#The Gulf War Did Not Take Place
Text
The media promote the war, the war promotes the media, and advertising competes with the war. Promotion is the most thick-skinned parasite in our culture. It would undoubtedly survive a nuclear conflict. It is our Last Judgement. But it is also like a biological function: it devours our substance, but it also allows us to metabolise what we absorb, like a parasitic plant or intestinal flora, it allows us to turn the world and the violence of the world into a consumable substance. So, war or promotion?
Jean Baudrillard, The Gulf War Did Not Take Place (1991)
163 notes
·
View notes
Note
do you believe Love Deterrence was kind of a love confession from Kaz to BB?
Sort of. Kind of. I do think it was about BB, and we know the lyrics are written by Kaz.
I don't know if we ever find out all the languages that BB speaks, obviously English, Russian, Spanish, that leaves iirc 3 more languages he speaks, and I don't know if Japanese is ever confirmed as one.
It seems likely given that he speaks to Kojima in PW, and that BB speaking other languages is translated for the player, but Venom also speaks to him and gets a verbal response in TPP, and we know that was in English due to [mumbled summary of TPP plot]. That's probably the closest we get to confirmation.
Anyways my point with that is, I tend to think that BB doesn't speak Japanese, at least not around Kaz, and Kaz intentionally wrote Love Deterrence in a language he didn't think BB knew so that he could get his feelings out without the utter mortification of actually sharing them.
#mgs#bbkaz#if anybody actually knows or has hunches about BB's language list im all ears i want to know#or any of them really#we know liquid “speaks arabic like a native” which is fascinating. like. which dialect?#khaliji would probably make the most sense since he was also in the gulf war#but almost equal chance of anything else as well given it is Year Of Our Lord 2005 when this takes place and uh#bestie we (westerners as a whole) did not really uhhh...what is the word...care...about the diversity of the arab world at that time#but idk its funny to me that *that* is what they choose to point out when he literally speaks kikongo for a large portion of his childhood
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
(...)
"Set the scene for us: what is the ICJ, and why is the hearing taking place there?
The 1945 UN Charter — signed by all UN members, including Israel — affirms that the ICJ is the UN’s supreme legal organ. The Constitution establishes two powers for the Court: issuing advisory opinions, and ruling in cases between states. The Court’s verdicts are binding on the states that have signed the UN Constitution. A state can agree in an ad hoc manner that a particular dispute will be litigated by the ICJ, or invoke signed treaties containing a clause that establishes ICJ jurisdiction over disputes relating to those treaties.
Israel has always had reservations about the jurisdiction clause, and has refrained from agreeing to ICJ jurisdiction in all the hundreds of treaties it has signed, except one: the Genocide Convention. Article 9 of the Convention stipulated that if disagreements arise between the members over the Convention’s authority or interpretation, the ICJ is the place to hear them.
ICJ decrees are enforced by the UN Security Council. Chapters 6 and 7 of the UN Charter allow for a range of sanctions against countries that violate the Court’s ruling, such as economic sanctions, arms embargoes, and military intervention. The latter is rare but it has happened, for example in the first Gulf War.
Why did Israel sign up to ICJ jurisdiction in the Genocide Convention?
I’m not a legal historian; I can only guess. Israel was one of the initiators of the treaty, and historically one can understand why Israel would have pushed for such a treaty in the late 1940s and early 1950s. Secondly, I think that back then, the popular Israeli notion that we do not let gentiles judge us had not yet developed. We are talking about an era in which the international system had recently decided to establish a Jewish state. Maybe there was a little more trust in that system back then.
What constitutes a violation of the Convention?
(...)
It is defined as an act of extermination, or creating conditions that will annihilate a particular group with the intention of eradicating that group or even a distinct part of it.
The Convention, which was integrated into Israeli law in 1950, states that a soldier or civilian who kills a person, even one, while aware that he is part of a system aimed at annihilation, is guilty of the crime of genocide. In Israeli law, the punishment for this is the death penalty. This also applies to those who conspire to commit genocide, those who incite genocide, and those who attempt to participate in genocide.
What is South Africa basing its lawsuit on?
South Africa bases its accusation on two elements. One is Israel’s conduct. It cites a great deal of statistics about the indiscriminate, disproportionate attacks on civilian infrastructure, as well as about starvation, the huge number of casualties, and the humanitarian catastrophe in the Strip — horrifying statistics that the Israeli public is barely exposed to, because the mainstream media here does not bring them to us.
The second and more difficult element to prove is intent. South Africa is trying to prove the intent through nine dense pages of references to quotes by senior Israeli officials, from the president to the prime minister, government ministers, Knesset members, generals, and military personnel. I counted more than 60 quotes there — quotes about eradicating Gaza, flattening it, dropping an atomic bomb on it, and all the things we’ve gotten used to hearing in recent months.
South Africa’s case does not rely only on the fact that some Israel leaders have made genocidal statements. It further charges that Israel has done nothing in response to these statements: it hasn’t condemned the statements, it hasn’t dismissed from office the people who expressed them, it hasn’t opened disciplinary proceedings against them, and it certainly hasn’t opened criminal investigations. This, as far as South Africa is concerned, is a very strong argument.
Even if we haven’t heard the IDF Chief of Staff or the General of the Southern Command say these things, and we don’t have an operational order that says, “Go and destroy Gaza,” the very fact that these statements have been made by senior Israeli officials without sanction or condemnation sufficiently expresses Israel’s intention.
South Africa also pulled a little legal stunt to get here, correct?
Yes. The jurisdiction of the Court is determined when a dispute arises between the parties over the interpretation or application of the Convention. South Africa sent several letters to the Israeli government saying, “You are committing genocide.” Israel responded, “No we aren’t.” So South Africa said, “Okay, we have a dispute over the interpretation of the Convention.” That’s how it got the authority.
What can we learn from similar ICJ cases in the past, such as those regarding genocides in Bosnia and Myanmar?
First of all, we know from these cases that the burden of proof on South Africa is significantly lower for obtaining an interim order than for ultimately proving that Israel is committing genocide. We also know that this case will continue for years: the Bosnia case took 14 years; Gambia v. Myanmar is still ongoing. But the procedure for an interim order is fast.
Gambia filed its case against Myanmar on behalf of the Organization of Islamic States. It asked for an interim order stating that Myanmar must cease its military operations [against the Rohingya people]. The Court ruled that at this stage of the hearings, it did not need to determine whether the crime of genocide had been committed. What it needs to decide is whether, without an interim order, there is a real danger that the prohibitions set out in the Genocide Convention will be violated.
An interesting interim order was issued in that case, which I think has a good chance of being issued to Israel as well — not in the context of military activity, but of incitement. The Court’s order also required Myanmar to take enforcement actions and submit reports to the ICJ and Gambia on what it was doing to prevent genocide. As for the cessation of Myanmar’s military activity, this matter went to the Security Council, where both Russia and China threatened vetoes, but Western countries imposed sanctions and a military embargo anyway.
So even if South Africa fails to make the Court issue an interim order to stop Israel’s military activity, it could be that in the context of incitement — which enjoys full immunity in Israel — the Court will say that Israel needs to do something.
(...)
I know lawyers don’t like to wager on the results of court hearings, but if the ICJ does produce an interim order, what will that mean for Israel?
If the Court issues an order, the question is of course whether Israel will obey it or not. Knowing Israel, I expect that it will not obey the order, unless it can present the ending of hostilities as the result of its own independent decision, unrelated to the Court order.
There are good reasons for Israel to do this, because disobeying an ICJ order brings things to the UN Security Council. It’s true that the United States has a veto there, and therefore a resolution to impose sanctions on Israel would most likely be blocked. But vetoing an ICJ order regarding concerns that genocide is taking place would come at an enormous political price for the U.S. government, both domestically and internationally.
The Biden administration wants to portray itself as a government that sees human rights as one of its pillars. So it is likely that the United States would only veto such a resolution while imposing a significant cost on Israel in order to justify doing so, such as allowing the residents of northern Gaza to return to their homes, or entering into negotiations over two states — I don’t know.
But even if the United States doesn’t use its veto in that scenario, an interim order from the ICJ is likely to cause Israel serious problems.
There is such a thing as an international legal “deep state.” Jurists and judges listen to what important courts say. And when the ICJ, also known as the World Court, makes its rulings, national courts in most of the Western world take note. Therefore, if the ICJ rules that there is a danger of genocide being committed, I can imagine a British citizen turning to a British court and demanding that the UK cease trading arms with Israel. Another implication is that such an ICJ ruling would likely force the ICC’s chief prosecutor [Karim Khan] to open an investigation of his own.
(...)
Within what time period is the Court’s decision expected?
There are no set rules, but in the Gambia v. Myanmar case, there was a decision within a month. It should be remembered that this [Gaza] case will continue after the hearing on the interim order. Israel will have to present evidence that will exonerate it from the claim that it is committing genocide, but in doing so could get into difficulties with the ICC. For example, it may explain that it bombed a certain place because it was pursuing a military objective, but it may thereby make admissions that create a basis for the claim that it used disproportionate force."
...
#israel#palestine#icj case#genocide#didn't expect the interviewed to mention being the grandson of sociologist zygmunt bauman
130 notes
·
View notes
Text
Daily update post:
There's been talk about another hostage deal. I don't refer to that much, because so much of it is happening behind the scenes, is not being reported on, or is deliberately lied about to put pressure on one of the factors in the equation, I don't see a point in talking about it unless there's confirmation that there is a deal. That's what I did before, that's what I'll continue to do.
There's more than enough proof that Hamas used the hospitals in Gaza as bases for their terrorist activity, I've written about it multiple times, and yet the lie that Hamas did no such thing is SO big, and SO many people and organizations, which are considered reputable, were complicit in covering for Hamas' crimes, that every additional piece of evidence matters. Now we have the confession of a Gaza hospital director, who admits that he not only collaborated with Hamas' terrorist usage of his hospital, he actually joined Hamas, and was a member of this terrorist organization himself. He also testifies that Hamas used hospitals, because it considered them safe places (meaning, they knew the IDF is NOT going to attack there).
youtube
I mentioned in my daily post yesterday, that the Houthis' attempt at blockading Israel has become a threat to global economy. Today, the US has accordingly announced an international coalition of 10 countries so far (officially, it's reported that some countries will participate anonymously) to combat this terrorist threat from Yemen, funded by Iran. There's at least one Arab country that officially joined this coalition, Bahrain (one of the Arab countries that Israel has peace with). This reminds me once again of the First Gulf War. World order in regards to Iran is taking shape in front of our eyes. This is important stuff, with consequences much bigger and longer lasting than the war in Gaza, though very much connected to it (even if we won't feel them immediately).
Another drone from Lebanon infiltrated Israel's north today, it was intercepted by the IDF. I'll also take this opportunity for a reminder that rocket fire into Israel continues, even if I don't mention it in every update post. In the last 24 hours, many rockets were fired into Tel Aviv and central Israel.
A Hamas money launderer, in charge of transferring money from Iran and other countries to Hamas, money which fuels the organization's terrorist activities and fighting, has been killed in Gaza.
Actor Alec Baldwin was stopped by anti-Israel protesters, when he happened to pass by them in NYC. They demanded he condemn Israel, because apparently if you're a celebrity, you HAVE to have an opinion about every political subject in the world, and it's okay to harass you about it in your private time. That's not bullying if you're famous. But what's even more infuriating, is that the protesters implied Baldwin wouldn't condemn the Jewish state, because he works in Hollywood, meaning they repeated the age old antisemitic trope that Jews control the American film industry. These are the same people who make it unsafe for Jews to leave council meetings that discuss the war, without police protection. At what point do we call out this violent, bullying behavior, harming regular people, as an illegitimate form of protesting?
These are Amiram Cooper, Yoram Metzger and Chaim Perry. All of them are in their 80's.
They've been kidnapped by Hamas, which released a vid of them in captivity. The vid has not been published in Israeli media, as seems to have been the general policy when it comes to this part of Hamas' psychological warfare. I heard the familiy members (who obviously were shown the vid) of two of these kidnapped men. Both relatives said that all three men (who are from the same community) don't look like themselves, that they lost a lot of weight and seem to be in a bad shape.
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
#israel#antisemitism#israeli#israel news#israel under attack#israel under fire#israelunderattack#terrorism#anti terrorism#hamas#antisemitic#antisemites#jews#jew#judaism#jumblr#frumblr#jewish#Youtube
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love is stored in the food.
My dad always made a huge deal about my mom's cooking.
He would come to see us for the weekend and she'd make him lunch and dinner, he'd bang his fist on the table, he'd make comical MMMMMMs like he was in a commercial (albeit a very corny one), and declare that he was taking home the leftovers so nobody could have seconds (which was, of course, a joke, and he'd actually encourage everyone to eat more).
As I was growing up, if I didn't like something we were having for dinner, he'd tell me "Did I ever tell you what I ate in the Gulf War?" or "Did I ever tell you I carried one spoon for six months in my sock?" and, in a nice, fun, dad-like way, tell me I should appreciate my mom's cooking.
One of the last times I saw him, I made a joke that I could make him spaghetti, but it wouldn't be as good as my mom's because I didn't have the practice.
He told me that of course it would be just as good, because he loves me, and therefore he loves my cooking, and he would take all the leftovers home and eat all of it even if I made him weeks and weeks of spaghetti and it all turned green.
I believe him.
I got older and got my own place, and began cooking for roommates and friends and coworkers and significant others. I wasn't a very good cook because I didn't have any experience at all outside of boxed macaroni and spaghetti since my mom didn't allow me to cook—which is another story of its own.
So yes, I started cooking and baking, and no, I wasn't good at it. Many of my meals were (and, let's be real, still are) "flops." I'm notorious for burning—incinerating, truthfully—things, overcooking things, adding too much or too little seasoning, yada yada. That doesn't stop me from loving cooking and baking, though.
But there's a problem, and there has always been a problem since I started using a kitchen of my own, that what I make goes to waste. Entire cakes sit in their cake-keeper until they mold. Leftovers of dishes I made for other people turn to liquid in their containers. Brownies turn to gray rocks, spaghetti turns so green not even my dad would have touched it.
Shortly after I got my first apartment, I lamented this to my father, who was by then living overseas. I told him that I had, like my mother, love to bake, but no one to feed it to. Even with roommates, it rotted. I couldn't eat two dozen cupcakes myself.
I received a phone call a few hours later.
It was from my dad's best friend.
He drove an hour for cupcakes. I'd never seen him smile so broadly as he did when I went running out to his truck with a big container of cupcakes in my hands. They were pudding-filled, I told him, something I'd never tried before. Yellow cupcakes with chocolate frosting and vanilla pudding. Boston cream cupcakes.
My dad's friend came back once a week until he moved a short time later. He posted pictures of my "delicacies" on Facebook. I made him cheesecakes, cupcakes, quick breads, muffins.
And of course, spaghetti.
And he told me about the spoons he and my dad carried in the Gulf War.
Years went by and I got better at cooking, but there was still something wrong. My food—homemade food—wasn't eaten unless I put it right in front of a person and basically said "eat." If I set my food out at a work potluck and left the room it would go untouched. My family scoffed (and still scoffs!) at anything I make for them for reasons unknown to even me. My friends and roommates ate what I put in front of them, but left overs never got eaten of their own volition, cookies continued to mold in their tins.
I stopped baking.
Later when my dad returned to the country for a funeral, he went straight to my mom's house. She made him coffee and cheesecake and spaghetti, and he raved and raved and raved about all of it just like he used to.
We stood outside that night while I let the dogs run around.
"She makes terrible coffee," he told me unprompted. "Bitter. But she always had it ready for me. I never asked for that. She just started doing it one day while I was getting ready for work. I'd never had that before. It was the sweetest thing ever, back then."
Her cheesecake was too sweet for him sometimes, too. And she made her chili, one of his favorite dishes right up there with spaghetti, too spicy for his liking.
But she was cooking for him. She was doing this for him. And his reactions made her so happy. My mom loves when people enjoy her food, everyone who's ever met her knows this. "Even when she made absolutely rancid stuff, which she does sometimes," he said, "she's doing it because she loves us. And we love her, too. So I drink the coffee."
I took up my dad's mantle of "theatrics" at the dinner table for my mom. She smiles the same every time.
I've become a much, much better cook as I've gotten older.
I've also, with age, learned the difference between selfish love and unselfish love, and how you can so easily tell this difference when you make someone food. Empty compliments made in hopes it'll win the compliment-giver brownie points (pun not intended but appreciated). Say it's good, but the leftovers are molding in the fridge and the muffins are untouched in the break room, still. My family who side-eyes my dinner contributions with thinly-veiled distaste.
I started making friends recently. New friends from new places, friends who aren't anything like me.
I joined a writing club, too.
On a whim, I baked cupcakes for our meeting.
When the meeting was over, arguments ensued over who got to take the cupcakes home. I handed out paper plates and cling wrap. Everyone left smiling. Everyone left with a cupcake (or two) in their hands. Each time we meet, now, they ask me when I'm next bringing cupcakes.
A coworker came to sit in my office the other day. She's new here. She lamented not having a Red Lobster in the area, that she craved their biscuits because she and her mom used to go get Red Lobster on Thursday nights.
I went home and made her Cheddar Bay biscuits. We sat in the break room eating them and laughing and making up stories about people we saw from the window below. When lunch was over, she took her biscuits home in an ice cream box we found in the freezer.
I started dating a new guy last year. My dad introduced us on his most recent visit. I was smitten. He was smitten. We did the silly little activities kind-of-young people do while dating: walks in the park, going out for ice cream, watching a movie, attending a trivia night.
I don't remember now how it was relevant to the conversation at the time, but at one point it was mentioned that neither his mother nor his father nor his step-mom ever cooked. The whole family always ate out. At home they'd have chicken tenders and Hungry Man dinners.
The next week, I invited him over for dinner. I was nervous, super nervous. I was so scared it would go the way it always goes, with no comments at all other than "thanks it was good," which almost always means, in the experiences I've had, "that was mediocre but nice of you I guess."
I made him a big rack of ribs. I called my mom to make sure I was doing it right, like, three times.
When I put the ribs down in front of him, he was smiling a familiar smile. A "did I ever tell you about the spoon I carried" smile.
He took one bite.
He set down his fork.
He got out his phone and video called his dad to show him the dinner.
I haven't stopped cooking for him since.
When he has to leave after a weekend together, he goes to my fridge and rummages through the leftovers not unlike a racoon and asks "can I have this?" "are you going to eat this?" "can I take some of this home?"
He always leaves with a Walmart bag full of little Tupperware containers, and hot coffee made without asking.
And when my dinners are "flops," when they come out burnt or too salty or not salty enough, he doesn't lie or give me beloathed empty compliments.
"The worst dinner from you is still better than the best dinner from Door Dash."
I bake him cakes. He sends me snapchats of him eating them. I make him muffins, and he takes them to work in a lunch box and taunts his coworkers with them. He arrives to my place in the wee hours of the morning and asks "what did you make for dinner tonight, is there any left, and how fast can I microwave it?" We go to a social potluck at the place where we met and he points to the banquet table and says "look, that guy's getting some of your meatballs. I bet they're almost all gone." A friend's wife puts one of my cookies on her plate. He points at something behind her that isn't there at all and steals the cookie off of her plate. He smiles at me.
Love is stored in the food.
