI0CLJ author: somespeculation submitted: March 28, 2024 at 05:11PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

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vampirzina · 2 years ago

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Like a Dream ; Chapter 3

Occam’s Razor states that simple problems are equal to simple solutions. This isn’t the case between you and Marc, apparently. How could you think you had it all figured out when it’s been weird from the start? Everything’s confusing.

Masterlist | AO3 | Table of Contents | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

pairings: marc spector x reader, mentioned!khonshu

rating: 18+

words: 4k

warnings/tags: gn!reader, soft!marc spector, fluff, medium angst, idiots in love, hurt/comfort, teasing, not actually unrequited love, almost kissing, dissociative identity disorder, mental health issues, confidence issues, dinner, hand holding, cutesy, memories, no smut

notes: tried to find and opening for steven that i thought would make sense but i failed. i swear i’ll get steven next chapter i swear i swear i swear,, plus this is late sorry guys

Marc really took his time with getting ready, and you immediately knew it once he came to get you.

He dressed casually, but even in casual he looked as though he took his time to pick out everything; from the way he combed his hair to the shoes on his feet, all meticulously planned and coordinated. You’re impressed.

You, on the other hand, felt a bit underdressed standing next to him. Yes, you did take your time, just as he did.

However, it’s baffling how he turned out much better than you did, who had dug through every article of clothing you had—from the dresser to the closet, and even checking a suitcase to see if you’d left some somewhere to help your situation.

Eventually you found something proper to wear, and just as you wondered standing in the mirror if it was good enough—he arrived.

Though you insisted you could get there yourself, he wasn’t very keen on letting you go anywhere alone now, and he made it very clear to you. That, and it was getting late. He didn’t want to risk it.

Now, you two were walking side-by-side as you weave through the thinning pedestrians just trying to get home for the night. He walked in rather long strides, yet you?

“You walk… So fast,” you breathe, just having to weave through and apologize to a pair and jog to catch up with Marc who always seemed to be two steps ahead of you.

“Do I?” he questions sarcastically, a small grin on his face. He was walking this fast on purpose and for a reason, though he’d never tell why.

You didn’t seem to catch the sarcasm on his part. “Yes, so slow down! Is the place closing soon or what?”

Marc shook his head with a small hum of denial. It wasn’t, not for at least another two hours. He knew that, but you didn’t; he was the one who picked the place, after all. He had plans he wanted to execute tonight unbeknownst to you.

A few more large strides, and your impatience with him is boiling over. “You’re still walking too fast!” you grumble and grip his wrist, and this is the opening he needed.

You almost take a tumble when he lets go of your hand just to re-grip it; this time, intertwined with each other. Marc’s face was rife with embarrassment and red after he’d actually gone through with it—he wasn’t, at first. He can’t understand why he’s just so… Gushy. It’s just hand holding.

He didn’t know when he had gotten shy. Maybe when he realized it was you that night and saved you? When he hugged you? After he’d drop you off at your apartment and went back to his? Or maybe was it because you looked just as good as the day he’d accidentally got tripped up with this avatar business and left?

With no time to recuperate his thoughts and feelings, and reciprocate your feelings back to mention.

When he got back to New York and saw you, he didn’t immediately think about where you two had left off. He’d only thought about if you were okay, and if that man had hurt you anywhere.

It wasn’t until he laid you in his bed that he’d remember that he’d left without a word to you. Marc knew that there probably wasn’t anything he could say that would make it all better in an instant, like nothing ever went wrong, like in a dream he once had.

His guilt, though he was happy around you again, was far too much to bare.

Because truth is, he did love you back and he still did now. But he was scared that you’d since fallen out of whatever haze of romance you were in since you saw him kill that man and fainted.

He was scared that if he confessed today, he’d end up embarrassing himself much like you thought you did.

Marc’s thoughts of feeling lost and not knowing what to do with you were pushed away when you two reached the diner, hand in hand.

You had went deathly silent, choking up on the cool night air since he’d locked hands with you almost an entire street ago. He was too busy worrying about what you thought about him now to even gauge your reaction. You both were very different.

Marc nodded at the waitress in confirmation as he ordered a table for two. She’d grin at the two of you with menus in hand as she motioned for you to follow her down the tables.

Perfect; a booth at the window. You could see the rest of the street from here. It was lovely, if you had to come clean about it.

“I’ll give you two a second to take a look at the menu,” she said as she allocated the selections of the place respectively. “If you guys need anything, I’ll be in the back. Just ask for Vivienne and I’ll be right over. Sound good?”

The two of you bob your head in unison and look at each other. “Awesome,” the waitress flashes a wide grin before walking away. You were the first to open your menu, but Marc didn’t seem to be racing you or in so much of a rush anymore like he was getting here.

He had gotten nervous thinking too much.

“Look, they have strawberry chocolate milkshakes,” you marveled, pointing to the item on the menu. “It doesn’t look too bad either, but they also have the sundaes. What do you think?”

“…Marc?”

Your happiness turned into concern. He hadn’t opened his menu yet, and was staring between you and your menu instead. If he looked anymore harder, he would look lost. Then, he blinked when he realized you were staring back at him.

“Sorry,” he apologized and opened his menu as well, his eyes finally skimming the pages. As much as you wanted to be truly concerned for his state, you couldn’t help but find it a little cute of him.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” you inquire with a smile. Now it was your turn to stop and stare, as he pretended to look through the items and mentally note what he’d be getting. His gaze only flickered up at you once before he replied.

“A lot.”

Yeah, a lot is right. But by a lot, he meant a lot of things he’ll need to think about after this concerning you and him. He was coming to a conclusion very quickly, though.

But you, you were all too blissed out to keep in mind why you’re here in the first place. It only had occurred to you now, again, why.

“Oh, uh, it’s… Okay if you really don’t know where to start,” you said, your posture slumping, “I wouldn’t either if I were you.”

It wasn’t exactly that, but he’d take it. Why? Because there’s no way he could ever explain everything in one breath. Right?

Wrong.

All day he had prepared himself for any questions you would have had… That ultimately never came. He was sure you’d have about a million of them—why he didn’t come back to New York when he could, why he even made a deal with the god, the confession…

All which never came.

Why? Because you, like him, had a plan and prepared all day for something else—listen to Marc, hold the questions, forget the confession unless he brings it up, no matter how outlandish his story sounds to you. It’s about him, not you. You rehearsed this in the shower.

Though, with all the weird stuff happening as of late around New York, it’s not all that easy to escape and it’s not all that hard to believe him. You’re firm he just got… Unfortunate, is all. Nobody’s a superhero by choice, you think.

“So you—Let me get this straight,” you squinted, blinking as you twirled your spoon, “You were on the job, about to die, when this random god of the moon, who is it–”

“–Khonshu.”

“–Khonshu, right,” you nod, eyes dropping to the silver table below, “Came up to you and said, “be my avatar”, you accepted and… He’s been having you run around places you’ve never even been? Like, ever since and that’s why you were gone?”

Marc nodded, and you could only blink at him a few more times before leaning back. You weren’t really angry with him, just wowed, to say the least. This was a lot to take in.

You expected something a lot more different like eloping or found a really good but all time consuming office job somewhere and he’s been trying to have time to come back to you.

Not… Becoming an avatar of some ancient Egyptian god and bending over backwards for him. Still, it… Left you with a good feeling inside knowing that it wasn’t anything you said or did though. You were all worked up for three years, and it turns out you were overthinking it.

There’s a thing for that you swear you saw before.

“So you’re a superhero now, is that what you’re saying?” you ask him, laughing out of shock. “Sorry, it’s… It’s not funny, I’m just… You? All this time you were being a superhero?”

Marc shook his head, shutting his eyes, “I’m not a superhero. I didn’t do this voluntarily, I just had no other choice.”

Your smile drops in exchange for a frown. He wasn’t doing this voluntarily, you already had forgot that important detail. You knew Marc to be a strong person your whole life, but he was a good friend first before anything else, even before a crush or an unrequited. You felt obligated to be worried about him.

Yet you were more worried at the fact that you think that he thinks you’re mad at him. He looks very upset.

“Marc, do you think I’m mad at you?” your brows furled a little at him as you eyed him.

“I kind of abandoned you, didn’t I?” Marc responded back with another question, his eyes still cast downward in shame.

He had barely touched his food tonight because he kept thinking. He was thinking about you and how to make it up to you, his childhood friend and now—what he thinks is—unrequited love.

He couldn’t comprehend how you were so cool with all this, but it was all the more reason why he loved you; you did the opposite of what he’d expect of you.

You leaned forward onto the table, and his downwards gaze lifted to connect with yours. He knows that look; you had gone serious in this bout of silence.

“Listen,” you lowered your tone. “You can go to Mars and get adopted by Martians tomorrow. As long as you’re still alive and well, that’s all I ever care about when it comes to you. Okay?”

Marc doesn’t say anything, because he can’t. He’s speechless. He wants to argue with you and tell you that it’s not fine. He wants you to be angry at him for doing that to you. But without him knowing if you still feel the same way about him now, he keeps silent because he’s scared… When he shouldn’t be.

He was always the brave one when you were younger, not you. He always protected you, but now? He hates how he’s been reduced to this because he wasn’t brave enough to be honest, and he knew it hurt you for him to have done that.

Your growing warm and soft smile breaks him out of these thoughts. “You’re doing that staring thing again,” you tease. “Seriously, what’s on your mind?”

Again, Marc shakes his head but this time he rubs an eye. “Not enough sleep?” you guess semi-aimlessly. He did look tired earlier today, and you hoped he went back to sleep for the time being once he’d left you at your place but it’s clear he didn’t.

“No, just… I don’t know what to say, honestly,” Marc let out a small huff, the semblance of what should’ve been a laugh. He was too in his head for real words right now.

You let out a breathy chuckle as well, “Good or bad thing?” — “Both.”

You both let out a small and slightly awkward laugh. You weren’t going to guess more to spare the poor man. You knew that he was thinking of something else that you couldn’t pinpoint, but you still wanted to be patient with him. Tonight, some of your suspicions were proved right; he’d been through a lot for the most part.

Though, some things remain a mystery. Not for long, no… Not as long as Marc’s thoughts are still churning with ideas as to how to so desperately make things okay again, because it’s not. You two have missed a very important conversation.

“I can’t be mad at you, Marc. I’m just happy you’re back,” you nodded, blinking slowly. You meant it, the way you smiled at him and what you said. And for a moment, he’d smile back at you.

You really were happy he was alive… Happy he’d come back to you.

Leaning outwards again, you sighed, “Not like much had changed while you were gone anyway. It’s only been a few years.”

Marc watched as you shifted to put your hands underneath your lap, “Changed with you? Or…”

“All around.” Of course, he thought. They can’t be the only one that’s stayed the same. It would be stupid to think otherwise. Even though you’ve said that nothing much has changed, he still feels out of place.

But if nothings changed… Do you still feel—

“How’s everything over here? Are we all set?” Vivienne, the waitress, stopped beside your table. She reached over for the empty plates. You nod, looking at the empty glass and then her. “I love your desserts to death,” you complimented.

The waitress grinned, “That’s great to hear! Thank you so much.” You nodded once more and returned her smile. Then, she’d turn to Marc and motion to his plate with a jut of her chin. “Sir? We offer to-go, would you like to pack that up?”

He nodded with a quiet hum.

“Great, well I’ll be right back with that and,” she readjusted her grip on the plates, “The check. Who’s paying?”

Just as you were about to answer that you were paying your own way, Marc speaks up. “Me. I’m paying.”

That’s not what you agreed, no less talked about at all. He was the one that was making all the plans, sure, but he was also paying? He’d usually let you pay your own way and it was almost expected, but you weren’t tonight. Not this time. He seemed to have it all down already, just like his outfit.

The waitress nodded, repeating that with a mumble as she walked away. Confused, you looked at Marc who seemed nonchalant about it. “What? You’re paying for the entire bill? Why didn’t you tell me?” your head tilted downwards in disbelief.

“My idea, my treat,” he said simply with a shrug, no more than that. You were dumbfounded at the sudden rule. You were in a stupor.

“Usually we’d pay our own way though, are you sure?” your eyes searched his face for any sign of doubt or uncertainty, but there was none. Not a single trace.

“Yeah. Just don’t worry about it,” he insisted, looking out of the window to the passing cars and people.

This diner was just one part of a long string of places to go, so no wonder it was a little busy throughout the night. It was nice out, just the way he needed it.

Surprised still at his seriousness, you half-heartedly offer, “I owe you when we get out of here.” Just in case he wasn’t actually sure, for good measure, you swear. It’s so unlike him to do this.

Then, he pursed his lips. “You don’t.”

That’s all you needed to throw whatever you thought you had figured out about him now right out of the window. What seemed so simple a problem and so simple an answer you thought was no more, crumbled before you in a heap of dust.

But—

How gentlemanly of him; he has to be adhering to some sort of old etiquette now, if not earlier when he walked you here, that you didn’t know he knew to do. Has he had experience before? What has he watched? Did he date while he was away?

Not that this was one, but… He’s been acting like it is this entire time. You wouldn’t complain if it really was.

Blinking, you agree although reluctant. “Are you going to walk me home too? I’ll… I’ll be fine?” you sounded unsure of yourself. All the more reason for him.

“There’s one more place I wanted to go,” Marc looked at you. “I don’t want to go yet.”

—I don’t want you to go yet, he meant.

“Marc, I… I can’t,” you sigh, defeated as you avert your gaze elsewhere. “I have work in the morning.”

He let out a small ‘oh’. Marc had no say in how this night was going to go it seems. It was time to go whether he liked it or not, and was he okay with that? No. He didn’t have time to gather himself and do what he needed to and it upset him.

So he’d do what he said; put up the food, pay and take you and leave the restaurant, all right before your eyes in no more than five minutes.

Though upset, he didn’t let it show anywhere even as you walked shoulder-to-shoulder, this time. No one ahead of one another. And, suavely, he’d lock hands with you again.

Again… All over again, your heart fluttered.

Your apartment complex arrived too soon. As much as you found yourself wishing you could hold hands forever, you didn’t want to waste anymore of his time.

“Well, this is it,” you breathed, stopping in front of your door. Marc didn’t say anything… He was thinking again this: Should he really do it?

He’s been thinking about the confession the entire day. He didn’t want to bring it up and upset you or damage whatever was just fixed. But he also didn’t want this day to go to waste and still go your separate ways while he’s still without his own answers.

Marc was happy that he’d gotten to see you again. He got to spend the whole day with you, just like a dream, but it wasn’t enough for him now. He doesn’t know when it didn’t become enough, but he wanted to spend the entire night with you, again. This time you weren’t going to be fainted or covered in blood. You were going to be sentient.

That couldn’t happen now, and it upset him. He wanted to do something about it and he was on the verge of just letting it all out.

“Marc,” you call him. “You look upset. What’s wrong?” He let his demeanor slip, and now he was visibly upset. Marc had walked slower on the way home on purpose, but still, they’ve arrived against his will.

He said back, looking down at his fumbling fingers, “Hate your job.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise yet again at his words. It didn’t take you long to know what he’s implying.

“So you enjoyed tonight that much?” you grinned, but you hoped it wasn’t too much a reach and that he was just being nice and making that god-awful small talk you hate.

“I… I did. A lot, actually,” Marc stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. They were getting sweaty the more he thought about going for it.

“I did too. Hopefully now that you’re back we can go places more often again, before all this big mess. There’s a few new places around here that look great and have been meaning to try out,” you smile.

You looked down to your feet and then, keys in hand, you turn around to work and open the door. Like Marc, you took your time because you kind of didn’t want to go either. You could feel Marc’s gaze burning into your back.

Again, it’s silent. You kind of hoped Marc would say something between then and the time you were working with the door so you’d stop and pay attention to what he had to say, maybe go back to his. Instead, he spoke when you got it open.

“Three years ago, did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

You felt your heart drop. You were prepared for this, or so you thought you were. You turned around. “This… This is so sudden, uh… Yeah, I… I did,” you inhaled, crossing your arms over your form. “Why?”

Marc’s heart was leaping. “I know you probably think I forgot,” he was nervous, fidgety, but he stepped closer anyway.

“I didn’t,” you shook your head. “But I was thinking you’d bring it up when you were ready, I didn’t think...” To be quite frank, you were barely ready yourself. How could he be?

“Didn’t think what?” Marc bit his lip, his eyes flitting across your slightly horrified face. Maybe it was a mistake on his part bringing it up after all, but there was no going back.

You could barely breathe. “Didn’t think you wanted to talk about it right now, I mean… Is that what you were thinking about this entire time when you were spacing out on me mid-conversation?”

“No.” Yes.

