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spaceorphan18 · 4 years

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99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #25

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Shane Tinsley (Asian F)

Shane Tinsley is a simple guy. He enjoys football, and Denzel Washington films, and those cute YouTube videos where the little puppies yelp at an animal much smaller such as a mouse or hamster. He also knows what he likes, and what he likes is Mercedes Jones. The girl has everything going on, she’s hot, she can sing, and he doesn’t get bored listening to her talk. So Shane does his best to be a King to her Queen. And part of that means splitting lunch table time between his friends on the football team and her friends in glee club.

For the most part, it’s fine. Finn Hudson and Mike Chang are usually around to talk Ohio State recruitments or tips on how to win at Grand Theft Auto. He’s less sure, however, on days when tries to converse with some of Mercedes’ other friends -- like Tina, who ironically spends a lot of time complaining about how she wishes everyone would talk less about how she is Asian (she is usually the one who brings it up), or Rachel, who spends the entire conversation talking about herself (usually unprovoked, whether he’s listening or not), or any of the Cheerios (he once had a conversation with Brittany about being a special, chocolate unicorn that he still isn’t sure what that had been about).

But he’s often most perplexed whenever he’s joined by Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson. And while they’re some of Mercedes’s closest friends, Shane often feels like he’s a definite outsider looking in on a world that he truly does not understand. And mostly, that’s fine. Unless he’s unwillingly dragged into it.

“Truly, I think you’re crazy,” Kurt Hummel says, as he and Blaine plop their lunch trays in the spots across from him. Shane had been busy on his phone, but the dramatic force in which Kurt places down his tray, the metal silverware clanking, jolts Shane from his puppy video. Shane looks up for a moment, and around for Mercedes. He knows she’ll be a little late today, but suddenly he wishes she could intervene.

“I am not crazy,” Blaine says, with as much indignation. “Let’s ask Shane -- Shane, do you think I’m crazy?”

Shane looks at Blaine, who seems to be joking, because he has no idea what in the hell they’re talking about, but Shane isn’t sure he wants to answer that. Kurt’s currently wearing what looks like bondage gear along with some kind of weird fur thing tied to his hip? He’s also heard Kurt discuss the pros and cons to wearing a corset. Meanwhile, Blaine has on a bowtie and suspenders, which makes him look like his eighty-year-old great uncle, who sits on his porch and gets mad at ants. And he’s heard Blaine talk about how he wants to sing a medley of Disney Princess songs at one of their theme parks. Shane often thinks they’re both crazy.

“Blaine,” Kurt cuts in. “I can’t believe you’re trying to convince me that Mercedes Jones -- THE Mercedes Jones shouldn’t be Maria.”

Okay, now the conversation has grabbed Shane’s attention.

“That is not at all what I said,” Blaine replies, rolling his eyes. “I said, while Mercedes Jones is a goddess among performers--” Blaine looks pointedly at Shane, as if to make sure they’re cool. “--I understand Rachel Berry being the viable other option. And it’s not the worst thing if they split time on the role.”

Kurt, annoyed, bites into his pizza. “Shane, tell him he’s an idiot, and Mercedes would be the perfect Maria.”

“Of course--”

Blaine doesn’t let him get in any words. “Shane, would you explain to Kurt, that if you have two talented quarterbacks, it’s not the worst thing to test them both out to see who would be a better starter when the playoffs start.”

Wait, what? Blaine’s talking football now? What is happening?

“Oh, don’t try to charm him to your side by talking about football,” Kurt says, on the end of Blaine’s words.

“And don’t try to undermine his intelligence by cutting him out of the conversation.”

“I am not doing that - Shane is perfectly capable of having an opinion.”

“An opinion you know he already agrees with.”

“What’s your point?”

They then both turn their heads to stare at him. Shane isn’t entirely sure what to say, and instead, his jaw just drops a little. All he wants to do is talk about how wonderful Mercedes is, but he knows better than to try to get into whatever weird lovers’ quarrel this seems to be.

Blaine breaks first. “Why don’t you just admit this is really about Tony.”

Who’s Tony?

“Of course not,” Kurt says, with a hard side-eye. “I said I would be fine if you had Tony.”

Kurt is clearly not okay with whoever Tony is.

“You know I would be fine if you had Tony.” Blaine says, turning to Kurt, his eyes fixated on him.

Something about this conversation has changed, and it's beginning to get weird.

Kurt relaxes. “I have already threatened the wrath of Sondheim if they deprived you of Tony.”

Blaine’s gaze doesn’t waver off of Kurt. “So… then you’re really okay with Officer Krupke or something?”

“Well, I suppose.”

A grin grows on Blaine’s face. Okay, Shane gets that they’re talking about the musical, but he still feels incredibly uncomfortable with the way Blaine is now looking at Kurt.

“You know he wears a uniform,” Blaine says, his voice getting lower. “And you know how much I love a man in a uniform.”

“Of course I know,” Kurt replies, stubbornly stuck in his mood. “It took me a year to get you out of one.”

“Not… fully out of one.”

“Blaine!”

“I mean I have offered…”

The two of them take a long moment to stare at each other.

Oh god… oh god, oh god, back to puppy videos. Shane really does not want that image in his head. This is why he avoids lunch with them. One minute they’re arguing and the next, Kurt is blushing into his Diet Coke.

Where is Mercedes? Maybe he should go find her. He thinks maybe lunch is over, but somehow, he is inevitably dragged back into the conversation.

“So, Shane, who are you voting for in the Student Body President Elections?” Kurt says, without a single comment on what just happened. “Please tell me it’s not for Brittany. I can give you twenty-five good reasons right now why she would be a disaster…”

#s.o. writes things #99 perspectives #gonna try to get these out more regularly again

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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You've talked quite a bit about Shiwan Khan, would be OK with talking about the other villains who show up more than once, Benedict Stark and The Voodoo Master?