#this is the Grimace Bf btw! same guy#the hardest toughest people in my life have always been the most unselfish and the most genuine#I want to write a whole analysis of that#anyway I think about this all the time and have wanted to start writing little stories so here have a little piece of me <3
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
Summary Notes of Terror Camp 2023 (10.12.23)
(A small summary of notes and references I took during Terror Camp Day Two - Antarctic Exploration!)
Branwell's Death Narratives
Captain Scott - The narrative tilts. It tilts according to who's written it.
Vitai Lampada by Newbolt
The Book of the Long Long Trail - Newbolt
Scott Supporters vs Critics.
Was he a fool or a misunderstood individual?
Challenge the complexities with which a Narrative is design and revolved around. Interrogate the Narrative and where it came from!
Caitlin Branden
Personal Bias and Individual experiences steer your experience with a particular Polar Expedition
"A wonderful Evening"
Which Member of the Expedition Are You?
What attracts you to your Expedition? What about your Expedition draws you to it? What do you talk about when you talk about the Expedition of your Heart?
Rach
"Terrebus"
Narratology
"How do we frame the Narrative and How does the Narrative Frame us?"
"We cannot ask reason to take us across the Gulf of the absurd"
" The real Quest was the books we tried to write along the way " - R - The Discord Chat
"We all have our special little guys"
"Perhaps being haunted is part of being Human"
"Any Narrative can become dangerous if it becomes The Narrative. Be aware of the Biases off the Narrative you are writing. Take responsibility for the Narrative."
"Carry your little Guys in your pocket"
Emma J. P. - From the South Pole to the Stars
Incredible Parallels twixt the Astral Exploration of Space and the Antarctic / Polar Explorations with Antarctica being a simile for time spent off of Earth itself.
Empty and Vast
Roald's Narrative during the South Pole Expedition!
Sam Botz - The Feminine (?) Antarctic
"The Last Imaginary Place on Earth."
Antarctica The Woman - Stephanie Krzywonos
"Flying and Singing Like Sparrows" - Le Guin
Phil M.
(linked to Patreon)
(Paper Doll Polar Explorer's Sea Chest)
Ross and Crozier Expedition!
"They were Hut Mates"
Crozier Passed His Leftenant Exam at 21 in the year 1817
Ross and Crozier serving under William Perry
They Celebrated St. Patricks day!
McCormick is our Narrator through much.
"EVERYONE WAS WET"
⚓ Robert McCormick's geological collections from Antarctica and the Southern Ocean, 1839–1843
⚓ (Ross Volume 1) Voyages of discovery in the Arctic and Antarctic seas and round the world [microform] : being personal narratives of attempts to reach the North and South Poles
⚓(Ross Volume 2) A voyage of discovery and research in the southern and Antarctic regions, during the years 1839-43
by Ross, James Clark, Sir, 1800-1862 (links to Archive for JCR)
⚓Cunninham's Transcribed Journal
⚓ (An X/Twitter Acc. that follows JCR Expedition)
Becca
(I got pulled away so my notes are sparse here)
"I'll be blowed."
Some of these Cold Boys should not have been there. (The Scientists)
Elephant Island was quite the ordeal.
Clark, Hussey, Wordie, James, the Four Nations that did not live together in Harmony.
All in the Middle of the Great War.
"Nerdy and Outside the Narrative"
Meg - Cold off the Press
"You tried"
"Mr. Clark proved the faunistic richness of the coastal Antarctic Waters, but, unfortunately, all his collections were lost with the ship."
Hussey - "This Scientist is an outlier and should not be counted"
Avery S. - Oddments, Riff Raff, and Pocket Full of Rocks
Dancing on Ice Floes
Giving sea shells as gifts!
-The importance of Collecting was incredibly valuably psychologically. To collect these specimens meant that one would have to survive to deliver them. It also helped create routine
Trading Rocks for Tobacco.
“Some will tell you that you are mad, and nearly all will say, 'What is the use?' For we are a nation of shopkeepers, and no shopkeeper will look at research which will not promise him a financial return within a year. And so you will sledge nearly alone, but those with whom you sledge will not be shopkeepers: that is worth a good deal. If you march your Winter Journeys you will have your reward, so long as all you want is a penguin's egg.” - Apsley Cherry-Garrard
"When you reach out to understand the world, even scientifically, you are reaching out to understand your place in it." - Avery S (Polar Exploration Conference Terror Camp 12.10.2023)
"How McClintock Of You" - The Discord Chat
Key Notes: With Francis Spufford and Sarah Airriess
(I was very invested in the conversations so I did not write as much as I would have liked. But some critical things really stood out to me.)
The Homosocial responses/responsibilities between the men. Care-giving and demonstrating tender roles with one another.
'Unexpectedly Gendered'
Francis has not seen The Terror
The way of Knowing these people is very unique. Reading their letters and their diaries provides a particular perspective allows you to know what they really were like - more than what their fellows may have known. You see a more intimate part of these explorers through their very personal narrations through their journals and letters.
"People are clouds of possible selves." - Francis Spufford
He goes on to say something along the lines of: "Which is the problem with storytelling - as a narrator of storytelling you have to decide what comes out and what fades in the background of their personality."
"You have to decide as a Narrator." - Francis Spufford
Empathy as a Tool for Understanding
(This part was incredibly important to me.)
Sarah goes on to explain (thereabouts): You have to Listen to people. They (people writing or creating a Narrative/Narration of events) look at a historical figure and get a "snap" of them. From there they decide that they know everything about them. From there, it's like Cinderella's shoe and the step-sister cutting off parts of her foot to make it fit. You need to let these people liver and breathe as a dynamic person with feelings and thoughts. You have to be truthful. Otherwise you are doing that person a disservice and shoving them into a specific box that is meant to just fit your Narrative. You should try and be empathetic to the individual you are writing about as if they are still alive.
Spufford goes on to extrapolate on that with (thereabouts): Finding out what people meant to themselves is important. Some things you want to keep at arms lengths but still play an intrinsic role in their character. Being empathetic to these people is critical to respecting and acknowledging them with care and showing them that you care about them.
"Captain Scott is a Myth"
"The Unified Field Theory of Cold Men."
"Neurotypical people don't go to the Antarctic. Normal people are not drawn to the Antarctic."
Extra Important Links:
These are just some that I have saved from the Terror Camp. There were so many more but here is a handful.
Observations on ca. 175-year old human remains from Antarctica (Cape Shirreff, Livingston Island, South Shetlands)
Cheer_Scott_expedition
Ursula K. Le Guin Books:
The Wave in the Mind
Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places (thriftbooks link)
An Empire of Magnetism (Global Science and the British Magnetic Survey in the Age of Imperialism) - Dr Edward J. Gillin
A Game! "To Keep the Meat"
The Popularization of Science in Nineteenth-Century America - Hyman Kuritz
"Have You Been There?" Some Thoughts on (Not) Visiting Antarctica - ADRIAN HOWKIN
The Ship that Never Was: The Greatest Escape Story Of Australian Colonial History - Adam Courtenay (Goodreads Link)
Tristian's Wordpress of Franklin Expedition Content
Francis Spufford! ⚓
Sarah Airriess ⚓
The Music Track for Terror Camp ⚓
Book Recs from Crewmate @jesslovesboats (thank you)
Thank you so much for the experience! This weekend was fantastic!
Personal Notes and Commentary
This was my first Terror Camp in its entierty. The weekend was such a delight. I had no idea what sort of experience I would be having. It was beyond my expectations. I got to learn a lot more about some of the other Expeditions that I was not as familiar with as I would have liked to be. My book list has expanded by a decent number. Getting to listen to Nive Nielsen and Paul ready was incredible. I loved everything about this experience. I cannot wait for @terrorcamp to announce the next year's event. I will certainly be attending it without a doubt. I look forwards to future projects and staying in touch with anyone else that would like to. Thank you again for such a wonderful experience!
I want to give a shoutout to the people I know of the Tumblr Urls that contributed:
@brainyraccoons , @jckielantern , @nopickls , @wllipt (who was a captioner), @vivtanner , @inkonfreshnewpaper - I do not know if I missed anyone. I went through the Muster Book to check out who had tumblrs. If I missed you, please let me know.
I had a fantastic time. Thank you all.
With love,
In heart and spirit,
Second Leftenant,
Wilbur
#terror camp#terror camp 2023#the terror#polar exploration#arctic exploration#antarctic exploration#naval history#history of exploration
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
🔅Wed morning - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime
🔻3 rounds of rockets at northern towns, including Rosh HaNikra. 1 round of anti-tank fire.
🔹BIDEN SAYS.. “Hamas has now become the only obstacle to achieving an immediate ceasefire and providing aid to civilians in Gaza.” Amit Segal notes: “At the beginning of the war, Biden supported the overthrow of Hamas. Now the overarching goal is the cessation of fighting and aid to the Gazans.” (( And we add: ‘nor security for Israel. Hamas’s ‘use our own population as human shields and examples for Western pity’, fully successful. ))
🔹BAD ISRAELI POLITICS.. Opposition leader MK Lapid (Yesh Atid), after traveling to the US without coordination with the Israeli government, is now traveling to the UAE for “meetings”. War Cabinet member and leader of National Unity MK Gantz will meet in the afternoon with US Secretary of State Anthony Blinken, together with War Cabinet member MK Gadi Eisenkot and with Israeli Ambassador to the U.S. Mike Herzog at Kibbutz Yad Mordechai.
🔹ECONOMY - RISE IN DAIRY PRICES.. Tnuva announced an increase in the prices of its price-controlled dairy products by a rate of 4.48% starting tomorrow. In addition, the prices of Tnuva's other dairy products and Sunfrost, Delicacies, Mama Chicken and Tirat Zvi products will be increased after Independence Day.
🔹NEW PROTEST - ATTACK NOW.. "The road to victory passes through Rafah”, hundreds of bereaved families of fallen IDF soldiers will establish the "Heroic Encampment in Jerusalem" opposite the Knesset to protest for VICTORY NOW.
🔹AID PROTEST.. The Allenby crossing was blocked to the movement of aid trucks by activists of the "Order 9" movement, despite a closed military area order imposed on the place, stopping hundreds of trucks headed from Jordan to Hamas.
🔹HOUTHIS REACHING FARTHER.. with an attack 600 km from Yemen in the Indian Ocean on a cargo ship owned by an Israeli. The question raised: how did the Houthis manage to carry out a naval attack from a long distance on a moving target, without having a naval fleet or satellites? Who’s providing targeting data?
🔹HOUTHIS TELL AMERICANS OFF.. The Houthis again rejected American incentives and offers in exchange for the cessation of attacks in the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden (and now the Indian Ocean). The Houthis sent messages to the United States and Britain through intermediaries warning of "severe retaliation" if their attacks against Yemen continued.
🔹EMEK HULA - DRILL.. an extensive military exercise is expected to take place in the Emek Hula area - as part of which a lively movement of forces will be felt. It’s a DRILL.
🔹US TO BEGIN ACCEPTING GAZA REFUGEES? A CBS news report based on an internal document between various government agencies: according to the document, the Biden administration is considering transferring to the US a group of Gazans from the Strip who will be accepted as refugees, including an option for permanent status.
🔹UK - IRAN GUARDS NOT TERRORISTS.. British Foreign Minister David Cameron told the House of Lords in London that defining the Iranian Revolutionary Guards as a terrorist organization "is not in Britain's interest”.
🟡 CEASEFIRE - GAZA..
.. Qatari Al-Arabi Al-Jadid newspaper from Egyptian sources: an Israeli delegation that included senior officials from the Shin Bet, the IDF and the Mossad arrived in Cairo for an urgent visit that lasted about 3 hours. They received a revised document containing the comments and corrections that Hamas demanded be added. ROTTER denies.
.. Security official: If the answer doesn't come by tomorrow evening, we won't wait any longer.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Wanna Love You the Best That I Can
Here's something short and sweet!
Written for @writers-choice prompt "initiate". Title is from Hold My Hand by Hootie & the Blowfish
___
Will’s hands are warm and freckled. Slender and graceful, with a thin, white scar that curves from the last knuckle on his right index finger down to the soft skin between his finger and thumb. It’s only really visible in the sunlight, though Nico seeks it out in darkness, too, tracing the length of it with the pad of his thumb. Or, he used to.
Nico has never considered himself to be particularly good at math, but he’s acutely aware that it’s been thirteen days since Will last held his hand, and he’s equally aware that he and Will had held hands precisely eighteen times prior to those thirteen days.
And it shouldn’t matter. Right? It wasn’t his idea in the first place, none of it was. Not the gentle nudging of shoulders when they’re seated next to each other at campfire. Not the way Will kicks Nico’s leg under the table when Nico teases him. And not the warm, sometimes-sweaty clasp of their fingers and palms. But well. Will started it. And now Nico’s having a hard time remembering what he did with his hands, before.
It’s not like he can talk to Will about it, not like he can ask him why things have changed, because they never talked about it in the first place. It just… happened. And now it doesn’t.
Will doesn’t seem any different otherwise. He still comes to fetch Nico for breakfast every morning. He still walks Nico back to his cabin after campfire. His face still brightens instantly, heart-stoppingly when Nico shows up to help in the infirmary. But now there’s this gulf between them that Nico doesn’t quite know how to bridge.
One night, alone in his cabin - two whole interminable weeks since Will last reached for his hand - Nico is struck by the terrifying thought that maybe he needs to take Will’s hand. Is that what Will wants?
Because the truth is, the hand-holding has always been initiated by Will, every single time. Nico’s never shied away, because honestly after months of thumb wars and being booped on the nose and the occasional pulse-quickening brushing–of-Nico’s-bangs-off-his-forehead, Nico’s come around to the idea of touching, particularly where Will’s concerned. Even if it makes his face heat and his fingers tingle and his heart race. Maybe, possibly because of those things, if he was pressed to admit it.
But maybe Will’s gotten tired of making the first move.
So Nico tries. He really does. But the thing is, Will was always so smooth about it. It seemed so easy, so natural. And after a week of absolutely superhuman effort, Nico has come to the realization that he is not smooth. It's not entirely surprising, but it always hurts a little to have these things confirmed. And not only is he not smooth, but he just can’t seem to take the jump at all. Can’t just reach the fuck over and take Will’s hand. It’s frankly embarrassing. He can summon zombies, for gods’ sake. But clearly those skills are not transferable.
After the fourth night in a row of sitting next to Will at campfire, trying desperately to master psychokinesis, attempting to force his brain to move his hand just two godsdamn centimetres to the right - Nico is forced to admit defeat.
Bruised but not broken, Nico resolves to show Will how much he likes him in other ways. Because that’s another thing, actually. He does like Will. More than anyone. It’s taken him a while to accept it, but now that he has, it feels permanent, immutable, and what’s the point in pretending otherwise?
So he drops by the infirmary more often to offer his help. He shows up at the Apollo cabin to accompany Will to breakfast, rather than waiting for Will to come to him. He cracks stupid jokes when Will seems like he needs a laugh. He offers to help Will with his sparring.
And Will… he seems really, really pleased whenever Nico appears. And sure, that’s weird in itself, but Nico’s gotten accustomed to it, over the months. Will is always happy to see him. He looks utterly ecstatic when Nico sits down next to him at mealtimes. He flushes and stumbles over his words when Nico arrives at the infirmary with Will’s favourite snacks. But Nico’s hand remains unheld.
It all comes to a head the afternoon that the hand-holding-moratorium-count is at twenty-three excruciating days. It’s a June afternoon like any other, except that all of their regular activities have been unexpectedly called off due to various injuries and quests and weather conditions. Will has just arrived at Nico’s cabin to inform him of this, practically bouncing with nervous energy.
“We could do anything, Nico! We have the whole afternoon! Do you want to go to the beach? Or - do you need to do laundry? Or we could go get ice cream! Ooh, or there’s that cave we saw down by Bunker Nine…”
And Will is beautiful and electric and Nico absolutely can’t stand it anymore.
“Do you want -” Will begins again and Nico blurts out, “I want to hold your hand.”
Nico thinks they both stop breathing. He’s honestly just as shocked at the words that fell from his mouth as Will seems to be, and now he can feel his own face flushing, the heat beginning along his cheekbones and spreading rapidly.
But Will’s face lights up. There’s no other way to describe it. His eyes shine and his ears go pink and he asks tremulously, “you do?”
Nico nods, and the next thing he knows, Will’s hands are cupping his face - really not what Nico was anticipating, to be honest, but he’s not complaining - and then, with infinite gentleness, Will is pressing his lips to Nico’s. The kiss is short, sweet, and Will’s breath is warm on Nico’s face. Just as Nico is getting completely on board with the idea, Will pulls back looking horrified.
“Shit. Sorry. Shit.” Will takes a step backwards, pressing his fingers to his mouth, and now his whole face is flushed. It’s impossibly adorable, Nico’s brain helpfully points out.
“Wha-” Nico begins the second he finds breath for speech.
Will shakes his head, backing away further, and his words tumble out in a rush. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Nico. I didn’t want to push you, so I waited and waited even though I really wanted to hold your hand and then I completely screwed up the second you made the tiniest move, I’m such an idiot -”
“Will,” Nico manages, and the single syllable freezes Will in place, stops the torrent of words and the nervous movement of his body.
And Nico isn’t sure where he suddenly finds the courage, whether it’s his pounding pulse or Will’s wide eyes and pink lips, but - “I want you to kiss me again,” he whispers.
And it seems as if Will’s mouth is on his almost before Nico’s finished speaking. Nico reaches for Will’s fingers, traces the scar on his right hand. It turns out he can find it even with his eyes closed.
#percy jackson and the olympians#nico di angelo#will solace#solangelo#rated g#writer's choice#one shot#my writing
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ethan Hawke asks, "Why does masculine energy so often manifest itself as idiocy? Why is male sensitivity so often linked with perceived weakness? How does one be, as Johnny Cash said; ‘a dove with claws?'"
Kris Kristofferson takes a long beat, then says, “Yeah, that used to piss Shel Silverstein off.”
“What did?” Ethan asks.
“That whole ‘dove with claws’ thing. He just thought, ‘What the hell is that?'”
“Why do you think Cash said it?”
“I think he was feeling the very thing that you’re talking about – that if people think you are against the war, that in some way you’re a pussy.”
“Your first recorded song was a pro-Vietnam War song, right?”
“Yeah, I wrote it when I was in the Army on my way to Nashville, and I came upon a protest march. I had a lot of friends over there; and I was thinking we were fighting for freedom. And I wasn’t thinking very deeply.”
“Why did you end up changing your mind about that war?”
“I was flying helicopters in the Gulf of Mexico on one of those offshore oil rigs, and I was talking to some guys coming home. The stories they were telling me were so horrible that I think it just shocked me enough to change my thinking 180 degrees. I’m talking about things like this young vet telling me about taking people up in a helicopter and interrogating them and if they didn’t say what they were supposed to, they’d throw them out, stomping on the fingers of the prisoner holding on to the skids, you know? The guy telling me this particular story was still just a green kid when he returned from the war. The notion that you could make a young person do something so inhuman to another soldier – or even worse, a civilian – convinced me that we were in the wrong. I hadn’t been thinking in human terms of what that military action was.” He pauses, stroking my dog. “I agree with you totally about all the conditioning that makes us want to feel masculine and tough. I mean, I’m sure that’s why I went to Ranger School and Jump School. And I’m proud of that Ranger tab – still am. But the notion of bombing a defenseless country that’s never threatened us and the fact we all accepted it and said, That’s politics!’ Damn. I’m not really interested in polities. We’ve come to a place that I never dreamed and I know my father never dreamed that America would get to.