“Look… I… It’s getting late, I have work in the morning,” you shuffled, answering reluctantly.

As much as you wanted to do it all over again and do it right this time, right now was not the time… Right? It’s your dreams come true, but you’re still reeling from all this new information about Marc. Anything else and it’ll send you into shock.

Will you let him in?

“Are you sure?” Marc wasn’t so sure his own self, but you’re expressions and your words send mixed messages.

You nodded. “I’m… Sure. I guess it’s fine that you do whatever you’re doing, but me and you personally is an entirely different conversation I don’t think we don’t have time for tonight,” you swallowed.

A large part of you is fighting that feeling, because you always had time for Marc. You’ve been dying to hear what he’s thought about you, about the confession—why are you bailing? This is your moment!

“…Are you afraid?” Marc asked. He was scared as hell, but he wanted to know if you were too.

“Of what?” you said evenly, but your eyes said differently. You were just as frightened as him in this moment.

“What I’d say. Are you afraid?” he asked again. This answer would determine his next move, he decided.

“Does it matter what I think?” your voice went small. The more you thought about it, the more nerve wracking it was for you. His face read different than a rejection, and you could see it. You could feel it.

You knew.

“Yes.”

Marc stepped even closer. From his spot, you swore you could hear his heart beating just as he swore he could hear yours. His brown eyes flickered from total eye contact to your lips, thinking, calculating, silently asking.

But that small part of you that wasn’t ready moved you. You don’t know why you let it take a hold of you.

Just as he leaned in, your legs had backed you up and you turned your face, gripping his arms for balance. “Waitwaitwait,” you squeezed your eyes shut, “MarcMarcMarc. Wait.”

“Not right now. I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to be solved if we just kiss the problem away. This is something we need to talk out instead, so just text me please,” you escaped behind the door and, ever so gently, you shut it, but not before witnessing the sadness in his expression.

Why did you do that? You let your fear take you, now you have to explain yourself later. You could only hope he didn’t take that the wrong way in the meantime.

☆ taglist: @spicydonut25 @elliaze @mt2sssss @bowtiesandsandshoes

want to be a part of the taglist for this series? let me know in the replies ☻

#marc spector x gender neutral reader #marc spector angst #marc spector x reader #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x you #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x reader #passion-75

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter two rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Masterlist and Series Masterlist

Moving and finding an apartment can be an incredibly long and stressful process. Unless you’re you, and life likes to throw a lot of curve balls at you for the utter hell of it.

Your dad dropped dead three weeks after you told Andy you were moving to New York. Coincidentally, right in the middle of you trying to find a place to live. He drank himself to death. Figures. You doubted you’d ever had a conversation with him that he was sober enough to remember. His untimely demise was unfortunate for him, because he died or whatever, but very fortunate for you. As his only child, you got his apartment in Queens and all his smelly hoodies.

You said your goodbyes to Andy and Dani after a night out in the streets of San Francisco. You had originally moved there after high school to start your show, The L/n Report. San Francisco was known for its crimes against the homeless population and you wanted to start with a story on that. You ended up interviewing Andy at the police station while investigating a missing person, and dated him for two years. Now, you were spending your last few hours in San Francisco with the very boy you once loved and the very girl he now did.

“Are you all packed?” Dani asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Pretty much. I gotta put my toothbrush and hairbrush in my suitcase in the morning. Other than that, I’m good to go.” You answered her. She smiled fondly at you as she linked her arm through yours.

“Hey, I’m really gonna miss you. More than that guy over there.” You whispered, nodding towards Andy, who had his head buried in his phone. Dani laughed and nodded in agreement as you continued to walk.

“I’m going to miss you too. You’re my best friend here.” She sighed sadly.

“I’m glad we’re friends. Most women in our position would hate each other.” You thought out loud.

“Uh uh. You’re thinking of women in films. It’s 2021, baby. Women support women. You and I are two talented, smart, beautiful women who would never be caught fighting over some boy. Especially not one who can’t take his eyes off his phone for two seconds.” Dani said loudly and smacked Andy’s arm. You laughed at the domestic moment but couldn’t help feeling a pain in your heart knowing he used to be that way with you.

“What, sorry?” Andy looked up. You and Dani looked at him before looking at each other and laughing.

“What’s funny?” He asked, growing annoyed.

“We’re laughing at you babe. Put your phone away. It’s Y/N’s last night here.” Dani scolded playfully. Andy sighed and reluctantly put his phone in his pocket.

“Right, sorry. And it’s not her last night here. She’s coming back. You are coming back, right?” He asked you. You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure.

“Of course I’ll be back.” You shrugged. “I just want to experience something new for a while. I’ve done a million pieces on homelessness and poverty. I want to see what fresh stories New York has to offer.”

“You’re quoting the Daily Bugle, aren’t you?” Dani teased you.

“That is verbatim what they said to me.” You admitted with a laugh. “But hey, it worked. As of tomorrow, I’m the Daily Bugle’s newest investigative reporter.”

“Who are you reporting on anyway?” Andy showed a rare interest in your work.

“Some guy named Cletus Kasady.” You answered. “He’s some hot shot serial killer down in Queens. No one knows how he’s hiding his victims bodies. Apparently none have ever been close to being found.”

“And they want you to write the story on him?” Andy raised an eyebrow, always with the condescending tone.

“Well they heard about the whole Carlton Drake situation and decided I hadn’t been through enough trauma in my career.” You replied, earning a laugh from Dani but not Andy. You and Andy had already broken up by the time Carlton Drake contracted a symbiote and tried to kill you and Venom. You stopped him before he could hurt anyone and wrote a career defining article on his lethal human experiments. You managed to leave out all information regarding symbiotes from the article, so your secret was still safe. You were a fairly well known reporter since the incident and your next job was waiting for you in New York.

In the morning, You and Venom got on a plane and made your way to New York. Being on a plane with Venom turned out to be the equivalent to traveling with a toddler. You tried to sleep, but every two seconds you had to stop Venom from getting into trouble. She kept trying to open the window, even after you explained to her that everyone on the plane would die horrible death if the window were to open.

“Stop that.” You whispered when you noticed a black tendril creeping towards the window. The lady in the seat next to you shot me a look of confusion. You gave her a fake smile and turned back to the window, doing your best to conceal the small black tendril that was coming out of your body and fidgeting with the airplane window.

“We want it open.” Venom replied telepathically.

“Do you also want us to blow out of the plane and into space?” You said through my teeth.

“We didn’t anticipate that but it’d be appreciated.” Venom answered, making you groan. The rest of the plane ride followed in similar fashion.

Seven hours later, you arrived at the apartment building. You had never been to your dads apartment, you didn’t even know he had one. You wondered what happened to your childhood home as you looked around the place. The apartment wasn’t too small but not too big either. The rent was practically nothing compared to how expensive San Francisco was, and The Daily Bugle offered to cover your expenses until the story was done. You figured after some redecorating and moving in, it would make a fine new home.

The first seven days in the apartment went by smoothly. You unpacked, with little to no help from Venom, and set up the furniture. On the eight day, you sat on the couch, aimlessly flipping through channels in the TV when you had a thought.

“Oh shit.” You said out loud.

“What?” Venom, who was curly nestled around your neck like a neck pillow, asked.

“I forgot mail exists.” You frowned. “We better go check the mailbox before it overflows.”

You and Venom grudgingly walked to the mailboxes and back again. No one was around, so she manifested herself and rested on your shoulder as I looked through the mail.

“Oops. I grabbed someone else’s mail too.” You clicked your tongue when you read a strangers name off the envelope. “I gotta find them.”

“Let’s go.” Venom said and pulled you towards the front door.

“Sorry, babe. This is a me thing, not a we thing. You know I love you but I don’t want to scare our neighbors. Not yet anyway.” You reasoned. Venom grumbled and went back inside your body.

You checked the address of the envelope and discovered that it belonged to the apartment directly across from you.

You knocked on the door and patiently waited for someone to open it as you mindlessly cracked your knuckles. Just as you were about to walk away, the door opened.

“Hi, are you May Parker?” You asked right away. You looked up from the envelope and your face instantly flushed. The person staring back at you definitely wasn’t May Parker. It was a boy around your age, maybe a little younger. He had soft brown eyes and wavy brown hair. It was gelled back loosely and you could see the outline of soft curls. To your surprise, he was just as flushed as you were. You stared at each other for a moment, no one wanting to be the first to blink.

“Yea. I’m May Parker.” The boy said finally. He shut his eyes in embarrassment and shook his head.

“I mean, no I’m not. But that’s my Aunt. May is my Aunt but I’m not May. That’s my Aunt May. I’m her nephew…obviously. Aunt May is my Aunt May. I…what?” He stumbled over his words and somehow turned even redder. His blush reached all the way down his neck, to his blue jumper that read “Midtown Tech” in yellow letters. You recognized the name of one of the most prestigious high schools in New York, already impressed with your new neighbor.

“Well hello, not May Parker. I’m also not May Parker. But I seemed to forget that when I grabbed your mail this morning. Sorry about that.” You said sheepishly as you handed his mail to him. The boy rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at it and attempted to redeem himself.

“It’s not problem. She and I always forget to check the mail so you actually helped us, um, whoever you are.” He smiled weakly. His voice was cute. He had that Queens accent that the people of San Francisco lacked, for obvious reasons.

“Oh, right.” You laughed in embarrassment. “I’m Y/N L/N. I just moved here from San Francisco. I live across the hall.”

You pointed to the door behind you as if he didn’t know what “across the hall” meant. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were never this awkward.

His eyes lit up a bit once you told him where you lived.

“Really? I thought that smelly guy lived there.” The boy said and you stifled a laugh.

“That smelly guy was my father. He died a little while ago so I live there now.” You told him, malign the boys eyes widen. They were so brown. Like little pools of honey. Or little pools of the Hudson River. You had seen a million pairs of brown eyes before, but none like his. They were quite distracting to be honest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I had. I had no idea-“ he began to frantically apologize but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it. We never got along. And you’re right, that man stank.” You chuckled. It was the first thing you said that felt like your old self. You hadn’t really talked to anyone since moving to New York, with the exception of Venom and the occasional phone call from Andy or Dani. You liked talking to this boy, though you still had no idea who he was.

“Oh thank God. I thought I screwed this up before it even went anywhere.” He immediately turned red when he heard his own words. You saw the regret in his eyes and decided to throw him a bone.

“Well it certainly can’t go anywhere until you tell me your name.” You flirted. Again, he relaxed. You felt a surge of confidence knowing he wanted this to go well.

“Parker. I’m Parker Peter. I mean, Peter Parker.” He fumbled over his words again, making you smile fondly.

“We like him. He’s cute.” Venom said telepathically. You looked down at my shoes and blushed, knowing you liked him too.

“And he looks delicious.” She added, ruining the moment.

“It’s nice to meet you Peter Parker.” You gave him your best smile. “I’m glad there’s someone my age around here. Everyone I’ve met so far is either an old bitty or a creepy uncle type.” You regretted it as soon as it left your mouth. You didn’t know what his sense of humor was like and he might not find you the slightest but funny. Andy always told you you were bad at telling jokes, and you feared he might be right.

Lucky for you, Peter burst out laughing.

“Ah. I’ve seen you’ve met Henry.” Peter pointed a finger down the hall. “Yeah, I’d stay away from him. He asked me if he could have pictures of my feet once. He said he’d “pay me handsomely” for it too.”

“Damn. So he beat me to asking you.” You pretended to be upset, which made Peter laugh again. The sound of his laugh made your heart pick up speed. You weren’t used to feeling like this. Boys rarely impressed you, Andy was just lucky you liked a man in uniform.

“Yeah. You better stay away from him.” Peter advised.

“It might be hard.” You clicked your tongue. “Our mailboxes are pretty close. I’ll make a mental note to never check my mail while wearing flip flops, though.”

Peter smiled at your joke. He had the kind of smile that you would make the person laugh just to see it again. It was brilliant.

“Well my mailbox should be directly above yours. So don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He grinned, and you grinned back.

“My hero.” You gushed as you put your hands over your heart. The tips of his ears went pink, like he was shocked that you said that.

“I’m no hero.” He sounded almost panicked, like you touched a nerve or something.

“We’re hungry. We need to eat.” Venom interrupted abruptly, causing you to jump. Since Peter couldn’t hear her, he looked at you strangely, not knowing the cause of your sudden jolt.

“Sorry, I uh, I thought I saw a spider.” You lied.

“If there was a spider, we’d eat it. We need food. Now.” Venom demanded.

Peter looked up at his doorframe for the imaginary spider.

“Yeah, New York is full of them.” Peter said skeptically. “Not that full, though. And some spiders are nice. One might even call them friendly.”

“Right.” You laughed at his strange wording, unaware that you were both keeping a secret.

“Would…” Peter began but trailed off, seemingly mulling something over in his head. “Would you like to eat dinner with my Aunt and I? I remember when we first moved in, it took us a while to get into the swing of things and make dinner every night. If you like, you could join us. And, you know, we could get to know each other.” He offered. It all came out in one breath. You could tell he was nervous and that only drew you in more.

“I’d love to Peter.” You said, and he smiled in relief.

“Great.” He gave an awkward thumbs up. “We usually eat around six so maybe come around then? She’ll be so happy to meet you. She loves cooking and she always tries to get me to learn but I once burnt cereal and I still don’t know how.” Peter began to ramble. He cut himself off and shook his head again. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

Then, you did something stupid. You put your hand on his arm like the dumb bitch you were. You barely knew this guy. Who the hell were you to touch him? He must’ve been thinking the same thing, since he instantly froze under your touch and stared at your hand on his arm.

“Don’t apologize. I can’t cook either. Unless you count making tater tots as cooking. Then I’m Gordon Ramsey.” You assured him, feeling him relax under your touch.

“You’re just gonna mention tater tots without warning us first? Our mouth is watering. Can we eat Peter?” Venom asked, making your eyes widen.

If it was socially acceptable to scream at your symbiote in public, you would’ve yelled “NO, WE CANNOT EAT PETER” from the top of your lungs. But since you didn’t want to scare Peter and the rest of the neighbors away, you merely smiled and made another mental note to smack the shit out of Venom later.

“I love that man. “Where is the lamb sauce?” Peter mimicked in a bad British accent. He had no right being as charming as he was.

“No no no.” You shook your head. “His best line is “I’ll get you more pumpkin and I’ll ram it right up your ass. Would you like it whole or diced?”. He’s said some pretty wild things but that one makes me cry.”

Peters laugh rang through the halls. To be the cause of that laugh was a feeling like no other. You stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His eyes grazed down your body, but not in a crude way. You berated yourself for not dressing better when going to meet the neighbors, clad in nothing but a grey hoodie and some leggings. Peter looked cute, but you had a feeling he always did. His jumper was pretty baggy and you could see a collared shirt poking out the top. He was dressed almost professionally and you found it incredibly endearing.

You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to know his secrets and his hobbies and what makes him itch. You wanted to see if he dresses this way on weekends too or what his summer clothes looked like. Your gawking was interrupted by Peters phone ringing. He broke out of his trance and answered it quickly.

“Hi, Mr. S. No I’m not busy. I mean, I’m super busy but I can totally make time for you. Yea, Happy talked to me. Okay. Okay. Where? Okay. See you in a bit.” Peter hung up and looked at you apologetically.

“That was my job. I have to run but I’ll be back in time for our dinner. I live at…you know where I live. I’ll see you then. Don’t be late.” Peter called as he ran down the hallway, towards the elevator.

“I won’t. See you later.” You called back.

You went back to your apartment and like a kid, broke out into a happy dance.

“Venom!! Did you see how cute he was?” You gushed. “And how funny he is? I have to get ready for tonight.”

Venom manifested and swirled around my arm.

“Someone has a crush.” Venom smirked. Well, as much of a smirk as she could muster with that huge mouth of hers.

“I don’t have a crush. I just think he’s cute okay?” You replied coyly. “Cute. And funny and sweet and charming and amazing. But that’s it.”

“We can feel your heart beat.” Venom reminded you. “It was going ten miles an hour. What would Andy say?”

You had been rummaging through your closet and stopped in your tracks. With Peters new inhabitance in your mind, you had forgotten all about Andy. You moved to New York to avoid his wedding and his moving on, and you might’ve succeeded.

“I don’t care what he’d say.” You decided. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But we want him to be.” Venom insisted. “We want him back, remember?”

“I don’t know what I want.” You answered honestly. “I just want to get ready for tonight.”

“Why are you getting ready now? You have 5 hours until you have to be there and it’s right across the hall.” Venom teased.

“Only 5 hours?” You sighed. “We better get moving.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #iron man

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tricksters-captain · 4 years ago

Text

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 4

AN: I’m sorry I missed posting last week. I’m currently going through a hard break up and it’s really taking a lot of energy out of me so I struggle to write at the moment.

