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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

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So Quiet Here

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter Parker has fallen out of love

A/n: this is like a mix of Already Gone, Missing You, Stone Cold, and So Cold and those are all great songs you should listen too

Masterlist

He didn’t know when it happened, but it did.

You didn’t excite Peter the way you used too. He stopped looking for more ways to see you and started making excuses to get out of seeing you. He was a college graduate now and wanted to see more of the world than just Queens. And even though he didn’t want to admit it, he wanted to see other people. He started dating you senior year of high school. After five years, the magic was gone. What he uses to find endearing about you, he now found irritating. He sat outside your apartment for ten minutes, dragging out the time until he had to see you. He hadn’t seen you in nearly two months after an emergency mission with the Avengers. You’d think he’d be jumping at the chance to see you again. Instead, he was dreading having to go into your apartment and play the part of a happy boyfriend. But he knew he had to, so he did.

“You changed your lock screen.” You commented when Peters phone lit up with a text. Where a photo of you and Peter used to be was now a picture you’d never seen before of Peter, Ned, and Flash with their arms around each other.

“Oh, yeah.” Peter looked at the screen as if for the first time. “It’s just me and the boys from last month.”

“Where was this?” You asked upon hearing the time frame.

“Some club a few minutes from here.” Peter shrugged as he began to text someone.

“From here?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah.” Peter said, growing annoyed with you.

“You were here?” You finally asked and Peter froze. He had told you he was on a mission last month with the rest of the Avengers. It was partly true. He had been in a mission, for the first week at least. The mission ended earlier than he thought so he stayed at the Avengers tower for the remainder of the time.

“I-“ Peter tried to think of a way out of his lie.

“And you didn’t tell me?” You asked, the hurt evident in your tone.

“It must’ve slipped my mind.” Peter said lamely. He looked at you to gage your reaction, and you were already looking at him. You had a funny look on your face that Peter had never seen before, and it sent a chill down his spine.

“I’m not really sure how that fact that you have a girlfriend can slip your mind.” You said quietly. You weren’t reproachful, just speaking honestly.

“I forget things easily. I got a lot on my mind.” Peter defended himself.

“But not me.” You shrugged sadly with a half amused laugh. “I’m not on your mind.”

Peter stopped texting but continued to stare at his phone. An awkward silence filled the room and Peter found himself feeling uncomfortable.

“Do you love me?” You asked after a beat of silence.

“What?” Peter laughed nervously.

“Do you love me?” You repeated as you toyed with the strings of your hoodie.

“Yes.” Peter said with brief hesitation.

“Are you in love with me?” You looked up at him. Your expression told him you were not to be played with.

“Y/n-“ He began to formulate an excuse.

“Just tell me.” You sighed in defeat.

“I don’t know.” Peter said honestly.

“If you don’t know, then I would say you aren’t.” You pointed out.

“I’m sorry.” Peter offered weakly.

“That apology would’ve been a lot more effective two months ago when you first fell out of love with me.” You said passively as you looked away.

“That’s not true.” Peter was annoyed again.

“Peter. Don’t lie to me. Not now.” You looked at him with a stone cold expression that made him shrink into his seat.

“How did you even know that?” He asked curiously.

“How could I not?” You asked him right back. “You stopped coming home, stopped holding me at night, stopped kissing me. I’m not dumb, Peter. I was dumb enough to let it go on as long as I did, but not dumb enough to not realize what was happening.”

“Even I didn’t know what was happening.” He bartered.

“You fell out of love.” You told him simply. “It happens, even when you think it can’t. Even when you think it could never. It still happens.”

“I guess we’re proof of that, huh?” He looked down at his fingers, feeling ashamed all of the sudden.

“You used to lie so close to me.” You whispered as you stared off into the distance with tear filled eyes. “And one day you just…stopped.”

“I loved you so much.” Peter promised you, the guilt flooding his body out of nowhere.

“And now?” You wondered.

“I still love you.” He confirmed.

“Just not the way I love you.” You said it as a statement, not a question.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry, angel.” Peter began to get emotional. He wanted to relationship to end for a while, but now that it was, it was hurting him.

“You can’t call me that anymore, Peter.” You set something ground rules. “And I don’t want your apologies. We can’t help what we don’t feel.”

“I wish I still felt it.” He told you.

“I wish I cared.” You replied without looking his way.

“Don’t be cold.” He said when he heard your response.

“You’re asking me not to be cold when you’ve been freezing?” You let out a short laugh that turned into a deep frown.

“I didn’t do this on purpose, okay? I never see you. It’s hard to be in love with someone you never see.” Peter put his defense back up.

“It can’t be that hard because I’m still plenty in love with you.” You shot back. Peter knew you were right and swallowed thickly.

“What do you want me to say? Tell me, and I’ll say it.” He pleaded.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you what to say! You should know!” You raised your voice at him.

“Well I don’t! I wish I had answers for you but I don’t. I don’t love you. I just don’t.” He said as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I used to feel a fire inside me when I looked at you and it’s burned out. I keep trying to remember everything I love about you and ignite it but I can’t. It won’t light up. It’s just logs now.“

“So that’s why you’ve been so cold to me? Your fire is out?” You sassed him and he calmed down.

“Our fire.” He corrected.

“I see.” You nodded curtly.

“Can we still be friends?” Peter asked after a moment.

“Not for a while.” You said honestly. “Maybe not ever.”

“Why?” Peter furrowed his brows. He didn’t want to be your boyfriend, but he still wanted to be in your life.

“Peter, as much as I know this isn’t your fault,” you sighed, “I will always hate you for it.”

“Hate me?” He sat up a little out of fear. He never wanted you to hate him.

“If the roles were reversed, you’d hate me too. Trust me.” You said in such a sad way that Peters heart broke all over again.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it, then.” Peter said, but knowing what else to say.

“Was it me? Is this my fault?” You asked abruptly.

“No, darling- ah, Y/n.” He sighed as he corrected himself. “It’s not your fault. You were perfect. You couldn’t have loved me better.”

“Then is there someone else?” You looked for a reason, any reason you could get.

“There were times when I wished for someone else, but I never cheated. I’d never do that.” Peter told you.

“You’d just break my heart.” You reminded him.

“Y/n.” He said sternly when you stopped being civil.

“Peter.” You said in the same tone to mock him. “I’m allowed to be dramatic, cause I’m not the one hurting you, am I?” You said sarcastically and wiped your nose. “You’re acting like you’re just telling me now that you’re leaving. You’re not. You left a long time ago. This is just the first time you’re admitting it to yourself.”

“That’s not true.” He tried to defend.

“Sure it is.” You snapped.

“Y/n-“ He tried again.

“I think you should go.” You cut him off, already having made up your mind.

“I don’t want to leave you like this.” He suddenly wanted to stay.

“Yeah, and I wanted to marry you.” You looked him dead in the eyes and let it sink in. “We don’t always get what we want.”

Peter got up and went to the door before you could see his tears falling. He looked at you one last time before he left.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out.

“Just shut up.” You whispered and he walked out your door.

A year later, you caught Peters eye at a party at Flash’s house. Your hair was shorter, a little lighter. You were practically glowing as you talked to some girls Peter didn’t recognize. It was a sharp contrast from the night he last saw you, broken and glazed over with tears. The girl he was looking at now wasn’t broken. She looked even better than she did when he was dating her. The sight of you made Peters heart pound a little harder than normal. He felt a certain sadness at how fine you seemed. Peter walked up to you without thinking it through and you noticed him. You waved goodbye to the other girls and took a sip of your drink, swallowing before giving him a small smile.

“Hey.” Peter said brightly.

“Hi.” You took another sip.

“You look amazing.” Peter looked at your outfit, a dress he’d never seen before that for you nicely.

“Thanks.” You nodded and looked to the side. Peter pursed his lips as he realized he’d have to carry the conversation.

“I didn’t know you and Flash were still friends.” He tried to make small talk. The thought of making small talk with the girl he used to wake up next to blew his mind, but he did it anyway.

“Yeah, we kept in touch. He’s in New York a lot so…” You shrugged and took another sip of your drink.

“Right.” Peter said awkwardly. “Um, how you been?”

“Really good, actually.” You finally smiled. “And you?”

“Hanging in there.” He answered honestly. The year without you hadn’t been easy. He never knew how integrated you were in his life until you stopped being a part of it. There were times he’d look over at you to see if you were feeling what he was, and you just weren’t there.

“Cool, cool.” You nodded.

“Your hair is different.” Peter looked for anything he could talk about to lengthen the conversation.

“I cut it.” You told him as you brushed a strand behind your ear.

“It looks nice.” He complimented. “Really nice.”

“Thanks.” You went back to one word answers.

“So uh-“ Peter tacked his brain for something to say.

“There you are.” A sandy haired boy came up behind you and put his arm around your waist. Peter clocked the action, also clocking your change in body language as you smiled at the boy and leaned into his touch.

“Hi, Eds.” You rested your arm on his back as he beamed at you.

“Hi, beautiful.” He said to you before looking at Peter. “Who’s this?”

“This is Peter.” You told the boy and his face fell as he reassessed Peter. Peter stood their awkwardly as the boy looked at him.

“Peter?” The boy asked, as if to confirm.

“Mm hm.” You said through tight lips.

“Nice to meet you.” Peter held out his hand and was met with a firm handshake.

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Eddie, Y/n’s boyfriend.” Eddie grinned and Peter felt his heart stop.

“Oh?” He squeaked.

“Yeah. She didn’t tell you?” Eddie tilted his head.

“Peter and I don’t talk anymore.” You told Eddie. Every word of the interaction was a blow to Peter.

“Yeah, I’m really busy with work.” Peter tried to make up an excuse for why you didn’t talk.

“That, and I don’t message you.” You laughed shortly, and Eddie laughed back. Peter let out an awkward chuckle.

“Haha, yeah.” He agreed, suddenly feeling like he wanted to cry.

“Well Harry said something about boofing and I’m a little too scared to google what it means, so I’m gonna stop him before I find out.” Eddie said before kissing your cheek, to which Peter quickly looked away from. “Nice talking to you, Peter.”

“You too.” Peter nodded.

“See you soon, babe.” You said as Eddie walked away. As soon as he left, the awkward silence returned.

“Can we talk?” Peter asked as he scratched his ear.

“We are talking.” You said and Peter was beginning to see how much you wished you weren’t.

“Somewhere private, I mean.” He requested. You blew out a breath and reluctantly nodded.

“Fine.” You agreed with a tight smile and followed him into the hallway.

“I see you found your other half.” Peter tried to make a joke but it came out as more of a sad realization.

“Eddie isn’t my other half. I don’t need anyone to complete me. I was born whole.” You told Peter and he smiled a little. Maybe he didn’t get to love you, but at least you were loving you.

“You used to tell me I completed you.” He remembered with a sad smile.

“I thought you did, but you didn’t. You just added to me. I was always complete, I just didn’t know it.” You said proudly, something Peter admired.

“That’s…amazing.” Peter told you honestly. “You complete me, though. I wasn’t born whole. I was meant to be with someone.”

“You mean completed. I completed you.” You corrected him when he didn’t use past tense.

“You know, it’s funny.” Peter shook his head to disagree with you. “I broke up with you because I thought I wanted to see other people. I thought I could find someone else that ignited that fire inside me. But in reality, I have not been with a single girl since the day I left you because no one in this world compares to you. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and it’s made me realize something.”

“Realize what?” You leaned against the wall and gazed at him.

“You weren’t the fire inside me. You were the whole campground.” He professed. You smiled a little before looking down at your shoes.

“It’s a little late to realize that.” You told him. You appreciated his words, but you needed to hear them a long time ago.

“I know. But better late than never, right?” He tried to laugh.

“I don’t know.” You sighed.

“Y/n, I only came to this party because I knew you’d be here. I needed to see you. This whole year has been one miserable day after the other. I can’t miss you anymore. I don’t want too.” Peter stepped closer to you and your breath hitched.

“You should’ve thought of that before.” You stayed strong, no matter how much you missed him back.

“You’re absolutely right. I was stupid and I didn’t realize how good I had it, but now I do. I love you, Y/n. You and I not being together does not make sense to me.” He put a finger under your chin and made you look at him. “I promise, I can do better than before. I can be better. I’ll put you first. I’ll make you my wife, even.” He said desperately. “Anything you want. Just please, take me back. I will be the boyfriend you deserve if you just give me a second chance.”

“What am I supposed to tell Eddie? ‘Sorry, I know you’ve been nothing but good to me for the past 6 months, but my ex who broke my heart said he wanted me back. Oh, don’t worry. He’s not gonna break my heart again. How do I know? Because he said so.’ Is that good, Peter? Does that sound reasonable?” You asked, moving your face out if his touch.

“How into this guy could you possibly be?” Peter said, dripping with jealousy.

“Into him enough to walk away from this conversation.” You pushed past Peter and walked back towards the party.

“Y/n. Wait.” He called after you.

“What Peter?” You said in exhaustion.

“That’s it? We’re over for good?” He feared.

“Are you surprised? You’re the one who ended it.” You reminded him.

“But I made a mistake.” He pleaded.

“Yeah, you did.” You agreed. “Now learn from it and do better for the next girl.”

“I don’t want a “next” girl. I just want you.” He cried.

“You had me. And then you lost me. If you regret that, that’s on you.” You shot back.

“I didn’t know how much I needed you.” Peter said.

“Did you expect me to wait around until you figured it out?” You laughed sharply.

“No, I just always thought you’d be there.” Peter frowned.

“And that’s exactly how you lost me.” You told him.

“Please don’t walk away.” He called again.

“I have to find my boyfriend.” You disappeared behind a wall.

“I-“ Peter tried to say something more, but you were already gone. He turned around and began to walk down the hall, rushing to get to a bathroom before anyone saw him cry.

“Hey, Parker.” Your voice came from behind him and he turned around in a flash.

“You really want me back?” You asked him and a fire started in his heart.

“With all my heart.” He said confidently.

“Then you gotta fight for me.” You sized him up and he smiled a little. You smirked and walked away again.

“There’s something you should know.” He called after you before you were fully out of view.

“What’s that?” You cocked your hip.

“I fight a lot of bad guys.” Peter quipped.

“Uh huh.” You waited for him to get to the point. “And?”

“I always win.” He winked.

Tag List 🏷

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cultofbeatles · 4 years

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beginners guide to the members of led zeppelin (kind of)

a disclaimer before anyone starts reading: we all know led zeppelin is shady as hell and we hardly ever get anything confirmed or denied around here. so some stuff is up for speculation. everything in this post are things i've read in books, heard in interviews, or got from some other source. when it comes to “facts about led zeppelin” sometimes you gotta take it with a grain of salt. but honestly it’s led zeppelin we’re talking about, anything is possible. also this is all in good fun and giggles. with that being said, let’s get started with introductions to the members themselves.

jimmy page

james patrick page

born on January 9, 1944

he’s a capricorn sun, cancer moon, and scorpio rising so you just know he’s a crazy motherfucker

was an amazing session guitarist and basically everyone wanted him

went to art school bc he’s just talented at everything i guess

if you didn't know already he played the guitar for Joe cocker’s ‘with a little help from my friends’

declined his first offer to join the yardbirds but later decided to join

was the last member to leave the group

basically was the leader of led zeppelin

was gifted a telecaster guitar by his friend jeff beck and he adored it

and he painted a cool dragon design on it

played on it for the first led zeppelin album

when he was on tour one of his friends painted over his dragon design and ruined the guitar

he produced all of led zeppelin’s albums and is responsible for the remastering of those same albums

paid for led zeppelin’s first album to be produced with his own money

deadass would have whips and handcuffs around with him on tour for the groupies

but was apparently an amazing lover and cared for the people he slept with

one time he got naked on a food cart thingy, put whip cream over his body, and had john bonham push him into a room with groupies in it

has such a small and soft voice

was fascinated in aleister crowley and his work

would collect crowely memorabilia

even bought crowley’s boleskine house

had a bookstore at one point so he could get books easier

struggled with addiction to drugs for most of the seventies

went on a liquid diet late seventies and refused to eat solid food

he got really skinny bc of it :(

miss pamela (one of his girlfriends/lovers) once said that jimmy cried on the phone to her over her playboy photoshoot lmaoo

once flied pamela’s pet raccoon in first class

allegedly had a relationship with lori maddox who was about 15 years old

laughed as two of his girlfriends were fighting each other

was kind of constantly nervous about his and the band’s image

has amazing guitar solos and improvisation but damn sometimes they drag on foreverrrr

deadass scared the shit out of david bowie so much that he had his house exorcised and would avoid jimmy at parties

we love demons

zoso

he’ll never tell us what zoso means and I'm mad

had two people die in his home. one was a friend who died from a drug overdose, and the other was john bonham when he died from choking on his vomit.

has been accused for the deaths of john bonham and robert plant’s son karac bc of that stupid “curse” rumor

deserves critiques for several things but doesn't deserve hate for that

has been through a lot and come out pretty okay

produced his current girlfriend’s, scarlett sabet, spoken poetry vinyl

check out scarlett’s work bc it’s amazing

would probably always be down for another led zeppelin reunion

robert plant

robert anthony plant

born on august 20, 1948

this is the most attractive man ever. do not argue with me.

nicknamed percy

wasnt jimmy’s first pick for a singer

jerry reid suggested robert to jimmy. and when jimmy asked what he looked like jerry said, “like a greek god.”

jimmy thought something was wrong with robert when he first found him bc he was such a good singer and hadn't been signed yet

after a practice together jimmy knew he had his singer

he would call robert “the young guy with the powerful voice.”

he thought about leaving the band early on bc he was so nervous about being in it

convinced john bonham to join the group bc they were the bestest of buddies

he’s not credited on the first album bc he was still under another contract

started song writing for the second album by jimmy’s memory

it didn't take long for him to gain confidence and start owning the stage

once when he was performing a dove flew in his hands

there’s an audio of him singing john bonham happy birthday and it makes me so happy

he would call himself a greek god

would party with john bonham a lot

kind of the hippy of the group

moans moans moans and even louder moans into the microphone

would wear women’s shirts and looked amazing in them

nurses do it better

not to mention his super tight jeans

we all know his dick is huge and he’s just showing it off

has the prettiest, fluffiest blonde hair

and the sweetest smile

can you tell that i find him attractive yet?

has a fear of earthquakes

also supposedly had some sort of a relationship to an underage groupie named sable starr (14)

also has a fear of led zeppelin nowadays

either fear or amnesia

it’s likely that he’s the reason we’ll never get another led zeppelin reunion

though a close friend thinks that if the show went to charity robert would probably do it

robert loved john bonham too much to play in led zeppelin without him

and i respect that a lot

no matter how much he’s offered for a show he turns it down every time

in 1975 he got in a severe car crash and ended up being in a wheelchair

still went on to record zeppelin’s album

once while recording on crutches and started to fall and jimmy apparently zoomed in to save him. robert never saw him move that fast before

his five year old son (karac) died from a sudden stomach illness while he was in america on tour

absolutely crushed him

was deeply upset that neither jimmy page or john paul jones reached out to him during that time of his life

john bonham was there for him though

robert apparently never forgave them for that

a car he was working on fell on top of him and crushed some of his ribs as well

late seventies was not a good time for robert plant

but he got through it all like a champ

hates stairway to heaven with a passion lmao

one time he paid a radio station a shit ton of money just to make sure they'd never play stairway to heaven again

almost didn't sing stairway for the 2007 reunion but ended up agreeing to it after all

he said he breaks out in hives when he has to play that song

he and jimmy made their own symbols. robert’s is the feather inside the circle

in 2007 he won beard of the year

john bonham

born on may 31, 1948

nickname is bonzo

oh boy, there’s a lot of stories about bonzo

he was known as the nicest and sweetest guy ever

unless he was drunk

he drank a lot :/

denied jimmy’s offer to join the group and continued to deny it until robert convinced him

once flew the starship (led zeppelin’s plane) even though he didn't have a license to

hated touring so much

he always missed his family

so he drank

he was so damn crazy when drunk that the other members would book rooms floors above where his was so he wouldn't disturb them

tore about his hotel rooms like no other

he has a son named jason bonham who he loved a lot

bought him a nice drum kit when he was younger

jason is just about led zeppelin’s biggest fan next to jimmy page

one time bonzo broke a girl’s vibrator when drunk

also punched a girl in the face when drunk once bc she waved at him

partly responsible for the famous mud shark story where a girl was apparently fucked with a dead shark by him and zeppelin’s tour manager

liked cars a lot

really really loved his family. cannot stress it enough

was irked that john paul jones got out of playing shows during the christmas holiday and he didn't

punched robert in the face once too

him and john paul jones equals the best rhythm section ever

jimmy would call it magic how well him and bonzo got along

bonzo could handle anything jimmy threw at him

he wasn't really a part of it, but he had to go to jail bc peter grant and two other dudes almost killing a man (long story omfg, but apparently the doctors had to put the dude’s eyeball back into his socket)

was there for robert when karac died

they were really good friends

there’s an interview with them together where bonzo is laughing at robert about his little farm

gave good hugs apparently

played drums like no other could and knew he was good

but still sometimes got insecure and got upset when someone he looked up to said his drumming wasn't all that special

his symbol is the three rings and he picked it out of a book like john paul jones did his

he died in jimmy page’s house (not the crowley house btw)

he had to drink the equivalent of 40 shots of vodka and choked on his vomit in his sleep

led zeppelin died on the same day

nobody can replace john bonham

his son filled in his role for the 2007 reunion show and did an amazing job of it. the whole show is on youtube, go check it out

john paul jones

john richard baldwin

born on january 3, 1946

nickname is jonesy

was also a session guitarist like jimmy

they had worked together before

when he found out jimmy was forming a group he called jimmy and was basically given the spot immediately

not only was the bassist but also the keyboardist

and could play the recorder

insanely talented. put some respect on his name

he talks in italics i swear to god

i don't have mainly crazy stories about jonesy bc he wasn't about that life

deadass he would go on stage, perform, walk off stage and go to a whole separate hotel from the other

he would only tell one person where he was at and told them not to call unless for super urgent emergencies

pissed peter grant off so much lmao

wasn't really super close to anyone in the band tbh

but bonzo was probably his greatest friend in the band

jimmy and robert kind of leave him out in my opinion

or they use to

when he found out that jimmy and robert were making their own symbols instead of picking out of a book like he was he said “of course!” and laughed

was pretty much left out of the live aid show

he had to squeeze himself on the stage and wasn't even able to play bass. he had to play the keyboard

“and thank you to my friends for finally remembering my phone number” -savage as hell john paul jones

he was one of the two people who found john bonham dead

it’s sad to think about

is actually quite funny

he has this kind of dry humor?? idk but it’s amazing 10/10 content

when john paul jones walks into the room interviewers break into a sweat

managed to look like a completely different person every year throughout the seventies or is it just my eyes?

has an Instagram account now go follow it for cute throwback photos lol

that’s all i really have for generic useless information about led zeppelin members for beginners. i hope it was somewhat entertaining. i'll make some more beginners stuff for led zeppelin. i will make y'all stan them lmao. i'm tagging @babygotblueeyes bc i know for a fact you want to get into them <3

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tired-college-student-writing · 4 years

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Beautiful Versions of Brokenness pt. 2

Summary: Marinette is different. There was no denying it, but none would have guessed that the true reason was soul deep

Continuation of Prompt: If you're into Black Butler, maybe something with that and Miraculous ladybug? Or Black Butler with Demon Bim? I just think you'd do a good job with the Black Butler characters.