The Voodoo Master tends to get overshadowed by Khan by virtue of being less prominent and because, in a lot of ways, Mocquino does feel a bit like a prototype for Khan. Like Gibson was testing the waters of what kind of major supervillain he wanted the Shadow to have, and was gradually figuring details like the hypnotic traps and unique henchmen and mystic background and a fraudulent dark magician figure with Mocquino, before Khan blew it all up to bigger proportions. Twice already we’ve had instances where Mocquino was set to appear in a Shadow adaptation after Khan, and said adaptations got canned before he could show up (and I don’t think it does either character a favor if Mocquino comes after Khan). And of course Mocquino has the problem of being an ethnic supervillain whose identity and name are tied up to grotesque prejudice that twists cultures and beliefs into Hollywood boogeymen, and the novels sadly treat vodou beliefs far less charitably than how the other novels approach tibetan/asian mysticism. It’s definitely a problem, but not without it’s solutions.

Putting that aside, The Voodoo Master trilogy is very fun, the first novel in particular was the number one rated Shadow novel in a fan poll back then. Personally, my favorite is City of Doom because of it’s blend of gothic, urban and industrial settings, great battles even for a Shadow novel, and a spectacular finale, but they all have very strong points. And I do like Mocquino himself as a character. He is historically significant as the first true supervillain of Shadow Magazine (if you don’t count other odd criminals like The Black Master or The Cobra). He is different from Khan personality-wise in the sense that he is more of an old-school supervillain, who likens his conflict with The Shadow to a “game” they play, who likes to boast and brag about his powers and whose goals largely revolve around extortion. He has a vendetta against industrial society (although he himself employs industrial tactics, because he is a hypocrite), and said vendetta being largely just him trying to destroy it so he thinks people will fall in line with his cult more easily. Unlike with Khan, there’s no delusions or aspirations of grandeur and greater purpose here, it always comes down to crime and profit with Mocquino and he barely bothers to pretend otherwise.

He is resourceful and insidious and racks up a bigger body count than Khan on City of Doom alone, and there’s a real creepiness to his zombie minions as they are regular people stripped of all identity and forced into becoming walking meat shields. I think one way to make him work better on his own could be by playing up his ruthlessness and charm, and focus on the mind control/cult leader aspect. Make him the Jim Jones of Shadow villains.

Justice Inc redesigned him to look like Boris Karloff, divorced him of racist trappings, played up his dark magician persona and ballooned up his abilities into outright superpowers, all of which worked quite well as the closest he's ever had to an update And interestingly, there’s some odd Joker-esque aspects to him in his final appearence in Voodoo Trail:

Though almost silent, the explosion was forcible. The tank disgorged a greenish gas that spread like an expanding monster, filling the entire room that the trio had just left.

There was something parched and withery in his face, particularly noticeable when The Shadow saw the Voodoo Master's profile. Mocquino bore the scars of flame, not only on his face, but upon the scrawny arm he extended from his robe. Those burns showed like livid brands: a fitting mark for a supercriminal.

That hissing sound in the zombi cave! It was gas, leaking from underground pipes that led into Manhattan. Filtering through the porous stone, it gathered other chemical elements. Mocquino must have discovered that leakage and noted its effects. He had put the discovery to his own use.

...lips formed a grin so jagged that it was difficult to note where his mouth ended and his scar began.

Mocquino's shrill laugh told that he expected his men to overwhelm The Shadow through force of numbers.

Honestly, “Doctor Mocquino” I think is a better name for him than Voodoo Master. A Rogues Gallery isn’t complete without a major Doctor in there, and divorcing Mocquino of “Voodoo Master” and all that implies could be the better way of making this character work again. Play up the fact that he’s exploiting Caribbean religions and citizens for personal gain and roping them into his crime ring, maybe even have him use similar theatrics as The Shadow to paint himself as this great master of voodoo, but in the end, he’s always just Doctor Mocquino, an evil, rotten shyster who puts his knowledge to use for evil and evil alone.

Responsible for the first and only cliffhanger of Shadow Magazine with the kidnapping of Rutledge Mann, Benedict Stark is easily the single worst scumbag out of all Shadow supervillains. Just this completely horrible, wretched monster who ends up being somewhat dissappointing and frustrating of a villain in my view. Despite having quite a bit going on for him, Stark is not really interesting enough to warrant the 4 novels he gets, and where as Khan and Mocquino usually escape The Shadow thanks to prior planning and last-minute escape and strokes of luck, Stark seems to get away with it only because the narrative says so, not nearly as impressive as the other two despite being far, far worse, which makes it you don’t want The Shadow to match wits with him, so much as you just want The Shadow to kill him as soon as possible. In fact, here’s what Stark gets away with in the first ten pages of The Prince of Evil alone:

He gaslights a man named John Harmon into thinking he was developing amnesia

Gets Harmon to sign away enough money to be bankrupted for life, and no one, not even his wife, believe him when he says he was conned

Causes Harmon to commit suicide.

Then, while Cranston's talking with a friend of Harmon named Jackson who wanted to help him, the two go to Jackson's house to find it completely destroyed, his priceless belongings acid-ruined.

Then, they find Jackson's dog dead, with it's throat slit, and a Bible scattered nearby with the story of the good Samaritan marked, making it clear that this all happened because Jackson tried to help Harmon.

And then, as Cranston tries to stop one of Stark's goons from brutally assaulting a boy who was just paid by Cranston to watch his car, he gets attacked and knocked unconscious.

And THEN, the henchman gives the kid a brain concussion and then hauls him in front of a coming truck, with Cranston just barely saving the kid in time as the henchman escapes.

This is just the first 10 pages. Not even Spider novels usually start with this many atrocities happening all at once. Whatever problems Tinsley has as a Shadow writer, I’ll give him this: He definitely knows how to go from 0 to 100 in ways Gibson never would. The book obviously doesn’t keep this up forever (thank goodness), but The Prince of Evil is really all about building up Stark’s presence as this new ultimate Shadow villain, and I think the build up is quite solid up to a point.

He’s established as possibly the richest man in America. Where as Cranston is a millionaire, Stark is a billionaire, who owns “ailways and steamships, factories and mills all over the United States". Nobody knows what he looks like, nobody’s ever seen a picture of him, and Cranston, who knows everyone and everything, has never once laid eyes on the man. We also know in advance that he uses drugs delivered by chewing gum to turn his thugs into bloodthirsty savages who desire only terror and torture and inflict those at his beck and call, and we get a passage where Clyde Burke ingests one of these gums, experiences it’s effects, and ends up chasing down a mouse and killing it, for no reason other than it was the only living being nearby, much to his horror. And it very nearly develops into something even worse:

He could hear the snoring of a man sleeping inside a cellar apartment. Clyde halted. His fingers tightened on his iron bar. He guessed that the man asleep inside was the building janitor. He fought against a hot impulse that flared anew in his blood.