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: You return to Boston for the week.

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Some strong language

You smiled as you looked at the copies of ‘Chess Review’ on the racks.

Your first front page piece for Chess Review.

They had used one of the pictures of Benny that you had taken at the hotel and you were pretty proud of your photography skills.

You picked up a copy and took it inside to pay for it.

On second thought, you picked up two so you could mail one to Angelie.

You left the store quickly after and started to walk back to your apartment.

Boston was busier than you had remembered and you finally had some time to sort out the apartment after your article went down well with the big man.

You opened the door to your apartment and put down your groceries on the kitchen counter top.

The last tenant hadn’t left the place in too bad a state, just a carpet stain here and there and a broken lamp.

You had bought some paint to redecorate your living room and bedroom since it seemed too boring after where you lived in Paris. You had spent the last couple days painting and then you finally left to go check out your title page.

The books that Benny had given you were still on your small two person dining room table where you had left them when you first got back. You looked over at them and furrowed your brow as you thought about whether you are actually going to bother to read them or not.

Your phone started to ring and your frown disappeared when you realised it was probably Angelie. No one else had your number besides your work.

“Hello?” You answered it, taking the phone off the wall as you leant beside it.

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere after listening to it so much over the last tournament.

“Benny Watts?” You asked, almost in shock.

“Have you read those books I leant you yet?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm it was him.

“It’s been four days.” You told him flatly.

“You could’ve easily gotten through at least two of them by now.” Benny challenged you which caused you to shake your head (even though he couldn’t see).

“You know, Benny Watts, I do have a life to live.” You defended yourself to which Benny found amusing.

“So, you’re back in Boston since you picked up this phone.” Benny changed the subject completely.

“How did you even get this number?” You asked, genuinely curious and a little worried.

“You really think Chess Review won’t hand over your telephone number to their favourite US chess player?”

“You got it from Beth Harmon then?” You teased the boy to which he responded with a dry laughter.

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” Benny retorted, “If you’re in Boston, it means you currently aren’t working. Fancy an educational trip to New York City?”

“Benny, I told you. I’m not coming to New York.” You reminded him about how you declined previously when he asked.

“Come on, just for the weekend? We’ll play some chess, do some tourist shit and eat some food?” Benny asked, trying his best to persuade you Benny Watts style.

“I’ve also told you before that I don’t play.” You felt a small bubble of excitement in your stomach as you considered going to New York but you quickly squashed it down.

“What are you afraid of?” Benny asked. Deja Vu.

“Why are you pushing this?” You closed your eyes as you let your head roll back to press against the wall.

“Because I see that same light that’s in Beth Harmon, that’s in every decent chess player when you see a chess board.” Benny confessed to you.

“I’m sorry, Benny. You’ll just have to find someone else to play with. I don’t want to be apart of this little game.” You hung up the phone with a sad sigh before Benny could respond.

You found yourself looking at the books again.

You picked up Benny’s and you opened it...

“I’ve been waiting all day for your call.” You half scolded Angelie as you answered the call.

You heard Angelie’s laughter through the phone and it made you home sick.

“Je suis désolé!” Angie apologised. “This new project has me so busy, constantly on set, costume changes, make up changes, redoing scene..!”

“It sounds awful.” You chuckled,

“It is! You wouldn’t understand... You’re just a big time American journalist.” Angelie pouted. “Anyway, how are you?”

“I’m okay.” You lied.

“Menteuse!” Angelie called you out. “Tell me the truth. What is bothering you, Mon Cher?”

“Benny Watts called me today.” You had filled her in on the tournament with him once you had first arrived back in Boston and she had already previously told you off for not taking his offer to New York.

“He did?!” Angie gasped.

“Yes, he did. He got my number through work and called me to ask if I had read the books he gave me which I haven’t because it’s been less than a week since. the tournament.” You explained.

“That boy is in love with you, I am telling you now.” Angie was always the hopeless romantic type. It’s how she has had her heart broke so many times.

“The boy wants to play chess with me to assert his masculine dominance over me and boost his ego with an easy win.” You argued.

“You are always so negative about men! You hardly know this one!” Angelie groaned.

“He’s Benny Watts. That’s all I need to know.”

“I think you should go to New York and meet with him.” Angelie told you. You hadn’t even informed her about the fact he asked you again.

“I think I should stay here and enjoy my first weekend off in six months.” You shook your head at the idea.

“(Y/n), you only live once and how many girls are invited to New York by the Benny Watts?!”

“Probably quite a lot.” You knew Angie was only trying to hype you up but you couldn’t help but knock her down.

“Even if that is so. You could probably get another article out of it. Benny Watts and his life in the big apple?” Angie suggested.

“I’m sure ‘LIFE’ has already done that piece before.” You pushed another idea aside.

“Trust me, (Y/n). You need to stop being so afraid of the unknown and who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself?” Angelie had had enough of the negativity from you at this point.

There was a sudden knock at your door.

“I’m sorry, Angie. Someone’s just knocked on my door, I’ll have to call you back.” You looked over at your front door and wondered who it could be.

“Ça va. Call me back!” She told you as the knock occurred again.

“Je t'aime.” You hung the phone back up on the wall and went over to your door.

You opened it and you felt your face go white at the sight of who stood there.

“Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Benny Watts.

BENNY WATTS.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him.

“Well, you wouldn’t come to me so I came to you.” Benny shrugged.

“You can’t just stalk someone. This isn’t okay. This isn’t cute!” You were bewildered.

“This isn’t stalking. It’s simply coming to Boston to visit a friend.” He defended himself as he stood out in the hallway.

“I wouldn’t call us friends, Benny.” You scoffed.

“Ouch.” Benny put his hand on his heart.

You went to close your door on him but Benny stopped you.

“Wait.” He pleaded. His cocky demeanour suddenly dropped. “Look, I know this is weird but I really wanted to see you.” Benny started to explain.

“I––” He cut you short.

“–– This isn’t some game. I just want to help you. I want you to play chess again. I want you to play with me.” Benny stayed with his hand against the door and his foot in the gap as he spoke.

“This is crazy, Benny.” You told him, your eyes locked on his as you felt your heart race.

“I know.” Benny stepped back. “I’m staying in the hotel down the block. I’ll be here all weekend. If you don’t want to see me, then don’t. But if you change your mind. I’ll be around.”

You watched him back away from the door and head back down the stairs.

Benny fucking Watts.

You rushed back to the phone and dialled Angelie’s number.

“Bonjour?” She answered,

“You’ll never guess who was at the door.”

You ended up tossing and turning all night.

You caved in at around 3am and started to read Benny’s book again.

You finished it by the time the sun was rising.

You had a cold shower to wake you up at around 9am and then you stared in the mirror as the thoughts racked your brain.

You walked over to your chess set that rested on the dresser top and you took it over to your bed, opening it up.

You set up the board and stared at it.

You picked up the queen. The same queen that Benny had held in the photo you took.

You caved.

You dressed and did simple make up before heading to the hotel that Benny had told you he was staying.

“I’m looking for Mr Benny Watts.” You asked the elderly lady at the front desk.

“He’s staying in room 306 but I’m almost certain I saw him leave about an hour ago for breakfast.” She informed you.

You thanked her then sighed.

You left the hotel lobby and started down the street. There was plenty of places to eat around the hotel, you almost considered just waiting in the lobby for him to return.

Then you saw it.

Through a window of a small diner.

The famous black hat.

You pushed open the diner door and walked towards the booth where Benny was sat.

He had his back to you but he didn’t seem surprised to see you when you sat down opposite him.

“Morning.” He greeted you as he munched on some pancakes.

“I won’t play chess with you.” You stated. “I won’t play chess with you but I will spend the weekend with you and you can talk about it.”

Benny remained silent as his brown eyes watched you carefully.

“I finished your book.” You told him. “I'm ready to learn.”

Benny placed his knife and fork down, picking up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth.

“Great.” He nodded, interlinking his fingers above his food as he elbows rested on the table. “Let’s begin.”

(WHAT HAPPENS NEXT HERE)

TAG LIST

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#benny watts x reader #benny watts imagines #benny watts imagines #benny watts x femreader #benny watts #the queens gambit imagines #the queens gambit #Thomas Brodie Sangster #Thomas Brodie Sangster imagines #newt #Beth Harmon #Anya Taylor joy

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lucy-frostblades · 4 years ago

Text

so why don't we go somewhere only we know

lokius being in love throughout time | ao3 link

@thedragonemperess @the-bi-fangirl-biatch i think both of you wanted to see this <3

79 CE

Explosions rattled their house. Loki looked around, frantic to find Mobius.

“MOBIUS!” He screamed. They had to go, they had to get out. “MOBIUS!”

Rocks smashed into their house and Loki flinched, sliding under the table.

“Loki? Loki, are you here?” Loki lets out a breath and scrambles up, wrapping his arms around Mobius.

“Mobius! Are you hurt, are you okay? What’s going on?” Loki demands, inspecting his partner.

“Loki, I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Loki drops his head on Mobius’s shoulder. “I was worried.”

“I know. But we need to go, right now.” Loki nods and the pair grab shoes and head out the door. Loki spares one last look at their house, before following Mobius out the door.

Outside, Loki shields his eyes. Smoke fills the air, and Vesuvias thunders.

“We’re not gonna make it.” Loki says, tugging on Mobius’s arm. “Mobius, we aren’t gonna make it out.”

“Yes, we are. Come on!”

“Mobius. Mobius!” Tears fill Loki’s eyes. “We aren’t gonna make it.”

“I don’t want to die.” Mobius says, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, Mobius. I promise. You won’t lose me.”

Tears fall down Mobius’s face and he falls into Loki.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The two of them stand there, not wanting to let each other go, as Pompeii is destroyed around them.

London, 1601

Loki smiles widely, watching as the actors take their places on stage.

“That’s my brother!” Loki whispers to the man sitting next to him as his older brother storms on stage. “Playing Hamlet.”

“Really?”

“SHH!” A woman behind them hisses and Loki hides a laugh.

“I’m Mobius,” Mobius whispers.

“Loki Laufeyson. Pleasure.” Loki responds.

“SHH!”

Loki turns in his seat. “Shh!” He hisses back, before facing front. Mobius hides his laughter and Loki smiles softly, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“After this… would you maybe want to go for a pint?” Mobius whispers.

Loki turns to him.

“I would love to.”

New York City, 1929

“Sylvie, hurry up!” Loki says, pulling his sister down the sidewalk. “We’re gonna be late!”

“Calm down, your boyfriend is not going to break up with you because we were five minutes late.” Syvlie says, rolling her eyes.

“He’s not my- Sylvie!” Loki whines. Sylvie laughs and the two of them walk down the steps to the speakeasy.

Loki knocks on the door.

“Password?”

“Crystal glasses.” Loki answers.

The door opens and Sylvie and Loki walk through, jazz music playing from the stage at the back of the room.

“Do you see him?” Loki asks, scanning the crowded room.

Sylvie shakes her head. “Let’s get drinks.” She leads Loki across the dance floor and orders them both drinks.

“Mobius said tonight, right?” Loki asks, looking around.

“Yes, Loki. He’s probably running late.” Sylvie says, before getting pulled onto the dance floor. She hands Loki her drink, laughing as she gets spun around. Loki sighs and downs the drink.

“May I have this dance?” Loki looks up to see Mobius standing in front of him, holding his hand out. A wide grin breaks over Loki’s face, and he grabs Mobius’s hand.

“Of course.”

California, 1987

“We’ll be fine, right?” Mobius asks, as he and Loki lie in bed.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“They- you’re-” Mobius cuts himself off.

“Because I’m dying.” Loki says, calmly. Mobius’s silence confirms it. “Why wouldn’t we be fine. They might find a cure.”

“They won’t. They don’t care.” Mobius responds coldly.

“Moby.” Loki whispers. “They don't matter. We matter. Here and now.”

“You’re right.” Loki burrows himself in Mobius’s oversized sweater, not wanting to miss a moment of peace.

Mobius wraps his arms around Loki, his body weak and trembling.

“Loki?” Mobius asks.

“Yes, my love?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Idiot. I’m not going anywhere.” Loki responds, fondly. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

America, 2015

“Loki! Loki! Loki! Did you hear!” Sylvie bursts into the bookstore that Loki works at. Three people shush her, and she glares at them, before heading behind the counter.

“You’re not allowed back here.” Loki reprimands, knowing it won’t do anything, since Sylvie’s dating his supervisor.

“That’s not important, right now. Look!” Sylvie shoves her phone in Loki’s face.

Loki grabs it and scans the article. “Is this for real? Is this real?” Sylvie nods, bouncing on her feet.

Loki takes off his nametag. “I have to go find Mobius. Can you tell Hunt I’m taking the next two days off.”

“You owe me!” Sylvie says.

“I know. If this works out, I’ll let you be my maid of honor.”

“Thank you. Now GO!” Sylvie pushes him out the door, handing him his phone and his coat.

Loki races to his car, calling Mobius, but it goes straight to voicemail. Loki drives way over the speed limit in his attempt to get to his boyfriend. Ten years. Ten years they’d been together, and now Loki can do what he’s been wanting to do from the beginning.

Loki parks and makes sure that he has everything, before racing into Mobius’s building. He gets five steps in, before crashing into someone, knocking them both over.

“Hey!” Loki accuses.

“Loki?”

“Mobius. You’re here! Did you see the news?” Loki asks, pulling them both up so they’re standing.

“Yes, Casey showed me! Can you believe it!” Loki nods, leading Mobius away from the center of the lobby.

“I- Mobius. We’ve been together for ten years. Those ten years have been some of the best ten years of my life and I’ve never been happier.” Loki lowers himself onto one knee. “I know this isn’t the best place to do this, but Mobius, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes!” Mobius cries. Loki stands up and slips the ring onto his finger. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

The Ruins of the TVA, outside of all Time and Space

“Are you sure you don’t want your memories back? You might have had a life, Mobius. A family!” Loki cries. He doesn’t want to give Mobius his memories back, he doesn’t want to lose the first friend he ever had, but if Mobius has family to go back to, who was he to stand in his way.

“Loki, I don’t need my memories. I have all the memories I need. They might not all be good, but they’re mine.”

“But-”

“I’m sure.” Mobius says. “Plus, I already have a family. Right here.” Mobius pokes Loki in the chest. “I have you, Sylvie, and B-15, and Casey. All the family I want.”

Loki hides a smile, and reaches out to grab Mobius’s hand. The former agent looks down in surprise, before interlocking their fingers.

“See. I don’t need anything else.” Mobius leans in and kisses Loki.

Green sparks flash, and images fly through Mobius’s head, of different time periods, of him and Loki, falling in love over and over again. They’re happy.

Mobius pulls away.

“I’m so sorry, I know you said you didn’t want to see anything but I can’t really contr-” Mobius kisses Loki again, wrapping his arms around Loki’s waist.

“I love you. I always will.”

“I love you too.”

#val writes #lokius #mischief twins #loki #mobius m mobius #loki x mobius

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gohyuck · 4 years ago

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concept: vietnam veteran!jeno lee x bartender!reader

warning: if i ever write this you can bet it will be pretty critical of the war, and will likely include mentions of ptsd, alcoholism, maybe smut? but maybe not, etc.

note: jeno being korean is definitely capitalized upon here for story-related reasons, but this does not mean anything about the reader’s race or ethnicity or anything. if i end up writing this fic it’ll take a ton of research, too (source: i read like 5 articles alone for this short blurb, from korean immigration to the u.s. to popular vodka in the 70s)

the year is 1973. it is january 27th, 1973, and you’re in southern texas bartending when president nixon announces that he has signed the paris peace accords. the u.s. is pretty much officially out of the war. you throw a washcloth over your shoulder and put away newly scrubbed out shot-glasses as the elated disk jockey stumbles over his words while speaking. he’s old. there are few young men on the radio. there are few young men anywhere. the boys are coming home, the aged voice crackles over the radio.

the shot glass in your hand slips, centimeters away from the shelf. it shatters. you’ll have to get the dustpan. there’s a new gash across your big toe, bleeding bright red. you need to start wearing tennis shoes on the job. you reach over and turn off the radio. the boys never should have had to leave.

that night, you serve more cheering, excited, hopeful people than you have served in a long, long time. shouts of ‘more’, cries of ‘he’s coming back, he’s coming home!’ permeate the air around you. it’s nauseating. it’s so nauseating. you spend the next morning mopping up other people’s puke from the establishment corners. you spend the next night bent over the toilet in your cramped apartment yourself.

the year is 1975. it is april 23rd, 1975, and you’re still in southern texas bartending, mostly because you have no way to leave the state. if you have to be in texas, it’ll always be austin. besides, you’ve gotten used to the steady stream of regulars that pass through, with the occasional new face that never returns. tourists. you love and hate them. some have stories to tell, and those are the good ones. some expect stories from you, and you can’t stand people like that. it’s no matter, though, not on april 23rd, 1975. you don’t meet any tourists then.

you meet him. and he’s peculiar, right off the bat.

you know he isn’t new in town - that much is obvious - but he isn’t quite used to what austin is becoming, either. a vet. has to be. you’ve served vets before, of course you have, but something about this one...

he’s so damn young. can’t be over a few years older than you are, if that. you shouldn’t be surprised, of course you shouldn’t: you’d done your fair share of protesting back in ‘68, tagging alongside your older cousins as they’d marched, screaming at the top of their lungs about being old enough to die but not old enough to vote. you must have been in middle school, then. they sent the boys off to die anyways.

he comes in midday, right after the lunch break locals have left. the place is almost empty, and your feet are absolutely aching from the recent rush, but he looks just a little lost (and you’d be one hell of a liar if you don’t admit that you quite like the way he looks) and, before you know it, you’re calling him over from the front door.