Part 1

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Chat Noir reluctantly left so that Ladybug and Sebastian, shortly after, promised to meet up on the next patrol night so that they could properly discuss their unlikely reunion.

Instead of going home, Marinette leads them to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Parisians are used to seeing their heroine and a black figure at the top of the tower, no one would think twice if she arrived there. Sebastian follows as he always did.

“This isn’t my first life after Ciel then,” She hummed, once she arrived, deciding to deal with the first question on her mind.

“No,” Sebastian agreed, as her timer slowly beeped towards its end, “This is my 37th time meeting you since your contract was created. The 21st time you’ve awoken your Phantomhive memories.”

Her eyebrows rose, “it’s only been 130 years since Ciel died, how have I been reborn 37 times?”

The demon all but scoffed, “Really mistress? All these years with beings of heaven and hell toying with your life and you still believe we are playing by earthly rules?”

Marinette just glared, “You’re telling me Hell lacks linear time then? When I die, my soul just flies to any time period it pleases and becomes whichever child it can find?”

“Precisely,” Sebastian smirks, “There have only been a few rules your soul seems to follow, your eyes remain virtually unchanged, still the strikingly blue and purple hues they have been since our contract was sealed, your hair an inky black and your memories return within a year of the age you took your earldom, thirteen, or not at all. Other than that this is the eighteenth time you’ve taken a female form, fifth where you’ve been of mixed races, tenth of being Asian descent, you’ve been of African descent six times, middle eastern eight, Native American three times. You’ve been of peasantry or slavery six times, on three different continents. Though being enslaved has triggered your memories flawlessly every time and allowed for you to rise in the ranks of society with grace. Sixteen times you’ve been of noble birth in multiple different royal families across the globe. It’s been an adventure each time

“What about Lizzie?” She finally asked,” She never sold her soul, and yet Chat Noir is clearly my fiancé.”

Sebastian frowned, “To be quite honest, she’s never appeared before, or at the very least never awoken. Human souls are not supposed to be reincarnated so quickly, even by heaven’s terms we should not have run into Miss Elizabeth before the 30th century and I’ve never heard of the average reincarnation remembering their memories as vividly as Chat Noir did.”

“Who would know?”

The grimace was fleeting on the demon’s face but Marinette knew what he was getting at.

“The Grim Reapers,” She groaned, “Grell hanging around anywhere?”

“What makes you so certain that pest is still working off their debt?” Sebastian countered

Marinette glared, “Because I’ve seen a shockingly familiar red figure watching the Akuma battles before, but only the ones that might have high casualty counts if we had lost. Plus you’re always aggravated whenever I came back from those types of battles and she was the only one that I know that gets under your skin that badly. If she wasn’t so… open about her desires I would have loved to see her around more.”

The demon sighed, “Observant as always my lady. Grell Sutcliff, William T. Spears, and Ronald Knox have all been given special assignments to follow your reincarnated soul around as they are used to our unique brand of chaos. They are given time off when your soul is inactive, and this works counts as double time for their repayment… containing the destruction left in your wake.”

Marinette hummed, as her time finally wore out a Tikki appeared next to her.

“Sebastian,” Tikki greeted, cooly, drawing a wicked grin on the young girl’s face.

“Miss. Tikki,” He offered with his polite butler smile, the one Marinette knew meant he wasn’t happy, “A pleasure as always.”

“Oh, you’ve met then?” Marinette laughed with twisted glee “I haven’t seen you look so constipated since we had to do those Phoenix poses!”

She could practically hear the teeth grinding behind his forced smile, “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about Mistress, I think the reincarnation process has scrambled your mind.”

She hummed, cheeky grin not falling as she passed Tikki her emergency cookie, “Either way, we need to plan. Obviously, we can’t play the butler and Earl roles as we once did so we must figure out new roles that we can play, and create a fake hero identity for you if you plan on continuing to help out during Akuma battles.”

The smirk he gave showed off far too many teeth, but instead of unnerving her, it filled her with a sense of comfort, “Allow me to handle everything, mistress. What kind of demon would I be if I couldn’t manage a simple cover story and superhero outfit.”

________________________________________

Marinette awoke the next day to find it starting off horribly. Not only had she overslept without the ever-present tapping on her balcony door Sebastian normally did whenever she slept through her alarm, but as she was rushing she tore her blue contact, only to find it was the last one she had in stock, her new order not set to arrive until later in the week. She decided to give the demon a pass just this once since he most likely was still coming up with proper identification and dwellings for him to stay at now that she required him to be more than just a bird.

Looking in her closet she paused at her normal outfits, plink blossoms, pink jeans, and ballet flats. It just… felt wrong with her new memories of the Earl rattling around her head. She wasn’t unhappy being a woman in this life, still feeling as comfortable as ever in her own skin, but the overly modern and feminine dress just didn’t sit right with Ciel’s memories so fresh in her mind.

Instead, she pulled out a peter pan collared button-down shirt with the collar and large buttons navy against the cream of the rest of the shirt, a forest green western tie clasped in the front. She also pulled on a pair of straight-legged green pants and a navy blazer adding a tan pair of thick heeled ankle boots. For her final touch, she deep parted her hair, pinning it over her right eye and pulling it back into a bun securing a cream ribbon in a bow around the base of the bun once she was finished. Satisfied she grabbed her bag and took off at a run, bidding her parents goodbye as she attempted to make it class before the bell rang.

She arrived seconds late and found the room reorganized, seats had been moved and the open seat on her normal side of the room was right up next to Adrien. Well, she had to admit her previous actions around him had been overboard in retrospect, and while he was still cute but with Lizzie back in the picture it seemed almost like cheating on her old fianceé.

“Good morning, Adrian,” She greeted, choosing to stand in front of the desk instead of sitting down yet.

The blonde turned to her and perked up, “Marinette! I’m loving the new look, very Victorian esque”

“Thank you!” She laughed, “I felt like a change, You look great too!”

She could feel the eyebrows around the room go up as she smiled gently at the boy, but it was a good change of pace for him, his usual sneakers, jeans, and T-shirt had been swapped out for shiny dark brown dress shoes, a fitted pair of emerald green pants, with a crisp dark blue shirt tucked in. When he turned she could see a silver lace embroidery cutting a wavy path from his left shoulder to his right hip shimmer. He even wore a simple silver ear cuff to finish off the look.

“I picked it myself,” He preened under the positive attention, “Father usually is so strict about what I wear in public but he said I did well with this one!”

“Well, I have to agree,” She hummed, “You should experiment more often, I’d love to give you critiques now that we’re desk partners.”

“Girl what?” Alya finally interrupted, “That’s not your seat, you’re sitting in the back now.”

She could stop her smile from falling into a stony blank look as she turned around, “Excuse me? Who made that call?”

“Well,” Nino piped up with a slight weariness at her look, “She’s got hearing issues so we had to put her upfront, to make it work Ivan sat next to Mylène, Nate sat next to Alix, and she came up with the idea of moving me up here, so I could spend more time with my girlfriend.”

Marinette raised a brow making the majority of the room fidget, “Who exactly is she?”

Before any of them could answer Ms. Bustier opened the door and started her normal classroom announcements, “Good morning, students. I'm sure you've all heard by now, but Lila's home from her trip to Achu and she's back in school with us again.”

The Italian girl all, but bounced into the room to greet everyone, receiving a warm answer back as Marinette’s mouth thinned.

The fox paid her little mind as she pretended to gasp in surprise at the empty seat next to Adrian and started gushing, “Oh, a seat in the front row! You all remembered my hearing issue! You're such sweethearts, all of you!”

Marinette tilted her head, “I didn’t realize you had a hearing issue, Lila.”

Green eyes flashed towards her as she painted on a self-conscious smile, “Oh Yes, I suffer from tinnitus, a constant ringing in my left ear. I've had it ever since the sound of an airplane engine burst my eardrum on the runaway when I was saving Jagged Stone's lost kitten,”

“Really?” Marinette questioned with a raised brow, “Well I am sorry to hear that, but I would like to know why your disability is ranking above my own.”

Lila froze as Bustier paled eyes widening with realization. The room grew silent before Kim slapped the desk, “Oh my god, we forgot Marinette can’t see!”

She laughed, shaking her head, “I’m not blind Kim,”

He waved her off, “You know what I mean.”

Nino groaned, slinking down, “You aren’t even wearing your contacts today!”

“I ripped one this morning,” She sighed in explanation, “My replacements aren’t coming until Wednesday. So I really can’t sit in the back of the room even if I wanted to.”

Alya’s face scrunched, “I’m missing something,”

Marinette stared up at her unblinkingly, “I have a severe vision problem that causes me issues with depth perception and distance, especially if I’m not wearing my contacts. As noted by my doctor I need to be sitting within the first two rows of the classroom, and to have a seat partner is willing to give me notes that I may have missed if my vision acts up. It has been on file since I was six years old.”

“Ivan and I can move to the back,” Mylene offered quickly, “I’m sorry for forgetting Marinette!”

She offered a soft smile, “It really is no issue, as long as it gets sorted. While I must admit I believe the origin of Lila’s disability is fabricated, I am sympathetic to her for having said disability, but I refuse to not have my accommodations met just for someone else’s to be met.”

“Fabricated!” Lila gasped tears welling in her eyes, “How mean! You don’t like me, do you! You’re trying to make me look bad and have a hard time due to my disability!”

The ice that entered Marinette’s eye before she turned to the Italian girl sent a shiver down the class's spine, causing Chloe to shrink back and Adrian to sit up stick straight. Marinette felt an odd calm fall over her as the Phantomhive came out to play.

“You claim that you received hearing damage from being too close to an airplane because you ran onto an active runway to save Jagged Stone’s kitten from a jet preparing to take off,” Marinette repeated slowly, “ Not only does Jagged Stone despise cats, but he’s despised them since he was a child after one attacked and killed his parakeet, Juniper. This is an easy fact to look up as he’s mentioned it several times in multiple interviews. The pet he currently owns and has owned for almost twenty years now, is Fang, a freshwater crocodile that Jagged hatched himself. No one is stupid enough to forget the animal they heroically saved from a vehicle that’s accelerating an average of 32 meters per second squared, wasn’t even a mammal when I know that Fang weighs almost 200kg.”

Lila tried to break in but Marinette just straightened her back, and crossed her leg at the knee before continuing, “Furthermore, no airport in this day and age would allow for a teenage girl to make it to the runways where a plane was taking off without being tackled by security, nor do I believe that your mother, a diplomat, would be moronic enough to allow you to be placed in that much danger. If it did happen there would no doubt be multiple stories run by the media about it, internationally so since Jagged Stone is such a big name and you are the daughter of a diplomat, this would not be the first we would be hearing it.”

Marinette grimaced as she moved onto the next point, not even paying mind to the sputtering Lila was doing, “Based on these facts I’m going to assume the claims that he wrote a personal song for you that have been bouncing around are also false as if they’re not it does not paint a good picture that a famous man in his forties is writing and dedicating songs for you, a young teen fan. If these accusations were true, I'd be forced to believe that Jagged Stone is a hebephile or at the very least grooming you.”

Marinette simply crossed her arms as the room grew deathly silent, “Lastly, nothing suggests that sitting closer to the front of the room helps tinnitus, as the persistent ringing would not change and make little difference in a room this small. Most students with tinnitus require the student being given the option to move to a quieter location if the condition is triggered during class, groups the student is working with being given the option to move to a different area in case group work gets too loud during group activities and being placed near a low-level sound, such a small fan, computer, a heating element, or an open window, as complete silence can irritate the issue. I did enough research when helping Aurora fight for proper accommodations made in her own classroom on the subject to know that much. Or as by the way you are dressed and the fact you claim to have spent the last few months traveling the world, your family clearly has money so buying one of the many options of hearing aid out that that has been developed to assist and almost eliminate tinnitus would be overly easy. They sell them for around 270€, fairly cheap for accommodation products, and if your family truly took you on trips across the globe then you can’t convince me they don’t love you enough to shell out a few hundred euros to make your life easier. So tell me again why I’m making a big deal about making sure my own disability is taken care of?”

Lila sputtered, before bursting into tears, “I was too embarrassed to tell you the real reason! I didn’t want you guys to think less of me for taking a break with Prince Ali to go see a concert, I didn’t mean to get so close to the amps but… the hearing loss is so new I’m still adjusting”

Marinette glared at her, “Save the tears. Lies are pathetic tools to use and earn you no lasting loyalty, and to accuse someone of being ableist for questioning the origin of your disability, not even the disability itself is vile. Not a single person in this room would have been upset at you if you told the truth instead of tried to force the issue of fake heroics.”

She sniffled, “I’m sorry Marinette, I didn’t mean to make accusations about you or your character. I’m still on edge from the whole situation…”

Marinette let her glare drop and gave a cool, “It’s forgiven this time, now can we please figure out the seating situation?”

“Well,” the teacher stepped in, “Since Adrian agreed to be Lila’s tutor to help her catch up-”

“Actually, Miss Bustier,” Adrian raised his hand sheepishly, “I was going to bring it up with you later in private, but I really don’t think I’d be a good option to tutor Lila given how full and sporadic my schedule is already, I really would hate for her to fall enough further behind.”

“Oh crap,” Alix swore, “We didn’t even think of that when Lila suggested you!”

Adrian just gave a slight shrug, eyes not looking up from his desk, “It’s okay, I do want to help out the class as much as possible, I feel bad never being able to help out with anything after school.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Kim brushed off, “We get your dad is really on you about everything, we’ll just have to find stuff you can do in class instead!”

“Maybe,” Mylene squirmed a little in her seat as everyone turned to face her, “I mean just a suggestion… but maybe Adrian could be Marinette’s seat partner and help her take notes. You rarely miss actual class time for your activities and this way you’re helping out without committing to any extra time that your dad might not let you come for.”

Bustier clapped, a blinding smile on her face, completely missing how Lila’s face had twisted into an angry mask, “Excellent idea! Let’s all find new seats again, Marinette and Adrian stick together in the first two rows, Lila why don’t you sit on the left side of the classroom by the windows to see if that helps your tinnitus for now. I’ll call your mother in for a proper evaluation over the next few days and we’ll find a proper course to deal with your disability. If someone would like to volunteer to be Lila’s primary tutor please take the seat next to her. Everyone else please fill in!”

Slowly the room began shifting once again. Adrien and Marinette simply switched seats to allow her to better see the room as Alya, Nino, Chloe, Sabrina, Rose, Juleka, and Nathaniel stayed in their same seats. Ivan and Mylene did move to the back row together as Max broke away from Kim to sit in the second row next to where Lila ended up and Alix slid across the aisle to take his old spot.

Alya was still looking at Marinette as if she had three heads, “Girl, what on earth was that? You’re like sunshine personified, but you just tore Lila apart like she was tissue paper.”

Nino huffed a slight laugh, “Keep forgetting you’ve only been in the class for a year, babe. You’ve never seen a Marinette takedown before.”

Marinette smiled, “Do not lie and do not do anything that might have permanent consequences. If they can not follow those two simple objectives in my presence then I will gladly set them straight. Lila not only lied but accused me of being a bigot, I will not tolerate slander.”

“Well I think it was badass,” Adrian commented, causing her to smirk wickedly.

“Thank you. It’s always nice to know my skills are appreciated.”

“Oh do you need any notes from the last few days,” Adrian asked suddenly, sliding his notebook between them as the lesson started.

She gazed down idly, “Not that I can think of but thank-”

Marinette had to keep her eyes from bulging as her words faded off, because in the middle of the page, squished between two facts about the Roman empire stood a simple sentence in perfect English.

I didn’t think I would see you until tonight, Ciel.

“How on earth were we this blind,” Marinette mumbled in English, earning a laugh from his once betrothed.

“Excuse me?”

The pairs heads snap towards the door as a worryingly familiar voice sounds through the room.

There in the doorway was a tall teen with shaggy raven hair as he sheepishly held out a paper towards the teacher, “Are you, Miss. Bustier? There seemed to be a mix up with my transfer papers. Mr. Damocles told me just to head down and you should have all of my forms by tomorrow, but he didn’t want to prevent me from starting today as planned.”

“Oh I hadn’t realized I was getting a new student today,” She apologized, taking the paper and skimming it briefly before turning to the room, “Class it looks like we’re getting another new face today! I want you all to welcome him with open arms! This is-”

He was shorter, a little lankier and with a rounder face then they typically saw him, looking every bit the fourteen year old he was in no doubt playing, but there was no doubt who it was.

“Sebastian,” The demon introduced, mirth dancing in those burgundy depths as he grinned up at the reincarnated duo, “Sebastian Michaelis. I look forward to joining your class.”

___________________________________

Tag List: @lividdreams9

#miraculous ladybug #black butler #kuroshitsuji #marinette dupain cheng #sebastian michaelis #Adrian agreste #miraculous class #lila rossi is the worst #lila rossi #lila rossi takedown #reincarnated au

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stories-sometimes · 4 years

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I’ve Made A Huge Mistake{10/?}

Peter Parker x Reader, Quentin Beck x Reader

Summary: Peter just wanted to enjoy his trip to Europe, maybe even confess his feelings to his best friends.But along came a mysterious new hero to ruin those plans. Peter and his class are aged up and in college.

Warnings: Violence in later chapters, manipulation, age gap

Word Count: 1673

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Peter awoke, every atom in his body in almost unbearable pain. He felt a patch of dried blood on his cheek and the bruises forming under his eye. No matter how quickly he healed, he’d always go through that moment of agony. He looked down, noticing a bright orange football shirt draped over his torso. He looked around, seeing three other men, all with orange body paint and the Dutch flag painted over them.

“Hi.” The one to his left greeted him.

“Where am I?” Peter asked, still dazed.

“Municipal holding facility.”

“They said they found you unconscious at a train yard. Very dangerous.” Another said.

“We gave you the shirt because you looked a bit cold.” The final explained.

“Thanks,” Peter replied, his consciousness slowly coming back, “You guys are really nice, You speak really good English.” He continued to ramble.

“Welcome to the Netherlands.” They said in unison.

“I’m in the Netherlands, right now?” They all nodded in response, dread quickly filling Peter. “Guard!” Peter shouted, rushing towards the cell’s door.

“The guard’s on a break, properly talking to his wife.”

“Yeah, she’s pregnant.”

“Oh ja, what luck.” Peter wrapped his hand around the padlock, easily breaking it and stepping out of the cell. He left the facility unseen by the guard and made his way to the marketplace outside. He limped his way over to a man by a vegetable stall.

“Excuse me sir, can I borrow your phone.” The man immediately passed it over with a friendly smile, “Thanks, everyone’s so nice here.” He pondered on who to call. Calling her might put her in danger, MJ and Ned wouldn’t be able to do anything with him in the Netherlands, May would just freak out.

“Hi Happy, I messed up, I, I need a ride. Where am I? Um, sir, where am I?” The Dutchman answered, “Could you say that into here?” Peter handed the phone back over.

“Broek op Langedijk.”

“Thank you.” Peter said before walking out of the town centre. There was a vast tulip field a few minutes away, where Peter saw Happy’s jet landing.

“Peter, are you okay?” Happy asked, concerned as he stepped off the jet.

“Wait.” Peter raised his hand, still paranoid about Beck’s illusions. “Tell me something only you’d know.”

“What?”

“Just tell me, please.” He was desperate now.

“Okay,” Happy racked his brain for a second. “Remember when we went to Germany? You pay-for-viewed a video in your room? They didn't list the titles, but I could tell by the price it was an adult film at the front desk. And you didn't know how I knew-”

“Okay, okay, you can stop.” Peter cut him off, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

“Come on, you need to relax.” Happy instructed once he was stitching Peter up.