He wanted to kill that janitor! He wanted to smash at him with the iron bar until the man was battered and dead! Murder seemed so exciting. And so easy! Clyde could picture the terror of his victim as he struck at him. It would be sheer delight to maim the fool before he killed him.

The thing that saved Clyde was the thought of the chewing gum. He knew that the savage whisper that urged him on to murder was not his own brain talking, but the voice of a powerful drug.

Laying the bar on the concrete floor, he ran for the cellar exit. He didn't glance back. He was afraid that if he did, he'd be tempted to pick up the bar and commit a senseless and brutal crime.

The cold bite of the breeze was like a draft of cooling water against his parched lips. He began to get a grip on himself. Once more he was Clyde Burke, a normal human being who would go out of his way to avoid hurting a fly.

Stark has weaponized and mass-produced a drug that creates an army of Mr Hydes at his beck and call, that can turn even one of the kindest and most heroic characters into the series into a sadistic maniac itching to main and murder anything that’s in front of him, and that alone is not just a much more viscerally horrifying kind of mind control than what Khan and Mocquino use, it’s also got a an edge to it more suited for gritty urban drama. It’s an idea I definitely would have liked to see used again even after Stark’s out of the picture.

And then we actually get to see Stark for this first time, and he’s described as a grotesquely deformed baboon man leering at his beautiful secretaries, who deliberately employs the most attractive people to make his own deformities stand out further, and who is cartoonishly vile everytime he opens his mouth. He never really displays exceptional cleverness, compared to other Shadow villains, except for the fact that he keeps suspecting Cranston is The Shadow, and sometimes just seems to get really lucky. Stark tends to get much, much less interesting as the build-up evaporates and he has to stand on his own feet as a character, I barely remember anything he did in the following books. At the time, I thought Stark’s characterization was weak, and I still do.

This text blurb here was used on a promo S&S did for Prince of Evil, and it starts by talking about incredibly well-liked people who are kind and how Stark is the opposite because he's evil. Of course, as we all know, evil and well-liked are not opposites.

Stark may have been a tad more interesting had they went with the angle of him being a horrible monster who's also incredibly popular and beloved and friendly. About 70% of The Shadow’s villains are already middle-aged to elder rich businessmen pretending to be good, so maybe Stark being young and attractive and initially sympathetic-looking, atop being the richest and cruelest of them all, could also help set him apart. Sort of an evil Harry Vincent maybe.

But instead he's so obviously and viscerally awful all the time he shows up, so incapable of restraining himself, that it's impossible to buy him as a deceiver who’s pulled the wool over society’s eyes. At the time, I thought to myself that he was just painfully obvious of a villain and too brutish and stupid for me to buy that he’s supposed to be the richest criminal genius in America.

But then again, nowadays I’m well aware that wealthy and respected figures of society, who are cartoonishly horrible even openly in public, is just what billionaires are like, so maybe Tinsley had a point here.

#replies tag #the shadow #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #shadow magazine #dr mocquino #the voodoo master #benedict stark #the prince of evil

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youralternantpersonality · 4 years

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You’ve Got It Bad

Seth x Reader: Wanting you

Part 1: “Dreams” by Ella Eyre

Part 2: “You’ve Got It Bad” by Usher

Part 3: “Never Give Up on Love” by Bobby Tinsley

***

Y/n POV

Oh, no, no, no, no, no No, no, no, no, no, no, no

Ooh

When you feel it in your body You found somebody who makes you change your ways Like hanging with your crew Said you act like you're ready But you don't really know And everything in your past, you wanna let it go

Over the past few months, Seth and I have been…I don’t know…pulling towards one another. Literally. I didn’t notice at first, but Kayla pointed it out one day after school on our day off. It was shocking, to be honest. I never saw it before, and when she explained with facts, I couldn’t deny nor confirm it. But after that conversation, I did notice there was a change.

“I’m telling you, Y/n!”

“Shhhh! You’ll wake up the monster.” I say, whispering to her. The monster, aka one of my two guardians Taylor. Taylor can be described as a temperamental ass bitch. I mean, Kennedy isn’t any better, but at least their words aren’t harmful like Taylors. They’ve never put their hands on me (because they know I will knock their necks), but they are slightly intimidating.

“Sorry. But still, for example, usually in Mr. Harpender's class, you guys would sit on the opposite end of one another. Suddenly, you guys are now in the middle of the class. If Jeffery Delmer wasn’t a teacher-pet and had to be at the desk before everyone else, I swear you guys would be on top of one another by this point.” She smiles with excitement while I roll my eyes.

“Well, regardless, he hasn’t been at school in, what, a month or so? So, who knows? Maybe if he comes back, we’ll see.” I shrug my shoulders.

“Look, I’m just saying, you should make the first move. Look at him! He’s such a sweetheart and a cutie! He looks in your direction all of the time.” I feel a rush of heat consume my cheeks as my face brings up a smile.

“I’ll think about it…IF he comes back. If not, then it was just meant to be as such.” Kayla rolls her eyes and plops over to the other side of the bed.

“You’re lame.”

That night, as I was lying in bed, I thought about what Kayla said and how we had gravitated towards each other. The feeling is, nice? Frustrating? Overwhelming? I don’t know, it just feels-

“What was that?” I whisper to myself. I look towards where the noise was coming from and walk over to the window to check. I slightly pull my covers back, and I look around. I suddenly remember the dreams that would display almost every other night. The one where Seth comes to my window but wake up before anything happens.

As I search for what it could have been, my eyes land on something that I can’t see. I know whatever it is, they’re watching me watch them watching me. I don’t move my eyes from them until I hear a creak in the floorboard in the hallway. I turn to look at the door, then look back outside. Whatever is out there is gone. I rush—quietly—back to my bed and play as if I fell asleep. I suck at acting, so I grab a book and lay in an awkward position sitting up so that if they look in my room, I’ll have a reason as to why my light that I stupidly neglected to turn off is still on.