“sit up here at the bar, sir,” you give him the best customer service smile you can muster. “it’s the best way to experience good old southern hospitality.”

he says nothing, only lets his eyes bore into yours. after a moment too long, he nods slowly, shucking his light jacket off and leaving it on the coat rack at the entrance. his black hair is getting just a little long, covering his eyes almost entirely, and you realize that he probably hasn’t had a haircut in a while. his steps to the bar are slow, deliberate, but you don’t mind waiting for him.

“just vodka,” he says, voice soft and lilting and very, very slightly accented. it’s low, deep and likely once full of life, but he’s reserved now. subdued. it might be because of the fact that, by now, it’s only the two of you left in the joint. “two shots.”

“a name? for the tab or for payment.” you ask, though you really don’t need to. not now, anyways. he’s just gotten here. still, you don’t know how drunk he’s going to get, so maybe it’s best that you ask now, and not later. you ignore the fact that you’re only asking simply because you want to know.

“jeno lee.” his response is curt, emotionless. his dark eyes meet yours again. he’s korean, and you have to admit that you don’t meet very many korean people in your part of the world. the immigration act had only been enacted back in ‘65, and, even then, most people traveling in ended up in california or new york. not texas. never texas. explains the accent, too. not a hint of texan in it.

you grab two shot glasses from behind you with one hand, procuring a bottle of wolfschmidt in the other. mr. jeno lee offers you the tiniest hint of a smile once you’re done pouring, and that’s that. before you can ask him anything else - though you don’t know if he even wants you to do so - a regular walks in through the door, and you busy yourself with finding the whiskey she likes.

once you’ve served her, you turn around to ask your intriguing new customer if he’d like anything else, water perhaps, only to find two empty glasses and a few crumpled up dollar bills on the counter. there’s a nickel in the otherwise empty tip jar. there are no other traces of the quiet, handsome stranger, and you can’t help but feel as if you’ll never see him again. you aren’t quite sure why the thought fills you with an unexplainable sadness.

it’s no matter. you push it aside. you don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you. hell, he doesn’t even know your name. by the time the after dinner rush hits and all the men come in from the nearby strip clubs, you’re already over jeno lee and the great big nothing you know of him. you wipe down the counters, mop and dust the floors as needed, clean the glasses, greet the bartender who has the shift after yours, and finally get off your goddamn feet once you get home. you don’t think of him once. out of sight, out of mind.

that’s why it’s so much more shocking when he comes in at the exact same time on april 24th, 1975, and orders the exact same thing.

explaining the concepts tag: these are ideas i’ve had that i’m considering turning into fics! i post them under concepts to get y’alls opinions. let me know if you want to see this as a fic someday!

#first #five #tags #might not #work #jeno #jeno lee #jeno x reader #conceps #jeno scenario #jeno scenarios #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno smut #nct dream #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #thats all folks ig

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 4 years ago

Text

Burn- Steve Rogers x Reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst, cheating, lots of Hamilton references

A/N: this is heavily inspired by Hamilton’s Burn with a couple additions from other songs, so there are a few lyrics in there

I could barely remember the past few days. Just a few days ago I was having a great visit back to England to visit my parents after a not seeing them for well over a year.

We had just come back from a walk in the woods when I saw the newspaper lying on the table, its headline staring back at me like a slap in the face. My hands tremble as I pick it up and read it, ‘Captain America: Modern Day Reynolds Pamphlet’. I pull a chair out and my legs give out as I sit down and read the rest of the article.

Captain America: America’s golden boy? Or This Century’s Alexander Hamilton? Rumours had been swirling in the top secret circles that Captain America had been secretly selling information to militant groups, undermining the work of the Avengers, MI5, CIA and SHIELD. However in a statement released from Rogers yesterday evening, he refuted these rumours by admitting to having an affair with Ms Reynolds. Rogers has admitted that files missing from Avengers and SHIELD databases were at Ms Reynolds apartment in New York, where he had been working on them while staying there. However he also admitted to amorous connections with Ms Reynolds within his own house while he wife was out of town visit family and friends. Captain America is no longer the sparking hero we once knew. By admitting this Captain America has ruined his own life, we can only feel sorry for his poor wife.

I made my way back to New York that evening relieved to find the house me and steve shared empty.

I hear a knock on the door, I take a deep breath preparing myself to face steve. I was relieved to find Natasha stood on the other side of the door. Every tear I had been holding back falls and she pulls me in for a hug promising me that if steve came anywhere near me she’d kill him.

“I don’t get how he could have done this” I cry wiping away the tears as we sit down on the couch.

“He’s a soldier, they do what it take to survive, unfortunately you married an Icarus who flew to close to the sun” she tells me rubbing my back soothingly.

“I need to get out of here, I can’t stay here” I say looking around at all the memories me and steve made in this house. Photos of happier simpler times like at the Christmas party when we first met.

“I’ll help, keep an eye out too” she tells me nodding over to the door.

“thank you” I say voice barely above a whisper as I head upstairs to pack a bag.

As I packed up everything in our bedroom I headed back downstairs to grab a few of my belongings. Nat had lit the fire warming up the house making a cold situation seem a bit warmer.

I opened a draw finding my most prized precession. When me and steve started dating I was back and forth from England so steve wrote me letters. We knew it was old fashioned but it was so romantic and seeing a letter arrive almost everyday was exciting and was the best part of my day. I sit down on the couch and start reading through them all, I knew it was a bad idea but I couldn’t help it.

I was helpless, he had such a way with words, it was like he was building me palaces out of paragraphs and cathedrals. When I read them I remembered the moment I knew he was mine, or at least I thought he was mine. My breathing become ragged as I flip through them looking for any kind of sign or answer as to why he would do this. I hear a car pull up outside and nat yelling at steve, telling him he’d inventing a new kind of stupid, something he could never undo.

I squeeze my eyes shut trying to stop the tears from falling when I hear the door open and him say my name. I feel his hand on my shoulder and I shrug it off standing up and stepping away from him.

“how could you, you said you were mine” I mutter words filled with venom as I glare over at him holding up his letters.

He looks back over at me eyes filled with regret as he looked over at me pleadingly.

“you published everything, without even speaking to me first, don’t you think I deserved a heads up?” I scream tears falling down my cheeks.

“I didn’t know how—” he starts taking a step closer to me but I take a step back.

“of course you didn’t because you’re a coward! I read it all, how you invited her here into our bed! You’ve ruined everything!” I screech “you’re obsessed with being the good guy that you would rather be an adulterer than a mole! Your statement was filled with senseless sentences making you seem paranoid, God how do they perceive you!” I say storming over and poking him harshly in the chest pushing him backwards.

My phone begins to ring and I see yet another unknown number calling me, another paper trying to get my response. “its barely been 24 hours and I’ve had thousands of calls asking me for my reaction” I sigh throwing my phone to the side.

I shake my head the letters catching my eye “but I’m erasing myself from this narrative, let everyone wonder how I reacted when you broke my heart” I say looking back over at him before turning and grabbing all his letters.

“you’ve torn this all apart so I’m making it burn” I spit gesturing around before chucking the letters in the fire.

Steve surges forward to try and save the letters, put I push him back with every word “the world has no right to my heart, no right to our bed so they don’t get to know what I said! I’ll burn the memories and the letters that might have redeemed you!” I scream pushing him back repeatedly.

“you’ve forfeited the right to my heart! The place in our bed, go sleep in your office instead with only the memories on when you were mine” I yell grabbing my bag and storming over to the front door.

“(Y/N)” steve mutters grabbing my arm trying to stop me.

“I hope that you burn” I sneer giving him one last look before pulling my arm from his grasp and slamming the door behind me.

I see nat sat in the car waiting for me, I quickly get in the tear falling as nat drove away. My hand falls to my stomach knowing that when the times comes, I’ll have to explain the pain and embarrassment steve put me through, because he didn’t learn that me and his child was his legacy.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #marvel #hamilton #fanfic

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moonknightly · 4 years ago

Text

and you keep me holding on : santiago “pope” garcia x reader (three)

Word Count: 5.5k+

Excerpt: “Had he told her? When she was leaving his office that night, had Santi told her how much he loved her?”

Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, mentions of blood, cursing, guns, uhhh that should be it?

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER 19TH - DAY THREE

Two days pass with absolutely nothing. Santi’s boss has given him strict orders to stay as far away from work as possible, and he actually decides to listen for a change. He knows he would be useless to his co-workers in his current state.

Cameron refuses to let him anywhere near the precinct either, saying it’ll only add to his stress. He knows she’s right, but part of him still wishes he could be there, just so he can sit right by the phone and be the first to know if she’d been found, but he doubts that Cameron would budge on the matter. He still begged her to call him if she heard anything at all though, and she’d promised she would.

It’s not a promise Santiago is taking lightly.

He’s hardly left Jay’s couch since arriving back in New York from Princeton. He only gets up when it’s absolutely necessary, and even then, it’s only for a minute or two at a time. He hasn’t combed his hair, has only brushed his teeth once. His drive and motivation are just completely lacking without her.

He’s been wearing the same set of sweats from the moment he was able to change out of his blood soaked clothes. He has no idea what Jay’s done with them, but he hopes they were put in the trash and not sitting at the bottom of the washing machine. He never wants to see those damn pants ever again, or the shirt for that matter. He’d been contemplating setting both articles of clothing on fire, but he was positive that Jay wouldn’t appreciate the smoke and ash filling his apartment, setting the fire alarm off and disturbing his neighbors.

But fuck, had he wanted to watch them burn.

The news of her disappearance spread rapidly, and Pope still doesn’t know if he’s thankful for the attention or if the coverage only continued to add to his rage and unease. He figures that he’s allowed to feel both.

Cameron had spoken at a press conference in the early morning following their trip to Princeton, and there had been an article printed on the front page of several newspapers. They’d used a fairly recent photo of her, one that was taken while she was dressed out in her scrubs. Santi was actually in it as well, though they’d cropped him out of course.

It had been one of his favorite pictures of the two of them together, but now it just makes his stomach sick every single time it flashes across the TV screen.

Her parents had been notified just prior to the press conference. Santi hadn’t been the one to make the phone call, and while he felt some sort of guilt over it, he was also glad he hadn’t had to face them yet — he’s not ready for her mother’s tears or her father’s icecold glare and sharp words. He knows they’re going to blame him for not protecting her properly, for not doing what was supposed to be his one job when it came to her, just as he was blaming himself.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to face them.

He doesn’t even know how to face his own parents.

His mother calls him at least once an hour, and each time he lets it go to voicemail. He has 41 missed calls and almost twice as many unopened texts, but he never fails to check who they’re from, jumping to his feet and snatching his phone from wherever it lay each time a new one came through, just in case it’s an unknown number that might be her or even Nathan.

But it only continues to be his mom and sometimes the boys, though they’re trying their best to give him the space they know he needs.

He doesn’t think he needs space.

Santi starts to have second thoughts about staying away from work. The later the day drags on, the more and more anxious he feels.

The more and more useless.

He needs to do something other than just sitting there, watching TV and waiting for the phone to ring once again.

He’s better than this, worth more than this. If he could only work on his own or with the boys even, he was sure they’d be ten steps closer to finding her. He knows it and he can’t stand playing by the damn rules but his emotions are still running too high and he doesn’t even know where to begin.

All Santi knows is that he can’t fucking sit there and do nothing anymore.

He throws the blanket off of his legs and stands from the couch, immediately going to the bag he’d brought from the apartment, pulling out a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt. It’s obvious that his shirt hadn’t been properly folded, but he has his bullet proof vest to throw on over the wrinkled garment, not that he really cares and not that it really matters.

He’s out the door within ten minutes.

Parker is the first to see Santi enter the precinct. She’s sitting at one of the tables in the corner, idly talking with Cameron about a case from several years ago and she can’t help the sigh and the not-so-subtle shake of her head that follows upon seeing him walk towards them.

“I thought you told Garcia that he couldn’t be here.”

“I did.”

She doesn’t have to turn around to know that Santi’s approaching, and she still doesn’t turn around even when she senses him come to a stop directly behind her, just a few feet away.

“But you and I both know how well he tends to follow directions.”

“Yeah,” Parker scoffs, shaking her head once again and folding her arms across her chest.

Cameron finally turns in her chair, facing Santi after several long seconds. She feels a twinge in her chest as she takes in his dejected expression and tired eyes. He looks rough, and so so worried but that’s all to be expected. She swallows the lump in her throat and wills her own nerves to settle, giving her full attention to Santi.

“What are you doing here Pope?”

“Do you know how fuckin’ awful daytime television is?”

“What, Judge Judy not doing it for you?” Parker jokes, a smirk plastered across her face as she leans further back into her chair.

Santi cracks a small smile, his first one in days, though it’s nowhere near genuine. It’s so extremely forced, his cheeks ache with the effort even. He shuffles his feet gently, glancing at his shoes briefly before he looks back up to Cameron.

“I just can’t sit on Jay’s couch anymore. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Cameron nods her head in understanding. She can’t count how many times she’s sat at home, her mind captivated by a case that she wanted nothing more than to work on for every second of the day. She tries to relate her own experience to what Santi must be feeling, but she still can’t imagine what he must be going through, as the case involves his wife and not just a random victim. She would be so far gone had she been in his shoes.

“You know,” she starts, trying to think of the best possible way to word her sentence. “You’re her husband first, before anything else you’re her partner Santiago. You really don’t need to be her detective too.” She refrains from reminding him that technically, he’s not even officially on the case. “We can handle this, Pope. You’re allowed to take the time to grieve.”

“I don’t want to grieve,” he mumbles under his breath, almost inaudibly. He sounds so completely unlike himself. Cameron begins to speak again, but he interrupts her with a shake of his head. “Not yet.”

Cameron knows it’s not the time to talk about statistics and probability. She knows Santi doesn’t need to be reminded of her chances and Cameron’s not even really paying attention to the numbers herself because this is her they’re talking about. It’s far too close to home.

They’ve definitely recovered missing persons who had been gone for much, much longer.

So she only nods her head slowly, giving Santi a soft, gentle smile. “How would you feel about doing some paperwork for me then? There’s still some notes on my desk that need to be entered in.”

She knows it would be better to give him some sort of work — something to distract his mind so he’s not just sitting there, only further losing himself to worry and panic. Santi seems to feel the same way because he nods without question, not complaining or groaning in protest like he used to whenever she’d ask him to do her paperwork.

“I can do that.”

Santi walks off without another word, sitting himself behind Cameron’s desk, trying to drown himself in busy work. He just needs to turn his brain off, put it on something else for a while.

And it works, kind of. At least, he thinks it does, but Cameron can’t help but frown at the haunted look that lingers in Santi’s eyes, still so noticeable even from across the room. Parker sighs quietly, looking between her lieutenant and Pope.

“You sure this is a good idea?”

She doesn’t know what to tell her, because no, she’s not sure. She’s not sure at fucking all.

Part of her think that he needs to take a step back and stay away, but a larger part of her doesn’t think having him cooped up in an apartment with only his thoughts to keep him company is a good idea either.

At least this way, he isn’t alone and they can keep an eye on him. Make sure that he wasn’t doing anything irrational, make sure he’s taking care of himself, drinking water and eating.

And so, she’s honest.

“I don’t know.”

Parker only nods, her stance on the situation exactly the same. It’s a hard position to be in, no doubt, having to decide whether you’re going to act as a friend or a person of authority.

Nothing else is said between the pair, and the day drags on slowly, though no one is complaining. Slow is a nice change, especially given the added stress they’re all under. Jay returns to the precinct from interviewing some of Nathan’s old co-workers sometime in the early afternoon, instantly noticing Santi sitting at Cameron’s desk, though after one look towards his Lieutenant, he decides not to say anything.