“Don't tell me to relax, Happy! how can I relax when I've messed up so bad? I trusted Beck. Right? I thought he was my friend so I gave him the only thing that Mr Stark left behind for me and now he's going to kill my friends and half of Europe.” Peter snapped, “And, and she’s with, doing God knows what. I can’t get a hold of her, so I don’t know if she’s safe or dead in a ditch. She’s trapped with him and I didn’t do anything to stop it. So please don’t tell me to relax.” Peter continued, tears threatening to spill. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t shout. I just feel like I’m letting Mr Stark down. I can’t do it, I’m not Iron Man.”

“You're not Iron Man. You're never going to be Iron Man. Nobody can live up to Tony. Not even Tony. Tony was my best friend. And he was a mess. He second-guessed everything he did, he was all over the place. The one thing he did that he didn't second-guess was picking you. I don't think Tony would've done what he did... if he didn't know that you were going to be here after he was gone.”

“Thanks.” He mumbled.

“Tony really liked her.” Happy mentioned.

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely, when he first met her she walked into the lab, straight away corrected one of his calculations and then immediately started apologising profusely. And all Tony could do was laugh, that this teenage girl waltzed into his home with all the confidence in the world, then switched into this sweet little girl who didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. He thought it was all hilarious. He thought she was good for you. She was smart, kind, supportive and willing to put up with all the shit that comes with dating a superhero.”

“Oh, we, we weren’t or aren’t dating.” Peter turned slightly red at the implication.

“Never really understood that.” He muttered under his breath, “So, where to Spiderman?”

“Um, pass me your phone.” After Happy handed it over, Peter pulled up Instagram, finding Flash live streaming.

“Ello governor, cup of tea for you? I'mma be in London soon.” The voice rang out.

“We’re going to London. And I need a suit.”

“I’ve got you.” Happy pressed a button, opening a hidden compartment to reveal Stark’s old on-board building station. Peter grinned and got to work.

Across the ocean, in London, Beck was leading her up a bridge across the Thames, giving a spectacular view of the city.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for the elemental attack.” She pointed out as they reached the top of the bridge tower.

“We’ve got another hour, I just need to show you something.” He dragged her by the hand out to the centre of the bridge. He wrapped a hand around her waist. “Look at that.”

“It’s beautiful.” She replied, admiring the multitude of skyscrapers clashing wonderfully with the historical buildings of the city.

“And see that bridge there.” He pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Your friends are gonna be trapped there in about an hour.”

“What?!” She said, starting to panic a little.

“Shame that’s exactly where the elemental’s supposed to attack.” He noticed her breathing and heart rate increase rapidly. “Oh, you thought I didn’t know what you told them, that you know about my dirty little secret.”

“How did you -”

“I’ve had a drone following you since we first met.”

“And all your stories, of your wife, your world.” She knew it was a lie, but part of her still wanted to wake up from this nightmare and go back to the sweet Beck she thought she’d known.

“All bullshit. I meant it when I said you were perfect. Beautiful, kind and stupidly naive enough to believe my lies.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Maybe, but I’m also the future. And the fate of your friends rests in my hands. So once this is all done, you’re gonna stick to my story, play the role of the supportive little girlfriend to the world’s newest hero. And if you can stick to that, your friends might survive. Alright.” He said menacingly.

“Yes.” She replied, feeling as though her world was crumbling around her. Beck clenched his jaw, squeezing his hand over her waist, just enough to make it hurt.

“What was that?”

“Yes sir.” Beck leaned in to rest his forehead on the side of her head, kissing against the shell of her ear.

“Good girl.” Beck mocked as he pushed her top up slightly to trace his finger over the bare skin. Every touch made her want to throw up, but she tried to hold it together for the lives of her friends. Beck left the room momentarily, when he came back he was dressed in a grey morphsuit, two drones floating by his sides. “You’re all we have Beck.” She overheard Fury say a few minutes later.

“This is what I feared. God help us Fury, God help us all.” Beck said dramatically. “Okay people, no Avengers coming we’re good to go.” He slipped back into his regular voice. “EDITH.”

“Yes Quentin.”

“Show me my loose ends. Once the show’s going, execute the kill order on my command.”

“Kill order, you said they’d stay alive.” She walked back towards him.

“Just a precaution sweetie.”

“Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt them.” She begged.

“I know, but until I’m certain they won’t say a word, I’ve gotta keep an eye on them.” He smiled threateningly. She stepped back for him, face dropping. She felt trapped, helpless in the situation. Forced to sit back and help this villain or watch her friends die.

Taglist Open:

@cool-ontherun-world

@eleventhdoctorsangel

@chubby-tink

@eridanuswave

@squishychar1ie

@sincerely-cronch

@charmed-asylum

@lukesbabylon

@cutie1365

@smilexcaptainx

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x original character #quentin beck #quentin beck x you #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck imagine #mysterio x reader #mysterio imagine #mysterio #ive made a huge mistake #spiderman #spiderman far from home

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thiswomanshouldbewriting · 5 years

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The Next Iron Man

The trailer for Far From Home raised the question of who can fill Tony Stark’s role. Thanks to tumblr, I found out about the existence of Riri Williams, and I agree when they say this would be a great moment to introduce her into the MCU. I couldn’t keep myself from playing a bit with this idea, so here’s my ideal scenario for Ironheart’s first appearance.

12 years or so after the events of Endgame (yes, I know, it’s one hell of a time jump, but this is my fantasy and there’s always Peter in the meantime) Morgan Stark meets Riri Williams at a conference. They’re both genius teens with a passion for engineering and the shared pain of losing their fathers, so they immediately become friends.

The only problem is, Riri is absolutely enthusiastic about anything regarding Iron Man, while Morgan hates it with a burning passion. She talks fondly of her father, but just mentioning his work as Iron Man upsets her, and she refuses to talk about it. Still, Morgan ends up giving Riri all of her father’s old notes and data on his suits, because she’s that smitten with her. It doesn’t take long before the two start dating.

Things quickly go south when Morgan is kidnapped and forced to work on some evil project. Everyone loses their mind. Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Harley, Peter, every other available superhero, everyone is out of their mind with worry and trying to find her. Riri, of course, is not one to sit and wait for someone else to rescue her girlfriend: she dons her brand new suit, and proves to be fundamental in locating Morgan and rescuing her.

Unfortunately Riri, while incredibly brilliant, is also incredibly inexperienced in battle, and gets injured during the fight. It’s nothing serious, but Morgan completely loses her mind. Like, she’s not just worried about Riri getting hurt to save her, she’s absolutely furious about it. Because in this moment she realizes that Riri is just like her father: she can’t and won’t keep herself away from danger if there’s someone who needs help.

Morgan hates Iron Man because it symbolizes the heroism and the self-sacrifice that took her father from her. And yes, she knows it’s selfish to wish that her father had said “fuck you” to saving the universe and had stayed home safe and sound, but she doesn’t care. All she knows is that she didn’t want her father to be Iron Man, she wanted him to be alive. And now Riri, her girlfriend, has built the Ironheart suit, and Morgan is not sure she can handle the worry, or the heartbreak. Morgan might have Tony’s mind, but she's more level-headed, like her mother, and has the same fears Pepper once had. And it’s Pepper who talks her out of her panic, and tells her that yes, dating (and marrying) a superhero is hard, and it’s scary as hell, but if you really love them then it’s worth it. That no matter how much losing Tony hurt, the happy moments with him were worth all of the pain that would come.

And so Morgan is dating Riri again, and it’s as scary as her mother told her it would be, but gradually she learns how live with it. It also helps Morgan deal with her father’s death, and soon enough she’s working together with Riri on the suit’s updates. Ironheart is born and thrives thanks to the girl who admired Tony Stark the most, and the one who misses him the most.

#Morgan Stark #Riri Williams #Ironheart #Pepper Potts #Tony Stark #Pepperony #Avengers endgame #Endgame spoilers #My thoughts

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lamptracker · 5 years

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FIC: Counting Down the Days, part 2

Pairing: Peter Parker/Female Reader

Inspo: “Cancer” by My Chemical Romance

Summary: While visiting a children’s hospital as his alter ego Spider-Man, Peter meets a girl his age. She’s sweet, she’s smart, she’s funny… and she’s dying of cancer. When she laments the fact that she probably won’t get to live long enough to have the typical teenage experiences of prom and a boyfriend, Peter offers to fill those roles for her.

Part summary: Peter tells the reader what it felt like when he got Snapped.

Warnings: Talk of death. The usual cursing (he is from Queens). Endgame spoiler. Making fun of soccer moms who want to talk to the manager.

Tagged: @flokidottir-imagines-br @babyplutoszx2 @musiclover1263 @judemoos @drxgxnslxyer @hollanderheart @thequeensardine @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @captainbuckyy @xxtomxo @deleteidentity @yessterekthings @itsyaspacemom @parrkerspeters @starksparker

Part 1

“Alrighty,” Peter said, webbing (y/n)’s hospital room door shut and peeling off his mask. “One cinnamon chai latte for you, one white chocolate mocha for me.”

“Ew, white chocolate?”

“You’re judging me. This is supposed to be a judgment-free zone, (y/n).”

“Please, Peter. This is a hospital, not Planet Fitness.”

Peter just shook his head and laughed as he handed (y/n) her latte. They’d been texting back and forth over the last couple of days, getting to know each other a little better. She asked to see pictures of his friends; he happily obliged (after telling them what he was up to - sort of, in most cases).

“That’s my best friend Ned,” Peter said, pointing at the pictures he was projecting on the wall from his suit. “He knows I’m Spider-Man too, him and MJ. He’s in Robotics Club and Academic Decathlon with me. That’s his girlfriend Betty, she’s on Student Council and she reads the announcements every morning. This is Michelle, also known as the aforementioned MJ. She’s on Academic Decathlon too. There’s Abe, and that’s Brad, and… oh, good, I see Flash found the phone that’s not built into my suit today.”

“Wow, that is exceptionally rude,” (y/n) said, squinting.

“Karen,” Peter muttered, “delete that.”

“Deleting,” Karen said as the photo disappeared; (y/n) laughed loudly.

“So wait, you’re friends with a dude named Flash?”

Peter scoffed loudly. “Not friends,” he muttered, “he’s been bullying me since the third grade. Did you know, (y/n), that he gave himself that nickname because his real name is Eugene?”

(Y/n) cracked up laughing. “Eugene?!” she exclaimed. “Well, fun fact, I went to school with a kid named Elmer. Heir to the McCormick spice fortune, and about as smart as a container of Italian seasoning too.”

Peter just shook his head. “Elmer,” he muttered as he and (y/n) started to sip their coffees.

“Wow,” (y/n) said. “I can’t remember the last time I had a good cup of coffee. The stuff here tastes like it was brewed with dish soap.”

Peter made a face. “We have a coffee pot, but I never drink coffee at home. I love my aunt May, I really do, but cooking is not her forte. And, unfortunately, that includes coffee. I’ve taught myself how to cook some things. Make a pretty mean chocolate chip cookie.”

“Well, I may have to try one of those sometime.” (Y/n) sipped her latte. “This almost feels like a real coffee date, y’know?”

Peter smiled. “Karen, open Spotify and play my Coffeehouse Favorites playlist, please?”

“Sure, Peter.” The air was soon filled with soft, jazzy music.

“Very nice!” (y/n) exclaimed. “Now we just need the middle-aged suburban mom with her may-I-speak-to-the-manager haircut complaining that her cappuccino isn’t foamy enough.”

“Well, I can’t reproduce that, but I can try.” Peter cleared his throat, next speaking in a weird sort of high-pitched voice. “I asked for light foam, does this look light to you??”

(y/n) giggled. “And there are 47 bubbles, I asked for 49. How hard is it to put 49 bubbles in my cappuccino foam?”

And then, in unison, they said: “Where is your manager?”

They both burst into laughter.

“I gotta tell you,” (y/n) said, “that I’ve only known you for, what, three days? And I’ve laughed more in this three days than I have in the last three years. You’re just… you’re so fun to be around. You come here to cheer people up, right? Guess what, Pete… it’s working.”

Peter smiled warmly at her. “Good, I’m glad.”

“Part of me wishes I’d met you earlier,” (y/n) said wistfully. “You know, before I got sick this last time. We could have had so much more time together. But… but I’m almost glad I met you when I did. Being faced with your own mortality really sucks, it’s nice to have a friend.”

“You know the Snap?” Peter said; (y/n) nodded. “I was one of the ones that got snapped.”

“Honestly? When it happened, I wish I’d been snapped. But… then everyone came back. So either way, I’d have to deal with this.” She gestured vaguely at the wires hooked up to various parts of her body. “But the nice part about that was, you didn’t know it was coming. You know? Like it just… happened. You didn’t have to suffer through it.”

“I knew.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened in shock. “You what?”

Peter swallowed thickly. “I knew what was happening. Because of my powers, my senses are, just, super heightened. I feel everything differently than everyone else. So yeah, for everyone else that got snapped, it was quick and painless but for me? I felt everything.”

(y/n)’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, God. What… what was that like? I mean, if you want to talk about it, if not I totally get it.”

Peter sighed. He knew one day he’d have to talk about it. He was kind of hoping he’d never have to. But, if it would help (y/n) feel better, he was willing to push his fear aside.

“Terrifying,” he finally replied. “I was terrified. I felt helpless, alone. Mr. Stark was right there, that helped me feel less alone. Physically it was weird, I could feel myself disintegrating. It wasn’t unbearably painful, but it was pretty uncomfortable. And then my soul just got… I don’t know, transported? Maybe? Sure, transported to the soul world. And it was five years, but it felt like five hours, it was really weird. But then… then I came back. I guess that’s the difference, though, I got to come back.”

(y/n) smiled. “Wow,” she said. “It’s nice to finally meet someone that knows what I’m going through. I’ve been faced with death over half my life and it scares me. I’ve felt so alone. But… now I don’t feel so alone anymore.” She reached over, gently grasping his still-gloved hand.

Peter gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Glad to help.” He smiled at her again. “Um, that latte is getting cold. I don’t want to have to go get the manager.”

“Young man!” (y/n) exclaimed, in her fake customer voice. “This went down to 102 degrees, it needs to be at least 115!”

They burst into laughter yet again.

“What was it like, in the soul world?” (Y/n) asked softly.

Peter shrugged. “Wasn’t so bad. I didn’t feel anything physically. But internally, I felt very at peace. I… I got to see my parents and my Uncle Ben again. But they didn’t get to come back, that’s how the quantum thing worked. If you were dead before the Snap, you stayed dead. You know? But they got to tell me they were proud of me, that made me feel a lot better. I had this overwhelming, just… what was I so afraid of? This isn’t so bad. Then I realized that the thing I was scared of was the uncertainty. What’s happening to me? Where am I going to end up? That’s the part that got me. But once I got there… it was okay.”

“That makes me feel a lot better. Thanks, Peter.” She squeezed his hand again. “So what do I do now?”

“I… I don’t really know. What do you think you should do?”

“I think I should make the most of the time I have left,” (y/n) answered. “Not dwell on the dying part so much, focus on the living part. I know that sounds like all the schlocky bullshit they spout out in movies and whatnot but… but maybe there’s some good advice hidden in that.”

Peter just nodded solemnly.

“So,” (y/n) said, gulping down the last of her latte, “any plans this weekend?”

“I… oh, maybe. Karen, what’s my schedule this weekend?”

“You have an Academic Decathlon competition in Albany this weekend, be at the school by 5pm packed and ready to get on the bus. Estimated return time is 8pm Saturday.”

“And I’m co-captain with MJ this year,” Peter said, “so my presence is definitely required. I’ll get you a postcard or something though. And then I should probably do my rounds after I get home, and then I think I’m free Sunday.”

“New event added to calendar by Bruce Banner,” Karen said, “meeting at Avengers Tower at 2pm on Sunday.”

Peter chuckled. “...and I’ll try to stop by after that. If not, I will for sure Monday. But I’ll text you whenever I can, okay?”

“Sounds good.” (y/n) smiled. “Hey, thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Everyone that comes in here thinks they need to walk on eggshells around me, not bring up the D word or whatever, you know? Thank you for not doing that. Thank you for treating me like I’m just an average everyday kid, and not an average everyday kid that happens to be walking around with a commuted sentence.”

Peter grinned at her. “Hey, anytime.”

“In a weird way,” (y/n) continued, “I’m almost glad I got sick.”

“Why’s that?” Peter asked, nose scrunched in confusion.

She smiled softly at him. “It brought me you.”

Peter could feel a blush creep over his cheeks as he searched for something to say. He settled for squeezing her hand again and replying, “I’m glad I met you too. Sucks it wasn’t sooner, but… better late than never, y’know?”

“Better late than never.” She grinned at him before releasing his hand. “Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #counting down the days

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 years

Text

Taking Back Neverland--Chapter 6 of 10

Pairing: Captain Swan

Rating: G or a soft T

Summary: AU. After actress Emma Swan’s lead role in a popular TV show is at an end, she is offered the leading role in the Regina Mills film, Taking Back Neverland, a fresh retelling of the Peter Pan story. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Only problem? She’ll be starring opposite Killian Jones, who she positively can’t stand. (Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection.)

Previous chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Notes: So this is an old story, originally written about 3 years ago as part of my Fluffy Fridays collection, but @kmomof4 made the amazing above pic-set for it as a birthday gift, (Thanks Krystal! It’s perfect!), and I decided it was time for a reissue. Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma woke up feeling warm and fuzzy and altogether wonderful.

The feeling lasted only until she was fully awake and remembered the events of the night before. She sat up quickly, dropped her head in her hands and groaned. Had she really had dinner with Killian Jones and told him all about Neal and Walsh?

Her stomach dropped as she remembered the emotions as she revealed her deepest secrets—secrets she hadn’t even told her best friends until several years into their relationship. Emma didn’t open up, didn’t reveal herself, didn’t give people the opportunity to hurt her.

What was it about Killian that made her suddenly turn away from all her finely-honed self-preservation tactics and turned her into a blithering idiot?

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

Gradually, Emma became aware that the scent of freshly brewed coffee had wafted its way into her bedroom. Interesting. She got to her feet, put on a pair of fuzzy slippers, and walked down the hall to investigate.

“Morning, Emma!” came the perky voice of Ruby Lucas as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. Her best friend and agent held out a large, steaming mug of very strong black coffee, and that alone, in Emma’s estimation, would have covered a multitude of sins.

Emma mumbled something that may have vaguely sounded like “Good morning” before falling heavily into her favorite chair at the kitchen table.

Not a bit deterred by Emma’s less-than-warm welcome, Ruby plopped into a chair next to her, her smile so wide and sunny, Emma half expected rainbows to shoot from her ears.

“Not to be, you know, rude,” Emma said, after taking a couple of fortifying sips of the hot brew, “but what are you doing here so early, Ruby?”

The woman in question rolled her eyes. “So early? Emma it’s already 10:00! You’ve just about slept the day away!”

Emma glanced to the swan-shaped clock on her kitchen wall, and noted that her agent had indeed spoken the truth. She was normally a much earlier riser, but, knowing she wasn’t due on set until 4:00 that afternoon, she’d turned off her alarm and indulged in a day of sleeping in.

“Guess you’re right about that,” she conceded. “But the question remains. What’s up?”

To Emma’s surprise, Ruby blushed, dropped her eyes, and started absently toying with one of Emma’s placemats.

“It’s just,” Ruby said hesitantly, “well, Graham and I went out again last night.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose. Well that was interesting. Ruby was more or less the poster-girl for the casual hook up.

“That’s, what? The fourth date you’ve been on with him in the last two weeks?” Emma asked, bringing the mug back to her lips.

“The fifth,” Ruby said, sending Emma a shy smile, “but who’s counting.”

“Wow, for you, that’s really getting serious.”

“I know!” Ruby said. “I’m not, you know, the long-term relationship type. I like to just have fun, but with Graham…I don’t know, Emma; I just like him. Like, really truly like him!”

Emma smiled and then reached over to cover her friend’s hand with her own. “Ruby, I think that’s great! I really do. Graham’s a great guy, and I think the two of you could be really good together.”

“You think so?” Ruby asked, the delight evident in her sparkling eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Ruby said, “because…well we’re supposed to go out again this Friday, and I think he wants to ask me to put a name to this…thing…going on between us. You know, like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Go for it,” Emma said.

“I think I will,” Ruby said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I was gonna go talk all of this over with Mary Margaret, because she’s like the true love expert (no offense to you, of course), but she’s sick this morning. Apparently a stomach bug or something.”

“So she was telling the truth last night,” Emma said, feeling more than a little surprise. “I’d more than half expected her ‘sudden nausea’ was an elaborate matchmaking ploy.”

Suddenly Ruby perked up, like a wolf picking up a scent. “Matchmaking? Last night?” she asked, leaning forward. “Emma, what’s going on that neither of my best friends decided to fill me in about?”

Emma called herself about three kinds of fool. She’d walked herself right into that one. She did not want to have this conversation with Ruby—at least matchmaking, innuendo laden Ruby. The compassionate, good-listener Ruby might be a different story.

“It’s nothing,” Emma said shortly. “It’s just…I went to dinner with David and Mary Margaret, and they invited Killian along.”

“Let me guess,” Ruby said, “when Mary Margaret got sick, she and David left you alone with tall, dark and sexy?”

“Yeah,” Emma said dryly, “something like that.”

Ruby was silent for several moments, and Emma saw something that looked like compassion in her eyes. “Emma,” her friend said, “something’s bothering you. What is it?”