"That’s why Shel didn’t like that ‘dove with claws’ thing,” Kris goes on.
“Johnny Cash should have just said he was a dove and proud of it?”
“Exactly. ‘Cause people would have accepted anything from John,” says Kris. “We knew he was a man. I don’t really think anybody would have called Johnny Cash a pussy. But John was conditioned, just like you and me. You really have to get past all of that — where you have enough feeling about what’s right and wrong in the world to not give a shit about what kind of names anybody throws at you.
[Source - Rolling Stone Magazine]
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
After much research, I finally found out where all of the princesses are from. Here are my notes…
Snow White: Snow White was first published in Germany by the Brothers Grimm, in 1812, in their book Grimm's Fairy Tales. Because of this I assume the Disney version is from Germany.
Cinderella: Cinderella takes place in France and it is based on the French fairy tale by Charles Perrault, it says so in the credits. More proof is that all of the the women at the ball have French names and Cinderella’s house is referred to as Château.
Aurora: The French symbol the Fleur-de-lys can be found everywhere in the castle and in the credits. Plus, in the credits it says the movie is based on the Charles Perrault version of Sleeping Beauty.
Ariel: Ariel is from Atlantica which is a kingdom that is located somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea. This is confirmed by Disney and the creators of the Little Mermaid even stated that Eric’s kingdom takes Mediterranean countries as inspiration for the setting. Though it is not specified which Mediterranean region inspired it, Disney Wiki says possibly Southern Mediterranean basin. They did mention on the official Disney Princess YouTube channel that it takes place in Italy though.
Belle: France. It says so in the movie.
Jasmine: Ron Clements and John Musker, the directors of the film said that the movie was originally intended to be set in Baghdad, Iraq. However, it was changed to the fictional city of Agrabah during production due to the Gulf War of 1990–91. Agrabah is an adaptation of Baghdad.
Pocahontas: USA... says so in the movie “In sixteen hundred seven We sail the open sea For glory, God, and gold And the Virginia Company”.
Mulan: China. Says so in the movie.
Tiana: The movie says that it takes place in New Orleans.
Rapunzel: The movie is based on the Brothers Grimm version of the fairy tale. Rapunzel’s dress is loosely based on the traditional German dress "dirndl", but with a longer skirt. For these reasons I decided on Germany, even though it does take inspiration from other European countries, especially Mont Saint-Michel in France.
Merida: Scotland. Says so in the movie.
Moana: I guessed Samoa because she wears a Samoan-inspired ceremonial dress at one point in the movie. The song “We Know the Way” features more lyrics in Samoan than other Polynesian languages, and Motunui, the fictional island of the film, mostly drew inspiration from elements of the real-life island nations of Fiji, Samoa, and Tonga.
Anna and Elsa: Arendelle was based on multiple locations in Norway. The team behind Frozen visited Norway to gain inspiration, and you can see Nordic influence all throughout the movie.
Raya: It's difficult to figure out one specific country since Kumandra is based on multiple Southeast Asian countries.
#disney#disney princess#snow white#cinderella#snow white and the seven dwarfs#sleeping beauty#nationality
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Breaking down the comics: A New Past (Vol 3, Issue 1-3)
Marc Spector: Moon Knight Vol 3
So this follows right after the OG run. We left behind Moench and Zelenetz.
Now we run into a new group of writers and artists.
Writers:
Chuck Dixon, Mike Baron, Howard Mackie, J.M. DeMatteis, Al Milgrom, and Bruce Jones
Artists:
Sal Velluto, Bill Reinhold, Russ Heath, Mark Bagley, Ron Garney, J.J. Birch, and Denys Cowan.
A whole group of names that aren't that common place. Which is a pity because they did an alright job!
When you look at the Omnibus, you also get a content warning!
"This content contains Depictions of racism, sexual assault and suicide. Reader discretion is advised. If you are struggling with thoughts of suicide, or are worried about a friend or loved one, please reach out to a counselor or someone you trust or Dial 988 for the suicide and crisis lifeline."
A bit of history: The crisis line was created in January 2005.
Since the first Marc Spector story came out in June 1989, it's safe to say this is a late Marvel addition. Hidden in moderate font on the credits page. This Omnibus book was published in 2023. A lot of new books that contain old content contain these new warnings.
I highly respect the Marvel publishers for the singular reason that when they re-released older content, they recognized the problems in them and rather than correct, censor, or hide them, they kept it as a piece of history and slapped a content warning on there.
ANOTHER interesting fact, when looking at the Omnibus, you get to see the dates. This series of Moon Knight ran from June 1989 through 1994.
It was ongoing and takes place after the West Coast Avengers, which technically took place directly after Zelenetz left, but I'm going to skip over that for now.
I doubt very much I will really cover West Coast Avengers (1987-1989, starting with issue #21 and ending with Issue #41). I might touch on it a bit later, but I was never really a fan. Plus he mostly just kinda pops in silently in the background with most of them.
Now, this was an interesting time in the comics. The early 90s saw things take a drastic turn towards EXTREME. The 90s were a new target audience, a new decade, and the world was changing.
The cold war came to an end at the end of 1991, but the Gulf War started in 1990.
Comics were suddenly competing with and trying to get a foot in on Television, which was suddenly a household thing and latch-key kids wanted something to hold their attention.
Now, the Marc Spector series has recently been released in Omnibus volumes. Vol 1 holds issues 1-34 with excerpts from Amazing Spider-Man #353-358 and specials including 'Divided We Fall'
Terry Kavanagh kicks off with Omnibus Vol 2 and that name should start to look more familiar. He worked on Spider-Man for a long time and X-men along with Avengers, Iron Man, and a lot of big crossovers.
Vol 2 holds Issues 25-60, a Moon Knight special, more Spider-Man crossover "Web of Spider-Man #93-94, and some Moon Knight from 1998-1999! (The Omnibus comes out this March 5th, 2024 if you're a collector!) Since it's not out yet, I'm going to be starting with Vol 1 for now.
What's interesting is that the series 'Marc Spector' ends with Marc's 'death'.
So what happens to Moon Knight after that? The king himself, Moench returns to resurrect Marc Spector for a second time in a 4 issue special.
In fact, Moench returns for the whole Moon Knight Vol 4 and 5 (1998-1999) mini series, each one 4 issues long.
Things had to be fixed after how it all ended, after all.
I'll cover the Moench specials later.
I’ll be honest. I’ve been putting off the 90s runs. The 90s were not exactly my cup of tea when it came to Marvel comics. I was more of a Batman fan (with a few notable exceptions). But as I’ve mentioned many times… My memory is pretty shit so maybe I’ll get into it and be happily surprised and enjoy myself more than I think I will.
So let’s get into it!
Let's start with Issue #1!
Marc Spector: Moon Knight. Issue #1: New Moon.
Written by Charles Dixon
Art by Sal Velluto
We open on Long Island. We see someone doing a 3am diaper run and stopping at an ATM first.
Two thugs sit in a car on the corner waiting. They spot the poor sleepy dad and decide he'd make a nice cash grab.
They hold him up at gun point and demand he take out the max.
Well... One holds him at gun point. The other rips the door off the man's car for some reason.
Hey look, It's our man!
Now, remember, Moon Knight has been out of New York for a while with the West Coast Avengers. We're picking up here right after he left them.
Moon Knight casts his shadow on the villains.
"You boys forget your bank cards?"
"It's a ghost!"
"I've been away too long. You guys don't even recognize me."
"It ain't no ghost, Rocket scientist. But he's gonna be one."
Title card: NEW MOON. Beginning a new series chronicling the adventures of Marc Spector.
You know, the art here really brings to mind early Sienkiewicz Moon Knight. The dramatic leap that leaves his ass out. The awkward stances, the action kicks, the clenched fists... Maybe the poses are a LITTLE more awkward than Bill gave Marc credit for, but I'm loving the clean lines and shading.
Plus, Do I spy a crescent dart upgrade!?
Marc quips “After all of the high-powered weirdos I fought with the West Coast Avengers… It's good to be back on home turf kicking the rear ends of a few AVERAGE lowlifes!"
Marc has always loved beating on common thugs. He so often fights supernatural brutal muscle bound villains. When he gets a casual robbery, he’s almost giddy.
Notice I’m saying Marc here a lot.
When Moon Knight joined the Avengers on the West Coast, we did not see any sign of Jake or Steven. We know from the OG run that Jake doesn’t leave New York. And I suspect that Steven has never played well with the Avengers or team ups of that sort.
Perhaps we had Moon Knight as himself, but it’s clear from the title of this series that we’re going to be getting Marc Spector himself and the writers that will be working on this are most likely not comfortable working with Friendly and Loving Jake and Generous and glitzy Steven. Of course the wild and extreme early 90s is going to focus on Marc. And thus we start down the LONG and drawn out Moon Knight tradition of forgetting that he has DID with other Alters and not just Schizophrenia with a ‘pretend’ identity crisis.
But I’m going to take this down a different path and we’re going to look at this as Marc falling into the trap of his usual denial and trying to get his life together by holding front so hard that you’d have to literally pry it out of his cold dead fingers (ha ha, we’ll get to that later).
Anyways, back to the comic. The thugs are subdued and the poor sleepy dad man thanks him "You're Moonbeam, aren't you?"
"Moon KNIGHT, pal. I have been out of New York too long."
Marc ties up the thugs and tells the guy to wait there for the cups. He radioed ahead to them before he dropped in.
The chopper arrives and Marc gets on the ladder and takes off with the most awkward:
"There they are now. Take it easy, Citizen." and he salutes.
Yeah.... It's Marc. Without a doubt... No one could be that awkward but Marc...
On the chopper, Frenchie has also taken note of the moment.
"'Take it easy, Citizen?'"
"Aw, lighten up, Frenchie."
Marc takes off the mask and relaxes back next to Frenchie in a really weirdly designed chopper that looks more like a hover car than anything... But sure. Upgrades!
"Y'know, Frenchie... I think the guy I saved down there was more afraid of me than those hoods."
"Is that not the reason for the costume?"
"Sure. But I don't want the innocent to fear me."
"The innocent will fear you most of all."
"I should have shaved. This mask chafes my face something awful."
Marc...
It is very nice to see them actually talking, though. You never got to see Marc and Frenchie actually be the friends they were supposed to be. And Marc is never more relaxed than when he's with Frenchie and they can talk about the past without worry.
"Crime fighting doesn't seem to suit you these days, frenchie."
"It is a waste of our talents, Marc. We could have easily strafed those dogs out of existence."
"We're not mercenaries anymore. We can't just make things up as we go along. We've got rules in this country, m'man."
"Then I do not like the rules."
"Live it or live with it, Frenchie."
Now this is interesting because this is the first time that we really get a feel for what Frenchie thinks of all of this superhero business.
We know Frenchie was a Legionnaire, we know he was a very GOOD mercenary that helped recruit Marc in the first place, and that his talents are with vehicles.
We also know that Frenchie had strong opinions on the work he took (as seen in the very first issue when he came to Marc to complain about Bushman's sketchy business).
But Frenchie ALSO was very attached to Marc and followed him without question.
So here we have Frenchie noting that picking on thugs is far below what they are both capable of.
Just an interesting tidbit.
Another interesting tidbit is that we see the Mooncopter landing back at Grand Mansion and Marc notes that he was able to buy it back after returning from West Coast Avengers.
"At TWICE the amount you sold it for, Marc."
"You're on my case tonight, Frenchie."
We get a little map of where the mansion is on Long Island and that the current Market Value is $5,890,000. Which.... In today's currency is: $14,649,807.50 today!!!!!!
Here’s a pretty cool design of the mansion with fun facts!
Now what's interesting is that we see Marc returning to an empty mansion. Just him and Frenchie. No Marlene. No Samules the Butler or Nedda the cook.
The phone rings from an unlisted number and when he answers, no one says anything.
Angrily, he hangs up and we get a view of a woman on the other line saying "He's home. We got the right number."
This explains why we are getting blueprints of the moonchopper and the mansion and map of Long Island. Someone's looking for Marc.
Marc does Marc things and wanders the mansion a bit and starts talking to the Khonshu statue.
It's time for the Marc Spector Recap of how he became Moon Knight! (remember, this is issue #1 so it's a good place for new readers to pick up a new comic. You'll often find recaps and deep character introductions in 1st issues.)
"Past four in the morning and all the sane people are in bed. It's all YOUR fault, Khonshu. You got me into this. God of the moon, taker of vengeance.
Actually I got me into this when I hooked up with that crazy Bushman back in my mercenary days. Now THERE was a prime psycho.
Killing is a part of any war, but Bushman got off on it. I tagged along until he killed Dr. Peter Alraune, an American archaeologist, and it looked like his daughter was next.
I helped Marlene escape and then challenged Bushman in hand to hand combat. Not one of my brighter ideas.
He left me for dead and he was just about right! Somehow I managed to make it to the digs that the doctor was trying to protect... The Shrine of Khonshu.
Marlene tells me I 'Died' there and was revived by the spirit of Khonshu.
I wrapped myself in Khonshu's shroud and, from that night on, I took on the mantle of Moon Knight."
Oh Marc... You would tell it like that.
Marc heads up stairs to bed (tossing his cape on the stairs as he goes) and when he enters his room someone jumps at him.
Marc fends them off, elbowing them and then flipping them onto the bed.
Oh hey! It's Marlene!
And she's already half undressed. Welcome to the 90s!
"You play a little rough, cowboy. I think you broke one of my nails."
"What did you expect sneaking in here like that?"
"Well, there was no one home. I thought I'd surprise you."
"Mission accomplished, Baby."
"Not so easy the way you have this place wired. But my sneaking skills needed a workout anyway, so...I thought I'd come see you. It's been so long, and I thought I'd take a chance..."
And the two goof off a bit then we have implied hanky-panky as the scene cuts away.
I have well known mixed feelings about Marlene. And with Marc now running the show, it's interesting that she'd come back, considering her feelings on Marc vs. Steven. More interesting that he left her behind.
We cut to Manhattan and find two guys in Hawaiian shirts at a large computer terminal (gotta love those 1980s thick monitors). They're celebrating because:
"We got this Moon Knight guy blued, stewed and tattooed! We know more about him than he knows about himself, Tector!
Yuh done good, little brother. You worked some real magic with that keyboard. Our bossman is gonna be so proud."
And the boss steps in, asking if they have found him yet.
"Tector's digging up more data on his home security system. So far it looks like a hummer! Bet the Kremlin in Russia ain't got so fine a wire job, boss."
And we pan out to find the boss:
Alright, he’s upped his style and given himself a new title. I appreciate the new look. They kept it authentic to the original Bushman and also added in their own artistic style and I dig it. Not sure about the new outfit, but who am I to tell our delusional bad guy how to dress?
"I want projections on the best way to approach Moon Knight. I want his weaknesses exposed to me. This information is vital to my nation's security, Lyle. You will have it by morning."
Good to see he's still absolutely obsessed with Marc.
And that since we are starting Marc Spector Issue 1, we are going back to the original with Marc's own personal villain, Bushman.
I have a lot to say about Bushman, and I'll save it for the end. So stick around!
Back at Spector Mansion...
It actually says "Spector Mansion."
Another interesting detail because the OG ALWAYS called it Grant Mansion.
Marlene wakes up to find Marc working out in his gym.
"You know, Marc, I'm kind of surprised you're still doing the Moon Knight thing."
"You have a problem with that, Marlene?"
"Why do you do it?"
"I want to do like that dog says on TV. 'Take a bite out of crime'."
(Scruff McGruff. You were a weird part of my childhood).
They argue about letting the police do the work and Marc argues that the police can't be everywhere and do everything.
(That style though.)
"You used to fight a more noble battle."
"I was a Mercenary, for cryin' out loud."
"Don't play the cynic with me. You weren't in it for the cash. If you were you wouldn't have pitched in on the losing side so often."
"I LIKE long odds."
"You're impossible!"
"And YOU are getting more like Frenchie. I get the feeling I'm outnumbered around here."
This is an interesting conversation we keep getting here from both Marlene and Frenchie. That they think he was better as a Mercenary but he argues that his Mercenary work was not good for him.
Marc says he's starving but that he gave the cook the week off.
Marlene asks how Nedda is.
"Oh, I retired her to my condo in Boca Raton. I never go there anyway. Chloe's the new cook."
"What's she like?"
"Not terribly attractive. She's older than Moses and has a mustache that Frenchie's jealous of."
"Marc, you're terrible."
And then Chloe walks in unexpectedly.
(Alright. It’s going to be like that. Welcome to the 90s.)
Yep.
Down in the chopper area, we find Marc now working on the chopper for once.
Come to think of it, in the OG, it was ALWAYS Frenchie up working on the chopper. But then again, it was always Steven at the mansion. Now that Marc is out and about, he's the one tinkering about.
"YOu're working down here late, Marc. Didn't I see Marlene earlier?"
"Sure did, Frenchie. We have resumed our stormy relationship. She got an eyeful of Chloe and I sent her packing off to the mall with my goldcard to smooth things over."
"Americans... You fight with your women because you don't know how to love them."
Ah, Frenchie...
They are interrupted by a frantic call on the radio from Marlene. She's driving on the highway and she's "Under attack"!
I am pleased that the writers remembered that Marlene knows how to handle herself. She was trained by Marc, after all. She can shoot, fight, and drive. She’s no damsel in distress.
Marc shows up and finds the car empty. He attacks the remaining gun-men and demands to know where Marlene is.
"Spector, are you STILL parading about in that ridiculous costume?"
"You're one to talk about taste in clothes, Bushman."
"Amusing, Spector, you always were a glub one."
Bushman holds Marlene at knife point (Speaking of damsel in distress) and demands that Marc meet up with him later tonight to find out what his demands are.
He then shoots one of his own men just to prove the point that he's still a vicious cold blooded killer, then he drives off in a classy car with Marlene.
Marc is...less than happy about this.
"You're a dead man, Bushman. You just don't know it yet."
TO BE CONTINUED.
I’m not going to make you wait. Here you go!
Marc Spector, Moon Knight: Issue #2: Hunter’s Moon.
Written by: Charles Dixon
Art by: Sal Velluto
Alright, Apparently Spider-Man is going to be in this one. This is going to be interesting.
We open back up in Manhattan.
We got three nerdy looking guys on a roof across from the Excelsior (Fancy hotel) with a telescope spying on the guests.
While fighting over the 'scope, they happen to catch a glimpse of 'a ghost'.
Yeah, he's being real sneaky there.
So there he is... at the Embassy of the Republic of Burunda. This is Bushman's new country that he has made himself 'President' of.
Marc notes the place looks pretty well armored and guarded. He has Frenchie up in the sky as usual.
"I'm WAY behind on my current events. I didn't know that Bushman had set himself up as the strongman in Burunda."
"I saw it on sixty minutes. Forgot to tell you."
Frenchie suggests waiting for Bushman to call and tell him what he wants, since they aren't even sure if Bushman has Marlene in the embassy.
Marc says Bushman enjoys always having the edge, including diplomatic immunity. There's no way he's going to wait.
Hey look, the tech brothers from before are back!