“Wretched child…” Kennedy said as she comes in. I “wake” up to see her looking at me and act as if I was asleep.

“What have I told you about keeping the light on past 8:30. And why are you still up?” I roll my eyes and respond in a tired voice.

“I didn’t mean to,” I toss my book on my side table, “I was reading and fell asleep,” I say, moving into a more comfortable position. Ken rolls their eyes, leaves, and almost slams the door shut. I’ll never understand their issue with me. But then again, I am, and I quote, “trophy child. To show the community that they care and were willing to take in a ‘troubled’ teen out of the system” end quote.

I wasn’t troubled, and I wasn’t in the system. My parents knew them and trusted them with their guardianship while they went on their 2-year missionary trip. But no matter what I tell my parents, it’s always conveyed back to them, and I get the fucked-up end of the stick. Because, you know, who would believe in the teenager that has sent countless of proof of the fucked-up situation you put the child in.

I've been there, done it, fucked around After all that, this is what I found Nobody wants to be alone If you're touched by the words in this song Then baby

You got it, you got it bad When you're on the phone Hang up and you call right back You got it, you got it bad If you miss a day without your friend Your whole life's off track You know you got it bad when you're stuck in the house You don't wanna have fun It's all you think about You got it bad when you're out with someone But you keep on thinkin' bout somebody else You got it bad

The following week, Seth came back and hot-fucking-damn. Wherever he disappeared off to change him that much, bless them oh so dearly.

“Hey, there’s your boyfriend.” Orion nudges me; I turn to look at him and Kayla and tell them to shut up. I guess Orion said it loud enough because not only Seth, but some of his other friends that consisted of Jared, Paul, Embry, Quil, and Jake all turned to us, and I had never felt more embarrassed than now. I hear Kayla and Orion still laughing, so I take the opportunity to bump Orion (lightly) towards Kayla and watch them almost fall on one another in the hallway. I can feel them look at me, and I try to ignore it by laughing, turning around, and head to class.

“Hey!” Orion yelled.

“Damnit, Orion! You’re heavier than you look!” Kayla said.

“No! You’re just weak.” Orion came back.

Seth’s POV

“So…” Embry started.

“Not now, Em,” I said, rolling my eyes, already knowing what was about to come next.

“Yeah! Lay off, little stalker. It’s not his fault that he couldn’t resist knowing if Y/n is his imprint or not.” Paul said. I push him off me and straighten my shirt.

“Yeah, well, at least he found out that she was. YOU, however, are still seeking and hoping you do.” Jared says. Paul looks at him as if he’s offended.

“I thought you were on my side?!” He shrugs his shoulder while finishing up his pancake in his hand.

“Anyways, now I say you REALLY have a reason to talk to her. You remember what Sam said-” Quil said,

“Before or after yelling at him for running off?” Embry asked,

“Both. You can’t run away from your imprint. No matter how hard you try. So, go up to Y/n. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She rejects him” –Embry,

“Kicks him in the balls”—Paul. I grabbed myself a little. I’ve seen her on the soccer field…that would hurt.

“Laugh-in his face” –Jared,

“Puke?” –Quil,

“Why is that a question?” Jake asked.

“She doesn’t seem like the type to do it,” Quil responded, and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Can you guys shut up!” I say, walking into the school. Jake catches up with me while the other guys laugh.

“You know they’re kidding, right. She’s not going to do anything like that. I told you before, she does like you. I have Kayla in my history class, and I saw your name was mentioned in their group chat.”

“But did you see what it said completely?”

“Well…no. But according to Bella, that could be a good thing.”

“Yeah, could, but it could not be.”

“Oh, come on, Seth, you’re bringing us down. You’re supposed to be the cheerful one of us. Paul is Satan-” Jared said, ignoring Paul’s reaction

“Hey!”

“Embry is the awkward one,” he continued,

“I take offense to that…”

“Jake is the lover boy, a self-reserved cupid even,”

“Seriously, man?” Jake whined

“Quil is…well…Quil.”

“Yeah! Wait…” Quil responded, confused.

“You are the cheerful one. And I am the handsome one! We all have a role, and we all need to stick with it.” Jared finishes. I won’t deny that that didn’t put a grin on my face, but what put on a full-blown smile was what I heard not too far from where we were standing in the hallway.

“Hey, there’s your boyfriend,” Orion whispered. Without the enhanced hearing we have now, I would have never heard that in this loud hallway. Then in unison, we all looked in their direction. When I made eye contact with Y/n, I could basically feel the embarrassment flowing off her. She looks towards her laughing friends (who noticed us looking too), nudges Orion, who was off-balanced, who knocks into Kayla and on to the floor. Avoiding our gaze, she smiles and walks towards her class.

“Well, I guess you really don’t have an excuse to not ask her out, huh, buddy,” Paul says, patting my shoulder and walking to class.

“Wait for me, Satan!” Quil says behind him.

When you say that you love 'em And you really know Everything that used to matter, it don't matter no more Like my money, all my cars (You can have it all and) Flowers, cards and candy (I do it just cause I'm) Said I'm fortunate to have you girl I want you to know I really adore you All my people that know what's going on Look at your mate, help me sing my song Tell her I'm your man, you're my girl I'm gonna tell it to the whole wide world Ladies say I'm your girl, you're my man Promise to love you the best I can

All-day today, I had been coming up with a plan to go and talk to her. Paul advised me to meet her after school and just ask her. Believe it or not, he isn’t that bad. He’s an ass, that’s for sure, but out of everyone, he might play jokes on you, but he’s the most honest.

“But how! I’m not you, Satan. I’m a saint, not a sinner.” He gives me a side-eye and rolls them.

“You’re lucky I like you more than the others. Look, she works at the diner, right? Just go to the diner and sit at one of the tables she waits for and start there. Be slow and careful; don’t be like Jared’s dumbass and basically scare her off within the first introduction of meeting each other.” I laugh and nod.

“Thanks, man.” He nods, and we head towards his truck.

After getting home, I talk to my dad for a while and tell him my plan. He was happily surprised at Paul’s advice. I tell him I’ll be back before dinner and head over to the diner. I was tempted to take the shortcut and shift, but I already know Sam will kick my ass. So, I just settle jogging up there. I’ll sike myself out if I think too hard on it.