“I…talked to him,” Emma admitted, suddenly desperate to unburden herself, desperate for someone to tell her that what happened last night wasn’t as momentous as it felt.

“Okay,” Ruby said, drawing out the two syllables. “What…about?”

“I…I might have told him all about Neal and Walsh.”

Ruby abruptly sat tall in her chair, her brows nearly reaching to her hair line. “Really? Emma, it wasn’t even until we’d been roommates for three years that you told me about Neal.”

“I know!” Emma said in exasperation. “I don’t know what came over me! We were just having a conversation, and he suddenly seemed so sympathetic, and, I don’t know! It just came tumbling out.”

Ruby smiled—not her self-satisfied, “I knew it!” smile, but her compassionate “best friend” smile. “Emma, you like him, don’t you?”

“What?!” Emma shot to her feet and started pacing. “No! I mean, we are getting along better now than at first, but no! I don’t, I can’t like him the way you’re implying!”

Ruby calmly took a sip of her coffee. “Why not? And don’t give me that ‘his reputation as a playboy’ bull. I think the last few weeks of working with him have shown you the tabloids at least greatly exaggerated.”

“He is…different from what I expected,” Emma admitted, “and last night he told me he wanted to be friends, but I think he might want more, deep down, and I…I just can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about him!”

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Ruby asked.

Emma blew out a long breath and dropped her eyes. “Sometimes…sometimes I wonder,” she admitted. “I mean, I know what Neal and Walsh did to me…well, they were world-class jerks, but I can’t help but wonder…”

“Wonder what?”

“If…if it’s not really them at all,” Emma admitted, “if maybe it’s me that’s the issue. If I’m, I don’t know, cursed or something. If a happy ending just isn’t in the cards for me.”

Ruby came over to her and wrapped her in a hug. “Emma, I can guarantee that’s not the case. There’s someone out there for you. Maybe Killian, maybe not, but I know someone’s out there. At the risk of sounding like Mary Margaret, you just have to hold on to hope. And anyway, like you said, Killian told you he wants to be friends. You obviously enjoy each other’s company; just focus on the friend part. There’s plenty of time for the falling in love part if it’s meant to be.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

By the time Emma got to set that afternoon she was an absolute ball of nerves. Focusing on the friendship part would be a whole hell of a lot easier if her job didn’t require her to, you know, make out with her “friend”.

Because, yeah. Today was the day they shot that scene.

And Emma instinctively knew there was no way out of the “making out”. Regina had been playing up their chemistry and the rapidly developing relationship between Anna and Hook like crazy lately. She’d been explicit when discussing the scene. She expected fireworks.

The butterflies started doing the tango in her stomach at the thought, visions of Killian’s handsome face lowering toward hers…of his warm, firm lips, soft, minty breath, tongues, heat, passion…she groaned. How was she going to do this?

And why was it such a big deal? It wasn’t like it was real. It was just a stage kiss. She’d go through the motions as “Anna”, while a whole team of techs swarmed around her and Killian with sound equipment and cameras and lighting and everything else. Not exactly romantic.

So if her heart could, you know, stop pounding as fast as if she’d just run a marathon, that’d be great.

“Afternoon, Swan.”

Emma closed her eyes, trying desperately to get a hold of herself before she came face to face with him. She took a couple of deep breaths and then turned, convinced she’d gotten over her stupidity.

And then she was confronted with him and his artfully tousled hair and heavy guyliner and leather…everything…and chest hair on full display, and heaven help her, there should be a law against a man looking like that.

“Hey,” she squeaked, cleared her throat and then tried again. “Kinda nice to get the morning off, right?”

“Aye,” he said with a slight inclination of the head. He was silent for a moment, just looking at her. “Look Swan, I thought perhaps we’d best discuss our plans for our scene today before we shoot.”

And somehow, Emma didn’t even know how it was physically possible, her heart started beating even faster. “Um…yeah, I guess.”

Killian scratched at the spot behind his ear, blushing slightly and turning his eyes away from her. Finally he looked back. “I’ve had my fair share of scenes of this nature, being, after all, the leading man on many a chick flick, and I can assure you they’re always a bit awkward…particularly the characters’ first kiss.”

“So,” she said, “what do you do to make things…less awkward?”

“It’s best when there’s trust and understanding between the actors involved,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I assure you, Emma, I want you to be as comfortable as possible as we film today. To that end, I’d like to propose that it be you that takes the lead in Anna and Hook’s kiss.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Aye,” he said firmly. “It would seem to work well with Anna’s character, and it will ensure this is as pleasant an experience as possible for you. You, love, decide the direction this kiss will take, and I’ll merely follow you.”

“But…I mean, you’re involved too. Don’t you want to …I don’t know…do something to make yourself more comfortable?”

His eyes widened melodramatically. “Why Swan, do you have intentions to take advantage of me?”

She rolled her eyes, barking out a laugh. “You are such an idiot.”

He grinned. “Aye, but tell the truth love, you quite enjoy my nonsense.”

She shot him a look. “Maybe. From time to time.”

“Alright! Places everyone!” Regina shouted. “We’ve got a lot to cover today, and I for one don’t want to be here until 4:00 in the morning.”

Emma took a deep breath as the nerves took over once more. This was…this was a lot to deal with, stage kiss or not. She offered up a quick prayer that she didn’t make a total fool of herself.

Emma took her place in the “jungle”, having just passed the flask back to Killian. She closed her eyes, took a couple deep breaths and got into character.

“Did you really save him?” Anna asked, surprised in spite of herself.

“Does that surprise you?” Hook asked, looking aside.

She smirked. “Well you aren’t exactly, how do you say it, ‘mates’.”

“Doesn’t mean I’d leave your brother here to die,” he insisted.

Anna looked carefully at him, looking for the lie, looking for the caveat. It wasn’t there. Unless her ‘superpower’ was wildly off, Captain Hook was telling the absolute truth. She felt a sudden, intense wave of gratitude, of grudging affection.

“Thank you,” she said firmly.

He was uncomfortable with praise; she could see that well enough in the way he ducked his head, scratched behind his ear, blushed to the roots of his hair. After an uncomfortable moment, he straightened, a look of pure mischief on his face as he swaggered toward her.

“Aye, perhaps gratitude is in order,” he said, tapping his lips, and looking at her through heavily lidded eyes.

Emma’s breath caught. Had it suddenly gotten about twenty degrees warmer in this stupid studio?

“Yeah,” Anna said, tiny smile on her lips. “That’s what the ‘thank you’ was for.”

His smirk became even more pronounced as he invaded her personal space. “That all your brother’s life is worth to you?”

He was ridiculous! His flirting was absolutely ridiculous, but…it was fun and it was exciting, and it wasn’t like anything was going to come of this anyway. So why not flirt back?

She swayed toward him and rolled her eyes with a little smirk. “Please! You couldn’t handle it.”

He didn’t miss a beat, leaning in so close Anna could feel his breath hot against her face. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

The way he popped that ‘t’ shouldn’t be allowed; it really shouldn’t.

Anna stood irresolute for a moment, looking closely at him. This was a mistake; a huge mistake! But…she was feeling good, and they’d just had a victory of sorts, and well, there was this weird tension between them. Maybe if they just…got it out of their systems…

And this was the moment of truth. The moment “Anna Swan” was supposed to haul off and kiss the stuffing out of Captain Hook. Emma looked up at Killian, his eyes reflecting the mischief of Captain Hook…but also the reassurance of Killian Jones.

She choked. It was too much, too intense. She couldn’t do this. She pulled at his lapels, letting her lips brush against his and then quickly pulling back, making it barely a peck.

(But God help her! Even that casual contact was enough to send an electric current shooting through her body.)

“Cut!” came Regina’s distinctly displeased voice. “What was that, Miss Swan? I’ve seen more passionate kisses between siblings!”

Well, that was a whole different kind of disturbing, but Emma got Regina’s point.

“It just..” Emma tried. “It didn’t feel right. I mean, Anna’s closed off, right? Is her first kiss with Captain Hook really going to be all passionate and hot and all of that?”

Regina rolled her eyes so hard Emma was afraid she’d hurt herself. “Yes, Miss Swan, it is. We talked about this! Anna’s had these simmering feelings for Hook ever since they met—feelings she’s kept strictly under wraps. But suddenly caught up in the moment, she just wants to let it all go, just reassure herself that kissing him wouldn’t be that big of a thing. And then there’s the matter of his challenge to her.”

Emma knew that; had known her ploy for the demure peck was doomed before it began, still, her heart sank when she heard Regina call for take two of the scene.

Stop it Emma! She chastised herself. You aren’t some brand new actress about to have your first on-screen kiss! This is no big deal! Pull yourself together!

After a long, cleansing breath, she placed herself once more on her mark. She’d follow the script this time; she’d get this stupid scene over with. The sooner the better.

The first part of the scene went well, Emma and Killian both delivering their lines with ease, everything about their body language screaming chemistry.

And then it was time for the kiss. Emma tensed up, grabbed his lapels, and pulled him almost violently to herself. The kiss was longer this time; Emma let herself relax into it for the barest fraction of a moment. But when it occurred to her that it felt good, more than good to have Killian’s lips moving beneath hers, she panicked, pulling away quickly.

“Well, that was a little better, I guess,” Regina groused, “but the two of you are flesh and blood people who have chemistry, who are supposed to be falling in love with each other, not two blocks of wood slamming up against each other! Again!”

After two more failed attempts, it was clear Regina’s patience was completely at an end. “Let’s take five. Emma; I’d suggest you take the time to get your head screwed on straight. And Killian…just…talk some sense into her!”

Emma stalked off toward the bottle of water she’d left just off-stage. She took a long swig and then hung her head, wishing this day was just over. She had to get this kiss right, she just had to! With every take they did the feelings crashed into her more and more. How the hell was she supposed to stay immune to Killian Jones and his ridiculously hot everything, when she was forced to spend all afternoon kissing him?

“Alright there, Swan?”

The unexpected question made her jump, and he hastily apologized, a hand to her side to steady her. Emma refused to pull away. There was no way she was going to let him see that even that casual touch nearly set her aflame.

“I’m…I’m just having a rough time of it today, Killian,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just can’t get this scene the way Regina wants it.”

“Hey,” he said, turning her toward himself, looking at her with clear concern. “Relax love. I meant what I said before. I want you to be comfortable. If this scene is too much for you today, I’ll speak to Regina. I’m sure I can smooth things over, sweet talk her into using one of the takes we’ve already shot.”

Emma felt a warm glow spread through her at his concern. He spoke the truth. He’d really, truly do whatever he needed to to make her comfortable. Strangely enough, it was exactly what she needed to hear.

Emma smiled gently. “That’s really sweet, but Regina’s right. That scene needs a passionate kiss. It’s perfect the way it’s written. I’ve just got to find some way to…make it look natural.”

Killian reached up and hitched a stray lock of hair around her ear. “Just relax, Swan,” he said in a low voice. “You’re over-thinking it. Just let Anna’s feelings shine through and go with those feelings.”

They were called back to set far sooner than Emma would have liked. It had been a short break, the five minutes feeling more like a few seconds, but Emma felt more refreshed than she had all day. It was going to be okay. She could do this.

As she took her place, she closed her eyes, consciously became Anna.

“Please,” Anna said softly, eyes rolling, head gently shaking. “You couldn’t handle it.”

Hook leaned closer, so close she could feel his breath, could smell the rum, the leather, the salt from the ocean. She felt herself slowly slipping under his spell. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She waited a heartbeat. Two. She shouldn’t do this; she knew she shouldn’t. This had big fat mistake written all over it.

But God help her, she was tired of the pain and the struggle. She just wanted to feel good for a tiny moment in time.

She grabbed his lapels and pulled him to her. Her lips met his, and she groaned, the feelings overwhelming her. Her hand found its way into his hair as she tilted her head, deepening the kiss.

She knew she’d surprised Hook. It was written all over the slight stiffening of his body as her lips made contact with his.

But it took him less than a heartbeat to catch up with her, his mouth slanting over hers, his lips parting for her, his ringed fingers tangling in her hair.

It went on and on, and Emma lost all sense of time, of space, of reality. Waves of pleasure, of heat, of want crashed over her as she dived in, letting her tongue duel with his. This was…there were no words in English or any other language to describe it, but Emma knew with every fiber of her being that she’d never be the same again.

“Cut! Cut! CUT! You two keep this up and we’re gonna have to up this film’s rating.”

It was only when Regina was nearly in their faces that Emma came back to herself, realizing the director had been calling for the scene to cut for the past few minutes. She pulled her mouth free with a pop, heard Killian softly whisper her name—her name; not Anna’s name—and suddenly the mortification hit her.

What had she just done!?

She mumbled something to Regina about how she was done for the day before nearly sprinting from the stage. Chances were…not good…Regina would agree to her terms, but she didn’t care. She had to get out of here, had to get some space, some air, some freaking perspective.

She was in her coat, starting to wrap her scarf around her neck when Killian showed up backstage, looking concerned.

“I’ve smoothed it over with Regina, love,” he said. “She agrees we have enough footage to splice together a good scene.”

“Good,” Emma said, looking anywhere but at him.

He stopped her frantic movements with a hand to her arm. “Emma, love can we talk about this?”

She shot him a nonchalant look that was so fake a blind person could have seen it. “Nothing to talk about, Killian. It was just a kiss. Just a stage kiss. Our job, you know.”

He was quiet for a moment. “It was more than that, and you’re well aware of it.”

Emma felt the fear claw at her, and she used that fear to fuel her anger. “Fine! Whatever it was…it was a one-time thing! Just…go, gather some firewood for your scene with Pan or something!”

He sighed deeply, but took a step back. “As you wish.”

#cs ff #cs au ff #taking back neverland #my fanfiction #reruns

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The November Man and Pierce Brosnan’s Anti-James Bond Roles

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He’s nastier than I remembered. In fact, Peter Devereaux, who is Pierce Brosnan’s lead spy in the grisly B-actioner The November Man, is a downright scumbag. But this is by design in a film that’s clearly coasting off audiences’ familiarity with the actor as James Bond 007. And despite his penchant for a fashionable enough gray sport coat, Devereaux displays little elegance or wit while he’s on the job; he’s a bastard who’ll sneak into his former protege’s kitchen with a gun and then hold the young lad’s girlfriend hostage and at knifepoint.

“Scenario: Your target has just severed the femoral artery of a woman you have been intimate with. What do you do?” Brosnan’s not-so-super spy bellows right before slicing a young woman across the thigh. He all but sneers as he leaves the rookie to clean up his mess.

This is just one of several anti-Bond set-pieces in The November Man, which is an even uglier piece of work now than when it premiered seven years ago. Yet as the movie comes back to prominence this week due to Netflix’s algorithm, I couldn’t help but be reminded of how the picture must have looked like a breath of fresh air on the page for Brosnan. Indeed, it’s one of several flicks that contributed to a pattern the actor cultivated over the last 20 years: a deconstruction if not outright indictment of the 007 image which made him an international star. The November Man is the slightest of those efforts, however it remains a notable one wherein Brosnan again thrived in taking the glamour, not to mention the piss, out of his most famous role.

Naturally suave and urbane, cultured yet more physical than many of his detractors ever gave him credit for, Brosnan seemed like the natural choice to play 007 back in 1986 when he was first cast in the role. He looked like such a good fit that it might have been one of the contributing factors for why 1980s audiences didn’t fully warm to Timothy Dalton in the role after he stepped in because Brosnan’s ‘80s television series, Remington Steele, was renewed and Brosnan was forced to bow out. When the Irish actor finally got a second chance to slide into the tuxedo nearly 10 years later via 1995’s GoldenEye, Brosnan was more seasoned and mature than his days on NBC, but he was still unquestionably the most chic 007 audiences had ever seen.

At the time, it felt like the return of the rightful king to many casual fans, an heir claiming his rightful throne. Audiences went wild for GoldenEye, which remains in this writer’s opinion one of the best 007 adventures to date more than 25 years later. While the amount of reinvention that Eon Productions and director Martin Campbell had to do to justify Bond’s continued popularity in the post-Cold War era would look like small potatoes compared to what the same team would attempt 11 years later with Daniel Craig’s hard reboot of the franchise in Casino Royale, GoldenEye still remains a blast of fresh air for a series that was feeling increasingly stuffy by the end of the 20th century. Bond had to deal with the world changing, but unlike Craig’s Bond, he didn’t necessarily have to change with it yet.

There’s thus a melancholic element to Brosnan’s Bond 007. He’s not so much a “relic of the Cold War,” as the wonderful Judi Dench’s M says in her first tête-à-tête with a Bond actor, as he is a man that time has passed by. He’s aware his moment is gone, so he spends the 1990s justifying his relevancy, and at least in the case of GoldenEye (and I’d argue all of Brosnan’s first three Bond films) he proved it in the moment with a playful smirk and the best one-line groaners this side of Roger Moore. However, some of those movies aged, they were what audiences wanted from the character then.

However, this is not the only version of 007 that Brosnan could have played. The actor was in fact famous for his behind-the-scenes grappling with the producers and his attempts to take the character in a darker and more grounded direction. In 2017, he recalled to Total Film that, “There was a certain frustration within me as the films went on, as I could see the world happening around me and the movies. I wanted Bond to get a little more gritty and real and down and dirty, but however you try to nurse it along, the scripts would come along with the same outlandish scenarios.”

In essence, he seemed to want to play the Bond that Daniel Craig eventually embodied, or at least a less gloomy variation on it.

One imagines this was the reason even before he left the Bond role that Brosnan began exploring that side of the character wherever else he could. By the time of 2014’s The November Man, the anti-Bonds were almost as familiar for Brosnan as the real thing, and he mostly appeared to be indulging the type of B-actioners that actors of a certain age have turned into a subgenre ever since Taken. However, even before hanging up the tux for good, Brosnan was doing much more interesting work subverting that same public persona.

His performance as Andy Osnad in John Boorman’s The Tailor of Panama stands out as the most contemptuous and articulate deconstruction of the sophisticated 007 image. Based on a John le Carré novel, The Tailor of Panama imagines a disgraced libertine MI6 agent (Brosnan’s Andy) who decides to enrich himself in South American exile by manufacturing a crisis and hoodwinking a hawkish and imperialist American military while also manipulating one particularly demented ex-pat tailor (Geoffrey Rush). Largely underrated now, the 2001 film—which opened between The World is Not Enough (1999) and Die Another Day (2002)—features Brosnan at his smarmiest.

In essence, he is being asked to play a “real” version of James Bond. Hence he comes across as a callow, arrogant, misogynistic prick who after reaching middle age decides to use his immature work ethic to cash in like some of his past adversaries. People die because of his machinations, and lives are ruined. He even attempts to rape an alleged friend’s wife. It is one of Brosnan’s best performances and perhaps the most hard-nosed deconstruction of the Bond archetype attempted by any performer who’d starred in an Eon production.

However, the best inversion of the persona came from Brosnan again a few years later in Richard Shepherd’s hugely under-appreciated The Matador (2005). As a comedy premised around a literal pub gag, the film pivots on “a hitman and salesman walk into a bar….” Brosnan unsurprisingly plays that hitman, Julian Noble. But despite his honorable surname, there’s nothing chivalrous about Julian. A deranged and bitter killer who never thought he’d live so long as to reach an age filled with regret and loneliness, Julian probably remains Brosnan’s best on-screen performance and a proper menace for Greg Kinnear’s buttoned up family man, Danny Wright.

Awash in self-pity and laggard energy, Brosnan comes across like milk that spoiled weeks ago, and which has now grown arms and legs and is dragging itself out of your refrigerator. It’s hard to say Brosnan’s Julian was ever as sober or clear-eyed in his younger life as any version of 007, but he represents the uncouth reality of that character’s vices through his obsessions with booze, teenage girls, and finding pleasure in murder. He’s also one half of a terrific buddy comedy.

A small character piece, Shepherd’s Matador luxuriates in a clever script that despite its barebones narrative still surprises, especially as it becomes a three-hander between Brosnan, Kinnear, and Hope Davis as the everywoman wife who proves too far out of the aging Bond type’s league.

If you haven’t seen this amusing tonic of a film, hunt it down.

Movies

The top 10 best Pierce Brosnan films

By Duncan Bowles

Movies

Casino Royale and GoldenEye Director on What’s Next for James Bond

By Don Kaye

All of which paved the way for the more rote but overt The November Man. With its plot focusing on a Brosnan spy who’s out to avenge an old flame, not-so-coincidentally named Natalya (which is also the name of Izabella Scorupco’s Bond Girl in GoldenEye), the film traffics in Bond nostalgia; it even casts Olga Kurylenko who appeared in Craig’s Quantum of Solace. But there appears to be only faint nostalgia in Brosnan’s interpretation of those old ways here. Mostly his Devereaux is just a bitter old man filled with contempt.

Which is not to say Brosnan shares such animosity toward Bond. The actor genuinely appears grateful in interviews about that time in his life. However, even during the lesser installments of Brosnan’s tenure in the role, there was always a darkness and edge to his Bond that many franchise fans tended to undervalue.

While never as blunt or brooding as Craig’s self-loathing 007, there was a hidden brokenness to Brosnan’s interpretation that only would be seen in flashes. When they did appear, however, they were crueler than any actor in the role since Connery up to that point. It’s there when his Bond executes Vincent Schiavelli in Tomorrow Never Dies (1997). There isn’t a quip or smirk. There is just disdain on Bond’s face as he responds to Schiavelli’s pleas of “I’m just a professional doing a job” with “Me too.” And when he similarly shoots in cold blood one of his lovers, Sophie Marceau’s Elektra King in The World Is Not Enough, there is a perversity to the scene that makes even Dench’s M shudder.