They have caught sight of Moon Knight on their CCTV cams.
Bushman decides to send Marc a message.
"Spector must be discouraged from coming near the embassy again. He must meet my demands without question. Is that CLear, Mister Glitch?"
While Marc tries to track someone leaving the Embassy, Bushman sends his personal bodyguards after him.
HEY. Remember the warning at the top of this collected run? The one about racism and other things?
He puts up a fight, telling Frenchie to stay on the guy leaving the embassy.
Marc puts up a fight and jumps around building to building until he gets ahead.
Spider-man happens to be swinging by and notices Marc's group.
"Now there's something you don't see everyday... A bunch of guys dressed like Tarzan extras running into central park after midnight."
Spider-man follows and good ol' Peter Parker takes out the camera to catch some shots of Moon Knight in action.
"They seem to be after the one in the cape. Might as well take some pictures to sell to the paper. This guy sure doesn't need MY help. Say "Cheese" everybody."
Marc takes out the last of the group and continues his chase.
"Moon Knight, huh? I thought he was in California. Well, off to the darkroom. And thanks for the help with the rent, Moonie!"
And Spider-man heads out.
(I've talked about 'special guest appearances' in comics before. It's a big show to get people to buy and read the comic and try to convince new fans to come in. You're lucky if they are in the comic for half a page.)
Marc is back on the tail of the guy and he meets up with him.
He tells the guy they need to talk and then...He knocks him out with knockout gas. Wh...Why?
Maybe the guy wanted to talk? Why are you knocking out and kidnapping a guy before you even find out if he has the info you need?!
....Back at the Embassy, we find Marlene is inside and not happy.
People forget that while Marc has a grudge and hate of Bushman, Marlene is the one whose father was killed by him.
He tells Marlene that he's a man of the people, HIS people, and unfortunately his people are very poor. It seems he expects Marc to fix that situation.
Back to Marc and his poor decision making skills...
We find the man he's kidnapped waking up... and dangling upside down from the moon chopper.
Not going to lie, his little wave in that first panel is sending me.
So it seems Bushman wants ten million dollars. Lemme just get the conversion calculator out: $25,456,099.59.
Yeah. I'd want that much too.
"He wants it in one week or he'll chop the girl to pieces."
"And where am I supposed to get Ten Mill?"
"Find a way! The General knows you've got the money!"
"I don't like what you had to say, Buddy. Have a nice fall."
And Marc pushes him out of the chopper.
Lucky for the man, Frenchie had bought the chopper down and the man only falls a couple feet.
He tells the man to tell Bushman that he'll be in touch.
Next up? Marc goes to see his accountant!
"You don't have ten million bucks lying around in 'sacks' somewhere."
LOL Marc...
"Your money's tied up in real estate and business interests and your art collection."
"So SELL some of the paintings. Sell some of my business interests."
"What wuld you like me to do? Hang a garage sale sign on the mailbox? 'Picasso for sale, CHEAP'? And as far as your business interests go, they're just that: INTERESTS. You have partners in these ventures that you would HURT by liquidating in a big hurry--Not to mention the employees."
Steven is in there having a FIT right now.
I'm dying right now because I was JUST talking to someone about how clever Steven was with their money and how Marc has no idea what he's doing with money and probably took two days to lose it all in the current run. I’d like to amend my statement to say he’d lose it in two hours.
"I don't know what you need the money for, it can't be anything Kosher, Marc. But we just can't swing it."
Marc apologizes for losing his temper. The accountant leaves and he tells Frenchie the bad news. "I'm what they call cash poor."
Oh Marc... Is... Is that a Khonshu bust on his desk? Wh...
"That's the bad news. The good news is that we get to do this MY way."
Marc...
"And this time I go alone."
Back at the Embassy, we see a "Empire Cable commercial repair" truck pull up. A guy gets out and goes up to the gate.
Oh no. Is he doing what I think he's doing?
MARC.
The guard says he can't let anyone in without varifying first. The General is busy and doesn't want to be disturbed so "I will call your company."
So he calls the number on the truck, which would not verify anything if this was a guy trying to sneak in. But what's logic for you?
And GUESS WHAT. The number goes to Frenchie putting on an accent.
He verifies the job and sends the cable repair guy in with another guard.
Once inside, Marc knocks out the guard with chloroform (Why does he had so much chloroform?) and rushes off, leaving the body in the middle of the floor.
And the tech brothers sure as heck notice a strange guy running around on the CCTV cameras.
They call the front gate and have a thing or two to say about a 'cable repair guy'.
Marc starts just opening random doors looking for Marlene.
A couple of guards spot him and Marc knocks them out. So much for his disguise.
Back in Moon Knight attire, he runs down the hall. The tech guys decide to take off. They know a bad fight when they see one coming.
Marc continues his quest of opening EVERY door he finds while yelling "MARLENE!"
SIGH. Marc… This is why you need Steven and Jake. Just putting that out there.
So Marc beats up all the big buff gym boys.
I appreciate that they at one point get the upper hand and pin him down while beating him and Marc just goes "You'll have to do better than that" after taking a few hard hits.
Marc really does not treat the body well.
He asks the last guy where Marlene is before knocking him out.
He busts in so hard that I’m tempted to count it on my “jumps through window” tally.
(Look at this dramatic idiot. This is the biggest wet cat yowling energy I’ve ever seen.)
SO he busts in and is met with a SAW-esque situation with Bushman on TV.
Bushman tells him he had to fly back to his homeland on urgent business and he's taken Marlene with him.
TO BE CONTINUED.
At the end of the issue we have a "Let's meet the team" afterward and we get to learn a little about the new group working on Moon Knight.
It's very brief. Mostly it's just how old they are, if they are married or have kids, and a few previous comic names they have worked on.
I'm going to be frank with you here. If you've been reading my other reviews, you have an idea on what's been going on in Marvel during this time and WHY Moench isn't writing Moon Knight at this time.
Marvel comics had just had a huge upheaval of all their major writers and artists due to disagreements with the editor in chief. So these are a lot of young guys that are coming in off of low name comics.
ALSO none of them talk about why or how they got placed into the Moon Knight run.
So my big question is why don't you think of these guys when you think of Moon Knight? I can name SO MANY writers and artists from may different runs that were amazing or terrible. Or even just mid. But these guys? Not even a blip on my chart.
Clearly Chuck Dixon had Moon Knight for more than just a guest writer or special.
Doing a little background look into him, he was best known for Punisher and DC comics like Batman, Nightwing, and Robin in the 1990s and 2000s.
He got his start in the big leagues with Conan and worked his way up to Marc Spector: Moon Knight. After that, he started on Punisher and Punisher war Journal. DC got their mits on him and he became "DC's most prolific Batman writer in the 1990s".
So yeah... Despite working on Moon Knight 1989-1992 for 25 issues... He just isn't a big name for the comic.
And honestly, the Marc Spector Moon Knight run was often considered very MID. Not outright terrible, but very directionless. It existed and left very little impact on the series.
I'll give it credit that it DID at least keep the series going and allow it to reboot again later instead of just disappearing forever. So thank you for that!
But… I remember that Zelenetz had an interview where he talked about where he had wanted to take Moon Knight after Vol 2 ended, but he was no longer on the project. Now I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had been allowed to keep going.
ANYWAYS… What issue are we on?
Marc Spector, Moon Knight: Issue #3: Butcher’s Moon
Written by: Charles Dixon
Art by: Sal Velluto
Oh boy. Where’s that Content Warning able? I have a feeling this is about to get dicey.
WOW. Right out the gate!
Alright so... We see an airport and someone is going through customs.
We are now in Burunda.
And a very uh... characture... fellow... asks to see this guy's passport.
It's CLEARLY Marc in a disguise. He has a European UK Passport and is claiming to be Ian Waller, a photo journalist from Manchester sent to take pictures of how the country is doing under the new General leader Bushman.
The customs officer keeps his passport, telling him that he will get it back when he leaves. (Not a good sign.)
The town is "Freedomtown" and ....
I'm going to make you squint at this picture.
You got a clearly poor country depicted under the rule of a tyrant that rules through fear and violence.
You got a car with the word "TAXI" spray painted on the side. He claims to be the only taxi in the country.
Then you have several children running after the 'photojournalist' yelling "White man rich? White man have dollar?"
Then on the corner you have what's clearly supposed to be a hooker and her pimp not too far away, though it's cleverly disguised as a bus stop and can be argued otherwise. Then you got homeless guys and bags of trash... There's a lot going on here. It's like a Where's Waldo of stereotypical poor African country depiction.
He gets in the taxi and the driver takes off.
"Driver? I didn't give you a destination."
"Only ONE destination, Sah. Only ONE Hotel."
(I am grinning at the idea of Marc putting on a fake Manchester Accent. Thank you Steven Grant MCU. He actually says "I guess it is, innit?" and I'm so happy).
The 'photojournalist' goes to take a picture of some military group and the Taxi driver smacks his camera down.
"No! NO picture without permission, Sah."
How very North Korea of you.
The Journalist gets to the hotel and starts to unpack.
Would you look at that? It's Marc Spector in disguise! (Another mustache) He vows that once it gets dark he's going to go looking for Marlene and also take care of Bushman.
We head over to the Presidential Palace.
Out front we see a truck arrive full of people and a bunch of guards with guns offloading them.
And in the back of the palace there is a large pool. So of course we see Marlene out for a swim in a tiny bikini. Getting back to the basics.
She gets out of the pool and Bushman offers her a robe. They exchange a few quips.
"What's your game, Bushman? What made you want to settle down and rule your own personal dungheap?"
"I Feel compassion for my people. This WAS my homeland. The Tribe my family belonged to once ruled this land frm end to end until the Europeans deposed them. Now I rule. I am like a warming sun shining on my people. I am like the rain that nourishes the soil."
"I can think of another thing that nourishes the soil, General. And you're full of it."
While they talk, they are interrupted by gunfire.
"You do amuse me. You find my ways harsh. I see them as direct. As sole ruler of Burunda, I face no opposition, no Bureaucracy. I am free to deal with my nation's problems efficiently."
We cut to another panel where we see soldiers with smoking guns and a pile of dead bodies of men young and old.
"Problems such as aids. I have found a cure for aids."
HISTORY TIME:
Alright. There is a LOT going on in that last panel. A LOT of history. A LOT of politics. a LOT of terrible things.
This comic came out in 1989. We are at the height of the Aids pandemic. I'm not going to get deeply into it, but if you have questions please feel free to ask. In America, it was seen strictly as a Homosexual disease and the people afflicted were written off, forgotten, and left to die alone and scared. In Africa, many places saw Aids as a sin-ful or taboo disease and they were cast out of their villages or outright killed.
It was a disease that wiped out a generation of homosexual men and is the reason why there are so few older gays for younger people to learn from. It's... It's a whole thing and there are papers and books and documentaries on it.
What I find interesting in relation to THIS comic in particular...
We are in 1989, it's still killing gay men and a lot of people saw this as a good thing. The way this panel is done is to show how terrible this is. It brings humanity to the aids victims and shows that killing them is NOT a solution and is a terrible thing. ALSO considering the Marvel editor in chief that caused a lot of writers to leave was intensely homophobic, this may have been a sneaky jab.
Take my word for it, there is a LOT going on.
It's a beautifully sad panel. I'm not going to show it because it has dead bodies and depicts extreme violence and is just too depressing.
Back to the comic!
Marlene yells at Bushman, demanding to be let go.
Bushman says that "Spector will come for you. He loves you more than he will ever admit to you, I know him. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants."
Back at the hotel we see a bunch of guards knocking on the 'photo journalist's' door.
They go inside only to find him gone!
Up on the roof, we have Moon Knight holding a bow and arrow set.
"Nobody in sight. Bushman probably has a curfew around here. Boy, is he strict. Hope nobody asks for my hall pass."
I must say that the colorist really did a fantastic job on the night time shading and moon light glow. It's just very pretty.
He climbs a bell tower to get a good view of the area and finds a military compound with a large fuel truck.
Marc, of course, gets a bright idea for a diversion.
One of the guards near the truck pulls out a cigaret and asks for a light. A note says "Translated from Domi, a local tribal dialect"
"I got your light, Pal." Marc says just before he lets loose an arrow.
What I love about this is that Marc understands him. Implying that Marc understands the dialect. This is why he's such a good mercinary. He isn't just good at killing and fighting. He was amazing at learning everything about the places he went, including the language.
The arrow hits the truck and BLAAAAAAAAAAM.
Oh look at that. An Ammunition storehouse.
Yeah, he blows that one up too. He's having a good time.
"That should keep their eyes off the rooflines and their minds off ME for a while."
We find Bushman in his private office wathing a women's fighting match.
Someone interrupts him to tell him that the supply depot has exploded and injured many men, but somehow not killed anyone.
"He is here." Bushman smiles.
If you will think back to issue 1 of Moon Knight, Marc did the exact same thing when he came back from the dead and was sneaking back into the dig site. He blew up a truck to cause a distraction.
I'm starting to think Marc might be a bit of a pyro.
"We now head Several Hundred Miles South" where a bunch of men are sitting around a camp fire near a helicopter.
And here we see Frenchie walking up. He starts in French, saying hello and asking if they speak French. Then English.
"I want to buy your helicopter."
"You are saying WHAT?"
"The Huey. I want to buy your Huey."
They laugh a little, thinking he is joking until Frenchie pulls out a suitcase full of money.
....Now... I'd like to point out that Frenchie did just as much work as Marc, possibly more, and got paid a lot. He never really did much with it... He probably has a lot saved up. He ALSO probably had Steven invest for him. I would not be surprised if Frenchie is richer than Marc.
So he takes off with the chopper and tosses behind the money.
Back in town, we see the soldiers running around looking for Moon Knight.
Up high, we see Moon Knight walking across the power lines towards the palace.
He sneaks inside and takes out a guard.
Elsewhere, we see two soldiers moving to retrieve Marlene for Bushman.
They hear the shower running and go to get her (and take a peek). She opens the curtain and reveals she's in her bathing suit and ready to fight. She sprays one guy with hot water in the face then kicks the other guard.
She manages to steal a fifle and takes off. "This is what Bushman calls an army? I might not even need this rifle."
Marc is having a similar thought.
Bullets fly all over as he runs down a hall.
"These guys can't be this bad at marksmanship by accident. It's more like they're just chasing me somewhere. If it's closer to Bushman, then I'm happy to oblige."
WINDOW! WINDOW! WE HAVE A WINDOW!
Now, let me just say, I do love the Bushman design in this. This is how he SHOULD be. Not whatever that was that Bemis gave us.
"Do you see this sword? It is the traditional weapon of my people."
"Thanks for showing me the family silverware, Bushman. But I'm here for the woman."
"Some things never change. You always did use snappy banter when you were most nervous, Spector. Defeat me and the woman's yours."
Marc asks why Bushman became obsessed with him.
"You represent everything I hate. A mercenary making his fortune from the miseries of the third world."
"Cut the bull! You made millions and never cared where the money came from as long as you could spend it. I may have been a mercenary, but you were a butcher! I never shot anyone who wasn't pointing a gun at me."
"It was just such softness that always got you in trouble!"
They start the battle. Marc with his nun-chucks snaps takes their swings. Bushman draws first blood when he slices through Marc's mask.
"It's not who bleeds first. It's who's left standing!"
Another slice cuts into Marc's side, but he's had worse.
Marc kicks him in the chest then smashes his face with the palm of his hand.
Marc goes full ...Marc... on Bushman, fists and blows. It's his fighting style to take hits and keep going.
Marc gets the upper hand and demands to know where Marlene is.
Bushman calls out to his men to shoot Marc.
"They shoot me, they hit you too!" Marc reminds him.
But then bullets rain down around them, snapping Bushman's sword in two.
And Frenchie comes in with the chopper.
"Through playing the hero yet, Marc?"
"Good to hear your voice, Frenchie. Put her down as close as you can. This place is HOT."
Marlene wants to know why she can't just shoot Bushman and end it.
Marc tells her not to. He fails to give her any good reason other than that they need to get out of there quickly.
I have theories about this that I'll discuss in a moment.
Marc releases Bushman as soon as they start to take off.
"You walk away this time, General. THIS time!"
Frenchie opens fire, scattering the men to prevent them from trying to shoot them down.
What I love about this is that Marc is still the chaotic, bad decision making, single man army, and utter goof he has always been and will continue to be when written well. He has a strange but endearing sense of humor and he does not take it well when those close to him are at risk.
So this story done, let’s address a few things!
In this introduction to the new series, you’ll notice a lot of people are missing.
Where’s Gena, Crawley, Samules, Nedda, Jake, and Steven? Why is this Marc Spector in title and the Spector Mansion? Why is Marlene suddenly addressing him as Marc and okay with dating Marc when she’s previously hated Marc and only wanted to be with Steven?
No one addressed their DID better than Moench. With Moench out of the picture, who was very forward thinking in terms of this mental illness and its depictions for its time, we are now at the mercy of people who have not done their research and who have not kept up with the evolution of mental illness. We are now at the mercy of writers that follow Hollywood depictions. Sure, Moench based it off of Hollywood at first, but somehow, this man was in touch with modern issues, accurate depictions of DID, PTSD, depression, dissociation… He had a gift.
With the upheaval at Marvel, they were more reliant on the reader and what the statistics told them readers wanted. Readers of the early 90s apparently wanted ACTION and HOT BABES and MANLY MEN. So guess what? Marc’s in charge and the others? They are going to be lucky to get any screen time. We’re going to start seeing more references to Marc ‘pretending to be other people’ and more references to Marc as being closer to Schizophrenia or ‘crazy’ than DID (or Multiple Personality Disorder, as it was known by at the time).
And all those side characters? We’ve already seen that Nedda has been retired. Samules? Also probably retired and replaced by Chloe up there in her bikini.
Gena? In the last run, Gena was talking a lot about leaving. She’d been through a lot and she, perhaps, was the first victim of being too close to them. She was beloved by Jake and she acted as a kind and nurturing voice with him. She brought out the best in him and he loved her boys like a doting uncle. And she was the first to get hurt.
So will we see Gena in this run? We’ll have to wait and see.
What about Crawley? An eccentric and useful man to Jake and Moon Knight. Here’s the deal on Crawley. Moench wrote him with such a unique way of speaking that other writers found it difficult to keep it going with him. Even his personality was pretty unique. So we aren’t going to see a whole lot of Crawley either, and he may change in how we see him.
Now for Jake and Steven? In Moench’s run, Marc took the back seat. From this point on in Moon Knight history, Marc is going to sit front and center and the other two are going to be passing fancies. Perhaps I’ll make a different analysis on this later. What DOES happen is that we are going to start seeing more of WHO Marc Spector really is, and not just what Steven and Jake see. (He's kind of a goofy idiot with severe self loathing).
Bushman: I think I talked about this before, but in case I didn’t or you haven’t read it yet, here we go again (for the first time?).
Bushman was never meant to be the BIG BAD. He was the catalyst. When Marlene asks Bushman why he’s obsessed with Marc, Bushman notes that he created Marc’s need to become Moon Knight.
In reality, he is the one that ‘killed’ Marc, which did take him to Khonshu’s temple and this made him take the shroud and become Moon Knight. He’s also the one that made Marc realize he had a conflicted code of ethics and morals.