It was just before three o’clock when Santi is broken from an almost trance-like state. He’s been so focused on typing up report after report he’s hardly noticed the world around him in the time that’s passed. He isn’t even entirely sure what pulled his attention away until he feels his Apple watch buzz against his wrist.

He rolls his eyes, only slightly annoyed at the interruption. A sigh leaves his lips as he raises his watch to see who’d decided to text him — it was probably just his mother or maybe Frankie, trying to get in touch with him again, asking how-

Santi feels his blood run cold the moment the display of his watch comes up, because the name that flashes across the screen definitely isn’t his mother’s.

The name that flashed across the screen reads “Mi Vida”, or “My Life” from Spanish to English.

It’s her. Or, it’s at least her Apple watch. Her cell phone is still at the apartment, but Santi had completely forgotten about her watch.

He quickly shakes the shock away, blinking several times as her name fades away and the actual message comes onto the screen. It’s a picture, one Santi couldn’t see very well because of the small screen and he lets out a loud curse, not caring about the stares he receives in return, hastily digging his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and pulling up the text thread in a matter of seconds.

Santi’s stomach drops. His face turns pale and he feels the need to vomit yet again, though his stomach still doesn’t have much of anything to offer.

Jay hears Santi’s outburst and promptly makes his way over to the desk. Santi hears him ask what's wrong, but he can’t form the words, can’t make himself say anything. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t know how to. His entire focus is on his phone, on the picture in his hands. Because she’s in it, but it isn’t a happy picture — not one that he would normally sit back and admire with a soft smile and even softer eyes.

She’s in it, but she’s tied up, legs and arms bound with a gag in place. There’s an obvious cut in her eyebrow, no doubt from the broken shards of glass of their once bathroom mirror. It looks as if her hands are tied to a bed frame or a pole of some kind — Santi can’t tell, doesn’t care enough about that aspect of the photo, no.

No, he’s much more focused on her face, on the terror that is so evident and haunting he’s sure that he’ll see the same image every time he closes his eyes for the rest of his life. She looks so scared, so terrified, and Santi feels his heart shatter even further, and his own fear grips him tight and refuses to let go, doesn’t allow him to move even a muscle.

He still holds completely still even after Jay yanks the phone from his grasp, still stares into thin air at where the phone had been. Jay looks at him, concern etched all over his face until he looks at the screen, suddenly understanding the horror that’s taken over his friend.

“Cameron!” Jay calls out, the panic evident in his voice, his feet not daring to move. He feels stuck in place.

Santi still doesn’t move, he can’t move, doesn’t want to move because he feels as if he might faint but Cameron is the exact opposite, rushing over with Parker right behind.

Jay holds the phone out to her with shaky hands, but reels back when he feels it vibrate again.

Another message comes through from her watch. She, or rather Nathan, started sharing their current location — somewhere in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Santi hears the buzz, and promptly snatches the phone from Jay, looking at it for a moment before Cameron does the same to him.

She stands silent for several seconds. Part of her feels like it’s a trap, a set up to lure them off-course. It’s just too easy, it’s never that easy. There’s something entirely off about it, and the nerves in her stomach pick back up at a rapid speed.

But she can’t just ignore it because her instinct is off. It was too large of a lead to be ignored.

“Jay, call down to Allentown. Have them set up roadblocks on all routes out. Parker, start calling the surrounding towns and have them do the same. No one approaches Nathan until we’re there.”

They both fall into action immediately, doing as they’re asked, but Santi continues to sit quietly in his chair, eyes void of any and all emotion.

Cameron leans over him, pulling the chair back so he rolls a few feet away from the desk.

“Come on, Santiago,” she says gently, clasping her hand on his shoulder, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

Santi stands without a word, taking his vest off the back of the chair, putting it on slowly, slower than Cameron has ever seen him. She watches him closely, her heart sinking as she does so, as she thinks about so many different outcomes and possibilities.

If they don’t find her, she doesn’t know what will happen to Santi. What Pope will do, who he’ll become in the midst of his grief.

She isn’t ready to lose both Garcia’s

The drive to Allentown is even more agonizing than the drive to Princeton. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours. The wait and uncertainty of it all is killing everyone, and the butterflies in the pits of their stomachs are buzzing around in a crazy sort of frenzy, though they’re by no means good or even tolerable butterflies. They so desperately want this lead to bring something promising, but the doubt still looms over their minds, causing nothing but anxiety and unwelcome thoughts.

Santi is leaning against the cool window of the squad car. Cameron’s driving, her knuckles white as she tightly grips the steering wheel. Every few seconds, she’ll glance over at him, just to check on him, though she doesn’t expect any change. He hasn’t moved since they left the city, hasn’t said a word and still she feels the need to just keep checking. Keep monitoring.

Santi watches the trees pass by in a blur. The last time he’d been to Pennsylvania, he’d been with her, when she wanted to take a weekend trip down to State College to show him around PSU, where she’d gone to school to earn her nursing degree. She’d taken him all around campus, even introducing him to her favorite professor. They went to eat at her favorite restaurants, she drove him past the house she had spent her senior year in. They had even caught the game that weekend against the University of Michigan.

It’d been such a fun weekend, but even the memory of it couldn’t bring a smile to Santi’s face. None of their memories together seem to trigger anything in that moment and he’s been flipping through them all, searching for one that doesn’t make him want to cry.

He thinks about all of the different trips they’d taken together, he thinks about their lazy Sunday mornings spent between the sheets, the stolen kisses and the sweet nothings whispered into each other’s ears — words spoken with so much conviction and love and trust. He thinks of the late night Netflix binges and the endless amount of family dinners her mother invited them to. Even the memory of their wedding makes Santi want to break down and sob, but he figures that to be the fact that their two year wedding anniversary is quickly approaching and he doesn’t know whether or not he would be spending it alone.

He thinks back to the first day they’d met, when the DEA had been working with the NYPD on a bust and he’d gone to interview a victim at the hospital. All it took was one look at her and he knew that he was a goner. Her confidence and her beauty had completely knocked the breath from his lungs, and he remembers feeling absolutely floored when he’d witnessed her interact with a patient for the first time.

He’d asked her on their first date three months later, after taking every chance he could find to visit the hospital. He expected her to be hesitant but she had accepted almost immediately, taking him by surprise but making him oh so happy at the same time. When he had asked her why, months after the fact, she had simply answered by saying “because I knew I was going to marry you the first moment I saw you.”

Santi had known the same, if he was being completely honest, and so he proposed after only nine months, and they married fourteen after that. He’d never pictured himself proposing to someone after such little time, really he never imagined getting married at all, but it had just felt right with her.

Everything with her just feels so absolutely right. He doesn’t want to think about what the last four years of his life would have been like if he didn’t know her.

And of course he can’t imagine going forward without her, either. Can’t imagine waking up for the rest of his life without her by his side, can’t imagine not being able to hear her laugh ever again, or being able to tell her he loves her.

Had he told her? When she was leaving his office that night, had Santi told her how much he loved her? Had he given her a kiss goodbye? Or had he been too preoccupied with the mountain of work that had been covering his desk?

He can’t remember.

He’s almost sure that he had, but he can’t help but second guess himself because he knows how easily distracted he can become.

There’s a new wave of guilt that comes washing over him, and he can’t help but feel so conflicted. He had tried to do something nice by letting her go home when she had been trying so hard to stay and wait for him. He knew she had been exhausted, but if he had just been a little selfish, if he had just let her stay with him then she might still be here. They would’ve entered their apartment together and there was absolutely no way in hell Santi would’ve let Nathan walk out with her.

He starts thinking about all of the times he had sent her home alone before, and how many opportunities that meant Nathan would have had to take her.

He quickly shoves the thought away after feeling his head begin to spin. Santi swallows the lump in his throat and gently shuts his eyes, trying to make himself think about anything else.

He doesn’t open them again until they arrive in Allentown thirty minutes later.

They flip their lights on just after they cross city limits, but keep their sirens turned off, a few Allentown PD cars merging behind them as they pass the roadblock. Cameron is following closely behind Parker, who leads the way in the other squad car. Jay had taken Santi’s phone before they left the precinct, and Santi had protested of course, but they all knew what would have happened had Santi kept it. He wouldn’t have looked away from it, not that Jay had been any better himself, but no one thought it was smart to let Santi suffer through the car ride with it in his hand, staring at a map and praying that the location didn’t go out.

Her watch has been sitting in the same location for the last forty five minutes — just outside of a book shop in the center of town. Jay has a bad feeling about the entire situation; a feeling he can only describe as somewhere between doubt and apprehension. He knows that if it had been her and only her, she would’ve gone straight to the Police Department or the hospital. She would have called for help, would have texted Santi, something. He knows there’s something wrong, something off.

“Pull off into this parking lot here,” Jay instructs when they’re only two blocks away.

Parker does as she’s told before coming to an abrupt stop, throwing the car into park and hastily climbing out.

Santi is already out of the other car by then, he’d thrown his door open before they were even completely stopped, but Cameron had done the same.

The squad wordlessly gathers into a small circle, all securing their vests and pulling their guns from their holsters, though they keep the safety on as standard protocol. The Allentown officers follow suit, and wait for instruction from Cameron.

She glances at each of her squad members, her eyes lingering on Santi for the longest. They’re all looking at her, all except for him.

He’s instead staring at the ground, jaw clenched and mouth set in a thin, straight line. His eyes are darker than their normal chocolate shade, and Cameron doesn’t like what she sees when she looks into them. There’s a certain sort of determination swimming in his irises — hollow and cold, calculated and oh so sure all at the same time.

She can tell with just one look that he’s plotting something.

That he’s thinking about what he’s willing to do in order to get her back, what he’s willing to give up. She can tell that he’s made up his mind, that he’ll do and risk anything to save her, and that even then, having her back might not be good enough.

“Pope,” she murmurs gently, almost flinching when his eyes met hers with a glare she knows isn’t truly directed at her. “You don’t have to do this. You can stay here, in the car.”

Santiago scoffs gently, shaking his head and biting the inside of his cheek. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I know what you’re thinking. I know what you’re planning. And Pope, if you do it, you’re going to lose a piece of yourself that you can never get back-”

“I can lose everything!” he snaps, voice raised, the anger and the pain oh so evident in both his tone and the expression written across his face. It makes some of the Allentown officers take a step back, but the squad doesn’t even flinch.

“I can lose fuckin’ everything but I can’t lose her.”

Cameron is silent, but she still holds his eye contact, still stands her ground. Santi is the first to look away, lip quivering slightly though he quickly sucks in a shaky breath to play it off, pushing his emotions down, down, down.

“God, not her.”

The anger quickly fades and is swiftly replaced by sadness and grief, the sudden change jarring for everyone. Cameron feels a pang in her chest as she watches him attempt to hold himself together — Santi has never been good at hiding his anger, but this is different from every other time he’s let his temper show around the squad.

It’s different and it makes her nod her head and gently clasp him on his shoulder.

“We’ll find her, and then I promise you, Nathan will get what he deserves.”

Santi sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently as he nods himself, still refusing to actually look towards Cameron. Part of him feels ashamed for the thoughts running through his head, but a larger part of him, the part he’s given into more than once in his time with the military and in law enforcement, didn’t care.

A larger part of him wants nothing more than to watch Nathan suffer.

Cameron waits a few more seconds before giving the squad the order to move, the Allentown officers following closely behind. Jay decides to put himself in front of Santi, and they all quickly make their way towards the book shop, guns drawn and aimed at the ground.

Santi’s the only one with the safety already switched off.

Cameron is several steps ahead, and rounds the corner before anyone else.

She instantly feels the dejection settle in the pit of her stomach, but she’d been expecting it.

She isn’t there, and neither is Nathan. The only person on the street is a teenage boy, looking down and fumbling with something in his hand that looked a lot like-

She stopped in her tracks, a scoff falling from her lips. Jay comes up behind her just a second later, followed directly by Santi.

“Jay, you’re positive we’re in the right spot?”

Jay glances towards the phone that is still in his hand, nodding his head as he double checks, triple checks. “Yeah, I’m sure. The signal is coming from right over there.”

Cameron nods towards the young boy, her shoulders sagging with the words that followed.

“We’ve been played.”

All of the hope anyone had been holding onto quickly fades. The atmosphere surrounding the squad turns heavy instantly, but Santi only feels a fire ignite deep in his chest, twisting his veins, taking over his every thought.

Santi pushes past Jay and Cameron, not bothering to listen as they both call his name, asking him to just hold on for a second and to just let them handle it.

The boy doesn’t look up until Santi snatches the watch away from him, gripping it tightly in his fist before using his other hand to grab the front of the kid’s shirt, effortlessly hoisting him off of the bench.

“Hey, what the hell man-”

“Where did you get this?” Santi questions, voice sharp, caustic, venom dripping from his tongue.

The boy’s eyes widen, and he holds his hands up in surrender once seeing the fury on Santi’s face, shaking his head frantically as he fumbles with his words. “I don’t-”

Santi’s fist tightens around the fabric of his shirt, and he knows what he’s doing is wrong, he shouldn’t be manhandling a young teenage boy but he’s positively seething and all he can see is red and why the fuck did this kid have her fucking watch?

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Where did you get the watch?”

“Pope!” Cameron yells from just behind him, though he didn’t turn the face her, his eyes staying focused on the boy. “Santiago, that’s enough.”

He can’t stop, can’t make himself even if he had wanted to. Not until he gets an answer.

All of the control he has left is completely gone, vanished the moment he realized she isn’t here.

She isn’t there she isn’t here she isn’t-

“Where!?” Santi yells into the boy’s face, completely ignoring Cameron’s command.

“Some guy gave it to me! He said all I had to do was sit here for a little while and that it was mine to keep and-”

“What did he look like?”

“He had brown hair and I...I don’t know man, just let me go!”

“Was there a girl with him?”

The boy looks confused now, eyebrows furrowing and lips turning into a deep frown. “What-”

Santi shakes the boy violently, only once, just enough to scare him. “A girl, was there a girl-”

“No! No, I didn’t see any girl!”

Santi feels his heart sink even deeper into his chest. He only stares for a few seconds longer, the full weight of what he’s just done to a young kid finally settling in just as his sorrow started to outweigh the anger once more. Pope looks down at his feet as he quietly mumbles something that sounded like an apology before letting go of the boy’s shirt, turning on his heel and briskly walking away, but not before Cameron stops him.

“Santiago, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he mumbles, shrugging her off, desperately wanting to put some distance between him and everyone else, continuing to walk away, shoving his wife’s watch into his pocket as he does so.

Cameron calls out to him again, but just like every other time over the course of the past few days, he doesn’t listen.

As he makes his way back to the car, quickly walking past the squad and the other officers, Santi feels the anger flood into his body once again. He feels it settle between his ribs and make a home where so much love had once lived, where so much hope had been only moments before.

The constant back and forth is giving him whiplash.

Cameron still continues to follow him, still continues to call out his name but she really doesn’t think that he’ll stop, and she’s just about to give up when Santi whirls around with his gun still in his hand, though it isn’t aimed towards her. It isn’t aimed at anything, really.

The look in Santi’s eyes is even colder than before, if that’s even at all possible. Cameron feels fear prick at her skin, her hair standing on edge and her blood turning to ice. All she can do is take in his every movement and wait for a moment where she’s forced to intervene. Santi lifts his arms up, and for just a split second she thinks that he’s going to place the muzzle of the gun to his temple but he only lets the barrel rest against his skin, eyes falling shut.

Cameron still doesn’t like the fact that his finger is hovering near the trigger.

She cautiously approaches, making sure not to walk too fast, not wanting to scare him and cause him to panic. She reaches her own hand up and gently puts it overtop of Santi’s before slowly pulling the gun from his grasp.

His eyes snap open, and there’s absolutely no denying it. Not with eyes so dark and harsh and so devoid of emotion. Eyes that are almost dead.

Santiago is out for revenge. Out for blood.

He’s over this game of cat and mouse, he’s over chasing Nathan.

He’s over being toyed with.

Cameron is done watching her friend lose his mind.

And so, not caring about the anger from the entire squad that her decision will bring, she makes the only call she can think of. One she should have made at the very beginning.

One that will hopefully keep her from losing anyone else.

“I’m turning her case over. We’re done.”