Brosnan’s Bond likely could’ve been more than the 1990s’ most suave action movie joker. And he’s spent a lot of his post-Bond career proving exactly that.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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misformarvel · 6 years

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In every single world.

Summary: Gwen Stacy’s best friend is dead. Besides her grief, Gwen has a chance to change her destiny saving Peter.

A/N: Thinking about this since a long ago. I don’t know how many parts is gonna have, just hope it doesn’t suck way too much.

Warnings: idk, this may be pure crap.

Two months. It’s been two months since he died. Twenty minutes before it happened, Gwen Stacy waved him goodbye after their study-date for an important chem exam they were having by the end of the week. Peter Parker crossed the street and turned back to smile at her once more. He wanted a way much more affectionate goodbye but never got the guts to confess to her the way he felt. She knew it anyway because Peter was everything but good keeping secrets. At least, that’s what they all thought.

In two months Ned and Gwen haven’t left Aunt May’s apartment. The woman lost her husband not so long ago, and now her beloved nephew was gone too. Peter made her life meaningful, she repeated on and on, but now everything was nonsense. May didn’t want to be alone and Peter’s best friends didn’t want to let her on her own. Harry Osborn was extremely generous with May, who was in a delicate situation. She got a couple of days off of work that soon became a couple of weeks and then a couple of months. The hospital was going through a financial crisis and couldn’t pay her salary if she couldn’t cover her guards. Harry paid for Peter’s funeral as well. Mary Jane says he does it because he feels guilty. Gwen didn’t know what to think about. Ned never trusted him but was too devastated to think of another thing but Peter and the fact he will never see his best friend again.

Mary Jane and Gwen never talked about Peter. They accorded it a long ago, the two girls were afraid of ruining their friendship if they open up about their feelings for him. Deep inside Gwen thought MJ played with Peter’s feelings for too long, and MJ thought Gwen was way too friendly with her ex-boyfriend. Losing him wasn’t helpful. Bitterness filled them hearts. “If she didn’t give him false hopes maybe Peter would move on”.

“You know this is not good for you Gwen. You need to come clean about how you feel”. Aunt May is a wise person and Gwen knows it, but she was scared and sad and didn’t have the strength to face a fight, not with Mary Jane, or anyone, to be honest. She only wanted to see him once again. It was impossible. Not even in her dreams. May dreamed with Peter once. Ned did a couple of times and remembered him all of the time. Gwen started to forget his face, just two months after he left. She stopped at the framed pictures of him in the apartment and stayed looking at them trying to keep fresh the image of a smiling Peter, or a dork Peter, or a serious Peter. Not the last image of him, not the image of his face covered with bruises, his bleeding mouth, his broken nose. She wanted that smiling Peter back, she needed him.

She went back to where they find him. Spiderman. No mask, tho. Peter Parker. Far from looking like the nice boy from Midtown High. She couldn’t believe it. It makes so much sense now, how many times he risked his own life to save her dad, only getting the police persecution in return. Captain Stacy found him just a couple of blocks away from his own house. He prayed for his daughter to be home, he prayed for her do not see her friend is such state. But destiny is cruel and karma is a bitch. How many times Captain George Stacy cursed on Spiderman’s name in front of Peter and Gwen? Spiderman was Peter Parker. He hated Spiderman but liked Peter far enough to call him son one day in the future. If Gwen has had arrived in her house a couple of minutes before, if she wouldn’t forget her textbooks at the library, maybe she wouldn’t have seen the crime scene, maybe her last memory of him would be he smiling at her from across the street. Not his body surrounded by a pool of his own blood, not his beaten and swollen face.

A tear started rolling down her cheek.Gwen pressed shut her eyes and took a deep breath, wishing it be her last breath. She never thought she would feel this way, but the weight of her loss was way too heavy to carry on.

“Stacy? What are you doing here?” the voice came from behind the trash dump placed at one corner of the alley. She would recognize that voice anywhere, anytime. No, it is not possible, you’re starting to have hallucinations, you got to get out of here Gwen, get your shit together. “Pss, Gwen, I’m here, behind the trash”. Scared the shit out of herself, Gwen started running in the opposite direction, heading to her parent’s house, five blocks away from that goddam alley.

“Oh, hi sweetheart” her mom greeted her from the kitchen. “What happened? you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” she stated once she saw the petrified expression on Gwen’s face. “P-Pe-Peter, mom, I saw Peter”. Mrs. Stacy gave her daughter a confused sight. “Okay Gwen, Peter may be a little paler than others but he’s not a ghost” she joked and turned back to the kitchen. “He came here, by the way. Said something about the exam you have this Friday and left”.

“What you mean by he was here talking about the exam, mom what the fuck!?”

“Language, Miss”.

“Mom if this is one of your jokes, I swear… it’s not funny”.

“No Gwen, why would it be a joke? He was looking for you but you weren’t here and he left because he’s doing the grocery shopping for May. He’s such a sweet and considerate boy. Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy, God knows if you don’t care enough about him another girl will”.

“I don’ feel fine, I’d better go upstairs”.

“Hi Gwen”.

Mrs. Stacy heard her daughter screaming, and make her way upstairs to check if everything was alright.

“Gwen, hija, is everything okay?” Mrs. Stacy asked behind the door. Pressed on the other side, Gwen replied to her mother: “It’s okay ma, it’s just, I, I saw a spider. But it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s not here anymore”.

“Oh, Gwendolyn, for god’s sake you’re eighteen years old, kill the fucking bug”. Mrs. Stacy leaves, shaking her head in disbelief.

“W-what are you doing here!? I thought, I … no, it’s not possible. You’re dead!”

“Yeah, kind of. C’mon babe, help me with these” his face was muddy with dirt and blood. He came closer, putting his hands on her waist and her hips. Gwen, petrified by what she was experiencing, didn’t react to his actions. Not even when he makes the distance between their lips disappear, pecking hers softly, avoiding to add too much pressure to his swollen and bleeding lips.

“What the fuck was that gorgeous?” Peter asked his girlfriend. His eyes traveled from her lips to find her confused sight. “I mean, it wasn’t explicit but I was asking you for some help in the alley” he chuckled, amused by the inexplicable panic expression on Gwen’s face.

“Peter… you’re Spiderman”.

“Uh-huh, yeah, until last time I checked. Are you fine Gwen? Did you hit your head or something?”

“What, when … how have this happened!? Peter think about May! You’re everything to her”.

“Wow, Stacy, chill dude. I’m fine, May’s fine. This… this is the correct thing to do. But now, hand me those pieces of clothing you’ve been stealing from me before your mom enters without knocking the door and sees me with the suit on. Unless you want me to stay without clothes, I wouldn’t complain”.

“Peter! What the fuck, no, stop”. Gwen covered her eyes with her hands when Peter started to take off the Spiderman suit. He laughed at her reaction. It wasn’t the first time he did that in front of her, and he had his underwear on, she definitely had seen him fully naked before. Gwen was acting weird he thought, but it was fun.

“Peter, my mother can’t see you, you have to leave now”.

“Shit, you’re right, I came for you like forty minutes ago, there’s no way I could make my way upstairs without her to notice… That’s why I love you, always thinking about everything”. Peter kissed Gwen once more, this time he didn’t care about his injured face. He grabbed his own clothes from Gwen’s closet and dressed up quickly. “Remember we have this meeting with Mr. Fury in a couple of ours, that’s why I came here in the first place. But is not something I can tell your mom. I mean Hey Mrs. Stacy, can Gwen come with me to an Avengers meeting, nothing serious, just saving New York from another alien invasion, and maybe dick her down at the Avengers tower after that. Ha, I don’t think so. I’ll pick you up at 11. Suit up”.

Suit up? Avengers Tower? DICK HER DOWN!?

“Gweeeeen, MJ is here”.

“It’s okay Elena, I can go upstairs, she must have the headphones on”.

“Fine Chelle, just tell your friend dinner’s on 15 minutes”.

“I’ll do Mrs. Stacy. And thanks again for the invitation”.

Michelle made her way upstairs, always the same, admiring the paintings hanged on the walls. Mrs. Stacy is such a talented artist, how lame it is she secludes herself in her housewife role. Gwen’s room door was partially open, so she entered without knocking.

“Hey, take those off you dumbass” Michelle said playfully kicking her friend who was lying on the floor. As she guessed, Gwen got her headphones on.

“What the f…” Gwen turned around to find a very changed, almost unrecognizable MJ. Gwen sat up and then stand in front of her friend, examining her with curious eyes.

“Mary Jane, what did you do with your hair!?”

“Uh ehrm, I know my hair looks like shit but what the fuck happens to you!? You missed the rehearsal. Gwen if you keep doing this to us we’ll have to find someone else”.

“Rehearsal!? Mary Jane what are you talking about!? All this is so weird. I just saw Peter, he, he came through the window and then left” And he kissed me she thought, but didn’t get the guts to tell MJ.

“Gwen you’re starting to scare me. Okay, Pete came through the window and that’s creepy but he’s Spiderman so, we must get used to it. And yes, this is the third rehearsal you skip. I know you are busy with your superhuman duties and everything but if this is too much for you, we gotta talk about it for what is best for the band”. Michelle tried to calm her friend down, but with every word, Gwen’s confusion grew more and more.

What did she mean with superhuman duties? And since when she knew Peter was Spiderman!? And she didn’t seem surprised or mad at the fact her ex-boyfriend entered her best friend’s room by the window. In fact, she stated it was a common thing. Does Peter visit her in the same way? Does he has clothes in her closet and passionately kiss her before leaving her bedroom by the window? Gwen felt a blinding headache, and the next thing she knew was she collapsed on her bedroom’s floor.

“Yeah, I don’t think she can make it to the meeting tonight. She seems very confused and keeps calling me Mary Jane, I know, weird as fuck. So that’s all Petey, I’ll call you again if we have some news. Good luck with your business. Bye”.

“Oh, look at you Sleeping Beauty. Your charming prince isn’t here yet but he’ll come after the Avengers reunion”.

“Where am I!? Mary Jane!?” Gwen woke up from her little nap in a hospital’s bed. The bright whiteness of the room hurt her eyes, he tried to sit up but her blurred vision and shaking moves told her to stay lay down.

Michelle looked at her friend with preoccupied eyes. “Seriously Gwen, enough with that Mary Jane shit. I’m Michelle, Michelle Jones, your best friend. Remember me?”.

“Michelle Jones?” Gwen mumbled before blacking out again.

“Is she going to be fine?” Peter asked, really worried about his girlfriend state.

“Sure Peter-Man, there’s nothing to be worried about. Stacy’s gonna be fine”.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. I-I really appreciate what you’re doing for us”. Peter turned his sight to his unconscious girlfriend and Dr. Stephen Strange, placed on the other side of the room stated that she was going to wake up soon.

“Peter, I think you should go and help May comforting her parents. Stephen and I have to talk with Gwendolyn and how weird it would be for George and Elena to find us here? Go, kid.” Peter nodded and did what Tony Stark asked him to do.

“He doesn’t have a clue of what it’s happening,” Tony said with a bit of sadness in his tone.

“Neither she”. Strange examine Gwen’s lost sight. She was still very shocked about everything but started to imagine what was happening. Dr. Stephen Strange presence was only confirming her doubts. But, how?

“Gwen, can you hear us?” Tony grabbed her hand in a fatherly way. He was as worried as Peter, maybe even more. He felt responsible for his web-slingers. May wanted to kill him already, he didn’t want Mr. and Mrs. Stacy to hate him too. “May we have a word?”.

Gwen sat up abruptly. “All this is so weird. I, I want to see Peter, please Mr. Stark”.

“You’ll see our spider friend later. Now we need to talk about what happened in that alley Miss Stacy” Dr. Strange was intimidating, he wanted to go straight to the point. How this Gwen Stacy appeared in this universe and what happened with Spider-Gwen. “You aren’t the Gwen Stacy we know”.

“What are you talking about. Of course, I’m not, I don’t know you”. Gwen felt tired and dizzy, her vision started to get blurry again.

“Calm down Gwen, we know this is too much for you right now, but we need you to tell us why are you here. If you don’t know how did you traveled to this universe at least can you tell us what is happening around there in yours”. Tony was playing the ‘good cop’, trying to gain her trust.

“I don’t know how it happened” Gwen sobbed, memories from the last weeks fill her mind and overwhelmed her spirit. “I stopped by the crime scene on my way home. In my head I recreated the facts, Peter lying dead on his Spiderman suit. Mask off. Surrounded by forensics, my dad was there too”.

“Peter what?!” Tony freaked out, started walking around the white room as a caught lion. When did this happen Gwen? A date, we need the date” he screamed.

“Easy Stark. October 20th. Five blocks away from Gwen’s house”. Stephen gave her a sympathetic smile.”I brought you here”.

“What the hell Strange!?” Tony grabbed Stephen’s shoulders and shook him.

“I’m not entirely sure about it, but someone exchanged our Gwendolyn Stacy, the one with spider powers, for this one. The Gwen Stacy from another universe where Peter Parker is dead”.

“Peter’s okay here, he’s alive, he’s protected by you. I, I don’t have superpowers”. Gwen’s headache and tiredness barely allowed her to keep talking.

“That is another thing I’m not sure about” Strange found Gwen’s phone on the bedside table and made it levitate high enough to guarantee it wouldn’t survive to the fall. Gwen caught it with a web shot.

“Gen Z, you can threaten them with killing their smartphones or their parents and they wouldn’t hesitate”. Strange smirked. “Now we know you have powers, at least since you arrived in this universe”.

“Okay, now I’m as confused as her, Strange. Can you explain what is happening?”

“Peter’s gonna die in a month unless we do something to avoid it. And for some reason, I think the only person who can save him from his destiny is this young lady”.

“October 20th” Tony mumbled, realizing it was, in fact, a couple of weeks to go until Peter’s death date.

“You have to return to your universe Gwen, but first we need to make sure your powers are traveling with you this time”. Those were the last words Gwen heard from Dr. Strange before her eyes fluttered shut once more.

#spiderman fanfiction #peter parker #gwen stacy #tony stark #michelle jones #mary jane watson #dr strange #marvel fanfic #tom holland #tom holland fan fic #spiderman fluff #spider man angst #Tom Holland smut #Tom Holland angst

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chiseler · 6 years

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STEVE COCHRAN: The Rough and the Smooth

The Chase (1946) opens with a broke ex-serviceman finding a lost wallet, plump with cash and bearing the name and address of its owner, Eddie Roman. Being an honest guy—or, as Roman’s sidekick puts it, a “silly law-abiding jerk”—the vet goes to return it. As though wandering into an opium trance, he enters a classical-rococo-tropical mansion, a fantasy of vulgar magnificence. The front door is bedecked with cherubs’ heads (one of which swivels to reveal a peep-hole framing the unmistakable eye of Peter Lorre). The dazzling white interior is cluttered with marble statuary on pillars, crystal chandeliers, antique chairs, banana trees, all slashed by thin bars of sunlight falling through white shutters.

Eddie Roman, a Miami gangster, is at home amid this surreal decadence. We first see him sitting regally in a barber’s chair, crowned with a pearl-grey homburg, intently studying his pencil-thin mustache in a hand-mirror. He has reason to look pleased as he contemplates his handsome face, its square-jawed and thick-browed swarthiness lightened by limpid eyes and a deceptively sweet smile. Absorbed in admiring his appearance, he pays no attention to the girl kneeling at his side giving him a manicure, until her file slips and nicks his finger. “I’m sorry, Mr. Roman, you moved,” the frightened girl gasps. “Yeah, but you didn’t—fast enough,” he replies, knocking her to the ground with a casual blow.

With a different actor, this whole set-up—the flamboyant interior decoration, the classical allusions, the dandified sadism, the ever-present sidekick played by Peter Lorre—might come across as heavily lavender-tinted. But Eddie Roman is Steve Cochran, who plays it straight in more ways than one. Cochran grew up in Wyoming and had worked as a cowboy before trying his hand at acting, but Hollywood took one look at his oily black hair and arrogant poise and pigeonholed him as a mobster. He took to the role with a patented brand of velvety menace, concluding that the way to play heavies was to assume that his characters had done nothing wrong, as they themselves would no doubt believe. Not for him the noir torments of guilt or anxiety or haunted memory. His gangsters were slick and unfeeling, and when he came to play deeper roles in films like Tomorrow is Another Day, Private Hell 36, and Il Grido, he plumbed the specific melancholy of men whose inchoate vulnerability is forced through the conventional expressions of machismo.

He was born Robert Alexander Cochran in 1917 and adopted the name Steve while acting in stock. (It suits him, perhaps for the same reason Lauren Bacall assigns it to Bogart’s Harry Morgan in To Have and Have Not, giving it a distinctive inflection that conveys, “You’re an overconfident jerk—if only I didn’t find you so attractive.”) Cochran left college and headed to Hollywood convinced he could be a movie star, but despite his looks and confidence he was no overnight success; it took seven years of provincial theater (including Shakespeare in Carmel) before he finally scored a contract with Goldwyn in 1945. The Chase was his first decent break, after a series of small parts in Boston Blackie programmers and Danny Kaye vehicles.

Directed by Arthur Ripley and gorgeously shot by Franz Planer, The Chase is a baroquely convoluted adaptation of Cornell Woolrich’s The Black Path of Fear. The centerpiece is an extended dream sequence that eschews the usual cinematic clichés but unsettles through jarring plot discontinuities; a maze of dark, disorienting spaces; and inexplicable poetic images like the woman weeping at a table bearing the half-eaten carcass of a watermelon, like something out of a 17th century Spanish painting. The film’s seemingly normal hero (the ex-serviceman, played by Robert Cummings) turns out to have a fragile mind prone to sudden white-outs. He’s almost as passive as Eddie Roman’s imprisoned wife (Michèle Morgan), who drifts around the mansion in draped Grecian gowns and a fog of hopeless terror. What she’s terrified of is her husband, and Cochran makes you believe that Roman is capable of even worse cruelty than anything we see him do. The calmer he is the more anxiously we wait for his outbursts of violence. His light voice, sweet smile, and hypnotic stillness create a deliciously sinister effect. Here and elsewhere, there’s something about the way Cochran’s hazel eyes catch the light, with a gleam that can register as tenderness or threat. It’s hard to pin down this luster, and that’s one of the best assets a movie star can have—some small thing that can’t be explained.

Though the bulk of his work was in B movies, Cochran appeared very briefly in Goldwyn’s great triumph, The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). Near the end of the movie, the beleaguered former airforce captain played by Dana Andrews—an intelligent, serious man stymied by a bad marriage and a humiliating job as a soda jerk—walks into his apartment to find another man lounging around in his shirtsleeves. It takes only moments to register the kind of heel he is: a self-satisfied, flashily handsome guy in a loud pinstripe suit, smoking and chewing gum and condescending to his married girlfriend’s husband. It’s his job to embody the crass, unscrupulous side of postwar life, the veterans who aren’t haunted by what they’ve seen, the operators who see money “lying around” for the taking. Cochran nails the type in under five minutes of screen time.

Virginia Mayo plays the wife he’s fooling around with, and they were paired frequently in the late forties, both typed as low-class, sexy but vulgar. They’re forgettable in A Song is Born (1948), Howard Hawks’s lifeless musical remake of Ball of Fire, but wonderful as a pair of greedy, backstabbing lovers in Raoul Walsh’s White Heat (1949). Cochran is “Big” Ed, a discontented second-banana to Cody Jarrett (James Cagney), who taunts him with sneering air quotes around his moniker. Cagney’s majestically psychotic performance fills the movie like a bellows, as he crumples inward under the pressure of his migraines and then explodes in gleeful violence. Big Ed is his opposite, cool and smooth, his stolid repose off-setting Cody’s trip-wire sensitivity. Cochran looks fantastic in a dark suit with a black shirt and light tie, and his best moments are tiny touches like the way he loudly spits out his gum before kissing Mayo, or blows smoke sideways in a beautifully nasty, smirking close-up as he quietly threatens to tell Cody who killed his mother if she walks out on him. If Cagney is white heat, Cochran is black ice.

He played a variation on Big Ed the next year in The Damned Don’t Cry (1950), one of those fun, full-throttle Joan Crawford vehicles that follows a woman as she claws her way out of dreary poverty, attains a pinnacle of penthouse luxury, and plunges from there into the abyss. Starting in the Texas oil fields, she winds up as the mistress of a racket boss (the terrifying David Brian), who sends her on a mission to spy on one of his regional under-bosses, whom he suspects of plotting to take over. That would be Cochran, who is not satisfied with the desert fiefdom where he lounges around swimming pools in white terry-cloth robes and saunters around nightclubs in loud sport jackets. He’s not a bad guy here, especially compared with Brian, but he remains devoted to the one Big Ed calls, “a very good friend—me.”

Cochran’s philosophy of playing heavies as though they were blameless did not mean he tried to make them sympathetic; indeed, it’s the utter remorselessness of his bad guys that makes them so bad. Still, it can be hard not to root for him in formulaic “crime does not pay” flicks like Highway 301 (1950), which opens with not one but three state governors solemnly addressing the camera, and then smothers all the action with heavy-handed voice-over. It’s tempting to just turn the sound off, because the film looks terrific, darkly glistening with rain-wet streets, sleek curves of forties cars, the matte sheen of good suits and perfect fedoras. Cochran, as the leader of a heist mob, wears an arrogant sneer as stylishly as his overcoat. When his girlfriend whines about feeling bored and neglected, he says coldly, “Why don’t you do something about your face? That ought to keep you busy for a few hours.”