But when it comes to Bushman, Marc does not see him as ‘the big bad’. He sees a frustrating man that has an unhealthy obsession with him and often causes him stress.
And we’ve seen time and time again that Bushman does not stand up to Marc’s fighting abilities. It’s why Bushman obsesses with him. He feels like Marc was just some random guy he found and somehow Marc is better than him. And while Bushman has set out to be the best, Marc doesn’t care. Marc just IS good at what he does.
So why do fans and writers see Bushman appear and go “OHHH” and get excited?
Because Bushman represents who Marc could have been. Bushman is a representation of Marc’s past. The violence, the killing, the coldbloodedness. He’s everything Marc was becoming but still fought against. Bushman is Marc’s inner struggle. He is what Marc rebels against but still turns to time and time again.
When Marc spirals, he spirals with the image of Bushman. He was never that bad. He was never seen as being as ‘good’ as Bushman because he would not let himself become that far gone. But as Moon Knight, they have proven to be better.
Of course then you have the writers that just have a thing for Bushman because he’s ‘badass’ (Looking at you Bemis) and don’t know how to utilize him properly.
Anyways! This was the start of “Marc Spector: Moon Knight”. What do you think so far?
I’m going to be taking these in batches and not one at a time. So expect longer posts when I get to them! (Unless you have a special single issue that deserves more time).
…this was a long post.
#Moon Knight#Moon Knight comics#Analyzing the comics#Marc Spector#Jake Lockley#Steven Grant#Marlene Alraune#Bushman#I'm back!#That was a longer break than I intended but things happened
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gemstone Megalon & Ozymandias
So, I’ve been toying with the idea that at some point pre-Space Crystal Cordyceps (PSCC), Ozymandias encountered the Seatopians and through them Megalon. And this was at a point when Megalon was relatively more chill towards other Titans (thanks to Seatopia not yet deciding it needed to fuck off entirely from surface affairs), albeit with the caveat that they prove themselves via combat and don’t try to say, convert the Seatopians to their own followings (on pain of being drilled to death) or expose too much about them - again, on pain of drillings.
Suffice it to say, Ozymandias passed with flying colors - but not without coming out with broken limbs, dozens of open wounds, and feeling more tired than he had in centuries. Megalon however didn’t see anything wrong with that, only remarking that it was “THE MARK OF A TRUE WARRIOR”.
And that was how Ozymandias started his odd not-quite-friendship with the literal God of War.
It wasn’t quite a mentorship and it wasn’t exactly the same as the sort of ‘professional’ gatherings between other Titans. It was moreso a very, very, very old elder instructing and guiding a junior - a junior who had only ever believed that Megalon was a myth, a fairytale to spook fledglings until this moment.
He never told his dad or little brother about his meetings with Megalon, still being somewhat naive at that point and being under a sworn oath to leave the Seatopians out of most of the world’s wider affairs, since tensions between the Apes and Godzillasaurus were very much on the rise.
And despite it all, Megalon did enjoy the company of another Titan to teach and tell stories of the olden days to. There was the Light Mother of course, as there always would be, but their differing philosophies had caused them to drift over time. And the Preservers - those designated 'Battra’ by mortals- cared not for anything that wasn’t preserving the world as a whole. Ozymandias was the first time in millennia that Megalon had met someone or some thing that he could impart the wisdom of War and its intricacies upon. Or at least, one who was not of his own people.
Then one day, long after their first meeting, he was taken. Snatched away by a nightmare from the stars. And though Megalon has not and will never weep, for War is ever enduring and the pain of loss everpresent, he still felt like he had lost something then.
And because he is War and War is a constant in all things, he also knew that whilst his friend was not 'dead’ as mortal kind would understand it, the agony he endured would have made any death preferable - his domain stretching across the gulf of time and space to relay the awful feelings that the Space Crystal Cordyceps placed Ozymandias under. And even beyond that, if Megalon focused far enough back, you’d get a whole history of dead or ruined worlds by the predator that was Gigan - a tapestry of insanity woven by a madman.
He naturally never told anyone of course - Seatopia distanced itself from the world above and retreated to untapped depths of the Hollow Earth and he only vaguely knew of Ozymandias’ father and brother from what little he caught during their discussions after battle and philosophy had been spent. To Megalon, they were not those who had faced him and proven their worth, so to him, he couldn’t care less. War takes. That is the nature of the universe.
But the hatred of the loss of someone who could have been a pupil, taken before their time, the rage at the senseless violation of all that he stood for and represented, the sheer hate of a worthy foe being denied their right to a glorious end was still there and that only doubled as the Seatopians slowly began to become one with their God.
This incidentally probably added to the fury he assaulted the world with post-awakening.
When SpaceGodzilla arrives, Megalon is likely amongst the first to respond. Not because of protecting the surface-dwellers, or defending territory. But to simply grant a proper death to a worthy warrior who deserved far better than to become a slave to a parasite.
---
Man, as if Ozymandias being taken by Gigan’s fleet and the SCC couldn’t be any more of a loss, here comes MEGALON! This also nicely gives the big ol’ bug more depth, which I like a lot.
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
Gen Q: What is your take in all of this? I only see you defending Jews. As someone with no stake in the current conflict between Israel and Palestine, what is your take in this.
As a Jew, you're very invested in this.
This question is somewhat hard to understand
do you mean whats my "take on this" or my "stake in this"?
and my take on "all this" or just "the current conflict"
I guess my current take is that it's a big shame the international community is not interested in taking any action. Hamas ruling Gaza is not sustainable, they've already said they want to do another October 7th (and another etc) No country is gonna allow terrorist state bent on its destruction on the border. So as long as Hamas rules Gaza there will be more wars. Now the UN/EU/NATO/whoever, should take over Gaza, the way the UN did in say Cambodia after it's civil war and run the play, disarm armed groups, and oversee elections to a transitional government.
but no one wants to do that, no wants to try to fix it, so either Israel will get the hostages and decide thats as good as it's gonna get and leave and Hamas will regain control and maybe Qatar or the rest of the Gulf Arabs will pay billions to rebuild Gaza just for another war to knock the place flat again. Or Israel will keep going and root out all of Hamas and leave and there will be a (violent) power vacuum as other groups struggle to take over Gaza and sooner or later whoever wins will try to fight Israel again to prove their radical street cred.
any ways I hope all the hostages get freed, there's a 10 month old baby who is still in Hamas captivity who has been in my prayers every day since he was taken. I hope that Gaza can be rebuilt without billions of dollars in aid being pocketed by criminals while the vast majority live off scraps
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi bug! congratulations again on being un-glitched! I loooooved the headcanons you wrote last night about eddie and his hippie vegan girlfriend. I would LOVE to hear more about their first meeting outside the record shop, if you feel inspired to write more abt these two! you built such a fun lil world for the two of them, i just can't get enough! 💖
Anything for you, bb <3
For the purposes of historical accuracy, this takes place in 1991. Eddie + reader are 24.
WC: 647
--
Eddie had just planned to spend his Saturdays like he normally did: scouring the record store for any new releases. He loved finding underground bands that weren't really popular yet, playing their music while he worked at the auto shop during the week.
He wasn't expecting a small gathering of protesters to greet him outside, the leader of which was a really, really pretty girl.
"What's going on out there?" Eddie asks Hal, the manager, once he makes his way into the store.
"Protesting the Gulf War," Hal says. "They asked if they could use the parking lot, and I wasn't about to say no to that cause." Hal was a total hippie at heart; anti-establishment, constantly stoned, wearing tie-dye, and plastering peace signs around his office. "'Sides, we don't have anything big coming in this weekend."
Eddie nods; he'd overheard updates about the war on the radio, but had no idea that people in Hawkins were protesting it. It was more of a "shoot first, ask questions later" rather than a "make love, not war" kind of town.
"And, uh, the girl out there? In the front?" He tries to sound nonchalant as he asks, drumming his fingers on the countertop.
Hal laughs knowingly. "She's a cutie, isn't she?" he winks. "Don't know too much about her, but she seems like your type--stubborn with a heart of gold."
That's all Eddie needs to hear; he's out the door and standing alongside you before Hal can even process that he's gone.
"Hey," he greets you, taking a hand out of his pocket to shake yours. "I'm Eddie. You got any more of these signs?"
"Y/N," you reply, smiling at the lovestruck metalhead. "There should be some in that box back there," you tell him, motioning behind you.
Eddie chooses one that says "Fuck Your War" in big block letters. "Short, sweet, and to the point, huh?" he whispers to you, and he swells with pride when you laugh.
He spends the next hour chanting various anti-war sentiments. When a middle-aged man gets in your face, screaming about how Bush is the best president this country's ever seen, Eddie steps between you and him and pushes the guy away.
"Who the fuck does he think he is? Bet he wouldn't try that shit if you weren't young and cute."
You wrinkle your nose. "I'm not cute," you challenge, "I am very scary."
Eddie holds up his hands in surrender. "You're right, you're right. I'm terrified right now."
"Too late," you pout, feigning offense. "You have hurt my feelings beyond repair."
"Beyond repair?" Eddie chuckles. "There's nothing I can do to fix it?"
"Nope."
"What about if I take you out for pizza?" he asks hopefully. "In my experience, pizza heals all wounds."
"Actually," you tell him, bracing yourself for an onslaught of insults, "I'm vegan. So unless you find a pizzeria that doesn't serve cheese..."
His brow furrows in confusion. "Wait, you've never had sex?" he blurts out. "What does that have to do with pizza?"
You burst out laughing; you can't help it. "A vegan, Eddie, not a virgin. I am most definitely not one of those." He blushes at your honesty. "I don't eat any animal products. No meat, no dairy, no eggs."
"Oh," he nods slowly. "So what can you eat?"
"Pretty much anything else!" you say cheerfully. "There's actually a really good vegetarian restaurant that opened a few months ago. They have the best veggie burgers I've ever tasted, and their fries are incredible."
"So let's go there," he decides, and without thinking, he takes your hand in his. "Right after we finish up here, yeah?"
"I'd like that," you say, beaming at him. He looks at you and smiles right back.
She's like my little hippie princess, he thinks, though it'll be a few more dates until he actually calls you that.
--
#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Starting Over - Chapter 8
Marcus Pike x female reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
Recently arrived in Texas and only slightly removed from his divorce, Marcus finds himself smitten with the women at the housewares store that is helping him furnish his new Austin condo. It becomes a more complicated situation than he could have expected, but Marcus has never been one to shy away from a challenge when love is on the line. ✨This fic takes place *before* the events of The Mentalist.✨
Rating: E for Explicit!
Word Count: 13.9k
Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this fic will include divorce, past abusive relationships, deceased mothers, father issues/family trauma, unplanned pregnancy.* Cursing and food mentions, unplanned pregnancy, pregnant reader, threats of violence, discussions of dom/sub dynamics, pregnancy symptoms, somnophilia, oral sex (f and m receiving), general fluff and being very much in love.
Summary: It’s time to take that eagerly awaited trip to Washington DC!
Notes: As things start to heat up, there is clearly more tension and trouble on the horizon. The trip is a much needed break from the day-to-day rigors of life - especially when one of those rigors of life is Amanada.
Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7
Clock watching while you wait for Marcus to get home from the office is one of the things that makes you the most antsy these days. It used to just be impatience - excitement to see him mixed with those nerves that come with the beginning of any new relationship. Now it’s like a torturous countdown waiting for mercy to walk through the door. Every day from the second Marcus leaves the house until the second he returns; Amanda has done nothing but aimlessly snack on the ever-growing list of foods that the Pike-ette is causing you to be repulsed by. Everything is magically hidden the second he walks in the door and it’s only the security cameras planted around the house that allow him to see how she’s hiding everything. But as soon as he throws it all out, she goes and buys it up again. It’s a war of stubbornness that never ends and your pregnancy symptoms are right in the middle.
The last three weeks have been non-stop at work on top of it all, and it has had you looking forward to a long weekend in DC for even more reasons than knowing you are going to be proposed to. Two of your salesgirls have quit in the last two weeks and this morning the very first thing that happened after your district manager showed up to inspect the store (the only reason you even did a half day at work today at all) was that they wrote up one of the Sales Leads for poor customer service. Upon discovering that it was the Lead’s third write up, the young man was immediately fired. The whole thing put your management team in an uproar, but your manager promised you could still take your long weekend away.
Amanda huffs, annoyed that there is a trip being taken than she has no clue where it is. Marcus has changed his passwords to his travel sites. “I hope you aren’t going to the beach.” She calls out, fishing for information. “There are supposed to storms along the Gulf Coast.”
“Interesting!” You call back, coming out of the bedroom you share with Marcus with your small suitcase packed and ready. Marcus would march you back upstairs to repack if you had tried to use one of your weekender bags for this trip. He rarely even lets you lift groceries anymore and you’re barely at the end of your first trimester.
Scowling, she tosses the shrimp flavored chip back in the bag, pissed off that you didn’t take her bait. You had gotten smarter since she had dumped you and it irritates her. Unfolding her limbs from the sofa, she gets up and moves over to the staircase. “I’m surprised you’re willing to leave me here alone for the weekend.” She smirks.
“You’ve been alone in the house before,” you point out, though you have to admit that you’re surprised she hasn’t found any of the cameras in all that time.
Her smile is ugly, calculating as she starts up the stairs to the second floor. She hates you. If it weren’t for you and that thing in your belly, Marcus would have taken her back already. “You know, it would be a shame if you…fell down these stairs.” Sugar coats her words, but there is nothing that can hide the venom underneath.
You know the way your eyes dart up to meet hers betrays your surprise at the comment, but as far as Amanda has ever gone with psychological and emotional warfare, you really didn’t think she would be capable of physical violence. “That would be extraordinarily bad for everyone involved.” You tell her flatly, knowing that if she ever even tried, there is a camera pointed directly at the stairs that would capture the assault.
“Oh sure.” Amanda brushes off your comment, knowing you don’t have any teeth in you. “It would such a tragic thing.” She pouts. “Marcus’s little mistress snapping her neck on the stairs, and he would just be heartbroken.” She sighs. “I, of course, would console him.”
“Do you think he’s dumb or something?” Shaking your head at her, you stand your ground at the top of the stairs and don’t go near them while she’s still standing there. “If anything happened to me, he would suspect you instantly.”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment. “He knows I would never.” Glancing down at her nails halfway up, she smirks up at you. “But accidents happen.”
“I promise you; he would know.” You can’t help the way your hand goes protectively to your belly though. The idea of anything happening to you isn’t half as terrifying as something happening to your baby.
“Whatever you want to tell yourself.” Amanda raises her brows. “Weren’t you coming downstairs?”
Like the angel with perfect timing that he is, Marcus walks through the front door in the same second that you open your mouth to attempt some kind of clever reply, and your frozen feet on the landing are suddenly free again. Whatever she might try when you’re alone, she would never try anything with Marcus in the house.
“Christ, I’m sorry.” Marcus huffs, shaking his head. “I got caught up in traffic. But we will make it to the airport.” He promises, looking up to see the two of you on the stairs. His brow wings up and he asks you a silent question.
“It’s okay, my workday was shit, too.” You barely shake your head just once to tell him you’re okay, and you breeze past Amanda on the stairs with your suitcase now that Marcus is home to bear witness to everything in person. “Greg got himself fired. It was a nightmare.” The conversational tone of your voice will hopefully annoy Amanda, like you’ve already forgotten that she was literally just threatening to kill you.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Marcus might have his briefcase in his hand, but the other arm immediately comes around you and he gives you a kiss right in front of Amanda. “Soon we will be on our way to a relaxing weekend. Just let me go put my gun in the safe and change.”
“No problem.” One more kiss before you let him go, and you sit down on the living room sofa to take a load off while he hustles up to your bedroom.
Amanda waits for Marcus to disappear upstairs before she walks back over to you, staring down the way that your hands are over your stomach. “He will come back to me.” She predicts. “When you’re fat and frumpy, he’s going to be sick of you. You two aren’t having sex. I know.”
“What he chooses to do is up to him.” These daily assaults of hers are getting worse, and your now-raging hormones aren’t making it easy for you to keep a straight face very well anymore. The only thing you can really count on for a constant is Marcus. That his love has never wavered even once and you know in your heart it never will. “But I truly think that you’re sentencing yourself to a life of disappointment if you’re simply going to wait around for Marcus to come back to you. Because he never will.”
“Marcus doesn’t like to be alone.” She reminds you. “He will come back. He loves me.”
“No.” Standing up when you see him reappear at the top of the stairs, you just shake your head at Amanda solemnly. “He doesn’t. And I’m sorry you’re having trouble accepting that.”
Amanda’s frown turns into a smile as Marcus hauls his own suitcase downstairs. “Baby, don’t you think I should know where you are in case something happens?” She pouts, stepping closer to him. “You always tell me where you’re going.”
“We’ve told someone.” You don’t say who, figuring she might try to ask around, but it is Marcus’s trusted coworker who has never had any contact with Amanda before in her life that has your flight and hotel info in case of incident. You’ve never even said this particular agent’s name in the house, just in case. To Marcus, you offer a smile and your hand. “Ready to go?”
Marcus nods, smiling back at you and lacing your fingers together. He turns towards Amanda. “Our bedroom is locked, and the house better be exactly as we left it when we get back.” He warns, his voice slightly stern in that ‘I will be obeyed’ federal agent tone.
“Goodbye.” Are the only words you say before Marcus shuts the door behind you, and you breathe a heavy sigh of relief to be outside away from the smell of shrimp chips and mustard. “I promise I’ll act surprised whenever you do it this weekend, but you did pick up the ring this morning, right?” The voicemail from the jeweler on his phone two days ago had made both of you a little giddy, and Marcus had chosen to celebrate with a rare night of eating you out before you both passed out in each other’s arms completely satiated.
“Yes, I did.” Marcus grins and pats his jacket pocket where it is safely nestled. “I’ve triple checked it’s there four times since I put this jacket on.” He jokes. He wants this weekend to be perfect for you, he’s not blind to the bullshit Amanda is pulling.
“I would do that same thing if I were you.” You load your small suitcases into Marcus’s car and he holds your door open for you until you’re comfortable, then closes it and hustles around the hood to get in beside you. “Sometimes I just keep my hands on my belly for ages just for a hint of the baby moving. I know it’s too early for him to kick, but they say sometimes you can feel flutters before that.”
“I can’t wait to feel the baby kick.” Marcus can’t help but reach over and rub your stomach before he starts the car. “Everything okay today?”
“Work sucked, she’s accumulated more snacks that smell like death somehow, and I’m just really glad to get away this weekend.” The airport isn’t far, which is good because you’re a little short on time, and Marcus is on the road a second later. “Now we’re not only down two sales associates, but a sales team lead as well. I’m gonna be pulling a lot of doubles when we get back.”
“Anytime you feel like it’s too much….” He doesn’t finish the sentence, knowing that you are going to say no, but he wouldn’t mind if you quit and stayed home while you are pregnant. Although he knows you won’t simply because of Amanda being home.
“We’ll be okay again once we fill the positions.” You promise him, one hand resting gently over his on your knee as he drives. “And once I’m at the point where I should be off my feet more, my boss is going to transition me to more desk work. Customer service. It’s arguably more stressful, but it’s less physical work. Don’t worry baby.”
“It’s my job to worry.” Marcus shakes his head. “You grow the baby and I worry.” His hand squeezes hers gently.