See I've been there, done it, fucked around After all that, this is what I found Everyone of y'all are just like me It's too bad that you can't see That you got it bad, hey

I make it to the diner and place myself in one of her booths. I can see her talking to Orion while stacking up her tray for the table nearby. After she drops off their food, she heads over to me. I act as if I need to look at the menu and watch her from my peripheral vision and sees she sees me and almost hesitates to come by. She does, and when I look at her, I’m lost for words. I forgot where I was for a few seconds, and I somehow managed to talk first.

“Hi,” I say. She snaps out of it and smiles.

“Hi. Um, hey,”

“Hey.” I smile back.

“Hey, um. So, uh, wha-what can I get for you?” she said softly. I smile and order a double stack burger, some fries, and a Dr. Pepper. And she left to go ring it up and place the order. I pull out my phone to act as if I was busy doing something, and I overhear (not intentionally!) her conversation with Orion.

“Bravo! That was wonderful to watch.” He said, attempting to keep it together. “But if it makes you feel better, he looked like he was lost. If neither one of you had said something, I would have paid you back from earlier and knock you over.” I smiled. I wouldn’t complain about catching her since I’ve already fallen for her.

“Will you shut up. Last time you said something, he and his friends heard it.” She sticks her middle finger at him and brings my drink.

“Here you go. Sorry about that. Is there anything else I could get for you while you wait for your food?” she asked politely.

“No, thanks, though.” As she turns to leave, something without my consent calls her again,

“Wait.” She turns back around, “Do you have the assignment for Mr. Harpender’s class. I haven’t been at school for a while, and my cousin is really strict with getting back on track.” She smiles and nods her head.

“Yeah, I have it in my backpack. I can run out and go get them for you.”

“Sure. But um, it can wait until afterward. I don’t, you know, want to get your notes all messed up or anything.” She smiles and says, ok. Another family comes in, and she excuses herself to help them. I take this time to calm my nerves. Orion brings my food and slides in the opposite booth.

“So, asked her out yet? And don’t give me that look; everyone and the teachers can see how badly you guys like each other. Look, I know you’re shy, and all, but I’m here to inform you that she will say yes, her favorite color is ____, she hates _____, and she thinks, well thought, your long hair was overly luscious and was jealous of you. Anyways, good luck!” he says, but turns around and says, “And if you hurt her, I’ll kill you with a napkin.” And walks away.

Narrators POV

After eating, Seth decided to help Y/n with cleaning the table. He pays for his meal and walks to her car with him. She goes to the trunk of her car to get the notes out for him. She makes sure all is in there and double-checks that it isn’t her doodle notebook containing some secrets and doodles he never should see.

“Here you go! Just, you know, let me know if you need any help. I know sometimes my handwriting can be sloppy, but if it’s hard to read, just tell me.” She says, smiling and closing her trunk.

“Yeah, I will-” a horn goes off, and a female voice is calling towards the two.

“Hey, little shit! Come on! Mom said dinners ready!” Seth rolls his eyes at his sister Leah.

“Sorry about her, that’s my sister Leah. Great, isn’t she?” She smiles and laughs lightly. “but anyways, thanks to Y/n/n. I’ll let you know if I have any trouble. Which, I probably will, but just in case, I’ll let you know. Oh! Before I forget! This is for you.” Seth handed her $5 for gratuity and ran to the truck.

“Thanks! Have a good evening!” and walks into the diner. It wasn’t until she got home and counted her cash that she noticed a piece of a torn off napkin folded inside of the $5. When she opened it, she saw scratchy handwriting that had a set of numbers and a name.

555-123-0987

Text me sometime if you’d like.

-Seth.

“Even when you’re not in person, you manage to be polite and shy.” She shakes her head and takes a leap of faith.

Y/n to Seth: Hey! It's Y/n. Lol, I see you have some tricks up your sleeve. But anyway, how’s the notes coming along?

Seth to Y/n: Hey! Well, you know, I try at least. I have to take my shot. And I assume it’s working? And they’re helpful! I just might need tutoring for the makeup exam.

Y/n to Seth: Lol, I promise, it's working Seth 😊. And sure! I’m off Fridays and Saturdays, and I only work morning shifts on Sundays. Just let me know when, where, and what time.

Seth to Y/n: Good! Cause this would be so embarrassing, and I would beg you to not tell anyone, ha-ha. How about Friday at the library? Afterschool? Or Saturday if that’s better! We could meet at a friend of my place. She’ll even provide snacks 😉.

Y/n to Seth: Ha-ha, Friday is fine. If we need to, we can use Saturday as a touch up/review. I mean if she doesn’t mind…. :/

Seth to Y/n: She won’t, I promise. But I’ll ask to ease your worries 😊

Y/n to Seth: Lol, thanks! Well, imma head to bed. Night Seth!

Seth to Y/n: Night Y/n/n!

Y/n couldn’t help but go to bed easy that night with a smile on her face but a hint of worry in the back of her mind. Whereas she wanted to be happy, she was having a hard time because the thought of her overly religious parents and rude guardians knowing about him would just bring hell. What also worries her is that if she does keep going and they become a thing, would she argue like Taylor and Kennedy?

On the other side of the line was a boy surrounded by his brethren’s making fun of him for texting his imprint. And to all surprises, Sam joined in.

“Oh, leave him alone! I’m glad Seth is with Y/n! She’s an amazing person and perfect for him. And plus, Jared, need I remind you that you were 40 times worse than that?” Emily said. Bless this woman, Seth thought.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the help of Paul, to be honest. I had to channel my inner Paul. Well…the flirty side, or, at least I tried.” Seth said, Paul smiled, and everyone was shocked.

“Satan helped you?” Jake said.

“If someone calls me Satan one more time…”

“Fine, Lucifer.” Jared says, then turns to me, “You really had this guy help you? And not me?”

“The situation with Kim…” was all I said.

“Is everyone going to always bring that up?!” Jared argued.

“Yes.” We all said in unison.

MasterList

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faedawayyy · 3 years

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A MASTERLIST OF PLOTS I WANT FOR MY GIRLS DROPPED: remy. just wasn’t clicking!