He took a break from suave gangsters to play a cowardly redneck lout in Storm Warning (1950), an “exposé” of the Ku Klux Klan that proves nothing is more pusillanimous than Hollywood when it thinks it’s being courageous. Cochran cited the role as a favorite; he recalled being terrified by Klan demonstrations as a child and spoke of wanting to show how “shabby” they really were, of his pride at striking a small blow for racial tolerance. He was clearly sincere, and he later attended the 1963 March on Washington with fellow progressives like Marlon Brando; unfortunately, Storm Warning makes no mention whatever of the Klan’s attitudes towards blacks or Jews, depicting it as merely a racket to extort money from gullible hicks.

The film is further compromised by shameless plagiarism of A Streetcar Named Desire, with Ginger Rogers visiting her pregnant sister (Doris Day), who dotes on her crass but hunky working-class husband. Cochran, wearing a white t-shirt and sucking on a bottle of beer, lays on the dumb rube act a little thick, though at least he does not come off as a Brando impersonator. After a beautifully filmed opening in which Rogers witnesses a Klan killing in the deserted streets of a Southern backwater, and a powerful scene in which she is bullied into lying under oath about what she saw, the film turns luridly exploitative. Rogers is spied on and assaulted by her drunken brother-in-law, then publicly whipped at a Klan rally. This pushes the film’s wrong-headedness to absurdity: the culmination of the Klan’s evil is an attack on a beautiful blonde white woman.

In the 1950s, Cochran got tired of playing heavies and biting the dust in every movie; unhappy at Warner Brothers, he left in 1952 to form his own production company, producing a few change-of-pace films like Come Next Spring. But one of his very best roles came at Warners in Tomorrow is Another Day (1951), an unusually subtle and character-focused B noir directed by Felix Feist. Here he sheds his usual self-assurance to play a rough, unfinished man, drastically inexperienced and socially awkward—and does it beautifully. His character, Bill Clark, was sent to prison at age 14 for the murder of his abusive father. Released at 31, he’s a child in a man’s body, touchingly naïve but also insecure and truculent, readily falling back on violence.

Like Rip Van Winkle waking to an unfamiliar world, he wanders around town in a cheap, unfashionable suit, carrying his few belongings in a cardboard box. He’s drawn first to the new cars, studying one with boyish wonder; then to girls, hesitantly trying to follow one in the street. His uncertainty and sulky defensiveness are painfully exposed, whether he’s being teased for ordering three pieces of pie in a diner, or stumbling sheepishly into the dime-a-dance Dreamland, where ten cents buys sixty seconds of feminine company. Here he is easy pickings for Kay (Ruth Roman), a gorgeous, hard-shelled bottle blonde who demands trinkets in exchange for her time. When he obediently returns with a wrist-watch, she rewards him with a peck on the cheek and a “Thanks, Jim.” Still smitten, he shyly kisses her hand, and on learning she doesn’t get off work for hours, mutters, “I’m used to waitin’.”

When Bill and Kay are mixed up in a killing, he panics, knowing that with his record he’s a “dead pigeon.” They go on the lam, but their route takes them far from the usual lovers-on-the-run formulas. Without a car of their own, they sneak into one of the vehicles being towed on a tractor-trailer, hop freight trains, and hitch a ride with a Joad-like family on their way to a lettuce-picking camp in Salinas. They start out hostile and bickering, and when Bill proposes in a motel room he does so by handing her a ring and saying churlishly, “Pawnbroker gave me a good deal.” But though he implies that marriage is a sacrifice to necessity, the truth is that he desperately wants her and has decided this is the only way he can get her. In the scene that follows, as they lounge on a bank above the railroad tracks, he tells her about the murder of his father and about his years in jail, where he earned ten cents a day as a welder. “You worked a whole day,” she says wonderingly, “Just to dance a minute at Dreamland.”

Bill asks his bride if she thinks people change, “I mean, inside.” She does: dying her hair back to brunette, switching her name to Kathy, she emerges from her cynical shell. But Bill never seems to change; in the end, when he’s betrayed by a friend and threatened with going back to jail, he reacts with blind anger and panicked violence. This incorrigibility coexists with his gentleness: when Kathy tells him she’s pregnant, his sullen face delicately opens into an angelic smile, but not long after she has to shoot him to stop him from killing the sheriff who comes to arrest him. The ending of the movie is a cop-out, but the revelation that the whole saga has been driven by mistakes, lies, and misunderstandings has a certain fitting irony.

Cochran drew even more deeply on this strain of confusion and sorrow in Antonioni’s Il Grido (1957), another movie about life on the road. The title translates as “The Cry,” and the film is essentially one long, muted howl of loss. Dubbed in Italian, Cochran plays Aldo, a simple working man who has lived for years in a common law marriage with Irma (Alida Valli), with whom he has a daughter, Rosina (Mirna Girardi). The movie opens as Irma, without warning or explanation, tells Aldo she’s leaving him for another man.

Like Bill Clark, Aldo is a muddled mixture of gentleness and violence, an aching wound papered over with inarticulate masculine pride. His reaction to Irma’s rejection is baffled and ineffectual; his instinct is to lash out, but he pulls back from hitting her. Later, desperate to assert his authority, he beats her in front of a crowd of townsfolk, but it’s he who comes away looking weak and defeated, having now sealed their estrangement. Taking their daughter, he sets out on an aimless journey, a futile search to replace what he’s lost.

The real star of Il Grido is the wintry landscape of the Po Valley. Nothing could be further from the Italy of vacation fantasies than this grey, muddy, industrial wasteland. Thin, bare branches are traced on the fog, sprouting from pollarded trees like amputees’ stumps. Desolate fields of rocks, marshes, and flat sodden riverbanks are made even bleaker by factories and construction sites, gas stations and refineries. The relentlessly overcast, drizzly weather is like an expression of Aldo’s numb, mournful mood. Cochran’s face, beginning to look worn, blends in with the landscape; he’s still ruggedly handsome, but stripped of all glamour and self-assurance, an ordinary man suddenly adrift with no bearings.

Aldo is hardly a model father, as he subjects his little girl to a tough and lonely life on the road, but there are moments when he comforts her with heartbreaking tenderness, and you always feel that in his fumbling way he is doing his best for her. (Still, it’s a relief when he finally sends her back to her mother.) The structure of this episodic film comes from Aldo’s encounters with three different women, each a possible but ultimately inadequate substitute for Irma. A former girlfriend (played by Betsy Blair) and a sexy young widow who runs an isolated service station both offer him refuge, and he has a torrid affair with the widow, but both times he drifts away. He has the chance to go to Venezuela, but inexplicably tears up his papers. He winds up with a prostitute who suffers from malaria, huddling in a leaky hut made of reeds and filled with acrid smoke. Amid this wretchedness, he remembers visiting a museum with Irma, a poignant revelation of what she represents in his barren and messy world.

He is inconsolable, and the life and purpose just drain out of him, leaving him an empty husk. In the end, Aldo returns to the town he left, to find it roiling with mass meetings over land seizures, a chaos of bulldozers, ruins, blazing fields and armed police. But for Aldo, the last straw is seeing, through a window, Irma with her new baby, annihilating his hopes. It’s hard to think of another movie in which someone essentially, and convincingly, dies of love.

Steve Cochran had a great deal of practice at dying; having succumbed onscreen to many predictable violent ends, he topped them in 1965 with one of Hollywood’s most legendarily bizarre deaths. That he was only 48 is tragic, but that he died aboard a yacht with an all-female crew is irresistibly titillating. None of the young Mexican women (whom he had hired, allegedly with a view to making a movie about a real yacht captain who had an “all-girl” crew) knew how to pilot the boat, which drifted for ten days off the coast of Guatemala after Cochran unexpectedly fell ill and died of a respiratory ailment. This story left a somewhat lurid stain on his life, though it seems to have been nothing but a publicity stunt gone terribly awry.

Alas, Cochran’s off-screen behavior rarely enhanced his reputation for seriousness. He seems to have been amiable and well-meaning, and neither his chronic womanizing nor his penchant for reckless driving and flying were anything out of the ordinary in Hollywood. More damningly, Don Siegel claimed he had trouble catching Cochran “even slightly sober” during the filming of Private Hell 36 (1954), though you’d never guess this from his sharp, nuanced performance as a corrupt cop in love with a nightclub singer (Ida Lupino, who co-wrote the script). His character, Cal Bruner, is callous, vain, and morally shifty—a plainclothes dick who tackles and fatally shoots a robber, then readies himself for a date with perfumed aftershave while complaining that the “miserable creep” ruined his new suit. He’s a guy on the make, lightly detached from everything except his own concerns. Yet when Cal falls for Lily, a canary with an exhausted voice and bone-dry sense of humor, he becomes someone we care about. He has better taste than we would have expected (Lily—who seems older than Cal, though Lupino was a year younger than Cochran—is no brainless babe), and more substance.

“You know, somewhere in my dim past I seem to have heard this before,” Lily deadpans when Cal makes a pass. “I’ve said it before,” he replies readily, “To all shapes and sizes. Only this time I mean it. Don’t ask me why.” Cochran and Lupino have serious chemistry (the scene where he unties the halter neck of her dress and massages her naked shoulders is a classic of Code-era steaminess), but Cal and Lily also connect on some deeper level, making us believe these two what’s-in-it-for-me types surprise themselves with genuine feeling. When he sits at the bar watching her croak out a hard-hearted ditty called “Didn’t You Know,” his eyes brim with a clear, soft light. In this part, Cochran layers cool selfishness and tender warmth so closely, nothing thicker than a razor could separate them.

by Imogen Sara Smith

#Imogen Sara Smith #The Chiseler #Steve Cochran #noir #Ida Lupino #Alida Valli

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unfolded73 · 7 years

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What Comes Next (8/8) - COMPLETE

Summary: They lived happily ever after. And then what happened? (A Post-S6 story.) Starts about a week after the final battle, and explores the highs and lows of newly married life between Emma and Killian as they deal with work, friends, and family as life in Storybrooke settles down somewhat.

Captain Swan, Explicit, ~5250 words this chapter, 34,232 overall

Thanks to @j-philly-b for the beta. And thanks to everyone who read and commented!

It was a warm day, the breeze off of the harbor keeping it from being uncomfortably so. Killian stood on the dock and squinted against the reflection of the sun on the water, his hand on John Raymond’s shoulder. “Are you absolutely certain this is what you want? I’m not forcing you to go; I want to make sure you understand that.”

John raised an eyebrow at him. “It was your idea.”

“Aye, but it’s still your choice.” He looked out at the submarine in the harbor, abuzz with activity as sailors loaded supplies onto it. Storybrooke’s grocers would certainly be pleased with the influx of gold, especially given how much gold was worth in this realm. Killian himself was worth a small fortune.

“I want to go. Captain Nemo… I don’t know, there’s something about him that makes me feel like I could be a better person, like him. For him,” John said.

Killian nodded. “The best captains lead by inspiring their crew to be their best. Not through fear, as I once did.”

John looked up, scrutinizing him, but didn’t respond to that.

“Are you nervous?” Killian asked.

“Yeah, I guess.”

There was rising cacophony of voices behind them. Killian and John turned, and Killian saw that Blue had brought all of the Lost Boys down to the dock to say their goodbyes. Shyly, John walked over to them, standing a little bit apart as he spoke to them. Killian couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he recognized the body language of boys who didn’t know how to express the affection and loss that they were feeling.

“Take good care of this place, brother,” Liam said as he approached. “I hope to find things just as peaceful when next we visit.”

Killian smiled and patted Liam’s back awkwardly. “I intend to. You take good care of the Nautilus. And your captain.”

“Perhaps the next time we come into port here, I’ll find that I’m an uncle,” Liam said with a sly grin.

“Oh, that’s not…” Killian trailed off, his heartbeat accelerating at the thought. “I don’t know if fatherhood is in the cards for me. Other than Henry, of course.”

Liam just eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “We’ll see.”

“You know if you ever decide to stop traveling, my home is yours for as long as you need a place to rest your head,” Killian said.

“I appreciate that,” Liam said. “But this land is strange, and I’m not sure if I could ever be comfortable here.”

“I thought that once.” Killian looked out over the water. “The foods, the smells, the clothing, the vast array of technology -- I didn’t want any of it.”

“But you fell in love with a woman, and...”

Killian chuckled. “Aye.” It occurred to him that he was a bit like the mermaid Ariel in that way, giving up his entire way of life to be with his true love.

John was shuffling back over from the gaggle of Lost Boys as Captain Nemo approached them. “We are nearly ready to cast off.” He pulled himself up ramrod straight and spoke to John. “Seaman Raymond, my first mate here will assign you to your billet.”

John stood equally straight, bringing his hand up in a somewhat clumsy salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.” He shouldered his duffel bag and waited for Liam.

“Until we meet again, brother,” Liam said, embracing Killian.

“Until then,” Killian said, a lump forming in his throat. Liam turned and walked quickly toward the submarine, and John hurried after him, sparing a quick wave for the boys watching him leave from further up the dock.

“I have high hopes for that one,” Nemo said. “Killian, thank you for your hospitality these last few days. I hope we see you again before too much time has passed.”

“I’ll think of you often.”

“And I, you,” Nemo said, also giving him a warm hug. “You and your lovely family.”

“Be well, my friend.” With a final wave, Nemo boarded his vessel. Killian watched as the Nautilus submerged, and he thought he could just make out the light of the portal opening underwater before it disappeared from this realm.

He turned toward the other Lost Boys, and called out before Blue could shepherd them away.

“One moment, boys!”

They turned, some of them whispering to each other and mistrustful looks on not a few faces. He was still Captain Hook to them, and their former antagonism was not entirely forgotten.

He approached them, stopping a respectful distance away, and clasped his hook in his hand behind his back. “You all remember my ship, the Jolly Roger, the vessel that brought you to this land. She stands idle in the harbor too often these days, and I fear if left to me alone, she may begin to fall into disrepair. So I’ve decided she needs a new crew, a crew of able-bodied young men.”

He met each of their eyes in turn. “I’ll be offering lessons in sailing to any who are interested, a couple of evenings a week and on Sundays. I can’t say there won’t be hard work, because maintaining a ship requires labor. But you’ll also learn everything there is to know about sailing the finest ship in all the realms.”

Killian looked up at Blue, and she smiled, giving him a nod of respect.

“Now,” he said, “let’s see a show of hands. Who’s with me?”

~*~

A knock sounded on the door of the captain’s quarters. “Come in,” Killian called, looking up from the map spread out over his table.

Henry walked in, a clipboard in hand. He could see Henry making minute adjustments to his posture as the ship rocked under them, cutting its way through the bay a few miles off Storybrooke’s shore. The lad had always been a natural on the water, as if he was destined to be Killian’s stepson.

“Ah, my first mate,” Killian said, grinning. “What’s the report?” Killian certainly enjoyed working directly with the Lost Boys, teaching them everything he knew about sailing, but he enjoyed watching Henry blossom into a leadership role almost as much, so on some of their Sunday outings, he gave Henry free reign to manage the boys above deck while Killian kept his distance, demonstrating by way of his absence that he trusted Henry to be in command of the ship.

“Sawyer and Okeke are on deck-swabbing duty this week. Okeke is working hard, but I’ve caught Sawyer leaning against the gunwale three times so far.” Henry consulted his clipboard. “Still no one can match Frederickson’s speed climbing up to the crow’s nest. That kid is like a monkey.”

“How about their knots?”

“At least half of them still need help getting them right.”

Killian nodded. “That was my thought as well. I’ll set aside some time Tuesday. Who’s at the helm?”

“Zhang. I’ll go back up and check on him in a few minutes, but he seems fine.”

“He’s a natural leader, like you,” Killian said, and Henry blushed with pride.

“There are definitely a few of the boys who aren’t interested in doing this once your initial lessons are over. Not just Sawyer,” Henry said. “I mean, I think it’s been good for all of them, but some want to stick with it and some don’t.”

“Aye, not everyone is cut out for a sailor’s life.”

Henry scratched the back of his head. “I was talking to Violet about it the other day, and some of her girlfriends want to learn to sail if you’re going to keep doing this.”

Killian raised his eyebrows in surprise; not because they were girls, but simply that more kids, especially those who had grown up under the first curse and probably could have spent their time playing video games or chatsnapping or whatever it was teenagers did in this realm, would want to learn what he had to teach. “Emma and I are leaving on our trip very soon, as you know, and by the time we get back the summer will be nearly over. But I could probably fit several weeks of lessons in before the weather turns too cold, if there’s enough interest.”

“Yeah, I think there is,” Henry said as he sat down in the other chair across from Killian. “Hey, about your Caribbean trip, I think a few of the younger kids maybe still don’t understand that you’re not taking a crew of Lost Boys with you.”

“I’ve explained to them that the Jolly Roger is enchanted. While she can certainly sail with a full crew, it isn’t required,” he said, his brow wrinkling.

“I know, but they’ve imprinted on you like ducklings.” Henry blushed. “Also I don’t think they have a clear concept of what a honeymoon entails.”

“You mean…”

“Yeah,” Henry said, flushing a darker shade of pink. “I mean, who was gonna teach them about sex, Peter Pan? Or the fairies?”

Killian blinked. “They were in the fairies’ charge, I just assumed they would educate them about such things.”

“They’re fairies,” Henry said, shrugging. “Do they even do… that?”

Killian’s mind went immediately to Tinkerbell, and he quickly clamped down on that distant memory and shoved it deep, hoping Henry wouldn’t see any sign of it on his face. “What are you suggesting, Henry, that I…”

“You’re the only father figure they have.”

“Bloody hell.” He ran his hand over his face and stood up. “All right, I’ll give it some thought.”

He climbed the stairs to the deck, the wind tousling his hair as soon as he breached the surface. Henry followed on his heels and as he made the rounds, inspecting the cleanliness of the ship and offering suggestions or encouragement to the boys who were manning the sail lines.

“Order Zhang to bring her about and make for home,” he told Henry.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Henry said, trotting up the stairs to the helm. Killian watched him, pride filling his chest. He kept thinking he couldn’t be more proud of his stepson, and Henry kept proving him wrong.

Killian took over command as they neared the dock, instructing the boys again in the proper way to bring the ship in carefully, several of them jumping over to the boardwalk as soon as they were close enough and pulling the lines taut. Henry inspected their knots, correcting the ones that were tied wrong and going through the process again slowly with them. A natural sailor and a natural teacher, Killian thought, watching Henry out of the corner of his eye as Killian helped another set of boys secure the sails.

The gangplank was lowered and the rest of the boys poured off the ship, calling out their goodbyes as they ran down the boardwalk. Killian disembarked more slowly, pulling his phone out and checking it for any missed messages from Emma. He had just enough time to stop by and pick up some take-out from Granny’s, he thought, and was so focused on the evening ahead that he almost collided with Belle on the dock.

“Belle!” he said. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.” She had Gideon strapped to her chest in some kind of baby-carrying contraption, and the boy had half his fist wedged in his mouth, drool covering his hand. He’d seen Belle in town from a distance a few times over the past several weeks, and every time he’d avoided her gaze, uncertain of how to bridge the chasm between them. Now she was here, right in front of him, and it sent his heart hammering as he remembered the hurtful things they’d said to each other in her kitchen.

“It’s okay.” She shifted from foot to foot, her hand absently caressing Gideon’s head. “I asked around, and they said you usually get back from your Sunday sail around now, so…” She trailed off and cleared her throat. “I wanted to apologize for what happened between us. I’m sorry.”

“Love, it wasn’t your fault. I had no right to come into your home and imply that you’d made the wrong decision.” He winced, because he still felt she had made the wrong decision, but he wasn’t going to say that. “It was ungentlemanly.”

She laughed, perhaps thinking that him shooting her all those years ago was also ungentlemanly. He’d hurt her more than once back then, when his quest for revenge against her now-husband blinded him to everything else. He’d sworn to make it up to her, and all he’d done in the end was hurt her because of her husband again. “It’s okay,” she said. “I forgive you.”

“I very much miss our friendship,” he said. Belle and he had gotten particularly close after she had banished Rumple over the town line, when he was falling in love with Emma and struggling to be a better man for her. She had consoled him when Emma had been the Dark One, and probably had kept him from drinking Storybrooke dry of rum on more than one occasion during that terrible time.

“I miss our friendship too, that’s why I came down here,” Belle responded. “Even though I know you still think I was wrong to go back to Rumple.”

He scratched behind his ear, unable to lie to her. “You know my mind when it comes to your husband, and it’s unlikely to change.”

“Can we agree to disagree?” she said, and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I promise that if anything bad ever happens, I’ll take you up on your offer and I’ll come to you for help. And you promise not to say anything against Rumple in my presence. Or around Gideon, as he grows up.”

“I promise,” Killian said, looking at the innocent babe. All other things aside, he was happy that Belle had the chance to raise her child properly. Too many children he knew had grown up without their parents, and Gideon was lucky indeed to have a mother as loving as Belle was. “He’s growing like a weed. And quite the handsome fellow.”

“He is,” she gushed. “I’m getting pretty strong, carrying him around all the time.”

“I was just going to pick up food from Granny’s to take home; would you like to join us for dinner?”

She grinned. “I’d love to.”

~*~

Emma giggled, her foot slipping in the sand, and she grabbed Killian’s hook to stay upright.

He eyed her with mock disapproval. “You’re drunk and it’s barely past noon, love. What am I going to do with such a tosspot for a wife?”