“Not this weekend.” You shake your head and pick his hand up to press a kiss to his skin. “This weekend we’re going to relax and walk around beautiful museums and eat fantastic food and enjoy ourselves. We’re not going to worry this weekend.”
“God yes.” Marcus practically groans. “No Amanda and her bullshit, just me and you and the little peanut.” He smiles over at you. “I’m going to spoil you.”
“Champagne and rose petals waiting in our room?” The soft smile on your face grows imagining all the silly little things that could theoretically happen in some romantic fantasy world. “Candlelit dinners? Dancing?”
“I’m going to hold off on the champagne until the peanut is born.” He hums. “But the others? Absolutely. Whatever my fiancée wants, she will have.”
“I love dancing with you.” The couple of times you’ve gone it’s always been supper clubs and the kind of place with crooners behind pianos or a vintage-style band. Twirling around in each other’s arms like the dreamiest part of an old movie flashback. “And I want to hear all the random factoids you know about all your favorite art in the museums.”
“And I want to explore the inn we are staying in with you.” Marcus can’t help but dream a little with you, wondering if something like that would fit you better than the stress of retail. “Go to the Outpost and dream about how we should have met.”
“It was a mansion before it was turned into an inn in the 1920s, so maybe we’ll find a trick bookcase or secret stairwell.” You squeeze his hand in yours and offer him a dreamy smile when he glances over at you. “I’m glad we already had this weekend on the books. You’ve been working really hard and deserve a break.”
“You deserve one too.” He knows how badly Amanda has been treating you. He’s seen and heard it and it’s frankly disgusted him. However, he knows that the best thing to do is to continue piling up evidence in the instance of having to fight her for the divorce. She’s hanging herself every day.
“I’m just going to enjoy a few days with the love of my life in my favorite city, that’s all.” The traffic has mercifully lightened, and at this point getting to the airport should be a breeze. It will be late when you get to DC, but the inn already knows to expect a late-night check in. “I love you, baby. So much.”
“I love you too.” Marcus assures you. “But I’m nervous.” He shoots you a grin. “I’m proposing to this amazing woman I want to spend the rest of my life with and I’m not sure if she’s going to accept. She might not like the ring. Or want a family with me.”
“Hmmm.” The little game makes you giggle, and you move his hand gently from your knee to your belly as he drives. “We better ask the Miniature Oracle what they think.” You take a long pause, humming and pretending to be reading the vibrations in your belly before you giggle again. “Nah, the Oracle says you’re good. Just make sure it’s reeeeeeeally romantic and cheesy. She likes cheesy.”
Snickering, his hand caresses your belly gently. “She, huh?” He lifts a brow and sighs. “Are we talking about this woman? Or are you giving me a clue about who you think the Oracle is?”
“We’re talking about the woman.” Though it’s too early to be able to tell on an ultrasound or any other kind of way, you’ve been having dreams about your baby for a week now that have you convinced of the sex. “I started calling them the Miniature Oracle when I started having dreams about them,” you admit. For the last couple of nights you really haven’t said anything, not wanting him to either get his hopes up or get self-conscious about your intuition.
“You’ve been dreaming about them?” His voice is soft, hopelessly in love with the idea. His dreams have been less than ideal, so he loves the idea of having wonderful little dreams about the baby nestled under your heart. “Hopefully nothing but bliss.”
“Well, when I dream about labour I never feel it, so it could be a lot worse.” You tell him off-handedly, making both of you laugh. “Honestly, sweetheart? I’ve been dreaming for a week straight about having a little boy. I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking or if the baby is just making himself known - that probably sounds insane - but either way…that’s what I’ve been dreaming about.”
“It might be.” He caresses your stomach once more and then reaches for your hand so he can pull it up to kiss the back of it. “Honestly? I just want a healthy baby and momma.” He promises you. “I don’t care about having a boy first or at all. We could have four little girls and I’ll be over the moon.”
“I know, love.” He lets go of your hand to turn off the highway exit for the airport and you cradle your barely-changed belly in both hands again out of instinct. “Maybe I’ll have a week of dreams about having a little girl now, I don’t know. But I may have added a few more boy’s names to the notebook this week out of an abundance of inspiration.”
“We can spend all weekend dreaming up more names for our notebook.” Marcus follows the signs and pulls up to the ticket machine for the parking. “I am so glad that we are doing this.” He admits with a grin. “And I might have found a place for a couples massage.”
“Oh yeah?” The eyebrow you raise at him comes with a smirk. “That’s very sexy of you.”
“I thought you would like that.” He teases as he pulls into the parking garage and winds through the layers until he finds a parking spot.
“Let’s do this! Come on, baby.” To both the Pike and the Pike-ette with one word makes you giggle and grin broadly at Marcus. “Both of you.”
Marcus unloads the trunk and insists that he will handle both pieces, sending you a small frown. “You have your purse.”
“Which is in no way equivalent to rolling a suitcase, but okay.” It’s useless to give him sass about it and you know that. The man hasn’t let you carry anything since you finished moving in, and even that was a struggle.
“I like taking care of you however I can.” He reminds you with a grin, winking at you playfully.
******
The flight is easy. You chat with the new mom and her surprisingly well-behaved baby across the aisle for the first hour or so before people start turning off their lights to nap, and then Marcus pulls out his earbuds so you can listen to a book on tape together that he found. “Ghost Radio” is about halfway through when the flight attendants come around to let everyone know that the descent into Washington is about to begin, and you flash Marcus a giant smile. “I only got nauseous once. I think we can count that as a huge victory considering we’re going to have to fly up to see my Dad soon.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.” Marcus is nervous but hopeful that the man will give him a fair chance. “I’m thinking that we plan another weekend next month? Give us another escape to look forward to?”
“Perfect.” Your Dad knows you’ve been seeing someone and that it’s serious, so the phone call asking to come visit so he can meet your boyfriend won’t come as a surprise at all. Except that by the time you get there, you’ll be showing and wearing an engagement ring. Those will be the surprises. “He’s going to love you, honey. And he’s going to be so excited to be a grandpa. I predict stoic grunts of joy in public and a few tears in private.”
“Stoic grunts of joy.” Marcus snickers and shakes his head. “You don’t have to worry about that.” He tells you. “I’ll cry whenever something amazing happens.”
“Dad’s never been an overly emotional guy.” You tell him honestly as the plane begins to descend. “Maybe that’s why I like that you cry at every happy thing.”
“Good.” He leans over and kisses you softly. “Because it’s gonna happen.”
******
The first floor of the inn is buzzing when your cab pulls up, and you pay the driver while Marcus pulls the bags out of the trunk and then offers you his hand. “Looks like a party,” you grin, watching people duck in and out of the lounge and ballroom of the grand hotel, with its Art Deco decor gleaming under sultry lighting. A stylized sign in the lobby advertises the big band that will be performing all weekend and it looks like some people have even dressed up on theme.
“It looks like.” Marcus grins and takes in the atmosphere, instantly knowing that this weekend is going to be exactly what the two of you need. “How about we check in and then join the party?” It gives you an option of saying no if you just want to relax.
“I think the Pike-ette is hungry,” you turn your biggest eyes on Marcus as the two of you head for the check-in desk. “Do you think we could order some room service and turn on TCM? Maybe party tomorrow night instead? The sign says the band is playing all weekend.”
“We absolutely can.” Marcus grins at you. “There’s also a soaker tube in our room. If you’re good, I’ll see if I can’t make sure you can soak in a bath and watch tv.”
“I’m always good.” Those pleading eyes turn mischievous in a second and you both laugh as you walk up to the concierge desk.
Marcus sends the woman behind the desk a friendly smile. “Reservation for Pike?” He offers, pulling out his wallet and sliding his ID and credit card across the antique wood veneer.
The woman chats amiably while she checks you in, obviously overdoing it in good manners so you suspect there’s something in your reservation notes where Marcus let them know it was an important weekend. “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ring the desk. And room service is available until 2am. Your Presidential Suite reservation includes a reserved table in the hotel restaurant for any lunch or dinner, so please let us know when you’ll be joining us.”
“Absolutely.” Marcus beams, happy that everything is going well and turns to hand you the large brass key, a charming throwback to the history of the inn. “I think you might be in love with this place.”
“Is that so wrong?” The dreamy sigh you give him tells him that he’s completely correct, and you walk along beside him to the rather grand elevator. “Presidential Suite, huh? You must think this weekend is very special.”
“Well it was this or the luxurious accommodations at the Motel 6.” He smirks slightly. “They leave the light on for you, don’t you know?”
Rolling with the joke as the elevator dings brightly and opens up in front of you, you just snicker and follow him into the car. “Ah yes, I believe their restaurant has been Michelin starred.”
“A quality assortment of snacks from the vending machine by the ice machine.” He turns and lets go of the bags so he can tug you close for a kiss once the doors are closed. “We’re here.” He murmurs against your lips.
“Our own little paradise.” You hum back, slinging both of your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.
Marcus groans, feeling his entire body respond to your kiss. It’s been so fucking hard not to take things farther. He’s gotten over the guilt of touching you. Fingering you until you cum or eating you out. Sometimes he will let you go down on him, but it isn’t often and now - here - his body is on fire.
“Sorry…” You really do try not to get him too riled up, always keeping in mind to be respectful of his boundaries. Stepping back with a slightly guilty expression, you can’t help the underlying flustered smile. Even after almost three months together, kissing him still makes you giddy and eager like the first time.
“It’s not your fault you’re gorgeous and sexy and the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He takes a deep breath and smiles at you. “Just— eager for this weekend.”
“I can wear my bathing suit in the tub if you need me to,” you tell him, stepping away again to a respectful distance. There will be time for intimacy for the rest of your lives. But that won’t mean a damn thing if you don’t have the foundation of respect that you’re building right now in the midst of all the chaos.
“No.” Marcus isn’t a schoolboy who will die if he doesn’t get laid. “I’ve had plans for getting you in that tub.” He admits softly. “Making you cum on my fingers while you whine my name as loud as you want to.”
“The doctor says second trimester is usually the most active for expectant mothers,” you remind him, waggling your eyebrows at him and giggling at how silly it must look.
“God.” Marcus groans and reaches down to adjust himself so his hard on isn’t obvious to everyone. “You’re killing me, baby.”
“Sorry.” Mercifully, the elevator opens on the third floor a moment later and you’re off to find the door that matches your beautiful bronze key.
He’s been thinking hard about the boundaries that he’s set in place. It’s practically all he’s thought about. Amazing how accepting you have been over the sex-less relationship and how it’s crushing him. Because you are gorgeous and there is a slight caveman affect that happens every time he thinks about you pregnant with his child. “Hopefully the room is as good as it sounded.” Marcus trails after you with the bags, smiling slightly at the way you are craning your neck to take everything in and sneaking glances of the way your ass sways.
“This place is amazing.” Trailing your fingers along the molding on the walls as you go, there are those small signs of wear and tear always present in an old property, but for the most part the place is sparkling. The large double doors that presumably once opened into the master suite of the grand manor house are now marked with a brass plate that reads Presidential Suite and the ornate doorknob matches the key in your hand perfectly. “I’m excited,” you glance over your shoulder to grin at Marcus and find his eyes glued to your ass, which only makes you laugh and smile wider. Instead of any other remark, you bend over dramatically to put the key in the suite’s lock while you wiggle your ass at him for fun.
“Fuck.” Marcus hisses, unable to resist reaching out and smacking your ass playfully.
“Babe…” As soon as you open the door, the smell of roses is the first thing to hit you. Nearly every single surface has a vase of long-stemmed red roses on it and there are candles burning - and you wonder now if he wasn’t sending a text to the front desk when he was fiddling with his phone on the cab on the way over. A gold wrapped box with a chocolatery logo sits on a tray on the coffee table in the main room along with two beautiful champagne glasses…and a bottle of ginger ale sits chilling in the ice bucket alongside them. The thoughtfulness, beauty, and a fair few hormones have your eyes brimming with tears as you throw your arms around Marcus’s neck and bury your face in his neck after you kiss him. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“I want this weekend to be everything you ever dreamed of.” Marcus gushes emotionally. You are the one he is meant to be with, and he wants to erase the negative you had with your former fiancé just like you erase all the bad with Amanda. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too, baby. So much.” Even if tonight was all the entire weekend was, it would be beautiful. Perfect. Just like him.
“Let’s get settled in and decide what we want from the room service menu.” Marcus kisses you again and reluctantly lets you go. He knows you will explore every nook of this room by the time you leave in two days.
It's only a few days so it takes no time at all to get unpacked, and less then ten minutes after walking in Marcus is perusing the room service menu while you inspect the variety of bath salts and bubbles available for the tub. "How does rose and sandalwood sound?" You ask, holding up a bath bomb shaped like a rose in swirling pink and tan.
“Whatever you want.” He means that, smiling at you and motioning you over to look at the menu. “Pick out what you and peanut are craving.”
"I don't know about the peanut, but mama is looking at the orecchiette with lamb and cannellini bean ragu." Pasta sound gorgeous and filling right now, like a warm hug.
“That sounds good baby.” Marcus grins, watching you drool over the menu. “Do you want to order desserts or eat some of the chocolates?”
"What do you think?" You pass the menu back to him and snuggle into his side, connected to his energy like the most powerful magnet in the world. "As long as they're chocolate, I don't care how it's prepared."
He chuckles, having notices your preference for chocolatey things lately. “How about we split a piece of their triple chocolate three-layer cake?” He asks with a grin.
“Perfect.” Popping up from their seats, you away over to wear the ginger ale is chilling and pluck out the bottle to pour two glasses. “We’ll run the bath when we’re finished eating. It’ll be the perfect way to unwind before bed.”
“I’m sorry it can’t be champagne.” Marcus isn’t but he will make the appropriate noises for your sake. He’s stopped drinking a beer when he gets home in solidarity of your pregnancy, not wanting to tempt you with things you can’t have.
“I have the best reason in the world not to drink,” you remind him, handing over a glass flute full of soda before pouring your own. “I don’t mind anymore. The Pike-ette needs to be as healthy as possible.”
“So do you.” Marcus fusses over you sometimes, especially with as sick as Amanda is making you with her snacks. “You are doing amazing, you know that?”
“I’m doing my best.” It isn’t easy, considering the impossible situation that the two of you are in, but the light at the end of the tunnel is your happy, healthy family without a single trace of Amanda anywhere in sight. “I’m just glad that my best seems to be working.”
“It is working.” Marcus reaches up and rubs your shoulder with one hand and touches his flute to yours. “To you staying healthy and happy this entire pregnancy.”
“This weekend is about both of us, love.” Of course Marcus would put the sole focus on you, but you know he struggles far more mentally and emotionally with everything that’s going on than he wants you to know. “To us.” You murmur, tapping his flute again with yours. “And our happy future.”
Smiling softly, he leans in, pressing his lips against yours gently. “You are perfect.” He praises before he pulls back to take a sip of the soda. “You sit down and I will order our dinner.”
“I’ll find us a movie.” There isn’t any use debating with Marcus about who’s more perfect, so you just sit back with your drink and relax. This weekend is going to be just what you both have been needing.
Picking up the phone, Marcus orders the food that you wanted, plus his own dinner. There had been so many good options, but he wanted the honey citrus seared salmon with micro greens in a balsamic glaze. He had zero doubt that you might want to steal a bite or two, but he was happy to share. Once done, he sighs, the anxious ball of worry he’s had in the pit of his stomach since you told him you were pregnant is finally unwinding. He loves that you are carrying his child, it’s only the issues with his ex that put a damper on things and makes him worry.
“Cuddles while we wait?” You hold your arms open to him on the sofa in the suite’s sitting room. Uninterrupted snuggle time with Marcus and no Amanda around to loudly eat snacks that make you want to be sick? Yes please. “There’s a Hitchcock marathon on this weekend, apparently.”
“And how are we feeling about that?” He doesn’t want you to worry about pregnancy nightmares, knowing you have plenty to worry about as it is.
“To Catch a Thief is a classic.” As he settles down next to you, you nuzzle into his side immediately. “Trusts me, if Psycho or The Birds comes on next, I’ll be changing the channel.”
His arm comes around you automatically and he hums contentedly. “Good. I don’t want you having some dream of me wielding a knife and throwing birds at you.” He jokes.
“No one warns you that pregnancy will give you weird nightmares.” When you had brought it up to your doctor with concern, she had assured you that odd dreams and nightmares were perfectly normal pregnancy symptoms, which just seemed unfair to you at the time. At least they abated in favour of lovely dreams about your little boy. “So what do you want to do tomorrow? Which museums are on the docket?”
“I was thinking the Museum of Natural History and maybe the Freer Art Gallery?” He asks. “Walk around the Mall and just anything that catches our eye?”
“Sounds like a nice place to start.” You hum in agreement, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Maybe Air and Space in the afternoon?”
“I love the idea of the Air and Space.” He flashes you a grin. “I wanted to be an astronaut when I was younger.”
“I idolized Amelia Earhart.” The small similarities between you still make you grin whenever you discover them, even though you seem to discover them quite a lot. “They have her Lockheed Vega in the museum.”
“Plus the moon rock you can touch.” Marcus is honestly a little giddy to explore this with you. Amanda had never cared for anything that was free and open to the public. Something he hadn’t realized until he was looking back.
“I’m adding Amelia to the baby name list!” You announce with glee, reaching for your purse a few feet away on the ground, and honestly wondering why you hadn’t before. “Amelia Pike is a cool ass name and she’d be named after a bad ass.”
“I love that.” He really does, grinning as you flip the book open and scrawl the name the list and circles it happily. “I would say that’s my favorite one so far.”
“Really?” Any name Marcus notes as a favourite gets a little star next to it, but you put two next to where you’ve written Amelia and smile at it for a moment longer. “Mine too, I think. Maybe we’ll have our memories jogged over some favourite historical figures or painters whose names we can add this weekend.”
“Absolutely.” He gives a happy little chuckle and presses a kiss to your head. “I’m sure you will be writing names like crazy.” He predicts with a smile, loving how enthusiastic you are about it.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do with this list after all the kids are born.” There are already several pages of ideas noted down, and it’s only been three weeks since you bought the thing. “I’ll have to start writing stories or something.”
He snickers. “Well, each kid should have a pet...” he offers, smirking at you, imagining all sorts of critters with the names you had chosen.
“Four kids with four pets?” Rolling your eyes at him only makes him laugh harder, and you end up laughing with him as you toss the notebook aside. “You better be planning on taking whatever promotion you’re up for next if I’m going to be staying at home with the Pike-ettes and their fluffy buddies. Because I don’t think I could do that to a babysitter.”
“We will make sure our babysitter is very responsible.” He promises. “Because having a turtle is tough.”
“A turtle, huh?” The look you give him is dubious - like a librarian peering over her spectacles. “Which kid is getting a turtle?”
“Whichever one wants a turtle. Or a bunny or a gerbil.” Marcus would never expect to pick out his kid’s pets. But he could always encourage animals that weren’t high maintenance.
“No bunnies.” On that you are adamant. “They’re cute and sweet outdoors, but if you try to keep them caged indoors they stink and get angry. And bite.” Your head tilts a lot and after a second, you shrug. “Then again, if I were in a cage, I would probably shit everywhere and bite people, too.”
“No cage play - got it.” Marcus grins, shooting you a disappointed pout. “I’m a little disappointed.”