NOT ON THE LIST BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT IN NEED: hensley, clover, elora

ALL OF THESE PLOTS ARE ONES THAT ARE CREATED FOR DEVELOPMENT AND COULD GO ANYWHERE. I’VE BEEN QUITE RUTHLESS AND IF THERE ARE PLOTS HERE THAT WE USED TO HAVE AND HAVE BEEN RE-OPENED, IT’S BECAUSE WE’VE DONE NOTHING. SORRY.

BRIELLE QUINN - 18 (rewound her story a bit)

CURRENT SITUATION: living in downtown springs (the dodgy part) in her family’s 2 bedroom apartment. constant sexual harassment and assault from her dad makes her constantly sleep rough but it’s kind of a secret. she works at kristofer’s strip club for money. - people/someone who has seen her out really late, just sitting around town, but haven’t got to the bottom of it. maybe she crashes at theirs every now and then. - someone who knows she works at the strip club and frequently visits her. bonus points if they’re always threatening to expose her secret. - an old friend who is mad at her for getting in with the popular crowd, like imogen and evie and yulia etc. and feels abandoned by her. the friendship is super strained.

YULIA HERNANDEZ - 20

CURRENT SITUATION: living in a mansion in lilac heights because her day job is a nanny for two young girls who live there. she looks enough like the family to pretend she’s their oldest daughter and has used this to get ahead at college. she’s very fake it until you make it. - someone who knows that isn’t her family because they know the family she works for, but they keep it quiet because they don’t see the purpose of exposing her. OR maybe she’s threatening to spread a lie about them that really puts them on edge. - a guy she frequently hooks up with BUT they’re not rich/popular enough for the image she puts on, so she uses them and then ignores them in public hjdkl she can be a bitch. - an ex boyfriend from the academy who broke up with her because she can be a total bitch tbh. maybe her attitude just got too much for them and they ended it. she’d definitely be bitter. bonus points if they really did love her, though.

MINA BRYANT - 21

CURRENT SITUATION: lives in dorms and has recently exchanged from blossom bell, where she got exposed for lying about an ex abusing her. she does it for attention but because her reputation was so damaged over there, she moved to st judes. - a friend she’s living with for the summer because she doesn’t have an apartment for the summer months. maybe she’s constantly lying and making excuses about why she can’t pay the rent. - an ex-girlfriend she had BEFORE she was with her last boyfriend. maybe they left her from someone else and she’s kind of angry about it and always has been. i feel like deep down she’d still really want her back. - someone who believes her blossom bell story (she’d still tell it tbh) and is like very protective and loving towards her because of it.

ISSY TINSLEY (ROSINI) - 22

CURRENT SITUATION: i imagine she and levi have a house by the lake in violet springs. she’s currently raising avery but is definitely suffering from post-natal depression and struggles to balance everything. - someone she’s confided in her feelings too and they’re the only ones who know she’s struggling with motherhood because otherwise she likes to pretend it’s easy. - i want someone to find out she’s ruby’s sister. maybe they see the name on one of her official letters OR they find a ton of pictures of ruby on her phone so rather than being seen as a stalker, she comes clean. it’s up to us what happens after that!

ELYSIA QUINN - 23 - NEW! related to brielle

CURRENT SITUATION: living with her parents. her step-father is really controlling over the girls and wouldn’t let them leave home even if they tried. elysia is a bit older and often steps in to make sure brielle doesn’t get hurt. their family is insanely poor and she’s never felt like she fits in with the judes crowd but has big dreams. - i’d love a best friend (female) who has feelings for her but for el, it’s platonic. i think it could get complicated because she’d never want to hurt them or lead them on, but at the same time, she can’t fake what she feels. - bullies. people who have been picking on her and making fun of her for years. - a guy who she’s under the impression likes her and she has a chance with, but they’re just using her for physical stuff - whether that’s make outs or sex or whatever. i feel like she’s so desperate for love that she’d accept half-assed apologies and stuff real quick.

NAIRA EAGLETON - 25

CURRENT SITUATION: this bitch is the insider and she makes her money off of ads and sponsorships on the blog LMAO. she’s super bubbly and outgoing but uses her natural charm to get people to trust her. - someone who KNOWS she’s the insider but she also knows something they seriously can’t risk anybody knowing. there’re times where naira will do things for them to keep their mouths shut and there are times they do stuff for her for the same reason. - a fwb (boy or girl i dont care) who she’s constantly using to get gossip from because she’s new. they also just have fun together too. - a solid friendship group who keep conviniently getting things leaked but they turn on each other/accuse the wrong people, rather than naira LMAO

MARIA CASTILLO - 24

CURRENT SITUATION: living with rory (?) and working on her fashion career - i really want her to have like, an old flame, before rory. their relationship is pretty till atm and i want to add more development to them. i imagine that maybe they got close when she first moved to the country. maybe they were dating for a little while and broke up just before she got with rory. bonus points if it’s complicated. - rivals in fashion. even if it’s not TOO serious, i just think more rivalries other than in music are needed! - a best friend that she’s kind of competitive with. maybe they’ve been best friends for years and they’re always trying to one up each other in everything; fashion, romance, careers etc. etc.

ELOISE CALLOWAY - 27

CURRENT SITUATION: living at the calloway in her own suite. - i want her to be seeing someone. i feel like eloise is definitely the type to take romance slow and maybe there’s a bit of tension because they feel like they want more from her or are ready to move their relationship on, but she’s just not there yet. male or female! - her first and only ex-boyfriend.

VANESSA CASTILLO - 23

CURRENT SITUATION: living with her parents as they’ve all finally made the move from cuba to the UK. being the younger sister, she’s very naive and isn’t really clued up on what life is like as a regular 23 year old in this town. - genuine friends who show her around and make her feel included! at the moment she kind of just latches on to soraya, maria and natalie and hopes for the best LOL. it could even be they’re not so genuine friends and have befriended her because it’d be funny to get her to do stupid things/kind of pick on her!

- I REALLY WANT a guy or girl who hits on her/is kind of out to sleep with her. bonus points if she’s tripped into making some kind of sex tape :’)

#character saves

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realhousewives-fan · 3 years

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Shit is About to Hit the Fan – And the Floor

There’s so many sour fans complaining that the show is going down the toilet this season, and they blame Leah McSweeney and Eboni K. Williams.