“I’m not drunk, but that rum punch was surprisingly strong, and I probably definitely should not have had two of them.”

They were walking back to the little oceanfront bungalow they had rented. The only restaurant within walking distance was a dive bar with a tiny menu of whatever seafood the proprietors had managed to pull out of the ocean, and an assortment of rum and rum cocktails that had made Killian’s eyes widen in wonderment. The beach they’d chosen was far from a popular destination, as most tourists these days had decamped to the all-inclusive resorts, but that was exactly what made Emma and Killian love it. No one looked askance at man with a hook for a hand, or asked where they were from with more than brief, passing interest.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, darling,” he said with a more serious inflection in his voice.

She looked at him, resisting the temptation to sink her fingers into all of the chest hair he had on display under the shirt that hung, unbuttoned, on his lithe frame. “I really am.” She bumped her hip against his. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

“Always.”

The wrap that Emma had secured around her bikini flapped against her legs in the ocean breeze, and she tipped her face up to the sunshine as they walked, the brim of her sunhat shielding her eyes from the bright light. The heat had her debating another dip in the ocean, but when Killian pulled her by the hand toward their rooms, she followed. They rinsed the sand off with the outdoor shower, Emma yelping as the cold water hit her legs.

As soon as they entered the bedroom, Emma pushed Killian down on the tousled sheets. “Clothes off,” she said, untying her floral wrap and tossing it aside. She left her bikini on, figuring it would torture him more if she didn’t undress completely. He detached his hook and set it aside before doing as she asked with his unbuttoned shirt, followed by his swim trunks. Before he could begin to unfasten the buckles that secured his brace, Emma pounced, pressing him back onto the bed. She held his forearms down with her small hands, her mouth dragging across his chest. She grazed his nipple with her teeth, and Killian hissed and arched off the mattress.

“Shhh, be still,” she said, her lips pulling back into a smile as she inched down the bed. His abdomen was firm and well-muscled under her mouth, and Emma licked the sea salt from his skin as she dragged her hands down to his waist. She felt his erection brushing against her breasts, could sense his impatience in the trembling of his stomach muscles under her tongue.

His cock was smooth and rigid when she finally closed her lips around it, and she was gratified by the groan from her husband as she pulled off and swirled her tongue around the head. Killian’s fingers threaded into her hair gently, a slight press of his fingers guiding the pace she set. She sucked him harder, took him deeper, bringing one hand up to grip the base of his cock to keep him from choking her as Killian began to lose control and let his hips flex upwards. She loved everything about doing this for him, the sensation of him getting harder in her mouth, the way his fist clenched in her hair, the way she could sometimes look up and see him watching her, watching the way his cock disappeared into her mouth. Other times she would just see the straining cords of his neck as he threw his head back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, Swan, that’s… gods, I’m gonna come.”

She hummed with approval, not letting up until his hips jerked, Killian groaning as his orgasm hit. She gradually slowed, pulling off when he relaxed and swallowing the salty tang in the back of her throat.

Emma rose up on her knees, watching him as he recovered his breathing, lying there, completely wrecked by what she’d done to him. It turned her on almost as much as his touch did.

Killian opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Take that swimming costume off and get up here,” he rasped.

Reaching behind her back, she untied the bows and let the top part of her bikini drop. She hooked her thumbs in the bottom and slowly dragged it down her legs, kicking it off. Crawling up the bed, she started to lie down at his side, but Killian stopped her.

“No, up here, love. Bring your delicious quim up here where I can taste it,” he said.

She indicated the bedside table where he’d dropped his hook earlier. “Put your hook back on and I will.”

He gave her a slowly unfurling grin and did as she asked, the click of it locking into the brace echoing somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.

Feeling very exposed in the bright sunlit room and still a little bit day-drunk, Emma gingerly slung one of her legs over to the other side of Killian’s head and positioned herself over his face. The headboard of the bed was a smooth piece of wood anchored to the wall, very unlike the sturdy bars in their own bedroom that she could grip to keep herself steady. Pressing her hands against the wall, she splayed her knees and slowly lowered herself down to his mouth.

“Relax, darling.” She felt his hand grip her ass and his hook press into the back of her thigh, which sent a shudder through her body. “I’ve got you; you won’t suffocate me.” He winked. “Or if you do, I can’t imagine a better way to die.”

“Jokes about you dying still aren’t funny,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.

He chuckled and pulled her down to his mouth, opening wide and devouring her, everything wet and sparking with pleasure as he licked into her. Emma moved her hips in a slow roll as his tongue traced over her, shutting out everything but the sensations he was creating. She stopped worrying about whether she was smothering him or about her body at all, she just floated and let the feelings build as he expertly worked her up. Her world narrowed to his tongue and lips on her sex, the smooth metal of his hook against her leg and his fingers pressing into the flesh of her ass. She was so open to him, so wet and open and everything was radiating ecstasy out from that tiny nub of flesh where he was focusing his attention, more and more and more until it exploded and Emma cried out.

She dropped her head against the wall, panting, while Killian slid out from under her and guided her to lie down at his side, aftershocks making her twitch slightly as she relaxed. She felt like a popped bottle of champagne, fizzing away into the open air of the humid bedroom.

“You know what I sometimes think about?” Emma said after an unknown length of time, stretching her legs out on the white sheet. The top sheet and blanket had ended up mostly on the floor, but it was warm in the room and she was happy to just lie there, completely naked and exposed. Despite their best efforts, she could feel the grit of sand against her skin, and she made a mental note to see if she could wrangle them some fresh sheets before nightfall.

“Hmm? What’s that, love?” Killian lay on his back at her side, the breeze from the open windows ruffling his hair. His eyes remained closed.

“I wonder what an earlier version of me would have thought if I could see us now.” She held her hand up in front of her face and looked at the wedding and engagement rings that adorned her finger.

“An earlier version of you?”

“Yeah.” She rolled onto her side to look at her husband. “Like, if we fell through that time portal and ended up here instead of thirty years in the past in the Enchanted Forest.”

He snorted. “I suppose we’d think, ‘Gods, look at how bloody naked we are.’”

Emma reached over and smacked his shoulder. “I don’t literally mean here and now, I just mean generally nowish.”

“Are you asking, what would past us think about the fact that we are husband and wife?” He rolled over and faced her. “If you’re talking specifically about the version of me that fell through that time portal, I’d have been thrilled. After all, I was already madly in love with you by then. You, however, would have probably run for the hills.”

“I wasn’t that bad.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Okay, maybe I was, but secretly I would have been a little bit thrilled. I was totally into you then, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

“There’s a more interesting thought experiment to be had here, Swan. Imagine us…” He thought for a few seconds, and then his eyes lit up. “Imagine us swordfighting at the shore of Lake Nostos. I’m the pirate scoundrel in league with Cora, out to steal your passage home to this world, you’re the annoyingly righteous daughter of Snow White keeping me from my revenge. Then suddenly, bang, we get transported to a rooftop in Storybrooke, and see our future selves saying matrimonial vows to each other. What would past Emma make of that?”

“Past Emma would assume she was under some kind of magical spell and was being forced to get married. And I don’t even mean because it’s you; just getting married at all was something I assumed I’d never do.” She reached out and put her hand on his bare chest, over his heart, and moved a little closer, brushing her foot against his. “What about Past Hook?”

He raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I don’t know; much the same, I suppose. I certainly didn’t think I would ever marry, not since Milah. But as to it being you, Swan… I don’t think I would have hated that, even then.”

“But I’m annoyingly righteous, remember? Plus, I left you chained at the top of a beanstalk.”

“But you’re also very clever, and stunningly beautiful, and once I met you, you plagued my thoughts often.” He pulled her close, kissing her. “I’d like to think that secretly, I’d have been a little bit thrilled.”

She chuckled at his use of her own words, kissing him back and hitching her leg up on his hip. It had probably only been a half hour since he’d orgasmed, but she could feel his cock stirring to life.

“And if those versions of us -- the Lake Nostos versions -- did see us right here, right now?” she said, brushing her breasts against his chest as they started to rock against each other. “If they were standing right here in this room, watching us?”

Killian rolled them so that she was underneath him, caging her in with his arms as she opened her legs and bracketed his hips with her thighs. A handful of thrusts against her and he was fully erect, and without missing a beat he shifted and thrust inside, sinking all the way to the hilt easily. They both groaned softly at the sensation.

“I’d be rather impressed with myself for bedding such a gorgeous creature,” he murmured, mouth brushing against hers as he spoke. He started a slow rhythm, long strokes in and out, grinding against her at the apex of every thrust.

“That’s it?” she panted, pleasure starting to build again, a gradual burn that made it difficult to remember what they were even talking about. “That’s all you’d care about?”

He smirked at her, and it was a little infuriating that he could look at her like that in the midst of what their bodies were doing. “What about you, love?”

Killian’s hips snapped forward more forcefully and Emma’s eyes rolled back at how good it felt. “I’d… oh god… probably just stand there and stare at your ass.” She reached down and clutched it with her fingers, feeling the way his muscles worked under her hands. “I bet it looks fantastic while you’re fucking me.”

“Hmm, that’s true, you’re getting the much better end of the bargain. Past me can barely see you.” He slid his hand and hook underneath her back and rolled, impressively staying inside her during the maneuver. “Sit up, love, and let past me get a look at what a goddess you are when you ride me.”

Emma took a second to muse that this was the weirdest roleplay she’d ever participated in, but it was strangely hot, imagining their past selves faced with the fact that in the future, they’d be fucking regularly. And would be really excellent at it. She pulled her knees forward and sat up on her heels, undulating her hips and leaning back, letting her long hair trail down until Killian could probably feel it brushing his thighs. He took her left hand in his right, and she could feel the now-familiar click of their wedding rings making contact. She jumped when she felt the cold metal of his hook press intimately against her, and she lifted her head and looked down at the curve of it nestled between her legs, pressing accurately against her clit.

“What would past Emma think of the way you love my hook touching you?” he asked, his hips thrusting up from below, and she could barely speak, could feel herself getting close, and she swallowed on a dry throat.

“She’d… think it was kinky.”

“And would she secretly want it for herself?”

Emma thought about the way she’d watched him that day as they had climbed the beanstalk and made their way around the giant’s castle. How when she’d saved him from the tripwire, she felt his hook raking across her back as she pulled out of his arms.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, gasping at the drag of him inside her.

“Are you close, darling?” All she could do was nod, lost to the sensation of his cock moving within her and his hook against her wet, sensitive flesh. She continued to rock back and forth until the feeling burst outward, filling her with overwhelming heat and pleasure and she moaned long and loud, barely aware of Killian’s fingers clutching her hip as he thrust up into her at a quicker pace. She opened her eyes just in time to see his own climax hit him, his teeth clenching and voice straining.

When enough feeling returned to her limbs that she could move them, Emma clumsily collapsed onto the bed beside her husband, ignoring the mess for the moment as her breathing gradually slowed. She was hot and sticky with sweat, but when Killian turned and pulled her into his arms, she allowed it.

“Let’s take a nap and then go for a swim,” she said. She felt boneless, like she could just melt into the bed and stay there forever.

“All right.”

“You never really said what past you would think, seeing us together like this,” she said, eyes slipping closed.

“Past me would think there’s no possible way I could be worthy of such a woman,” he breathed into her neck as they held each other. “I’d think she must have made a terrible mistake, marrying me, and that it would only be a matter of time before she saw the error of her ways and cut me loose.”

Emma combed her fingers through his damp hair. “And now? What do you think now?”

Killian pulled away and met her eyes. “I think we both need each other. I think we’ve worked hard to make this relationship work, and that we deserve happiness. I think there’s no one better suited than you to be my wife, but that also perhaps there’s no one better suited than me to be your husband.”

“Perhaps?” she teased, bumping her nose against his.

“Definitely no one better.”

“That’s right.” They continued to hold each other, the breeze cooling their sweaty skin. “When do we have to go back to Storybrooke?”

“About four more days. Five, maybe, if it looks like the winds are going to be with us.” Killian rolled onto his back, pulling Emma with him. She rested her head on his chest, her fingers combing through the hair on his chest. “Are you dreading it, love?”

She thought about it. “I mean, I won’t lie, spending my days swimming in the ocean, having sex, and sleeping is pretty awesome, but I wouldn’t say I’m dreading it. My real life is pretty good too.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “Every day I’m happy, and every day I’m less and less surprised about that.”

He stroked her cheek gently. “I’m glad.”

END

#cs ff #captain swan ff #captain cobra ff #cs smut #cs future fic #my fic #what comes next fic

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florrickandassociates · 7 years

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TGF Thoughts: 1x09-- Self Condemned

In which I ramble about memory pops and repeat myself several times. I’d say I was trying to capture the stream-of-consciousness feeling of the episode, but really, I’m just too lazy to edit this.

This episode kicks off at 9:03 am. There’s a title card announcing this fact. I’m not sure why we need to know exactly what time it is, since lines about breakfast, mid-morning snack, and lunch could’ve conveyed the passage of time better than a title card. And since the time cards just kinda disappear as the episode goes on.

Maia and Lucca are waiting for Maia to be interviewed about her parents’ scheme. It seems like Lucca is Maia’s lawyer now, which I don’t love: what happened to Yesha?! I won’t complain too much, though, because I want Maia/Lucca scenes and I want Maia to feel like part of the rest of the show. But I also want to know where Yesha disappeared to.

Lucca briefly summarizes the rules of today’s interview: Maia is here voluntarily and nothing she shares in this interview can be used against her.

“Was your first year anything like this?” Maia asks Lucca. Good question. Maia has a lot on her plate, but this is still her first job. As someone who’s still in her first year out of college, I was excited to see the Kings’ take on a character who’s going through the same things I am (even if our careers and our circumstances are very different). But we’ve barely gotten any of that. And, while it’s not necessary that the writers focus on this aspect of Maia’s life (she does have bigger things to worry about, after all!), it’s something the writers could look at to add to Maia’s development. Alicia was always dealing with the sex scandal, dealing with the conspiracy/trial drama surrounding Peter, being a mother, and adjusting to going back to work and fighting for her job in her competition with Cary. Maia may not be juggling quite as many roles as Alicia was, but even still: she plays roles other than Daughter of a Scandal. She is a new lawyer. She is someone’s girlfriend. She is Diane’s goddaughter. There is no lack of potential material for Maia, which is why I’ve been (and will continue to be) so harsh on the writers for the way they have(n’t) developed her.

(And it wouldn’t even hurt the show or take up too much time to show Maia in other roles! It would make the show more coherent to have her at work more often; it would give Diane more material if she and Maia interacted more frequently; it would make everything a lot better if we got to see more of Maia and Amy’s relationship. And, if the Rindell Fund stuff needed to be minimized to make room to show Maia doing other things, so be it. That plot is in desperate need of trimming anyway.)

Lucca responds that no, her first year wasn’t anything like this (well of course it wasn’t; she was working as a bar attorney). She has a feeling her fourth year will be, though. Foreshadowing…

“You’re weathering it well,” Lucca tells Maia. Maia thanks her, and then it’s time for her interview. Hey! Wouldn’t this line play a lot better if we could see that Maia is either putting on an act and everything’s getting to her or that Maia has a strategy for dealing with this? Again (I’m going to say this a lot in this recap), we got that kind of development for Alicia. And Alicia didn’t have a live-in significant other she could talk to about anything.

Lucca and Maia walk into an interrogation room filled with lights, cameras, and a half-dozen FBI agents. “Oh, come on!” Lucca exclaims. But it turns out they’re in a different room with only one interviewer, played by Jane Lynch. The hallway is being painted and they have to go through the interrogation room because quirkiness. Also quirky: Madeline Starkey’s office, which is stuffed with all sorts of trinkets. And, if there weren’t enough quirk already in this scene, birds sometimes fly into Starkey’s window because they think it’s the sky. Lovely. Dead birds are quirk now.

Starkey explains with more specificity what Maia’s there to do, and mentions that the terms only apply if Maia is truthful. It’s a felony to lie to a federal agent, Starkey reminds her. Maia knows exactly what law that is.

“Maia, let’s talk about your parents. How did this Ponzi scheme begin?” Starkey asks first. Well that’s a broad question Maia wouldn’t necessarily know the answer to. (This is Starkey’s play—I don’t believe for a minute she’s interested in anything other than catching Maia in a lie.) Lucca answers for Maia, so Starkey rephrases. She wants Maia to share anything that comes to mind about her parents or about her Uncle Jackson. So, basically, she wants memory pops.

Meanwhile at the firm, Adrian needs Diane to help with another police brutality case. He has friends at County, so he knows when a new case pops up. And, this is an interesting one: the cop involved is Andrew Theroux, the same cop as the case from F101. If they fight this right, they can get this cop kicked off the force.

Adrian and Diane arrive at County and try to find their new client. They assume it’s a young black man who doesn’t look like he’s been involved in a physical altercation and who says he’s in there on a possession charge (but he didn’t do it).

Their real client? None other than Colin Sweeney. “Oh, Dear God,” Diane says when she sees him. Sweeney’s excited to see Diane. He asks if “Alee-see-ah” called her because she said she couldn’t take his case. Couldn’t or didn’t want to? I demand answers. (Nah, I don’t demand answers. I’m just glad this line is in here, since Sweeney’s one of those guest stars who mainly interacted with Alicia. He was always so fixated on her that her absence needs to be acknowledged for it to make even the slightest bit of sense that anyone else would be defending him.

Sweeney tells Adrian that “they’re out to get me. The same way they did with Rodney King.” EL-OH-EL. RIGHT.

Adrian and Diane (who thinks Sweeney is “the devil”) don’t like that they’re going to have to represent Sweeney, but they know this is a way to get the corrupt cop kicked off the force. The ends justify the means. (The show did as good of a job as they possibly could have—between this explanation and the Alicia reference—of bringing Sweeney onto TGF. He’s one of the guest stars that I think TGW used a little too frequently, but I’ll allow.)

Back in the FBI interview, Starkey gives Maia a date: the first criminal act took place on September 15th, 2008. I typed this date into my email inbox to see what I was up to then. Apparently, that’s the day I sent my first email to someone who’s now one of my best friends. (It was a link to the first Tina Fey as Sarah Palin sketch. How 2008.)

Anyway, Maia says, as any reasonable person asked to recall something that happened on some day nine years ago would, that that was a long time ago. “I would’ve been seventeen,” Maia says. So Maia’s 26 (possibly 27) now. “I was probably in school,” she continues.

Starkey points out it was the day Lehman Brothers went bankrupt, and that jogs Maia’s memory, which means… MEMORY POPS!

Maia remembers herself doing homework as the news played in the background. She’s at home, at the dining room table, still wearing her school uniform. (Maia went to private school, it seems, but that’s the least surprising reveal ever.) Also, sorry, but giving Maia really curly hair and a school uniform doesn’t make me believe that 30 year old Rose looks seventeen. It does, however, make it look like Maia grew up in a different era.

Maia remembers her parents panicking over the news. So far, these memory pops are nothing special, but it’s still early. They’re mostly a way of illustrating information, and that’s fine.

Starkey moves on to asking about an investor, and Maia says she remembers him being at her house on September 15th. She adds that Jax was there too. Maia has a good memory! (For some reason, all of this is making me think of the opening of Serial.)

She specifically remembers that the investor would be out eight million dollars if he pulled his money out, so her family told him to keep his money in.

She estimates that this must’ve been around 4 pm because she was still doing her homework. Girl, I was still doing my homework at 10 pm and was barely home from school by 4. Are you sure about this time frame? And if you are, what sort of school did you go to where you had so little homework you wouldn’t have been working on it much later than 4?! She also remembers that their guest was gone before dinner. This has gotten super specific.

Maia remembers that her parents discussed work over dinner. And this is where I want more from the memory pops. Maia is going through a time in her life where she’s reevaluating everything she thought she knew and questioning the perfect family she thought she had. Sure, Starkey is asking about one specific date, but wouldn’t it be cool if, for example, we saw flashes of lots of “typical Rindell family dinners” before we saw the one Maia remembers on September 15th? Did the Rindells always sit down to dinner together? Was that something they made a point of doing, something that Maia remembers fondly from her childhood? When she thinks about this particular dinner, is she only thinking about that dinner, or is she making a composite memory of lots of dinners? It is not interesting to me that Maia had dinner with her parents on September 15th, 2008. It’s not even interesting to me that Maia thinks she had dinner with her parents on that date. But it would be very interesting to me if I knew that the Rindells always sat down as a family for dinner.

Starkey has Lenore’s calendar from 2008, and it contradicts Maia’s recollection because Maia had a gyno appointment at 3 pm. Damn, her school must’ve let out early. Starkey wants to know how Maia remembers seeing Jax at 4 if this is the case. Uh? Because it was nine years ago and Maia gave you estimate times? (Lucca points this out.)

“I know that memory can be faulty. I’m just trying to get to the truth,” Starkey says. That’s a good thesis statement for what memory pops are meant to illustrate.

Maia does remember a gyno appointment, and her mom speaking with someone in the waiting room. She tells Starkey she was there. Why!? She remembers it was on that day? Why did you say yes, Maia? She says maybe she saw Jax and the investor later, which calls everything she’s said into question.

Starkey says it would’ve been impossible for Maia to be home by 4 because of the distance from the doctor’s office to Maia’s house. Maybe the appointment lasted 15 minutes. Maybe Maia got there early. Maybe she saw them at 4:30. I don’t get why Starkey is so stuck on the times adding up exactly. Or maybe she doesn’t care at all and she just wants to have reason to tell her bosses she suspects Maia’s a liar.