“What if I asked you to collar me?” You raise an eyebrow at him in challenge, wondering if he’s just teasing you or if he does have some possessive or dominating proclivities.
Marcus had been joking, but when you say that, he can’t help but give a small grunt of interest. His cock twitches and he bites his lip.
“Oh really?” Both eyebrows raise now, and you sit up a little his arms. “Did I accidentally hit on something?”
“No.” He knows he sounds slightly defensive, but it’s something that could be controversial to some and he doesn’t want to cause issues. It’s not been something he’s really thought about much. Not like Amanda was interested.
“Hey, don’t do that.” Taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger, you make him look at you. “Talk to me. If there’s things you want to try, I want to hear about them. Even if it’s only talking right now and not trying them yet.”
“I’ve not given it a lot of thought.” He admits quietly. “You know….” He doesn’t have to say it, since you know what he means. “I just don’t want you upset.”
“I’m not going to get upset.” You promise him, knowing that talking about Amanda isn’t nearly as bad as living with her. “Healthy communication, baby. And healthy experimentation, too, if we decide to.”
“It sounds like it might be fun.” He admits after a long moment searching your face. “Nothing too heavy, though. I would never want anything extreme.” He snorts, shaking his head. “Could you see me trying to be some hardass dom?”
“No.” You wrinkle your nose a little, not out of distaste but because you definitely couldn’t see Marcus ever being domineering. “But I have to admit that the fact that you don’t let me pay for anything, cater to everything I need, and would completely love me being at home waiting for you every day makes me think that all those sugar babies out in the world definitely have the right idea.” The wink you send him is exaggerated and comes with a kiss to his cheek. “I think you like the idea of being a caretaker, baby. And sometimes that can translate into softdom territory. But only if you want it to.”
“Maybe we could research it together?” He asks, slightly hopeful since you seem to get him. It’s not that he wants you to be his maid or his keeper, more that he wants to provide for you. Let you do whatever you want.
“Do you want to look things up while we eat?” There are times you truly do think that the thing that would make Marcus happiest in the world would be to come home to his fully-provided for wife and small army of children, and even you - who would have railed against it in the beginning - see why. It’s not to do with subservience, it’s about him providing not only finances for his family, but love and care as well. The love and care that he feels he never got as a kid. He wants to give every inch of himself to loving his family, and that is something you fully admire about him.
“Only if you want to.” Marcus is insistent on that. “Besides, this entire thing revolves around you being comfortable.”
“So let’s look it up.” Both of your phones are in your pockets, and you offer him a soft smile of encouragement. “If we don’t like what we read, we don’t have to try it. It’s as simple as that.”
“Okay.” He still makes no move to reach for his phone. Enjoying holding you way too much right now.
“You wanna read over my shoulder?” His arms are tight around you but you slip your phone out of your jeans easily and waggle it at him. “If I’m pushing, you can tell me, honey. I’m only asking because you reacted to it.”
“No, you would never push.” You are positively the last person to push him, so he knows that’s not the case. “Maybe you are interested too?”
“I’m interested.” That much can be made perfectly clear, and you bite your lip to keep from smirking. “I know you say good girl every now and then without thinking, but you could say it literally anytime you wanted, and I would just magically lose my panties.”
“Really?” Now it’s his turn to smirk and he does so immediately. “You like when I call you a good girl?” He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he wants a reaction out of you, dropping his voice down slightly.
The pout on your face might seem like a dramatic change from how you were just laughing, but that tone in Marcus’s voice is fucking delicious. “Fuck — Yes.” You nod, straightening up a little more.
“My good girl?” He asks, smirking even more when you let out a small whimper. He loves how you want him. It’s a soothing balm on his previously lonely and hurt heart.
“Yes sir.” You try out the little extra sign of authority, wondering if Marcus will like it as much as you - surprisingly - do.
“Fuck.” His breath comes out in a rush, punched from his lungs in a harsh exhale. “That’s something I can say I like.” He admits quietly, his hand that had been on your stomach sliding to your core and cupping you over your clothes.
The physicality of his reaction - that instant possessiveness - makes you whimper again slightly and you can practically feel your pupils dilate. “You like being called sir?” You ask with a raised eyebrow, interested to see how he reacts to you saying it again.
Marcus Pike has never slapped a pussy in his life, honestly kind of shaking his head at the idea when it came up on a porno and writing it off as some macho fantasy that the girl performing just goes with. But right now? It sounds sexy. His hand draws back and he swats his hand down on your clit, just to see your reaction.
The sensation is sharp - and surprising - and the little half-yelp, half-moan you let out when the quick flick of his wrist snaps the seam of your soft pants directly against your clit is amazing. “Was that a punishment or a reward?” You ask, voice breathless as you try to figure out how to get more of this out of him.
“Depends on how you feel about it.” Marcus hums in your ear, knowing you had to enjoy it from the way you moaned. “Do you want me to do it again?” He teases, rubbing your clit gently through the leggings.
“Mmhmm.” Actually you can barely believe how much you want him to do it again, but you’re nearly squirming in his lap as you chase the staccato sensation. “Please.”
His chuckle is dirty, and he wants to do it again. Nuzzling against your neck, he lets his teeth scrape over your skin. Hearing you inhale sharply, he pulls his hand back to smack your clit again - only to have a knock on the door stop him before he can bring his hand down. He groans quietly into your ear. “The food.”
“Nooooo!” Your frustrated groan at the bad timing is mirrored in how deeply you pout at Marcus as he lifts you off his lap.
“Don’t be a bad girl.” He teases, although he’s just as disappointed as you. “At least the interruption is food.”
“Which is literally the only reason I’m not begging you to ignore it and touch me again.” You don’t want to say slap my pussy again too loudly, just in case the door is thin or something. Although you’re sure the walls of a luxury hotel have heard far weirder things.
Marcus smirks, leaning down and kissing you before he straightens up and adjusts his hard cock. “Later.”
You manage not to protest how badly you want him now, because it’s slightly useless all things considered. You’ve wanted him endlessly since about two seconds after he walked into your store and it has only gotten more intense with falling in love with him and being pregnant with his child. But the physical end of your relationship has to be secondary to the emotional, and you accepted that.
Marcus opens the door, greeting the server who has been sent with the cart with a friendliness that is covering his sexual frustrations. “Thanks, just anywhere is good.” He offers as he digs in his pocket to tip the man.
The man is there and gone in a flash, and you don’t miss the way he tries to be subtle about sneaking a peak at your hand. Marcus must have told them the reason for your stay when he requested the roses and ginger ale.
“Food is here.” Marcus states the obvious but winks at you. “Come eat baby, I know you are hungry.”
“Yes, sir.” You’re going to keep the game up as long as it’s still fun for both of you. And it is definitely fun.
“God, keep it up and I’ll eat you.” He growls playfully.
“How exactly is that supposed to deter me?” The smirk on your face as you move to the bistro table in the corner to sit and eat with him is pure playfulness.
“Maybe it’s not.” He challenges with a smirk of his own. “Maybe I want to see how the food tastes cold.” He’s joking, because he heard your stomach growling.
“I’m afraid your son isn’t going to allow that.” One hand goes to your belly as you sit down, traveling up to your rumbling stomach a second later. “Pretzels on the plane was definitely not enough.”
“We should have eaten before the flight,” he admits, slightly annoyed with himself. “But I wasn’t sure how the flight would mess with your stomach, and I didn’t want you airsick the entire time.”
“I was nervous about it, too. Don’t worry, love.” You throw him a wink from behind your glass. “You can have me for extra dessert.”
“Fuck yes.” He loves every opportunity he has to explore your changing body, even if it hasn’t changed much so far. “Eat.” He tells you with just a touch of sternness as he points to your plate.
“I’m liking the little bit of sternness,” you admit, picking up your fork with a grin. “If I weren’t literally about to have your baby, I might have asked to call you daddy.”
He groans, shaking his head. “Maybe before the first one starts using that term.” He tells you with a grin.
“We’re in the mood to discover tonight, I see.” Teasing is good - it’s light and fun and something you don’t get enough of at home - but the first bite you take off your pasta has you moaning with almost as much enthusiasm as when he goes down on you. “Holy shit this is amazing,” you groan, eyes drifting shut while you savor.
He stops with his own fork halfway to his mouth, watching in appreciation as you savor your food. Licking his lips unconsciously as you swipe at a little sauce that you missed. “Good?” He asks hoarsely, even though you just said it was amazing.
“Fucking amazing.” Picking up another mouthful of your dinner, you hold it out to him with a devious smile. “Wanna try?”
“I always want to try…” Marcus grins and wraps his lips around the fork and winks at you as he pulls his mouth back. “Hmmmmmm.”
"I'd try just about anything with you." He digs into his own dinner with another grin and you go after your own with enthusiasm. Eating for two is a very real thing.
“So, did you pack the most comfortable shoes you have?” Marcus asks. “There’s a lot of walking on the menu.”
"I brought my sneakers." Taking the cue that he would rather not flirt during dinner, you nod in between bites. "Dresses, leggings, and sneakers all weekend."
“Perfect.” He sends you a little wink. “Even though this is a special weekend, I want you comfortable.”
"I have a feeling it's going to be plenty of snack stops and resting here and there while we go through the museums." Even though the physical changes are minimal, your appetite has definitely increased and the back and ankle pan is something that is starting in small amounts. "I want to do as many as we can, though. And join the party tomorrow night. We deserve to enjoy this weekend."
“We do, just tell me when you want to stop and we will sit down, have something to eat, relax.” He promises, knowing that this weekend is supposed to be easy and relaxing rather than pushing yourselves to see everything.
"Whatever we don't see this time, we'll just have to come back and see it on an anniversary trip." The idea of coming back here one day with your kids makes you smile, loving the idea of showing them so much art and history and science all in such a beautiful place that means so much to you.
“I like the way you think.” Marcus forks up another bite of his food. “The future Mrs. Pike is a smart cookie.”
"So here's a question." Your dinner is absolutely delicious, and you feel like you're absolutely inhaling it but can't bring yourself to care. "If you ever got transferred back here. What part of the city would you want to live in?" With promotions in the FBI, all roads lead to DC, and you have to admit that you're curious as to what he would choose.
Marcus hums, reaching for his napkin and wiping his mouth. “Honestly? Probably Georgetown or Capitol Hill.” He admits. “The amenities are nice, and the neighborhood is safe.”
"I don't know if I agree with Capitol Hill being safe, necessarily, but I like the idea of Georgetown." The area of it that you're in right now - where the inn is - has always been one you've found beautiful. "The Palisades has great schools, too."
“It sounds like you would be okay with a transfer.” Marcus raises a brow and grins at you.
"I miss DC." And you don't mind admitting that. "I mean, don't get me wrong. Austin has some amazing schools, too. And the condo is so well furnished," you laugh, shaking your head at your own joke. "I am proud of you and everything you do. But I'm also in a weird phase where I'm looking up public and private elementary schools in every city I can think of that you could be transferred to just to know."
“I promise you that I will let you know if and when we have to transfer.” Marcus reaches out and takes your hand. “I want you to be happy. And since you miss D.C? I’ll see if I can’t find a spot here as my number one option.”
“I want you to take the job that makes you happiest, no matter where it is.” This is a cycle the two of you get into, each always wanting to put the other first, and you recognize it with a breathy little laugh. “We’ll think about transfers when the time comes. For now, let’s just agree that we’ll make the best of it when it does.”
“I would say that sounds like a plan.” He flashes you a grin, noticing that your dinner is nearly finished. “Are you ready for dessert? I’m sure the Pike-ette is craving that cake for their momma.”
“I was going to be polite and wait for you to finish,” you admit, albeit with a sheepish smile. That just makes Marcus’s grin grow wider and you reach for the slice of chocolate cake without another second’s hesitation. “Is the food here actually amazing or am I just a ravenous pregnant lady?”
“A little bit of both.” Marcus chuckles and gives a small shrug. “The food is great, but you were moaning over a peanut butter and jelly sandwich two days ago.” He teases, remember how you had just cooed over him bringing you a sandwich upstairs so you didn’t have to risk running into Amanda.
“You used my favourite jelly. It matters.” The expression on your face is dead serious - peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are a staple of your diet right now. “Plus you sacrificed yourself to an encounter with the Wicked Witch to make it for me. You’re my hero.”
He grins and leans in to kiss you. “Anything for my fair maiden.” He promises with a wink. “Besides, she doesn’t try too much shit when it’s me. You’re the one getting the brunt of the nastiness.”
“Well sure.” That makes you roll your eyes, but only out of exasperation, as you pat your belly with one hand. “Because I’ve got the golden ticket.”
“You do have the golden ticket.” He smirks happily, never not happy about his child. “I don’t mind that at all, but you tell me when she gets worse.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” There’s no way in the world you’re going to tell him that Amanda threatened you right before leaving for your mini vacation. There’s no need to bring the mood down at all.
There’s something in your tone that makes him suspicious, but he doesn’t press. He’ll check the camera feeds later on. Instead he nods and snatches up the fork for the cake and gathers the first bite to offer you. “Tell me how it is?”
Giggling at yourself when your response to the first bite is to moan again, you nudge the plate toward Marcus. “Sharing is caring,” you remind him, knowing that literally anyone else would get their hand slapped if they tried to eat your chocolate cake right now.
Marcus hums and takes a smaller bite for himself, groaning in appreciation of the moist, chocolaty cake. “That’s great.”
“Right? Second only to my Mom’s chocolate cake. Like a close second.” Your bites are distinctly less dainty than his, but Marcus only smiles when you have the good manners to apologize for being a bit greedy.
“You are enjoying it baby.” He loves that, watching you inhale the cake. “Next time we’ll get a glass of milk too.”
“If my appetite keeps growing like crazy I’m gonna have the doctor check that there’s not already four in there,” you joke, offering him another bite before you totally demolish the thing.
“Oh god.” His eyes widen dramatically, even if it’s playfully. “Can you imagine quadruplets? You would kill me.”
“On the other hand?” Shrugging slightly, both of your hands cradle your very full belly for effect as you sit back in your chair. “It would be a very good thing that we bought all their first stuffed animals at once.”
“Yes it would be.” The stuffed animals had a place of honor on the chair next to the window in your shared bedroom and Marcus grins at them every time he sees them.
Stretching a little in your seat, you give a small groan as a few joints pop and glance over at the clock. The time difference between Austin and DC may be small, but it's enough that you pout at the clock. "It's later than I thought it was. Do you still want to take a bath before bed, baby?"
“You sound tired.” Marcus immediately looks over at you and gives a small frown. “Do you want to go to bed?”
"I don't want to ruin the fun." You throw him a pout but end up yawning, immediately clamping both hands over your mouth to stifle it. "I guess that's a yes," you admit begrudgingly.
“Then let’s save the soak in the tub for tomorrow morning before we take on the day.” Plans are always easily changed in his opinion.
"You don't mind?" He never does. Marcus Pike is probably the most accommodating man on the planet, which might have a little to do with why his not-quite-ex-wife is still in his house. Either way, though, you haul yourself out of your chair and reach your hand out to him. "We can cuddle until we pass out. It'll be nice not to have to hear her clanging around downstairs or in her room while we try to fall asleep."
“Yes it will be.” You don’t know how many conversations he’s had with his lawyers about getting Amanda out of the house. How many arguments he’s had with them. He’s tired of the way you seem to be taking the brunt of this, he’s even wondered if he made the right decision in moving you in.
"Come on, handsome." With his hand in yours, you lead him back to the suite's bedroom and flip on the light, enjoying the casual intimacy of nighttime rituals as you grab your toiletries bag from your suitcase. "Fair warning, the only things I brought to sleep in barely qualify as coverings."
“I have zero problem with that.” You are tired, so even if he wanted to touch you, he wouldn’t. “I can’t wait to snuggle into this large bed with you.” It might test his patience, but he will survive. The most important thing is that he has you in bed beside him.
Crawling under the covers beside him a few minutes later, you burrow into Marcus’s side and sigh happily when his arms come around you immediately. “I already know this weekend is going to be perfect.” You stifle another yawn and grin guiltily, stretching up to press a kiss to the sharp line of his jaw. “I love you more than anything, baby. Sweet dreams.”
******
The next morning begins perfectly in Marcus’s opinion. You are curled against him, your ass pressed against his cock and your soft murmured snores telling him that you are sleeping peacefully. Something you’ve been missing out on since moving in. He smirks and unwinds his arm from around your stomach, shifting under the covers and moving lower, wanting to wake you up right on the day he is going to propose to you.
The dream you’re still deep inside of is perfect - a sunny, sandy beach with Marcus on your honeymoon. Gorgeous crystal-clear water and blue skies like a picturesque magazine spread. The kind of trip everybody always dreams of taking, but without the cocktails since even in the dream you’re still pregnant. The air is thick with the smell of sweet flowers and spicy food, and there is nothing to do but relax. It’s paradise inside your mind, and you sigh happily in your sleep.
Marcus smirks when your grunt is soft in protest when he slowly rolls you onto your back. He doesn’t know what you are dreaming, but you wants to stay there.
Waking each other up like this - the intimacy of it and care - is something you had talked about long before you ever shared it with each other. It’s something Erik had never found the appeal in and farm work demanded early rising without leisure, so the first time Marcus woke you up with pleasure you had spoiled and pampered him for the next two days in thanks.
For Marcus, there is something delicious about a woman’s taste when she’s been asleep for hours. It’s rich and earthy, potent and tangy on his tongue. Hot and musky in his nose as he slowly probes your folds with the gentle pass of his tongue, not ready to have you wake up just yet. You squirm slightly under him, unconscious movements that mimic the way you’re settling into your beach chair with a sigh in your dream as the pleasurable sensations start to register on the edges of your mind. Nothing ever feels as good as Marcus does in real life, and you hum softly from inside the dream.
He keeps his touch light, the gentle way he presses your legs a little wider under the covers, the soft morning sun filtering in through the white sheets the perfect amount of visibility to look at the way your hips roll up. You still haven't woken up, and that's good. Making him kiss your clit softly and circling it in a slow pattern.
Soft sighs come slightly more often as you start to build toward your peak, and your dream has turned distinctly dirtier. Marcus has you laid out on the beach with your bathing suit ripped away, feasting on you like he hasn’t had a crumb to eat in weeks. His name is a distinct sigh in that hotel bed as you cry it out in your dream.
He feels the way you come apart for him, it's soft and fluttery, but still intense as you sleep through it. Marveling at how you can still be asleep as you cum, soaking his chin in your juices while he continues to softly work you through it. He's never had you stay locked in your dreams, and he wonders what you will say about them when you wake up.
It takes another moment before your eyelids start to flutter, a soft moan parting your lips as the morning light permeates everything. “Morning…” You stretch to reach for him beside you, but Marcus isn’t there. “Baby?”
Marcus chuckles, finding it adorable that you are awake enough to know he's not where he is supposed to be but still asleep enough that you haven't figured out where he is. "Morning." He murmurs before he kisses your clit one last time and reaches up to pull the covers down over his head. "Sweet dreams?" He can't help but grin and wink when you look down at him.
“Mmm…” The soft hun of realization on your lips morphs into a dirty, throaty laugh when you stretch again and beckon him up beside you. “So that’s why my dream turned sexy.”
“I figured you were cumming in your sleep.” He kisses up your body with light kisses until he drops one on your lips. “I love that you slept through it.”