They’re not completely wrong on the show getting shitty, but that’s not Leah and Eboni’s fault. It’s Ramona Singer’s fault.

Because she can’t control her bowel movements anymore. Now she’s missing the toilet!

Sonja Morgan pointed it out in front of the cameras and showed the shit under her shoes to the cameras.

Did I laugh? Yes. But was it nasty? Yes.

I think that Ramona and Luann de Lesseps being close is an alliance to control the narrative.

They disengaged the guided tour in Salem with a bad attitude.

They did the same with Tinsley Mortimer’s dinner in Newport when Leah had invited her sister to join them.

I mean, Luann was Leah’s bestie last season, but I don’t see that kind of dynamic now.

Maybe Luann and Ramona feels threatened by Leah and Eboni.

Are they upset that Leah got a pay raise after she became the fan favorite?

Maybe that’s what’s going on with the behind the scenes drama on RHONY now?

It’s clear they’re trying to control the narrative.

When Sonja tried to talk to them about Eboni, they only wanted to know how the matchmaking went.

But Bershan Shaw sure stirred the pot in Salem.

She called them a group of boring grandmothers. She called Sonja a clown, and she said that Ramona was talking shit about Leah.

One by one the women left the restaurant. And that made me think if Bershan was isolating herself on the show now.

Because you know that Ramona leaves her friends when things goes wrong around them.

Fans are so obsessed with Bershan and how she needs to be upgraded to a housewife next season.

But RHONY doesn’t really have a good track record when it comes to friends of the show.

Barbara Kavovit lasted one season. Elyse Slaine lasted one season.

Heather Thomson didn’t even last a whole season!

Bershan started the drama, but will she suffer the same fate as the other friends?

#Real Housewives of New York #RHONY #Leah McSweeney #Eboni K. Williams #Ramona Singer #Sonja Morgan #Luann de Lesseps #Tinsley Mortimer #Bershan Shaw #Barbara Kavovit #Elyse Slaine #Heather Thomson

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antoine-roquentin · 5 years

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In May, 2001, Bolton was named Under-Secretary of State for Arms Control and International Security Affairs. The terror attacks of September 11, 2001, came a few months later, and the State Department and the White House were often in conflict about how to react: Dick Cheney, the Vice-President, urged an assertive use of military power abroad, while Colin Powell, the Secretary of State, was more restrained. Lawrence Wilkerson, Powell’s chief of staff, told me that Bolton was appointed to his position only at Cheney’s insistence. “Everyone knew that Bolton was Cheney’s spy,” Mark Groombridge, an aide to Bolton at the time, told me.

George W. Bush’s Administration had vowed to attack any “rogue nation” that developed weapons of mass destruction, and Bolton began a public crusade against America’s enemies, real and presumed. In May, 2002, he spoke at the Heritage Foundation, where he accused the Cuban government of developing an ambitious biological-weapons program and of collaborating with such pariah states as Libya and Iran. As he prepared to give similar testimony to Congress, Christian Westermann, an analyst at the State Department’s internal intelligence bureau, told him that the bureau’s information did not support such a view. (Westermann declined to comment for this story.) Bolton, according to several officials, threatened to fire him. “He got very red in the face and shaking his finger at me, and explained to me that I was acting way beyond my position for someone who worked for him,” Westermann later testified. “I told him I didn’t work for him.” Bolton began excluding Westermann’s supervisor from daily briefings and, after an unsuccessful attempt to fire him, tried to transfer him to another office.

Carl Ford, who oversaw the intelligence bureau, complained to Powell that Bolton was misrepresenting the views of its officials. Powell decided to have Ford brief Congress in Bolton’s place. Bolton was angry enough that he didn’t speak to Ford for six months. Then, as Ford was preparing to retire, Bolton called him on the phone. “He told me he was glad I was leaving,” Ford said. (Bolton denies making this call.)

Bolton’s immersion in the arcana of weapons of mass destruction encouraged an absolutist view. “The first thing he thinks about in the morning is protecting Americans from nuclear weapons,” Sarah Tinsley, who has worked as an aide to Bolton since the eighties, told me. In 2003, as he prepared testimony for an appearance before Congress, he described Syria’s efforts to produce nuclear and biological weapons as an urgent threat—an assessment that intelligence agencies thought was exaggerated. A bitter internal debate ensued; the accusations endangered the Syrian government’s coöperation in hunting suspected terrorists. “We were getting some of our best, if not our best, intelligence on Al Qaeda from Damascus,” Lawrence Wilkerson told me. Richard Armitage, the Deputy Secretary of State, took Bolton aside and “told him to shut up,” Wilkerson said. Before Bolton testified to Congress, much of his language was diluted. Armitage reached out to a team of intelligence officers who vetted public statements made by State Department officials, and asked them to give special scrutiny to Bolton’s. “Nothing Bolton said could leave the building until I O.K.’d it,” Thomas Fingar, who led the team at the time, told me.

As the Bush White House made the case to invade Iraq, Bolton came into conflict with José Bustani, who was in charge of overseeing the Chemical Weapons Convention—a treaty, endorsed by the U.S. and a hundred and ninety-two other countries, that bans the production of chemical weapons. Bustani, a former senior diplomat from Brazil, was negotiating with the Iraqi government to adopt the treaty, which mandated immediate inspections by outside technicians. He thought that, if inspectors could verify that Iraq had abandoned its chemical-weapons program, an invasion wouldn’t be necessary. But, he told me, when the Iraqis agreed to accept the convention, the Bush Administration asked him to halt his negotiations. “I think the White House was worried that if I succeeded it would mess up their plans to invade,” he said.

Not long afterward, Bustani recalls, Bolton showed up at his office in The Hague and demanded that he resign. When Bustani refused, Bolton said, “We know you have two sons in New York. We know your daughter is in London. We know where your wife is.” (Bolton has denied this.) Bustani held firm, and the White House, determined to remove him, convened an extraordinary session of the Convention’s members—in many cases, Bustani said, paying the travel expenses of delegates to insure that they attended. The group voted forty-eight to seven, with forty-three abstentions, to cut short Bustani’s term.