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic

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perfectlymarilynmonroe · 4 years ago

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Hey babe, I had a q about your last photo caption. The bit about Marilyn refusing to be a kept woman is somewhat misleading to me- didn't she live with Johnny Hyde for a time, and didn't his influence grant her favorable notice during casting for films like The Asphalt Jungle? Maybe I'm not remembering correctly, but I don't think their relationship was precisely sexual even if he clearly doted on her for a time. Obvi she got further on her own merit, but I do think that's an oft unexplored moment in her life that was definitely instrumental because of her choice to link up with him. Just wondering about your thoughts on this! Love the blog <3

Hi! Thank you for your sweet comments about my blog :) Sorry for the delay in response, but I wanted to give a thorough response to this. I’ve actually received a couple of comments on Instagram lately regarding this, and I don’t mind addressing this confusion.

*Disclaimer to everyone reading: This is based on the research I have done and is to address a number of issues. This isn’t to glorify Marilyn or deny any flaws or imperfections, but to state the facts. I’m publicly sharing this so I can later refer back to it. It’s a longer response to answer any follow-up questions I may get but, of course, you can still ask any you may have. ♡♡

It can be deceiving, but I think the bigger concern is what she took for what she got, rather than vise versa. If she was looking to be a gold-digging, role-stealing actress, she would have married Hyde the minute he asked her to. She would have inherited his millions and could have bought her way through Hollywood. For a young woman with hardly anything, she chose herself and said no.

Just before she met him, she was getting help from John Carroll and Lucille Ryman, so when she said, Johnny was the first to believe in her, that isn’t entirely true. Due to her lack of a father-figure as a child I think that when she saw the belief in her from a man like Johnny, at a reputable agency, who was willing to do anything for her, she latched on to it.

Hyde’s co-workers at William Morris later reported being furious with him because he slowly began to abandon his other clients and focused only on helping her. In the case of The Asphalt Jungle, since you asked, it was actually the help of both Hyde and Lucille Ryman that she was given an audition. However, director John Huston later said she didn’t get the “role because of Hyde...she got it because she was damn good.”

In my personal opinion, based on the facts, whether did not sleep with Johnny - some historians even refuse to believe they were ever sexually involved - it was never for roles, auditions, etc. As I mentioned, if it were, she would have married him, taken his money, and used that to her advantage. She actually stopped seeing him - both personally and professionally - by Fall 1949 because she was so sick and tired of being called, “Mrs. Johnny Hyde” by him and hearing from colleges that he was calling her his wife.

When it came to being a “kept” woman, she was referring to the large number of “casting directors” or studio execs, etc, who faked an upcoming film to lure her into their office and attempt to seduce her, or held their hand on her thigh while she auditioned, almost forced her, etc... and each time she managed to walk out.

She wrote an article entitled, “The Wolves I’ve Know” that was published in a number of places like Motion Picture in 1953, The New York Daily News, and more. When she met with Ben Hecht for her autobiography interviews, she also spoke of them and it was published in a London newspaper in August 1954, and in Australian magazines in 1955.

He did leave his family and move into a bigger place and invited her to live there, but she never officially moved in. She did spend quite a bit of her time there, but by early Spring she was living on her own and was very low on rent. This is why she posed nude on red velvet in May 1949. She admitted to thinking of asking men she knew for money to help her, but felt she wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself, and it made her sick to even think of it.

For everyone reading this, remember, she was twenty-three. She was still a very young girl and had grown up with little guidance in her life. She was abused, and was in and out of so many school and homes, she was never taught how to do things. She figured it out on her own, and of course, like anyone in that situation, maybe didn’t always make the best decisions or have the best thoughts.

I know this answer was very long, but I felt I needed to address a number of points because things are rarely black and white - especially for Marilyn Monroe, who is the subject of much scrutiny, then and now - and there are many things to consider in regards to a sensitive subject like this!

I hope I’m not missing anything, but I hope it answers your question! xo

Below is a list of various quotes said by Marilyn that I hope everyone will find helpful :)

From “The Wolves I’ve Known” published in The New York Times:

The first real wolf I encountered should have been ashamed of himself because he was trying to take advantage of a mere kid. That’s all I was and I wasn’t suspicious of him at all when he stopped his car at a corner and started to talk to me.

He looked at me all over and then came up with that famous line: “You ought to be in pictures.” That was the first time I’d ever heard it, so it didn’t sound corny to me.

He told me he had an office at the Goldwyn studio and said why didn’t I come and see him and he would get me a screen test. It sounded pretty good to me because I was crazy to get into the movies.

I was modeling at that time and I asked the people who ran the agency where I got my jobs what they thought of his offer. The manager called the studio but never was able to get in touch with my would-be benefactor. However, the wolf called the agency and I made an appointment to go to his office on Saturday afternoon.

I didn’t know then that the producers and other movie officials don’t make Saturday afternoon appointments. I found that out later. I also found out that he didn’t really have any connection with the Goldwyn studio but had borrowed a friend’s office.

He was fat and jovial and, of course, drove a Cadillac. He gave me a script to read and told me how to pose while reading it. All the poses had to be reclining, although the words I was reading didn’t seem to call for that position.

Of course, there are other ways a girl could survive until another studio came along. A starlet could take on a lover, usually a well-heeled married man who could pay her bills, or she could become the mistress to an old man and through his connections help advance her career. Believe me, there were and still are many starstruck girls that do get by that way. But for myself, respect is one of life’s greatest treasures. I mean, what does it all add up to if you don’t have that? If there [is] only one thing in my life I [am] proud of, it’s that I’ve never been a kept woman.

And believe me, it wasn’t because there weren’t opportunities to become one. I think I had as many problems as the next starlet keeping the Hollywood wolves from my door. These wolves just could not understand me. They would tell me, “But Marilyn, you’re not playing the game the way you should. Be smart. You’ll never get anywhere in this business acting the way you do.” My answer to them would be, “The only acting I’ll do is for the motion picture camera.” I was determined, no one was going to use me or my body—even if he could help my career. I’ve never gone out with a man I didn’t want to. No one, not even the studio, could force me to date someone.

You can’t sleep your way into being a star. It takes much, much more. But it helps. A lot of actresses got their first chance that way. Most of the men are such horrors, they deserve all they can get out of them!

The one thing I hate more than anything else is being used. I’ve always worked hard for the sake of someday becoming a talented actress. I knew I would make it someday if I only kept at it and worked hard without lowering my principles and pride in myself.

#ask #Johnny Hyde

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

Text

Queen Takes

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 1938

Summary:

With Beth home from Moscow, her friends gather to celebrate her achievement. One guest arrives late.

The colour of Kentucky feels like a trick after Moscow. Her blue home—her mother’s home—is a playhouse, not the American standard it’s masquerading as. Sure, Russia with its cold, with its blacks and browns across the walls of the hotel where she stayed and on the jackets of the old men in the park, is striving for a monopoly on drab stoicism, but Beth Harmon passed her early years in a trailer as silver as a bare tin can. You can find barrenness anywhere, even inside a person.

Across the coffee table, Jolene looks back at Beth like she knows what she’s thinking, those morbid thoughts. Beth can hear the smooth crack of her friend’s voice in her head. It’s… comforting, the sense that someone can simultaneously have no time and all the time in the world for her. Jolene’s eyes don’t tell her she’s a fool for taking so long to recognize love or a genius for refusing the draw (plus everything before and after)—they just say, nice dress. Subtly, Beth raises her Coke and inclines it towards her friend. Thanks.

Matt and Mike are keeping her living room balanced, one twin on either couch. Harry’s moving his hands with precision and intensity as he reiterates the brilliance of Beth’s endgame over Borgov, though Jolene is laughing at him, laughing in airy howls, because she has no interest in chess. Unlike Alma/Mrs. Wheatley/Mother, Jolene does not possess the patience to sit and listen while Beth unravels her win, move by move. How different is a friend from a sister, a sister from a mother, a mother from another mother again. This is fine. Beth, smiling, admires her guests and accepts that she has quite enough chess-lovers in her life.

There’s a knock at the door.

Jolene’s laugh cuts off like there should be a blade dangling in midair.

“Well,” she says to Beth, “go get him.”

“He’s worse than any of these three,” Beth warns with a smile, stalling and hopefully concealing the waver in her words, hands, and heartbeat.

“I’m anticipating a sanctimonious pain in the ass, and that’s just from the articles I read about you playing him.”

“You could’ve met him in New York,” Mike says as Beth gets a grip on herself and the couch, pushing up and striding with sudden purpose to the front door.

“Fight New York City traffic in my nice car? Just to sit in some dirty concrete basement? All of you talking nothing but chess?” She huffs a laugh from her nose. “Even when I was an orphan, I had better things to do than that.”

Beth’s heart is doing something painful and distracting in her chest and she misses any rejoinder the boys might have made, though she wouldn’t advise one. Very few people are so much their own person as Jolene is. Very few. Her hand is clammy on the knob as she takes hold and swings the door open. He doesn’t speak, and yet she hears, again, his voice down the long, long line, reaching her in her hotel room the night before the final. He doesn’t even smile.

“Benny,” Beth breathes, and collapses into him when he greets her with a startling kiss that captures the remainder of her oxygen. Her eyebrows raise when he pulls back. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

His gaze dips down to her dress and back to her face. Now, he smiles.

“I guess I’m playing white.”

She narrows her eyes.

“What happened to determining sides with an impartial method?”

“Don’t have any pieces on me to hide in my hands. You wouldn’t happen to have a board in the house, would you?”

Beth smiles again and holds the door wide to let Benny enter her home. She sees his car tucked against the curb out front. Likely, it contains his hat. His head is uncovered.

“And that was fair, by the way,” he whispers as she walks him into the living room. “When have you known me to skip a chance at making the first move?”

With the addition to the party, there are fresh drinks to be poured, trips to the bathroom to be taken, and things are shuffled around some until Jolene joins Beth on one couch, the twins and Benny opposite. He’s slung his leather jacket over the back of the couch and elects to sit forward. With his elbows braced on his thighs in this way and fingers intertwined in the space between, he could be contemplating one of their many games. But it’s her he looks at—staring straight across with a steadiness she can’t match in front of the others.

Jolene and Benny swap remarks, her judgements a strange and wonderful counter for the way he has always spoken in foregone conclusions. She calls him by his full name every time, just the way she told Beth she read it. As the afternoon stretches and Jolene’s career ambitions take their place in the conversation, Benny begins to call her ‘Esquire’. Beth looks on warily. Jolene breaks into a slow smile and nods her permission with a proud bob of her chin.

They bring out the cake she’s been pretending not to know about. Once, on a plane, she told her mother that a Houston tournament would take first place in her life’s Christmases; well, this feels like the best birthday she’s ever had and she doesn’t even have to age for it. Beth only cries at moments of excruciating frustration or when she is ambushed by emotion, no escape route of three moves prepared, so, naturally, the tears spill over.

“You. You did this,” Jolene insists, firm hold on her shoulders as she rocks Beth side to side on the couch.

Beth can only sniffle and smile down at the cake, chocolate, as Benny wields a knife (from a drawer in the kitchen) to slice uneven pieces. It’s heavenly. Despite high hopes of leftovers and sending each guest home with a slice, the six of them devour the cake. Harry chases the last crumbs around his plate, Matt groans and kicks his feet up on the table in search of relief for his overstuffed stomach, and Beth lies on the floor, raking her fork lazily through the icing before raising it to her lips and licking the tines clean. It’s only the pleasure of the day she means to extend with this exercise, but she can feel Benny’s eyes on her. Black makes its opening move.

She hugs each of her friends at the door as they drag themselves away. The alternative is to risk passing out across her chic living room set, and she hasn’t offered to let them stay. If any of them asked, she certainly would, but no one is at a loss for where they’ll be spending the night and they’re all—Beth knows—too aware of the car parked out front with the New York plates to want to intrude.

“You’re a queen,” Jolene says. She’s the final person to fold her into a hug. “You deserve this and more. And I bet,” she adds, dropping her voice so it’s just for Beth, not Benny, standing at the picture window and watching the boys drive away, “tonight’s going to feel even better than when you wiped Ohio with his skinny ass. Or whatever the hell happened between the two of you since then.”

Beth draws back, hands still on her friend’s waist, and gives her a look.

“Please,” Jolene begs, “it’s obvious. You’re World Champion and I am staring at the only thing Benny Watts wants to win.” She leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “This and more, Cocksucker.”

Laughing out loud, they break apart. Beth’s flushed as she waves from the doorway, arm making a wide sweep over her head, tears of gratitude welling up as her friend peels away. She dabs beneath her eyes with her fingers. She shuts the door. She flicks her eyes to Benny as she sidles around the little bit of wall separating the living room from the front room, dominated by her mother’s piano.

“I threw up in that one,” Beth volunteers, pointing out a silver cup trophy to Benny as he turns from the window. He shoots her a critical look.

“And the papers all say you’re so glamorous.”

“Everyone’s different in their own home.”

Benny gives a sideways nod to concede this.

“You’re different, I think,” she ventures. She’s less sure now, skirting the piano to come closer to him. “Like you might actually sit down.”

“I sit down,” he protests.

“For something other than a journalist.”

“I sat on your couch for hours.”

“Like you might actually stay.”

Him not entertaining her with flimsy attempts to leave, to find a hotel for the night, was his move. This boldness is Beth’s. Will he laugh at her? He could. She wonders if Harry ever mentioned to Benny that he did a stint as her roommate.

“Are you going to pull something inflatable out of someplace and condemn me to blowing it up?”

She laughs under her breath.

“No. You’re welcome to come upstairs.”

There are dishes, a light left on in the kitchen, but this mess is unlike what she did to the space herself while drunk. This scene is simply lived-in. Beth ignores the dishes and the light, eyes locked on Benny. It isn’t ‘now or never’ with him like it was with Harry—with Benny, it’s then and again. He brushes by her at the piano, the way he would in his New York apartment before they began sleeping together; the more he made sure not to touch her, the smaller the space felt. The near-collisions alone nearly drove her mad, she didn’t need chess for that. But when he’s almost past her, his fingertips connect with her skin and trickle down her arm to take her hand. Beth exhales with a smile. His middlegame remains the least predictable stage of his play.

Though she’s made the master bedroom her own, she turns the other way at the top of the stairs, right instead of left, wanting to show him where she studied and learned. He lets himself be pushed back onto her flowered bedspread. She indicates the torn mesh canopy overhead as she staggers forward on her knees to sit astride him and he hikes the black dress up her thighs. As he reaches for her back and unzips her—Beth tilting accommodatingly towards his chest—she talks ceiling visualization. How she found it, how she mastered it, how she got it back in Moscow. She waits for Benny to parrot her annoyance over discussing chess at a time like this, but he wears an empathetic smirk. Following leisurely minutes of undressing each other—“Slow down, Harmon, this isn’t speed chess”—that smirk is just about all he wears.

His necklaces glide across her chest as he kisses her neck. When he slips his hand between her legs, she invokes touch-move, insisting he finish what he’s started. Play progresses from there. This is all mine, she thinks, feeling Benny, denting a pink pillowcase with her clutching hands.

They’ve written her up as someone who attacks early and with ferocity. She lunges and thrusts, she likes control. ‘Out for blood,’ ‘killer instinct’—they make her something more than human. In her time, she’s been a talent, a prodigy, a virtuoso, a wunderkind. All of that’s become a bit mechanical. Have they forgotten, or have they never understood? Beth swipes her fingers through Benny’s hair as they catch their breath.

Chess can also be beautiful.

#my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny #I haven't jumped fandoms in almost a year so it was about time

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shmegmilton · 4 years ago

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Could you do something about how Theo's death changed Burr? You said that her death 'permanently changed Burr’s demeanor' and I can't find much about Burr's later years so I wondered if you could explain it to me. Thank you.

Yeah, that sounds about right. A lot of the info we know about Burr in the last 20ish years of his life (after returning from Europe, so 1812-1836) has sort of been haphazardly cobbled together by historians, so you only really get a ‘clear’ picture across multiple Burr biographies. We know that he continued to practice law in New York, but most of the supplementary information we have comes from other people; first-hand accounts by friends, newspaper articles, anecdotes, etc.  Burr himself was obscenely quiet during this time period, partly (I assume) to lay low from debt collectors & people who want to chastise him for being the evil mastermind who shot Hamilton in cold blood or whatever. And partly because he was depressed for a very long time, it seems.

The first thing that should be noted is Theo’s death came about 6 months after her son (& Burr’s grandson) Aaron Burr Alston, who he was also very attached to & called him Gampy (Burr’s nickname was Gamp so he was Gampy ie. Little Gamp). Gampy’s death effected Burr in an entirely different way, because every instance we have of Burr interacting with children was largely positive—he loved children. After Gampy’s death he seemed to go out of his way to be kind to children & to spoil them with all of the treats and gifts he never got to give Gampy. Something extra sad to note is that he loved to give little coins to children (either out of his own pocket or a pot on his desk), and one of the gifts he had been stockpiling for Gampy was coins…

Now for Theo, I haven’t been able to find any of Burr’s letters to her during this time (I’m not sure if they even survived), but we know that he tried his best to console her & convinced her to be with him in New York. It took about 6 months for her to finally say yes, so he ordered a ship (The Patriot) & a family friend named Timothy Green (who also died on the ship) to escort her from SC to NY. They of course never made it be NY, and to this day not only do we not know what happened to the ship, but we literally don’t even know where the shipwreck is other than its probably somewhere off the coast of North Carolina. There were some theories about a possibly pirate attack (The Patriot was a former privateer ship) but Burr choose not to believe it.