(Memory is malleable—note how Maia’s mental image of that day changes every time Starkey introduces a new piece of information. If Starkey said “you had fish for dinner that night, your father told me,” Maia would probably start imagining fish on the dinner plates.)

It would’ve been 5:30 by the time they got home, apparently. That’s a lot of traffic. And the housekeeper said she served dinner right at 5:30. And Jax said he was never there at all. I am not convinced by Starkey’s argument, though I also don’t trust Maia’s memories to be objective. I’m sure, in 2008, she overheard more than one discussion about the recession.

Starkey starts talking about some show she was on when she was eight, and then says that when she saw photos, she realized her memory was wrong. “The mind has a way of turning wishful thinking into actual memories,” Starkey says. That’s true. Not sure if that’s what’s going on here, but it’s true.

Lucca stops the interview. She and Maia have trouble exiting Starkey’s office because quirkiness.

Lucca, smartly, notes that Starkey is trying to catch Maia in lies. She advises Maia to only talk about specific memories. “I don’t want to hurt my dad,” Maia says. That’s obvious. She’s still—in her mind—making Jax out to be the villain, even after all the shit her father’s put her through these past few weeks. And this episode would’ve been the perfect time to find out why Maia’s so loyal to her father. “He’s her father” stopped being an adequate explanation the first time she broke the law to protect him. What produced this kind of loyalty? What kinds of values did her parents instill in her? Since she’s an only child, was she very close with her parents? Would her dad always, always find time to ask about her day, to help her with her homework, to offer to read over her essays? Would they chat about the news together?

This is connected to another problem I have with the Rindells, one I’ve touched on before. Maia’s parents are cartoon villains. Maybe if in just one scene either of them behaved like a human being, I’d have an easier time believing that Maia would care about them. Peter Florrick was always more than just Scumbag In Prison Who Cheated on Alicia. Remember Just Because Day? I think it’s in episode W1x04. It’s exactly what I would want from Maia and her parents: Alicia’s asked what she was doing on a specific date and goes to find information. She stumbles across a video from that date, and it refreshes her memory. But, before she realizes that Peter must’ve been with her the entire day, and not off breaking the law, she’s nervous. The video starts out with Peter in bed, and we don’t need to literally see inside Alicia’s mind to know that she thinks she’s found a sex tape. Now that she knows that Peter’s a cheater, she can’t help but see everything through that lens. She relaxes when she sees Zach and Grace on the camera, and then she recalls how wonderful her family was before the scandal—how good Peter was with the kids; how he surprised her “just because.” That’s a lot of information about Alicia (AND something that adds dimension to Peter) in one scene where all she does is watch a tape. How come we don’t get that much information about Maia when we get a glimpse into her mind?

(Yes, I know the point of these memory pops is to show that Maia knew all along but ignored the warning signs. My point is that I would love to see memory pops that suggest why she was willfully ignorant for so long.)

(I don’t know where to put this point so I may as well put it here: I would like this episode far, far more if it had been placed earlier in the season. Maia realizing she knew all along and is covering for her parents is a big deal, but it’s less of a big deal when she’s been suspicious of her mom for weeks, read her father’s suicide note about his “crimes”, and, oh yeah, made the choice to let her father stay in prison for the rest of his life rather than risk hurting anyone else. This is the kind of realization that would’ve added a lot of depth to Maia early on but feels too late now.)

(On a similar note, I would prefer it if Maia came to this realization through either a conversation—in private—with her lawyer or a heart-to-heart with Amy. I don’t give a shit about continuing investigations into the Rindells, and Madeline Starkey isn’t the only person in the world who could prompt Maia to question the accuracy of her memories.)

“If you lie to protect your dad, you might get him off. But you’ll end up in jail,” Lucca explains. Wait. This is still a question?! I know these legal cases take time but can we please be done with this one? Also: if this is Maia’s way of feeling guilty about her father’s suicide attempt and how she sided with Diane and the firm over her family, maaaaaaaaaaaaybe the episode could be clearer about that????

My overall feeling about the memory pops in this episode is: They’re better than standard flashbacks and they convey what they need to about Maia feeling guilty. But there was still a lot of character detail missing.

Also: I’m sure my disappointment has something to do with how little I care about Maia, even nearly at the end of the first season. There was always very little chance of me becoming as invested in Maia as I was in Alicia, so this isn’t entirely the show’s fault. But I don’t think it’s all a matter of personal preference. I won’t get into it yet again, but I think there are lots of ways that the writers could have made Maia a more interesting, three-dimensional character.

In court, there’s some sort of unfunny joke about a judge in a wheelchair who doesn’t want any help going up a ramp. I want to believe this is just to show us that the judge is the kind of person who insists on doing everything himself without asking for help, but it kind of seems like I’m supposed to find it quirky and funny that he’s in a wheelchair and can’t wheel himself up a ramp. It is neither quirky nor funny; it’s just offensive.

Case stuff happens. Sweeney says “all lives matter” and Diane shushes him. (“Shut up, Colin. I’m finally on your side.”) (Hey, speaking of people named Colin, where’s Colin Morello at this week? I don’t miss him, but where is he?) (Marissa’s not in this episode either.) (And Barbara may as well not be in this episode because they don’t give her much to do.)

My new favorite thing is lawyers on this show laughing because the law works in bizarre and wonderful ways sometimes. It happens at least twice in this episode and it happened last week too.

More birds fly into Starkey’s windows as Lucca and Maia return for more questioning. Starkey hands Maia her mother’s calendar. For some reason, Maia keeps remembering her mom leaning in close to Jax (first they’re both blurred out) when she’s at the appointments. I think this is meant to indicate that it’s slowly coming into focus for her that all her appointments were covers for her mom’s affair with Jax. But I’m not sure that makes sense. It’s not like Maia never went to the doctor, and I don’t know why she’d go straight to realizing it was a cover for an affair (Starkey hasn’t suggested that yet at this point).

Maia’s supposed to mark all the appointments she remembers on a print-out of her mom’s calendar. She remembers her mom talking to a gynecologist and so she puts a check next to that appointment. Okay but Maia, you going to the gynecologist doesn’t mean you went on that exact day.

Maia remembers lots of gyno appointments. Is there supposed to be a point to this? Or is it just to let us know that she had a boyfriend before she had a girlfriend?

Starkey then says that Lenore wasn’t at the appointments: she was sleeping with Jax. This is so aggravating to me. These things happened nine years ago. But Starkey is right: Maia shouldn’t be confirming things if they’re not true. When I buy lunch multiple times in a week, a week later, I can’t remember which day I bought a sandwich and which day I got pasta, even if I remember that I bought a sandwich one day and pasta another day. I really don’t get why Maia is confirming anything instead of second-guessing herself. (But then, maybe Maia just thinks differently than I do.)

Also just taking a second to acknowledge that Lenore Rindell is a shitty person.

Maia imagines her mother and Jax kissing in the hallway of her gynecologist’s office. She pictures herself turning away. This didn’t happen in reality (they were not carrying on an affair in her gyno’s office, I’m like 99.9999% sure)—this is Maia processing information. Get it? She sees the truth and turns away.

So now the question is: did Maia suspect anything? She sees herself turning around, like it was right in front of her. No, she says. She didn’t. Starkey wants to know if she ever suspected her parents of the Ponzi scheme, and Lucca insists on a break. Good call, Lucca.

At RBK, a guy from COPA is falling asleep on Adrian’s desk. Barbara and Adrian tell the COPA guy about their latest case. He’s interested when he hears which cop was involved. But when they tell him the victim is Sweeney… COPA guy laughs. And laughs. And laughs. And laughs. And laughs. And laughs. He rips up his notes and leaves, still laughing. He is my new hero.

Case stuff happens.

Maia looks at her contacts list in her phone. Lucca calls her in for more of the interview. Starkey offers them candy and makes up a story about her husband. Lucca calls her out on it—she googled Starkey. Seems Starkey is lying about whatever she feels like lying about. But she is good at her job, according to the interwebs.

Starkey responds by threatening Lucca. Cool.

Her next questions are about the Rindell Foundation. Maia is one of three board members. Starkey asks when the board last met. Apparently, years ago. In June 2011. And they never met again. MAIA. HOW ARE YOU ON THE BOARD OF A FOUNDATION THAT HASN’T HAD A BOARD MEETING IN SIX YEARS WITHOUT THINKING THAT’S SUSPICIOUS? (Later, we’ll see Maia say she cared about the cause, but actions speak louder than words.)

I don’t think I’m supposed to be on Maia’s side on this. I don’t think it makes her a criminal or complicit that she wasn’t more involved. But it does make her willfully ignorant, and neglectful (not in a legal sense, because I don’t know anything about the law). Maia’s led a life so full of privilege she doesn’t immediately think this is strange. And she’s so comfortable with her life, she doesn’t do anything that could cause a stir. It’s no wonder she feels guilty.

Maia explains that the foundation wasn’t her idea, but it was a good cause. I’m trying not to judge Maia for this, but I’m failing. I’m sure most eighteen year olds wouldn’t like it if their parents tried to force them into running a foundation, but it takes a certain type of privilege to hear about a foundation (even as an eighteen year old) and go, “ugh, daddy, this is a good cause but why do I have to deal with it?” instead of thinking, “This is an opportunity for me to do good for other people; let me make sure I get people involved to manage these initiatives.”

In Maia’s defense, she does remember asking how much they were sending. “It’s a lot, honey,” is all she remembers her dad telling her. “I don’t know,” she realizes. And she was okay with that.

She remembers asking again, that same night, while making pizza with her dad. “Yeah, but Dad, I mean, it’s got my name on it,” she said. Henry said Jax would open the books to her in a few weeks. We don’t get confirmation on whether or not that happened. My guess? Maia never followed up, because it would’ve been uncomfortable to follow up, and she was preoccupied with her own life.

Case stuff happens. It’s good for the RBK team.

Now we’re in a memory pop without first seeing Maia, which is a transition I do not like at all because it makes the memory pop seem like a flashback and not a memory. Henry, and a bunch of guests including Diane, are singing Happy Birthday to Maia. It’s her eighteenth birthday, Starkey explains: the day the Rindell Foundation was established.

“My parents, they, they knew I was interested in Africa,” Maia says, explaining why the foundation was gifted to her. OH YES, I CAN TELL YOU WERE INTERESTED IN AFRICA FROM THE WAY YOU REFER TO IT (IN THE PRESENT!) AS THOUGH IT’S A SINGLE COUNTRY. And from the way you totally knew what your foundation was doing (or not doing). And from all those board meetings over the years.

(I try not to judge characters and to understand them instead but oh my god, how can I not judge someone who says things like, “My parents knew I was interested in Africa.”????)

Next question: Was Amy at Maia’s birthday party? Yes, she was. Maia remembers that clearly, romantically. She pictures Amy smiling at her, looking directly at her, noticing her, standing out from the crowd.

It was the night Maia and Amy met! That’s exciting backstory! And, we get confirmation on an age difference: Amy was entering law school when Maia turned 18. I didn’t think the age gap was that big! Like, that makes Amy in these memory pops the age I am now, and the idea of dating an 18 year old now is like, LOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOL YOU’RE A CHILD. The age gap isn’t what’s strange to me—it’s not that big of a gap. It’s the gap in maturity and experience that strikes me as odd. But hey, it worked out for them, so who am I to judge?

(Good to get confirmation that Amy’s supposed to be four/five years older. That sounds about right.)

Maia’s boyfriend was there that night, but she ended up making out with Amy anyway. That escalated quickly.

Starkey also asks if Diane was there. Maia remembers her singing Happy Birthday. Of course, we don’t get to hear it, even though this is the closest we’ve ever gotten to Christine Baranski singing on the show.

Starkey wants to know if Diane offered legal advice to Maia’s parents in Maia’s presence. Lucca cuts in before I can type out, “isn’t that hearsay?”

Diane’s talking about a case she’s on, a guy who’s accused of killing a hedge fund manager who worked with Madoff. I don’t know if the timeline adds up or not, but it’s possible this is the case from W1x15, which has a case with that premise. Also, 1x15 is a really good episode and I just rewatched it last weekend. And one of the filming locations in that episode is the Rindell mansion. It’s where a corrupt hedge fund manager lived. I know that’s not intentional, but HA! (Sorry, Maia, but seeing Alicia walk through your house doesn’t do you any favors.)

(I CAN’T STOP COMPARING MAIA TO ALICIA. I HAVE BECOME THE TYPE OF FAN I CAN’T STAND.)

Maia’s torn between the pleasant memory of Amy and the unpleasant memory of Diane and her parents talking about the Madoffs. In Maia’s mind, Diane says, “I think [Madoff’s wife] didn’t know because she didn’t want to know.” Huh, I wonder where Maia got that piece of dialogue to insert into her memory.

“How could she not know?” Diane says, and it sounds like a judgment of Maia.

Since the foundation was being used as a front and Maia’s name is on the contract, Maia’s legally responsible for any of her parents’ crimes. Unless she tells Starkey about Diane’s advice, that is.

But Maia didn’t sign the documents on her birthday! She signed them on the Saturday before her birthday!

“Nice, Maia,” Lucca says after they leave the interview. “No, lucky,” Maia replies. “No, I’ve seen lucky. That was smart,” Lucca says and offers her hand for a high-five. (Can’t it be both? Maia totally would have signed the papers if it was her actual birthday. But it is smart that she’s thinking things through before talking now.)

Now it’s 1:27 pm. I don’t understand why these time stamps are happening and I especially don’t understand why the people at All Access have inserted the commercial breaks right after the time stamps instead of right before. I assume they’re meant to kick off each act that takes place on that first day?

Case stuff happens.

Another bird crashes into Starkey’s window. I thought it had to do with the way the light hit the windows, so why is this happening all throughout the day?

Starkey asks Maia if it’s correct she found out about the Ponzi scheme from the news. She says it is. “You graduated from law school in 2016, right?” Starkey asks. Maia says that’s right.

And then Starkey asks her about a celebration that took place at her parents’ house. Wait, who told her about this? From what Maia remembers, it was a small gathering. Maia, Amy, Maia’s parents, and Amy’s parents. So if Starkey knows about this gathering, does that mean someone close to her is talking to the FBI and making things look bad for Maia?

Starkey asks if Maia was living with Amy at the time. She was. (So Maia and Amy lived together in Chicago while Maia was in law school? Where did Maia go to law school? Or did Amy and Maia live in a different city and Amy just started as an ASA?)

(Amy’s parents look super uncomfortable around the Rindells—they don’t have that kind of money.)

But, Amy’s parents asked Maia about the possibility of her parents investing in the Rindell fund. Now I REALLY want to know who Starkey’s talking to, since Maia remembers that she didn’t even tell her parents about this request. Is Starkey talking to Amy? To Amy’s parents?

Case stuff happens.

“When the facts are on your side, you pound the facts. When the facts are not on your side…” cut to Adrian pounding the table in court. HEH. Nice transition.

I forgot to mention that Luke Kirby is in this episode as an ASA. He was on Rectify. You should all watch Rectify.

Jay does investigative work without Marissa. Cool.

Sweeney’s being considered for an ambassadorship. Diane, Adrian, and Barbara burst out laughing. As I said, I like this “lawyers laugh at things that are absurd” trend.

It’s not until 40 minutes into the episode that Sweeney mentions his reputation as a wife-killer. Sorry, new viewers. The show’s not being helpful with the exposition this week!

It’s a new day and Maia’s back at the FBI, fidgeting with her rosary ring. Now, the issue is that Starkey thinks Maia must have known something was going on at the fund if she didn’t ask about allowing Amy’s parents to invest.

Maia remembers a conversation with Amy (who apparently sleeps in a shirt that says BLONDE BESTIE” on it which tells me a lot about Amy) where Amy brought up the topic again.

Lucca tells Maia she understands that “rightly or wrongly, [Maia feels] guilty for your parents’ actions.” “That’s not what this is,” Maia insists. “You don’t even need to be conscious of it, Maia. Your guilt could just be coloring your memories. You could be seeing yourself as more culpable than you are. It’s your Catholic guilt. You are condemning yourself. That’s fine for the confessional, but here, it has real repercussions,” Lucca informs Maia. This is exactly what Maia needs to hear at this moment, especially that last part about the repercussions. If Maia wants to blame herself and ask herself why she was so willfully ignorant, fine. I think she probably was willfully ignorant, at least in the sense that she never questioned her parents or her own privilege. (Again, that foundation had one board meeting in six years.) But I don’t think anything she did would warrant jail time, especially given how young she was at the time. Guilt in the moral sense? Definitely. Guilt in the legal sense? That seems… like a waste of government resources. Maia doesn’t need to help the government make their case against her just because she feels bad that she had her eyes closed. It’s a lot to ask of any person, especially a young person, to turn on their family over a slight bad feeling. What could Maia have done, anyway? Gone to the government and said, “I feel like something’s off about my parents’ fund but I don’t have any specific details or specific reasons to think that”?

In the memory pop, Amy asks Maia again if she really asked her dad. “Lucca, I didn’t tell my dad,” Maia confesses in the present. “I must have somehow known about the Ponzi scheme. Otherwise, why would I have let Amy’s parents invest?” Lucca says that doesn’t mean anything (and I agree- I can imagine lots of other reasons Maia might not have wanted Amy’s parents’ money to be tied up with her parents’ fund, starting with the fact that it would just call attention to the fact that Maia’s super rich and Amy’s not). But Maia insists: she knew. (I feel bad for Maia here. She went from refusing to believe the people she loves, who actually committed crimes, could have been involved to blaming herself for everything.)

Diane and Adrian, late at night, debate strategy for the Sweeney case and drink scotch.

“Diane? You happy here?” Adrian switches the topic. “What, at your firm?” Diane asks. She is. “You wanted to retire,” Adrian explains the basis for his question. Diane laughs. “Yes. Well, life has a way of reminding you of who you are. Guess I’m not the retiring type,” she says. I bet Diane’s a lot happier here than she was at LockhartKeyboardSmash. “Are you happy here?” Diane returns the question. Adrian laughs. “Gotcha,” Diane replies.

“I like getting the better of people, and… keeping something alive. You know? Looking at there, at all those employees, realizing they might not have jobs if I don’t keep this going,” he says. “Yeah. That is a good feeling,” Diane agrees.

“Okay. Time to go home. Let’s get dinner sometime,” Adrian says so casually it’s almost like he didn’t just ask his business partner out on a date. “That’d be nice,” Diane replies. She looks startled but not unhappy with this idea. It’s not exactly a date, but, I mean…

(Remember how Will and Alicia were always supposed to get dinner in season 1?)

(I am cool with a Diane and Adrian ship. I also love McHart. As long as we don’t get a Adrian/Diane/Kurt triangle with Adrian as Will (I took you in when you were poison) and Kurt as Peter (the cheater), I’m pretty much okay with wherever the writers want to go as long as they do it well.) (Though I still don’t believe Kurt would have ever cheated on Diane.)

Adrian comes up with a way to get Sweeney’s case thrown out and, more importantly, the cop kicked off the force. It works.

At the next day of interviews—we didn’t see a single one of the day 2 interviews, just Maia panicking in the hallway—Maia remembers hearing Jax talking about an audit with both her parents, who closed the door in her face. Not sure what point in time this is supposed to take place.

She also remembers telling Amy they shouldn’t entangle their families’ finances. Maia remembers Amy asking if there’s something wrong with the fund. Did she? Does it matter if she did?

Lucca provides hypothetical reasons why Maia might not have told her dad that Amy’s parents wanted to invest. Makes sense to me. Also, proves yet again that Lucca is very good at reading a situation and saying the exact right thing. (She’s done this several times with Maia, but she did it all the time with Alicia, too.)

Sweeney isn’t going to be an ambassador, and he’s not going to help Diane with her civil suit. What a shame.

“I’ll drop by again,” Sweeney warns.

Maia tells Starkey that it just seemed like a bad idea to mix family and finances. Based on Maia saying “the truth is” in her answer, Starkey decides what she was always going to decide: Maia’s a liar and she knew about the Ponzi scheme. She’s going to recommend that they prosecute Maia. Good luck finding evidence.

Maia tears up, and the episode ends.

And this leaves me with two questions:

1) Do we have to endure another season of trial BS? This show does not need an ongoing conspiracy arc to work. In fact, the ongoing conspiracy arcs are usually the things that DON’T work.

2) Why didn’t we get to this point earlier? Not the point of Maia being prosecuted, but the point of Maia feeling guilt. I said this earlier, but I think these emotional beats would’ve been great things to hit on earlier. Now, after this episode, I have a sense of how much it affected Maia to be raised in a world where she never had to worry about anything other than herself. The stakes don’t have to be as high as an interview with the FBI and a potential prosecution to make Maia question everything, her own views included. They’re not going to send Maia to jail—at least, I’d be shocked if they did—so why do this arc? I would rather see her work through her guilt, reach out to her friends, reach out to Amy, start trying to do good, really throw herself into the firm’s fights even when she doesn’t understand them, or something like that. To me, that’s more interesting than watching the team come together to defend her.

(I expected to be harsher on this episode than I ended up being. I’m pleased that I liked it more on rewatch.)

(And sorry for all the Alicia mentions. I hate it when people insist on comparing a new character to an old character, but I just can’t stop doing it when it comes to Alicia and Maia. I’m trying to keep my comments to the storytelling—what works and what doesn’t when building a character whose notable for their connection to a big scandal—but I’m sure that what a lot of it comes down to is just that I love Alicia a lot and will take any opportunity I can to write about her.)