“You were eating me out on a beach on our honeymoon.” Chasing another kiss, you pull him back to you before you let him settle down at your side.
“Yeah?” He grins against your cheek and hums into your skin. “You envision a beach honeymoon, huh?”
“Maybe…” You would go anywhere with him, and you’ve imagined a hundred different trips in your mind. “A Caribbean beach, or Paris for the art, or Southeast Asia for the amazing cuisine and completely different culture. Anywhere you want to go.”
“No…” he shakes his head. “I like the idea of a small island, maybe one of those that you can rent the entire thing. Making that dream of yours cum true.” He throws you another wink with his pun.
“Dirty.” You giggle softly, rolling over to be closer to him, enjoying the gentle softness of the morning and how that translates into deep, lazy kisses.
Marcus sighs into your mouth, relaxed for the first time since the one night you had truly spent together. Even if he was still turned on, just knowing that today is the day he is going to propose, makes a tingle run up his spine.
“Baby…” Marcus hasn’t been this pliant or eager in weeks - maybe months - and the twitch of his hardness against your leg as he kisses you has you moaning. “Can I— is it okay today?” You don’t want to ask too much, but you’re really hoping that he’ll be okay with a little more intimacy on this trip.
There is a space in time, his heartbeat stops and his stomach twists in the most divine combination of pleasure and pain. Despite everything, you have never pushed him for more than he can give, and he shoves away the gnawing ache of guilt. “Whatever you want.” He tells you softly. Meaningfully. He means it. You are going to be his wife. He doesn’t want to deny you, or himself, anything today.
That is not the answer you expected. You pull back from him, searching his face for any trace of anything that goes against the words coming out of his mouth, but all you find is soft determination. “Tonight, baby.” You offer, wrapping your arm around his waist. “Tonight we’ll dance and make love and fall asleep tangled together. How does that sound?”
“That sounds perfect.” He has to admit he’s a little disappointed now that he said anything goes. Halfway expecting you to jump him, but you might need to process that change in your relationship and he can’t blame you for that.
“Doesn’t mean I’m going to neglect you now.” It’s your turn to kiss him - earnest and deep - before trailing your lips down his body. It would be unfair to spoil the moment by admitting that you’re actually a little nervous about having sex with him again - you’ve built it up in your mind so much since that one night that you need to give yourself a little time to come down out of those proverbial clouds. This morning, though? This morning you’re going to suck his soul out through his cock so he doesn’t have the brain power left to overthink his decision.
He hasn’t let you make him cum often. A combination of guilt and honestly not wanting to do anything to activate your gag reflex. It’s been bad enough with the morning sickness and the shit his ex is pulling, he doesn’t want you sick because of sucking him off. However, this morning, he’s moaning when you scrape your teeth over his nipple and his cock twitches again. “Fuck.” He murmurs, looking down so he can give you the obligatory ‘you don’t have to’.
“Don’t even say it.” You order, practically wagging a finger at him as your face hovers maybe a whole three inches from his achingly hard, leaking cock. “You never let me suck you off and for once I’m not feeling nauseous first thing.”
“I have.” His protest is weak, because he last time he let you suck him off was the day he found out you were pregnant. You had jerked him off a couple of times, but he had always tried to focus on your pleasure more.
“Once.” And you remember every perfect second of it like it was yesterday. “You did say whatever I want.”
“I did.” He reaches down and cups your cheek, giving you a soft look. “And I meant it. Although…please don’t stick a finger in my ass?” He jokes.
“Dammit!” You huff dramatically, playing along with the joke for a second to make you both laugh. “Fiiiiiiine. I guess just a regular blow job will have to do.”
It’s fun to joke about this with you, needed, really. He grunts, even with a grin on his face. One that quickly changes to pure bliss when your duck your head down and lick a long line up the underside of his cock. “Shiiiiit.”
“That’s it, baby.” You coo, looking up at him as you kitten lick the head of his cock and use the hand that isn’t bracing your weight to cup his balls the way you know he likes. “Let me hear you.”
“Jesus.” Marcus pants out the word, loving the sultry look in your eyes and the way you touch him. He doesn’t bite his lip, instead letting out another soft moan, just loud enough for you. Since it was early and there are other guests.
Humming approvingly, you sink down on him just about halfway at first, just to make sure that he really is okay with this and that you don't accidentally make yourself gag. This is bliss for you. Not just because you like giving head - although you definitely do - but also because there isn't a trace of worry or guilt or stress left in Marcus's whole body. He is relaxed and focused only on pleasure, something that he has actively denied himself for a long time. The way he moans when you start to bob up and down on his length is genuine and indulgent, and you honestly can't wait to be able to hear this sound every single day.
“Fuck baby.” His groan is filthy, matching the way that his body reacts to the feeling of your wet, hot mouth around him. Watching your lips stretch around his shaft. “Good girl.” He praises breathlessly, stroking your cheek while you press him just a half inch deeper.
Those words, and thinking about last night at all, have you moaning around his cock. It makes you want to just shove his cock all the way down your throat but you don't dare, for now just bobbing a little bit more on the next pass and wrapping your hand around the base of his shaft that your mouth can't reach.
He can barely keep the soft whine from slipping through, loving the firm grip you have on the base of his cock. Even if you haven’t sucked him off often, you have been quick to learn exactly how he likes to be touched. “Love you.” He moans quietly.
Your soft hum has to be enough reply for now, as you steadily work him up with your hand and mouth, tongue swirling around his head to greedily pick up every bit of his musky taste. You can shower him in affirmations all day, and always do, but the chance for the physical - the lustful - expression of what he means to you is rare.
“God.” His whimper is punctuated by your name. “You love this, don’t you baby?” His fingers curl around your jaw and your hum makes his stomach clench.
“Mmhmm.” You won’t deny that for a second, and you look up at him with mischief in your eyes since you can’t exactly smirk with your lips stretched around his cock.
There’s something about how you love him that just makes Marcus melt. The way you want to please him. His heart stutters every time, even if he doesn’t let you do this often. “Gonna cum baby.” He gasps a warning, letting you know. He doesn’t want you to swallow if you don’t want to.
Marcus is always attractive - without fail, even on his worst days - but he is gorgeous when he falls apart. He’s uninhibited and completely himself, far away in a world of pure pleasure. It’s a blissful sight. One that you love as much as he loves watching you drink down every drop of cum he has for you.
Every time he cums with you, it’s such a fucking struggle to keep his eyes open. Wanting to see you when he reaches that peak and feels nothing but pleasure rushing through him and making him cry out your name again.
“You are an absolute vision when you cum.” You murmur, leaving a kiss on his hipbone before shifting back up the bed to lay down beside him and offer him a place in your arms. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you.” Marcus promises, knowing that the two of you could get into a playful back and forth on who loves the other more, but he just wants to relax with you. “I think this might be my favorite morning so far.” He murmurs softly, covering your stomach with his hand.
“With a lifetime to go.” Giving him a bright smile, you put your hand over his on your belt and sigh happily. “How do you want to start the day? Quick bite and off to the Smithsonian? Or leisurely breakfast and a stroll through the city?”
"However you want to." On that Marcus is adamant, he wants today to be exactly what you want. "What do you and our little Pike-ette want?" He hums with a smile as he caresses your stomach.
The already large smile on your face widens unapologetically, and you lean over to kiss him before popping out of the bed. “I don’t want to wait around for the morning sickness to kick in. Let’s grab a bite and hit the museums.”
"That sounds perfect." He grins and watches you, leering slightly was you walk over to the antique bureau that you had put your clothes in. "Although I'm liking my view."
“Look all you want.” You wiggle your hips to shake your ass at him as you grab clean panties and a bra from the dresser. Your dresses are in the closet, all neat and pretty because you wanted to look your best this weekend. “I’m all yours, love.”
“You will be.” He murmurs softly, smiling as you put on your bra and move over to the closet to pick out a dress. “Wear your favorite.” He suggests, wanting today to be perfect. “And I’ll wear your favorite outfit for me.”
You have an overwhelming instinct to call him out, but you don’t. Whatever he has planned you have no desire to spoil it so instead you just pull out the dress you wore on your first date and pull it over your head easily. From his hanging shirts you grab a rusty red coloured linen shirt to go with his jeans and his favourite black shoes that he was wearing yesterday. “How’s this?”
"That looks great." He knows that you have some kind of inkling that something is happening today, but he hopes you enjoy the suspense. "I will wear whatever you want."
“I’m not going to ask you to weather your leather jacket in a heat wave.” You tease, having always been fully upfront with him about how much you love that particular piece on him. “But I like this shirt on you. It brings out the gold in your eyes.”
There is a slight way that his chest puffs out slightly at your praise. He loves that you are attracted to him and you seek to let him know that. Men need compliments just as much as women do and he didn't realize how starved he was for that until you started showering him with affection and little phrases of esteem building praise.
“Breakfast downstairs?” Keeping things light and fun is the order of the morning, and you pause to kiss Marcus quickly as you pass by him to go into the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, and all those good parts of your morning routine.
"Yeah." Going downstairs was a big part of today. He had to make sure that they had put together his little request to take with you when you leave for the day. "I'm sure that they will have some tea for you."
“My one doctor-approved dose of caffeine a day.” That leads you to a chuckle from the bathroom while pining and prodding at your hair. When your doctor had said you could still have small amounts of caffeine during your pregnancy you had almost jumped for joy, but the baby vetoed coffee consumption about two weeks ago. Now you’re on a single cup of tea per day instead of your single six-ounce cup of coffee.
"As soon as you have the baby, I will make sure you have a coffee in your hand every morning." He promises, rubbing your belly before he picks up his electric razor to shave quickly.
In a few minutes you’re both ready, hand in hand as you head downstairs to the inn’s restaurant for their apparently much-lauded breakfast buffet. Marcus’s need to book the biggest and fanciest room in the place means that the price of the morning meal is built right in, so you don’t hesitate. Especially not when you smell fresh bacon and crepes from the doorway.
Marcus smiles when you are eagerly hunched over the buffet, allowing him to turn to the woman who was carefully watching to make sure anything needed to be replenished. “Hi.” He greets her with a grin. “Marcus Pike.”
“Oh! Mr. Pike, of course!” The young woman nods eagerly, her eyes following his as she tries to figure which woman he is with - she didn’t see him walk in. “Everything for your basket is ready. I’ll go and get it for you while you’re having breakfast.” She grins but tries to smother it when she figures out who he keeps looking at down the buffet table. “The chef had quite a bit of fun putting it together.”
“Thank you so much.” He can’t help but lean in to give her a quick hug. “Today is going to be amazing.” He promises. “And she will be teary eyed over the idea of a picnic lunch from the inn. She’s been talking about this place since she decided she wanted to stay here.”
“Peanut butter, cilantro, and chocolate are pretty good as far as cravings go, she’s lucky.” She has seen the request in the system just like everyone else and a few of the women on staff were running bets on where exactly the proposal would happen. “May I ask how long you’ve been together?”
“Three months.” Marcus isn’t ashamed of that, even if he knows others with raise their eyebrows. “But she’s been a trooper the entire time.” He won’t go into details, those are more private, but he can’t help the sappy smile with his heart in his eyes as he watches you pile up the bacon.
“Well, we’re all very excited to hear how it turns out.” The staff have been pretty excited about it, actually, her included. “My name is Alana, I’m the front of house manager on duty today, so if you need anything please don’t hesitate to call the desk and ask for me.”
“Thank you.” Marcus gives her another smile and tilts his head back towards you. “I better make sure she eats something other than bacon.” He jokes. “Although do you have some tea?” He asks. “She’s needing a little caffeine but not too much.”
“I’ll bring out a selection for your table.” Alana nods and returns his smile before disappearing behind the pristine chestnut stained door that leads to the kitchen. She’s about to put together the best tea tray of her career, because that man is very in love.
Marcus finds you, his hand on your waist. “I asked for some tea, sweetheart.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to your cheek. “But I’m going to get you some orange juice now so you can take your vitamins.”
“Thank you.” With your hands full of two plates, you hadn’t even reached the drinks yet. You turn your head to catch him in a kiss before he’s too far away and smile softly. “You take such good care of us.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He won’t call it his job or responsibility, even though it is. It’s his pleasure to take care of you and his baby. He quickly brings two orange juices over and sets them down before he goes to fix himself a plate.
“And I appreciate the fact that you think of it like that.” You tell him honestly. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
Marcus is coming back to the table when the lovely woman, Alana, approaches you with a tray of tea options.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” He hears you saying to the woman as she sets the little silver service tray with hot water, and teacup, and a selection of teabags down in front of you. There’s even a little pitcher of cold milk and a bowl of sugar cubes despite both being available a few get away on the drinks section of the buffet. “Everyone’s been so nice since we got in last night and the food here is incredible.”
“We like to make a fuss.” Alana smiles at you, noting how your eyes immediately find your soon to be fiancé when he comes back to the table. “Especially for lovely couples like yourself.”
“Well, thank you.” Nothing could possibly beat the sunny sight of Marcus returning to your side, and you grin back at the woman - Alana - before he sits down. “I told him he’d like this place. That’s my proof. He loves to make a fuss.”
"A man in love always loves to fuss." Alana can't help but send you a small wink before she moves away from the table, wanting to go check on the cooler the chef prepared for the two of you one last time. It needed to be perfect since the two of you were obviously perfect for each other. She could tell these kinds of things.
“I think you have a fan,” you tease, shooting Marcus a grin as you drop a sachet of floral-smelling black tea into the China teacup on the tray and add water. “Does the whole place know why we’re here or something?” Not that you would mind, honestly. It would be very over the top. Very Marcus.
Blushing slightly, Marcus picks up his orange juice and takes a sip. "I might have mentioned why we were spending the weekend here." He admits with a small, pleased grin. "They have made us a picnic lunch for today while we are out."
“A picnic?” That has you practically squealing, and you reach over in your chair to plant a wet kiss on his cheek. “I haven’t been on a picnic in years. This is so sweet of you baby, thank you.”
He's giggling slightly, in relief, at your happiness. He had wondered if it was a little too boring for you, but he wanted to just make sure you were well fed and watered, relaxed and happy spread out on the lawn of the Mall when he proposes. "Good." He murmurs. "I'm glad you are excited."
“According to this handy map I snagged from our suite before we came downstairs.” You flap the folded map of the National Mall at him playfully before you open it up. “The National Museum of Natural History is right across the Mall from the Freer Gallery. Shall we start there and go for Air & Space after our picnic?”
“That sounds perfect.” Marcus will agree to whatever you wanted to do. “We can work up an appetite moving around from exhibit to exhibit.”
Breakfast doesn’t last long but it’s delicious and filling, and as you’re wiping your mouth from a particularly juicy strawberry when Alana reappears from the kitchen with a small cooler case bearing the hotel’s insignia.
“Everything you requested is in here.” She tells Marcus with a smile, offering him the cooler. “The ice packs will keep everything chilled until at least two o’clock in case you aren’t hungry right away.”
“Thank you,” you hum, eyeing the cooler with an air of excited anticipation. “We’re looking forward to a really memorable day.”
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri
Starting Over: @spideysimpossiblegirl @inspiringmelodrama @pedrilf @thevoiceinyourheadx @goodgriefitsawildworld @badassbaker @rebel-fanfare @canadianmaebe @amneris21 @kulicny @nagassia @bruxasolta @elfwriter1088 @mrsparknuts @graciexmarvel @maryfanson @what-iwish-you-knew @karlawithacapitalk
My Masterlist!
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x you#Marcus Pike x female reader#The Mentalist#The Mentalist fanfic#tw divorce#tw unplanned pregnancy#pregnant reader
121 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Read full article by Yle
On the day the conflict started Finland had approximately 300,000 men under arms to defend the whole of the country. It was woefully short of supplies, with only enough cartridges, shells, and fuel to last about two months.
Finland had a mere 32 tanks, only 10 of which were fit for combat when the war started, and 114 mostly obsolescent combat aircraft that could enter the fight. The Soviets had secretly built roads leading to the border, allowing them to deploy their 2,514 tanks and 718 armoured cars. Even so, what Soviet military planners thought would be a swift advance on the first day made little headway in the face of fierce resistance at the border.
The main Soviet attack began at 6:50am on 30 November with an artillery barrage on the Karelian Isthmus, followed by an all-out attack by land, sea and air.
Soviet bombers carried out the first attack on targets in Helsinki. At 9:20am, five minutes after the first air raid sirens where heard in the Finnish capital, a formation of three Soviet SB-2 bombers appeared over Helsinki headed for an attack on Malmi airfield on the city's outskirts. The first bombs fell near an elementary school. Because of cloudy conditions, the planes failed to find their target, instead unloading their bombs in residential parts.
A third wave hit the city between 3pm and 4:20pm. A second wave of 12 bombers came at 10:35am. Along with renewed bomber attacks the next day, these were the most devastating, in terms of life lost, of the entire Winter War. Altogether, 91 people were killed and 36 seriously wounded.
In a 1930's case of "fake news", Soviet state radio claimed Finnish reports of the air raids were false and that the Soviet Air Force had merely been dropping bread to the starving masses of Helsinki.
The Winter War did not take place in a political and military vacuum, but rather was linked to Soviet expansionism and power plays for dominance in central Europe.
In the late 1930's Soviet leaders launched a policy aimed at regaining parts of the Russian Empire lost after the October Revolution. Finland was also seen as a threat. Moscow was worried that Finnish territory could be used to invade the USSR or to block sea routes in the eastern Baltic. Leningrad (present-day St. Petersburg), only 32 km from the Finnish border, was considered particularly exposed.
In August of 1939, the Soviet Union signed a non-aggression treaty with Nazi Germany, known as the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. It included a secret protocol in which Eastern European countries were divided into spheres of influence. Finland fell into the Soviet sphere, in effect guaranteeing the USSR a free hand to take military action.
In early October, Moscow demanded that the border with Finland on the Karelian Isthmus be moved westward and Finnish fortifications on the isthmus be destroyed. Demands were also made for some Finnish islands in the Gulf of Finland, territory on the Barents Sea, and a 30-year lease of the southernmost Hanko Peninsula, around 120 km west of Helsinki, for use as a military base. In exchange, the Soviet Union offered Finland areas in Eastern Karelia.
The Finnish government rejected Soviet demands and made a counter-offer that did not satisfy Moscow.
Joseph Stalin and his generals expected Finnish defences to be overwhelmed and for Finland to capitulate within a matter of weeks. Instead, for close to four months, the Soviet Union had to commit over three-quarters of a million men and vast amounts of its superior armour and air power to battle before the Finnish nation was too exhausted to fight on.
A peace treaty was signed on 12 March, 1940. Finland lost 11 percent of its territory and 30 percent of its pre-war economic assets. The USSR got a 30-year lease to use the Hanko peninsula as a military base, but Finland retained its independence.
Over 420,000 Karelians, 12 percent of the nation's population, were evacuated from the ceded territories.
By late June 1941, Finland was again at war with the Soviet Union, this time as a co-belligerent of Germany. After more than three years of fighting, Finland sued for peace in late August 1944. Under the terms of an armistice signed in Moscow, Finland was obligated to drive out the more than 200,000 German soldiers.
Read full article by Yle
50 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mostly-funnytwittertweets
previously funnytwittertweets
feistyfox47
Stuff Lover
hayley-mikaelsons
Little Wolf
mcpauld
Paul D
never-let-me-gx
Stay Fearless