Burr & Joseph Alston (her husband) took up a correspondence during this time (strangely, we have some of Alston’s letters but none of Burr’s seem to have been found) where they confided to each other about their worries. Alston makes a very poignant implication during one of the surviving letters where he says that Burr must feel “severed from the human race.”

Theo wasn’t just Burr’s daughter—she was his only child to survive to adulthood, and one of his closest political & social allies, considering that the majority of the country now hated Burr for the 1804 Duel and the 1807 Conspiracy. She was really all he had for comfort, & Burr constantly mentions how much he misses her (& Gampy) in his European Journal. I can only imagine how devastated he was.

Another note, Charles Burdett (Burr’s adopted son who I’ll talk about in a moment) published a book with some of Burr’s old letters (that he must have been personally given, because I haven’t seen them published anywhere else.) One letter was written during this time period to a woman named “Kate” & he basically admits being too depressed to reply to people.

Burr also allegedly spent weeks or even months visiting the docks every day with the hope that The Patriot might be there. The death of his daughter gained Burr a bit more public sympathy, but the attention was still largely negative. People treated him like a cryptid almost. Not just because he was notorious, but because he was so socially withdrawn that it was rare to see him in public.

—

In 1878, Charles Burr Todd wrote A General History of the Burr Family in America (with Genealogical Records from 1570 to 1878). It’s a handy book with some unique information about Burr that I have yet to see in any other biographies, including a full physical description of what Burr looked & sounded like in his later years ([HERE]), and an interesting essay that Judge John Greenwood, who worked under Burr as a clerk from 1814-1820, presented to the Manhattan Historical Society after Burr’s death ([HERE]).

The Greenwood essay mentions that Burr owned a cat, which he definitely did not own during his 4 years in Europe as there was no mention of it. This implies to me that he purchased and/or adopted it because he was lonely, because there is no other account of Burr owning a pet of any kind before or after this.

Burr also adopted two children around this time, Charles Burdett & Aaron Columbus Burr (Aaron Burr Colombe). ACB is a strange case because, despite having a very public adult life—no one can seem to agree if he was French or American? Or who his mother was? Or his birth year? Some sources say 1808 and others say 1816? It’s bizarre. People also can’t seem to agree whether Charles Burdett was born in 1814 or 1815. There is also a third child (Henry Oscar Taylor, born 1818) who is documented having lived with Burr by 1833.

All of these boys are a mystery because no birth or adoption certificate exists (did they even have those back then?) so it’s unclear where they came from, who their mothers were, or at what point they came into Burr’s life—Burr’s movement & the timelines of their birth make it a bit too hard to say for sure. My personal theory is that (regardless if they were biologically his or not) Burr chose to take these children in to try and alleviate his own loneliness.

One last thing of note about Burr’s later life is that in 1823 he chose to take in Luther Martin (the lawyer who argued his 1807 case), who had recently had a stroke and had nowhere to live. He took care of him until he passed away in Burr’s home in 1827.

Burr would of course die a little less than 10 years after that (the majority of it spent fighting his divorce & dealing with his own strokes). I wish I could write more about this time period, but that is truly all we know about it.

I guess the key takeaway from this is Burr ultimately devoted a lot of his time to charity work & helping others, most likely as a way to deal with grief or find meaning in his life again.

#Aaron Burr #Theodosia Burr Alston #Theodosia Burr #Charles Burdett #Aaron Burr Alston #Luther Martin #Burr Family #Anecdotes

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insomniziam · 5 years ago

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Analysis of the PR Relationship between Liam and Maya

Okay, Liam and Maya made their relationship official in September 2019 through Liam’s Instagram post:

(notice how there are only two points of contact on his behalf, the two fingers on her waist and their foreheads. Doesn’t come off very relationship-y to me. I can’t say for sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this were photo shopped)

Conveniently, this news came to light a few days after the release of his new single at the time, Stack it Up (shocker, I know). And what did we get? The same thing that happened with Zigi:

Bringing attention to Liam’s new single and of course, the new up and coming model (sound familiar to you at all?)

Maya Henry

But who is Maya Henry? The first real news we ever get about her is due to her father spending a whopping 6 million dollars on her fifteenth birthday party back in 2016 (more on that later). But what does this prove? That her father is incredibly rich, and has no issues spending millions of dollars on a single night if it means getting his name in the papers. He hasn’t just done this with Maya, he spent another 4 million on his son’s 18th and another 4.5 million on his own 56th birthday, and both somehow made headlines (paid promo maybe?)

That’s not even the best part... They tried to do their own Kardashian style reality TV show but it flopped massively.

(Literally the only place I could find it anywhere was dailymotion...)

They have a Facebook page, but most of the videos have been set to private on YouTube so you can’t watch pretty much anything on the page anyway. There’s probably on average 50 interactions per post (and that’s me being generous).

Maya started her own YouTube channel early 2018, but that didn’t gain any traction either (it’s currently sitting at 16K) and there are no videos on the page at all (I’m pretty sure she’s deleted them off, although I can’t find copies of them any where, probably because no one actually cared to download them).

I will admit, she was doing pretty decently before she was connected to Liam, had even done a few international covers for magazines like Elle Romania and Vogue Ukraine.

But Gigi had walked the New York Fashion runway at the age of 18, a feat Maya herself didn’t seem to be nearing. However, Gigi also has a lot of connections that no doubt helped her gain a following (her “friendship” with the Jenners, as well as her connections with Swift and her mean girl posse).

(If ya’ll don’t see how this was a publicity stunt, I don’t know what to tell you)

But how does an increase of following help you career wise, isn’t about talent? You may ask, and I would have a hard time not chuckling at the question, because talent has nothing to do with it (Miss Gigi “I’m still learning how to cat walk” Hadid is a testament to that).

As for the answer, an increase in following leads to an increase of fans, which leads to an increased likelihood of more people buying the shit her name is attached to - makeup, accessories, clothing lines ect. - and increased viewership that have her (and her ‘best friends’) starring in. *cough* Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show *cough*.

But one thing in particular that really stood out, was Gigi’s ‘relationship’ with one Zayn Malik... you see where this is going?

Why Liam?

Now, unlike Zayn, Liam didn’t really have any bad press he needed to distract the general public from. However, he pretty much only had three different talking points in interviews; ‘his son’, Cheryl and One Direction. Those three subjects no one really cared to listen to anymore, because it was the same bullshit over and over again. Enter new (but also extremely old) topic: a new girlfriend!

It gave the papers something new to talk about (although funnily enough, they would always end the article talking about Cheryl and her kid), someone Liam could use to promote himself a little more. So although the benefits were heavily leaning to her side, there still was something in it for Liam, and she had already been linked to him in the past, an easy set up.

Maya’s Age (this is where you’ll either feel really grossed out or extremely pissed, fair warning)

Now this is where shit gets hella shady. According to articles, Maya has been 19 since last year:

Using the fact that Maya’s 15th birthday was in 2016 as according to this Daily Mail article detailing all the expenses and a little bit of quick math, it’s easy to see that she only turned 19 in February of this year.

Now, your eyebrows might be furrowed right now, and you may be asking why does her age matter?She’s still a legally consenting adult. However according to articles, Liam and Maya had actually met back in 2015 at a One Direction Meet and Greet:

Sound familiar at all?:

This shit has me feeling sick to my stomach (I did give you a fair warning) because this is the second time Liam has been linked in some way to what some could argue somewhat child grooming behaviour. Because not only did he meet her back in 2015, when she was actually 14 despite what the papers are trying to tell you she was 15, he apparently started dating her back in 2018, when she was 17 years old:

Realising their mistake, my guess is that Liam’s team tried their best to have her birthday changed a year earlier, so as to make people think they started dating when she was 18, to make their relationship more acceptable. But the damage had already been done, and when someone made a thread on their twitter pointing out this fact, some absolute idiot decided to use Liam’s twitter to try and discredit them:

Despite the fact that neither Liam or Maya were tagged in the thread, meaning that whoever was behind the keyboard would have had to go searching for it, especially since the thread probably only had a few hundred interactions before, they drew eyes to it. (The tinhat in me wants to believe that this was actually a smart move made by Liam to show people just how shady their relationship is, but I highly doubt that fact considering how creepy it makes him look 😒)

And, because people were smart enough to actually read through the thread, they weren’t buying what whoever was running the account at the time was selling:

It’s not a good look, but I guess any press is good press according to Liam’s team.

Conclusion

Maya and her family are crazy thirsty for attention. They tried to acquire that attention through spending millions of dollars on birthdays parties to gain headlines. Obviously not enough for them, they tried out their own reality TV show which somehow made it to season two before scrapping the whole thing entirely due to low ratings. Maya started a YouTube channel, it didn’t go as well as she hoped and then focused on Modelling full time. However she wasn’t climbing anywhere near as much as she would like, and since her father had no issues paying for celebrities in the past, probably had no issues with paying Liam’s team for him to play boyfriend, and try to recreate a Zigi situation.

Liam’s team saw this as an opportunity for a new subject to be brought up in interviews and headlines and decided to go for it. They fucked up with the age, tried to fix it and just made the situation worse, and hoped eventually everyone would just forget about it.

At least, that’s my best guess

#this took me a lot longer than it should have #laya #laya is fake #liam payne #maya henry #pr relationships #bearding #with a sprinkle #zigi #zigi is fake #laya is zigi 2.0 #gigi hadid #zayn malik #free Liam #ziam #ziam is real

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 1990 Review: Still Possesses Turtle Power After All These Years

Cowabunga all you happy people! I freaking love the Teenage Ninja Turtles. I grew up with it from Turtles in Time, which was my first video game, to the 2003 cartoon, which I covered the first three episodes of last month, and on to present day as I re-read the idw comics after finally reading the original eastman and laird run of mirage, and impatiently waiting for Shredder’s Revenge to come out after a LONG drout of no good TMNT games. I”m a fan of these heroes four, their dynamic as a family, the endless possiblities that come from it’s long history and ablitlity to go anywhere in any genre, and the wonderful goofy shit that happens when you have a franchise about mutant turtles learning ninjitsu from a rat and fighting a dude covered in knife covered samurai armor.

So with me finally covering the guys after almost a year last month and with a new movie set to debut at some point this year, I had the bright idea to revisit the FIRST TMNT movie after way too many years of not watching it. This movie is anear and dear to my heart: When I first started getting into the boys big as a kid with the 2003 cartoon, I badly wanted more turtles. But back then it wasn’t nearly as easy to glom onto some more of the sewer shock pizza kings: Streaming sites with all the cartoons on them weren’t all that accesable, dvd’s were expensive for the 87 cartoon, Mirage wasn’t reprinting the comics in any meaningful way and my local comic shop didn’t have any at all and I could only play the SNES when my brother had it set up on occasion like at our Grandma’s farm.

As you probably guessed though there was one exception: the original 1990 movie, which I got at Walmart for 5 bucks and haven’t let go of since. It was one of my first dvds and is still one of my most precious. Said film hit the spot just right as like my beloved 2003 series, it was a mildly goofy but still fucking cool adaptation that stuck closer to the mirage comics, even more than the 2003 series would, while taking a few queues from the 87 series. This film is as precious to me as the 2003 series and a with a brand new movie coming up, I figured it was the exact right time to dig into this classic: what makes it still good to this day, what’s fun to point and laugh at, and how the heck Jim Henson got involved in this. So join me under the cut as I take a look at my boys first theatrical outing and why I still love watching a turtle.

No One Wanted To Make This: Before we get into the film itself some background. As usual I struggled a bit, but thankfully found some help in the form of this Hollywood Reporter article. It’s a fascinating read worth your time, providing an oral history of the film from the people who worked on it.

The film was the baby of Gary Propper, a surfer dude and road manager for the prop comic Gallagher, aka that guy who used to smash watermelons but now has instead opted to smash what little’s left of his career by being a homophobic douchenozzle. He found an ally in Showtime producer Kim Dawson who’d produced Gallagher’s special. I don’t think there will be more of an 80′s sentence than “Gallagher’s surfer dude agent wanted to make a teenage mutant ninja turtles movie”. Propper was a huge fan of the comics, and with Dawson’s help convinced Laird and Eastman to let them option it to studios.

It may come as a shock to you but the road agent for a homophobic watermelon man and a producer at a niche cable channel wanting to make a movie based on an underground comic book about masked turtles at a time when the two most recent comic book movies were Superman IV: The Quest for Peace and Howard the Duck, did not go well. Every door in Hollywood got slammed in their face, even Fox> Even the eventual backer of the film, Golden Harvest, a hong kong action film studio, took months to convince to actually back the film.

Things did not get easier from there: The films writer Bobby Herbeck had trouble getting a story agreed on because Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird’s working relationship had deteroiated horribly from the stress so naturally the two could not agree on a damn thing and argued with each other. Peter Laird made a tense siutation even worse by constnatly sniping at Herbeck and feeling he was a “Hollywood outsider infringing on his vision and characters”

Granted the script was apparently not great... but Pete still comes off as a pretnetious ass who views his weird indie comic as THE HIGHEST OF HIGH CALLINGS HOW DARE YOU SOIL IT. And continued to be kind of a prick like this throughout the rest of his time with the property.

Thankfully the film found i’ts voice, vision and director in Steve Barron. Barron was a music video guy who knew the producers and while reluctant, eventually dove into the project rightfully thinking the film would need to be a mix of the mirage comics and 87 cartoon, keeping aprils’ reporter job, the turtles lvoe of pizza and their iconic color coding from the cartoon but adapting several stories from the comics as the backbone of the film. The guys liked barron MUCH better and things ran smoother.

Barron also brought in one of the film’s biggest selling points and it’s most valuable asset: it’s triumphantly awesome Jim Henson costumes. Barron had worked with good old Jim on the music videos for Labyrinth, and while it took some convincing since the comics were violent as hell and that wasn’t Jim’s style, Barron eventually got him on board. This naturally doubled the budget, but given Henson’s costumes STILL hold up today and look better than the cgi used in the platinum dunes films... it was a good call. And this was brand new tech for jim, having to invent tons of new ideas and mechanisms just to make the things work, and said things still were absolute hell on the actors. Jim later ended up not liking the film for being too violent... which I find hilarious given how many muppets got eaten or blowed up real good on his show but regardless, I thank this legendary and wonderful man as without him this film WOULD NOT have worked. The costumes here look great, feel realistic, and you can’t tell the actors were dubbed much less horribly suffering in those suits. Much like Disney Land.

The film would get picked up for distribution by New Line, and despite i’ts weird as hell origins and the long shot it had.. the film was a MASSIVE hit at the box office, owing to a combination of Batman 89 the previous year having proved comic book movies can work for audiences, the cartoon’s runaway sucess, and a massive marketing campaign. The film made it’s mark. So now we know how we got here let’s get into the film itself.

What’s the Story Morning Glory?:

So the story for this one is largely cobbled together from some of the more notable arcs Eastman and Laird did before handing off the book to others full time as the stress of the company and the mounting tension with each other made it near impossible to work together on the book itself.

To Save time i’m just going through what hte movie takes from the comics plot wise now to save me the trouble later:The movie takes elements from the first issue (The Turtles, Splinter and Shredder’s backstories, Shredder being fully human and the main antagonist, Shredder’s design and the final rooftop showdown that results in Shredder’s death), second and third, (April’s apartment over her dad’s old store and the turtles moving in when their home is ransacked and splinter has gone missing), the rapheal micro series (A tounge in cheek way of cashing in on the Mini-Series craze of the 80s, a one shot by modern standards and something that’s tragically been underused as an idea as only TMNT and MLP have used the idea at IDW, Raph meeting casey and their fight with one another), the return of shredder arc (One of the turtles being ambushed and mobbed by the foot and then thrown though a sky light (Leo in the comic and Raph here), the turtles being horribly outnumbered by them, Casey coming ot the rescue and metting the non-raph turtles for the first time, and them being forced to escape when the place goes up in flames), their exile to northampton (April writing in a journal, casey working on a car with one of the guys and one of hte guys looking over hteir injured brother), and finally, their triumphant return which was very loosely adapted as there are no deformed shredder clones and shredder not being dead yet in this version was not brought back by a colony of super science worms.

So as for how this all comes together: Our story takes place in New York: A crimewave is high with muggings mysterious. There are a ton of phantom thefts going around and at most people have been seeing teens responsibile. And the police.. are at about this level of useful:

The only person doing something is April O’Neil, played by Judith Hoag. Hoag is easily the standout of the film, giving us a strong, confident woman with a wonderful sense of humor. She honestly might be my faviorite April O Neil, and given we’ve had some great ones with 2003, 2012 and Rise, that’s not something I say lightly. I honestly wish I’d recognized her in more stuff as she was both on Nashville and the mom in the Halloween Town films, and most recently was on the ScFy show the magicians. She’s a talented lady and i’m glad she’s still goin.

April is a reporter for Channel 3 like the cartoon, though for some weird reason her boss from the cartoon is replaced by Charles Pennigton, played by Jay Patterson, whose currently dealing with his troubled son Danny, played by Micheal Turney. Pennington is horribly useless at both jobs: At work he tries to ease April off calling out Chief Sterns, who refuses to listen to April’s evidence gathered from japanese immigrants that the crimes resemble similar ones in japan in favor of trying to get charles to shut her up. Danny meanwhile is a member of the foot becase his dad thinks shouting out him and talking about him like he’s not there and generally being a dipstick will actually do anything to help him.

I love the concept for the foot here. In addition to being a Ninja Violence Gang as always, they now recruit new members by finding kids without families or with troubled family lives and giving them a sense of family with the foot, and sweeting the bargin with a giant cave filled with arcade machines, a skate ramp and general late 80′s early 90′s kids goodies. Is it rediculous? Yes. Is it also clever as it gives Shredder an easy army of plausably deniable theives that he can pick the best out of to put in his elite that will be tirelessly loyal to him and him alone? Also yes.

So April being public about this stuff gets her attacked, which naturally leads to our heroes coming in, first in the shadows and later directly when April wont’ give up on the case and Shredder sends some ninjas to go shut her up.. which he does weirdly as the guy jsut slaps her and tells her to cut it out like he’s on a domestically abusive episode of Full House. Raph saves her, and we get the turtles origin.. though weirdly they cut it in half. We get the ooze portion but Splinter’s past with Saki, Saki’s murder of his master and his master’s partern Tang Shen is left for later in the film and the fact Shredder’s saki is treated as a big twist despite the fact the biggest audience for the film would be kids... and kids would’ve been familiar with the cartoon where the giant brain monster routinely screeches out saki at the shredder. Maybe Barron just thought he was an alcoholic I don’t know. It just would’ve made more sense to have it all at once and let the audeince put it together.

April becomes good friends with the turtles over a night of frozen pizza and camradrie, but the Splinters return home to find it ransacked, Splinter kidnapped by the foot, and are forced to Stay with april. Charles meanwhile tries to get April to backoff because he made a deal with the police to clear Danny’s record, without TELLING her any of this mind you, but I will save my rage on that little plot point for in a bit as Danny who he drug along sees the turtles and tells the Shredder.

So we get the return of the shredder arc as Raph goes through a window, our heroes fight valiantly, and Raph’s friend Casey who he met earlier shows up, the two having bonded as all true friends do.. by beating the shit out of each other ending with raph shouting DAMNNNNNNN really big and dramatically into the sky for some reason. The Turtles and friends escape with an injured raph from April’s burning second hand store. She had a second hand store it was poorly established and only there because she had it in the comics.

Our heroes retreat to a farm April’s grandma owned in Northampton, Massachutes, where Mirage was located at the time the original comics where they were exiled to the place were written and a location that has been a staple of the turtles ever since. The turtles slowly recover, lick their wounds, talk about who hooked up with who on gilligans island etc, before Leo connects with Splinter via meditation, who tells them to come back. Splinter also starts to connect with Danny and convinces him to swtich sides.. or at the very least squat in the boys old home.

The boys return home, find danny, and prepare, Danny goes back and ends up giving away the Turtles are home.. but the turtles are ready and in an awesome sequence kick the fuck out of the foot squad sent for them with some well prepared steam vents. Casey goes to get splinter since Danny told them and with Danny’s help, finds him, since Danny found out they were gonna kill him. Casey beats up Tatsu, shredder’s right hand man, and they get him out.

We get our final fight which is awesome up until the climax.. which is splinter casually tripping shredder with nunchucks and thier bloody history being kind of rushed and unsatsifying. Casey crushes shredder with a garbage truck, April gets her job back, more on that in a moment, she and casey hook up, and we end with the fucking awesome song T-U-R-T-L-E Power by partners in cryme. Seriously check it out it’s fucking triumphant.

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The song is just good.. cheesy? Sure but that’s half the fun. It’s the gold standard for movie theme songs for them and stacks up handily with the various animated series themes.. all of which slap. Okay... ALMOST all of which slap. Fast Forwards is aggressively medicore, which is doubly suprising to me since 4kids was REALLY damn good with theme songs. It was one of the three things they were best at along with finding VERY talented voice actors and setting japan based works in america because merica dammit.

The plot is very solid: It skilfully packed half of eastman and laird’s run on TMNT into 90 mintues while adding things like April’s job at channel 9, the way the foot recurited kids etc. The plot flows well for hte most part and apart from one annoying subplot we’ll get to never has a moment that feel unecessary or dosen’t pay off later. And the stellar plot and fun pacing of it helps boilster the characters that do work... and help paper over the ones that are so thin the’yd fall down a grate...

Our Heroes, Villains and Annoying Middle Aged Guys:

Yeahhhh character is hit and miss here. Some are rather strong, others are the bare basics for the character their adapting and most are just to serve the plot but some work some don’t, So let’s talk about it starting with our boys:

Raph is the most fleshed out of the turtles, being the main focus of the first 2/3 of the film, and having his anger be part of what SHOULD be a character arc, learning to temper it. And while granted MOST TMNT properties do this, to the point that Rise Raph is so loveable in part because his boisterous bruiser big bro attitude is a refreshing break from the usual grumpus we get. But at the time this hadn’t been done in every version but the 87 cartoon, so exploring it was valid.. but despite saying this should be a thing htey just forget about it and the most plot relevance he gets is going thorugh a window. He dosen’t really get a resolution.. his arc just kind of stops dead for the final half and it’s one of the film’s weaker points, one I only just now noticed on this rewatch. He’s still the most entertaining.

Leo is the weakest of the turtles. He really lacks a personality here mostly just being leader and while his spirtual side is touched on, it’s mostly a plot device. He’s just kinda the leader because he was in the comics to the point Partners in Cryme called Raph the leader. His role in getting taken out by the foot was taken by Raph, so he just has.. nothing to do for most of the film other than gripe at raph ocasionally and say orders. He’s probably the worst Leo i’ve seen outside of Next Mutation. I prefice that because after watching Phelous’ review it’s VERY clear those four are the worst versions of the characters, and no personality is still better than either having your team do nothing or yelling at them as your personality. I chalk this up to the Mirage Leo, and the mirage turtles to a poit being kind of bland. Not TERRIBLE characters, especially for the time, but not nearly as fleshed out or individualized as they woudl be in other adpatations, and with most traits LEo DID have, like his badassery flat out gone, he’s just.. nothing here.

Mikey and Donnie are a double act here with both sharing a brain. Interestingly instead of his normal genius character, Donnie is Mikey’s best friend and the two simply trade jokes and schtick together. The two are interchangable.. but easily the best part of the film and a lot of the most memorable gags and lines, from Ninja Kick the Damn Rabbit! to “Do you like Penicllin on your pizza”, are from them. Thier there almost entirely as comic relief but it works, with both clealry being more modled ont he 87 cartoon turtles, a move that helps lighten the mood in darker moments. Their just genuinely charming and it’s intresting to see such a diffrent version of Donnie, and other incarnations, specifically the 2003 and Rise versions, would retain the sarcastic edge.

Splinter is splinter. That’s about it, he’s peformed well and the puppet is amazing but he gets kidnapped a half an hour in and outside of influcencing Denny, more on that in a moment, and finishing Shredder he dosen’t do much but spout exposition. He’s not bad or anything, but he’s essentially a rodent shaped plot device. He was also puppeted by Kevin CLash, aka the guy who does Elmo. So there you go.

April on the other hand.. is truly excellent. This might be my faviorite April. Judith’s april nicely blends the cartoon and mirage versions: She has the cartoons energy and job, but the comics sheer will and casual nature. Judith just oozes personality and her April is just a joy to watch, from her breezy chemistry filled interactions with the guys to her confrntation with Chief Sterns, knowing she’ll get thrown out by the asshole. She’s confident, and even when afraid dosen’t back down to her attackers and even helps out during the sewer ambush. I mean it’s a pot on the head but still it’s neat. She’s easily the best part of the flim and the most fleshed out of the cast. The worst I can say is they kinda shove her store from the comics, Second Time Around, in there for no other reason than it was in the comics: It dosen’t come up until it’s needed for the foot’s assault on her place. But overall.. she’s just fantastic to watch.

Speaking of fantastic to watch, Elias Koteas is fantastic as Casey. Seriously he’s only second to the 2003 version in my eyes, getting the concept of a testorone filled average guy who decided to just go out and hit people with sports equipment after watching too much A-Team.. I mean that part of it’s not in this version but it’s implied, just right. Like judith, Elias is just really funny to watch and his big scenes, showing up just in time during the foot assault on april’s place and his fight with Tatsu are some of the best parts of the film, the former taken directly from the comics. This version isn’t without problems: His friendship with Raph, his most endearing aspect and one that has been carried throughout eveyr version Casey’s important, with the only exception so far being rise and we have a movie to fix that, is absent here. HE does save the guy, but they don’t really bond or anything. In fact he disappears for about half an hour after his big fight with Raph. But... again he’s just so damn entertaining, down to his JOSEEEEEEEEEEE Conseco bats (There was a two for one sale!).

Shredder is just a LITTLE better than splinter, if only because his actor projects a true aura of menace and I feel this version had some influence on the pants crappingly terrifying 2003 version. And the idea of the foot recurting teenagers like I said is a good one: He gives them home and a cause, they give him plausably deniable backup. And his fight with the boys in the climax is really awesome... the conclusion sucks but otherwise h’es okay. Not the deepest villian, but he has enough presence to be enjoyable.

His right hand man Tatsu, whose been adapted ocasionally since this and reimaigned as Natsu in the IDW comics, a female version, is also fine. He’s your standard grimacing goon but has enough presence to work.

So that brings us to the penningtons. Charles, april’s boss at the station and his son Danny who’s joined the foot as he feels his dad dosen’t love him. Charles..is about as interesting and likeable as a dog turd and is the worst aspect of the film. No debate there, he just sucks. He sucks so hard he’s classified as a black hole. The film wants you to see him as a put upon wokring dad whose frustrated with his son’s increased moodiness, skipping school and crminal undertakings and just wants to help him and loves him deep down. The problem is his actor’s delivery instead of concerned.. is just pissed. He just seems pissy and upset about the whole thing and comes off like he’s only mad about Danny doing this because he’s embarassing him and not because you know, it’s bad. When confronting Danny about stealing, he dosen’t consider MAYBE he’s part of a gang or needs help, but just wonders “Why are you stealing when I give you stuff”. Because, Dipshit, sometimes kids do crimes not because they need the stuff but because they WANT to, and because they want to act the fuck out.

The most he does for the kid is agree to try and get April to back off the police when Cheif Sterns offers to let Danny go and not put him on record in exchange for it. The problem.. is this makes him even MORE unsympathetic. While I do get wanting to help your child, I do and it’s a sucky position... he again should be sympathetic.. but he handles the thing so badly it sucks. He just tells april to ease off, with no reason given, then fires her when she SHOCKINGLY dosen’t give up taking the guy whose refusing to take her hard work seriously or actually solve the crime wave problem to task for his shitty behavior as ANY person facing a shitty, corrput cop would. She just wants to hold him acountable and get him to actually do something. He clearly knows her on a personal level too as he talks about his issues with his son freely with her, something you don’t do with an employee unless their also a friend on some level.

He could have TOLD april what was going on. She’d be furious at Stern’s naked corrpution and prioritizing shutting her up over actually solving crimes.. and thus put at least some of that energy into shutting him down or finding a way around it, going to the papers or something like that. Even in 1990 pre-internet, there were ways to get around Sterns blackmail and expose him so someone who’d actually do the job could get the job. Instead he just comes off as a selfish coward who rather than try and fight the guy blatantly abusing his power and using Charles own son as barganing chip, goes along with it because it’s the easier option to simply bow to him instead of TRY and stop this. And it’s not like he’s even going after a beloved public figure or someone who could hide behind his rep: Sterns was blatantly failing a crime wave, April had called him out on his failrues and coverups multiple times. The public was against sterns.. finding out he tried to blackmail the media into shutting up about him would PROBABLY end him... I only say probably not because the public wouldn’t skewer him, but because police tend to escape consequences for blatantly murdering someone on a daily basis and Andrew Cumo is STILl mayor over in new york, the same city this movie takes place, 31 years later, depsite EVERYONE asking him to resign over a long history of sexual harassment and a more recent but still horrible history of hiding death numbers. I don’t doubt people being stupid enough to ignore this or the bilaws with cops being stacked enough for him to get away with it, but just because someone gets away with a crime dosen’t mean you shoudln’t try and go after them in the first place. Fuck. Charles. Pennington.

Danny on the other hand is FAR more interesting and I think gets way too much flack when it comes to this subplot. Unlike his dad, whose dead weight, Danny is intresting: He provides a POV character for the foot’s MO in the film of taking in wayward teens, and his character arc is pretty engaging, slowly realizing the foot dosen’t care and that hte turtles are the good guys. HIs actor does a great job and while not the biggest presence, he’s not a bad addition to clan hamaoto and I wish other adaptations would find a way to use him. The pull between doing the right thing and his found family is a good struggle. My only real issue with his plot is the moviies flawed aseop about family. It tries to contrast shredder and his using the kids blatnatly with Splinter and Charles really loving their sons. And it works with Splinter and the kids because despite being a tad strict, Splinter clearly loves his sons and works with them to help them. The problem is ENTIRELY with Charles and Danny. As I said Charles love comes off as transasctional: He either thinks he can buy it or just expects it because he shot a bunch of goop into Danny’s mom after two minutes of disapointment. It dosen’t work with them because neither option is good for Danny. His father is neglectful, chooses throwing his jounralistic integrity out the window over talking to his son or his best friend about another way, and abrasive. Danny is no saint, he does do crimes, but it’s clearly a result of a shitty upbringing and the shredder and co actually offeirng him the love he desperatly craves. Danny goes to the foot because his dad is bad at his job but the film never adresses that and just expects Danny to go back to his dad because the plot says so. Danny would HONESTLY be better off with Splinter. No really. Sure he’d have to live in the sewers.. but he did so for a few weeks in the course of the movie. He’s fine down there. Splitner actually cares about him and took an intrest to him and knows how to raise a child. Let him become the fifth turtle. An aseop about family is not a bad thing: Loaded subject that it can be given how many outright abusive families exist, i’m one of the lucky ones who dosen’t have that issue, family is an important thing and can be a source of comfort and support. But this film tells you you should love and respect someone who does not love, respect or value you because he spent a minute in your mom’s vagina and that’s not how family should work and is outright dangerous to kids in an abusive situation. Love the film otherwise but fuck this aseop skyhigh.

Final thoughts:

Overall though.. the film is bodacious. It’s funny, well paced, has an awesome cast, and outside of a certain bald asswipe... it’s a really good superhero film. Is it the best i’ve seen? Nope. Not even close and character wise most of them are as thin as a wet paper bag covered in ranch dressing. But it’s still a fun as hell with awesome corepgraphy, a killer soundtrack, seriously the soundtrack is damn excellent and only didn’t get it’s own section because I didn’t have enough to say and some of the best effects work i’ve seen in a film in the turtle suits. If you haven’t seen it I urge you to check it out: it’s a breezy 90 minutes, it’s on hbo max and it’s a shell of a time. Will I do the next film?

We’ll see how this one does like wise and such, but I will be doing the rise film whenever it comes out this year. So look for that and keep possesing turtle power my dudes. If you liked this review subscirbe for more, join my patreon to keep this blog a chugging, comission a review if you have more turtle stuff you want me to cover, and comment on this. What do you think of the movie, what are your thoughts on the review, what can I do better, what other turtle stuff would you like me to cover/ Let me know and i’ll see you at hte next rainbow.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles 1990 #leonardo #raphael #donetello #michealangelo #casey jones #april o'neil #the shredder #oroku saki #new line cinema #golden harvest #film #90's movies #the 90's #partners in cryme #judith hoag

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