Later that year, Bustani was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize, for his work against chemical weapons. When U.S. troops moved into Iraq, they found no evidence of weapons of mass destruction. Commentators across the political spectrum have decried the invasion—even Trump calls it “a big, fat mistake”—but Bolton hasn’t changed his view. In 2015, he told the Washington Examiner, “I still think the decision to overthrow Saddam was correct.”

In March, 2005, Bush nominated Bolton to be the Ambassador to the United Nations, a move that was widely seen as an expression of contempt for the institution. Bolton had a history of deriding the U.N., once saying that if the headquarters “lost ten stories, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.” Still, Democrats in the Senate anticipated a routine hearing; they were the minority party and could do little to resist. Tony Blinken, who was the staff director of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, told me that the members began to reconsider as they examined Bolton’s work in the State Department. “We saw a pattern of Mr. Bolton trying to manipulate intelligence to justify his views,” Blinken told me. “If it had happened once, maybe. But it came up multiple times, and always it was the same underlying issue: he would stake out a position, and then, if the intelligence didn’t support it, he would try to exaggerate the intelligence and marginalize the officials who had produced it.” After several days of testimony, Senator George Voinovich, a Republican from Ohio, declared, “John Bolton is the poster child of what someone in the diplomatic corps should not be.”...

In addition to giving Trump a rundown of potential national threats each morning, Bolton attends the President’s Daily Brief, a top-secret meeting with Gina Haspel, the head of the C.I.A., and Dan Coats, the director of National Intelligence. Trump prefers to hold these meetings just two or three times a week, and is famously susceptible to distractions—people walking into the office, telephone calls, even houseflies. Aides have found that detailed briefings provoke impatience; graphics and bullet points work better, and relatable photographs better still. “Bolton gets to the point very fast,” a senior Administration official told me. “He’s very brief, and the President appreciates that.” Groombridge, the former aide, said, “John is thinking, To the extent I can modify or mollify the President’s actions, I will. He is truly a patriot. But I wonder how he goes into work every day, because deep in his heart he believes the President is a moron.”...

When McMaster was the national-security adviser, he had carefully limited the scope of the mission in Syria, maintaining a deployment of some two thousand troops, dispatched by Obama in 2014. Their orders were to kill ISIS fighters and to train local soldiers, but not to fight Assad’s government, his Iranian and Russian backers, or their proxies in Hezbollah, the Lebanese armed group and political party. An adviser on Middle East issues told me that senior officials at the Pentagon and in national security had regarded the deployment as highly successful. “We were trying to follow the President’s guidance that this force was there to destroy ISIS, and that’s it,” the adviser said.

Last summer, at a meeting with officials involved in Syria, Bolton announced that the mission was being expanded. According to the adviser on Middle East issues, who attended the meeting, Bolton told the group, “I don’t care about Syria, but I do care about Iran.” He said that the American forces would stay in Syria until the Iranians left—potentially for years. Bolton told his aides to communicate the new policy to the Russians, and he declared it publicly in September, 2018.

Trump had been suggesting for months that the mission in Syria was nearly concluded. “We were very successful against ISIS,” he told a group of Eastern European leaders that April. “We’ll be successful against anybody militarily. But sometimes it’s time to come back home.” Now he was saddled with an open-ended military commitment, of a kind that he had repeatedly vowed to avoid. Bolton told me that he had secured the President’s permission to expand the mission, but the adviser on Middle East issues disagreed: “What’s obvious is that Bolton does not speak for the President.”...

In fact, Bolton has believed for decades that these are the only two choices. In the early two-thousands, as the Bush Administration was negotiating to limit North Korea’s nuclear program, Bolton stridently advocated war. Wilkerson, Powell’s chief of staff, was so concerned that he brought Bolton into a private meeting on the consequences of military strikes: “I gave him a ten-minute brief on what a war with North Korea would look like—a hundred thousand casualties in the first thirty days, many of them Americans. The Japanese that would die. The Chinese that would die. The fact that Seoul, one of the most modern and forward-looking cities in the world, would probably be reduced to the Dark Ages. I told him, ‘That’s Passchendaele, John. That’s Ypres.’ ”He said that Bolton was unmoved: “John looked at me and said, ‘Are you done? Clearly, you do war. I don’t do war. I do policy.’ ”

this is who’s running venezuela policy right now

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koffidoesstuff · 5 years

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The Blood Series Tinsley character analysis

AKA me fangirling over @icantwritegood‘s writing yet again

I’m gonna try my best to explain why at the end he’s still my favourite character of all, why i think he deserves the best ending and also for what reason i hate Ricky so much. I’m not a native speaker so i’ll probably make awful mistakes so sorry in advance! Fair warning: this post is gonna be looong and kinda depressing and triggering, so, proceed with caution!

Let’s jump right into it and ask the question: Who is Charles Cedric Tinsley? The answer is kinda tricky, because after three parts of the series he’s still remaining an enigma to me. Yes, we have a sketch of his past and he has developed very nicely, but at the end we still don’t know almost anything. He was a detective – fairly good, i must say – but lost his job due to alcoholism and depression that was caused by the death of his baby child. After not so greatly overcoming his problems he starts a new job as a PI, gets an anonymus phonecall and the rest is well known for us. We know his wife left him just after they lost child, and everyone that was loved by him turned their backs on him too.

More on Tinsley’s past later, now let’s get a look at his personality:

He’s sharp and highly intelligent – Tinsley has an analytical mind, which comes handy in the field of his job. He picks up clues and sees through most of the characters of the series, especially in the Blood for Money. The best example i have in my mind right now is at the first chapter of the said installment, in which he comes after Ricky to his house without Goldsworth even realising he was followed. Later on this abillity seems to be lost, but it’s not quite right; Tinsley still knows what is happening is wrong and that people around him are not trustworthy, he’s just too deep into the breaking point to do anything with that information. So he ignores it.

He know how to fight back, he just chooses not to do that – This is the first point i came up with all by myself. Through all the series Ricky just beats the shit out of him everytime. Just recently a thought came to me that it’s just not right, there’s something more to it. What i mean by that is: Tinsley was a detective. He probably worked with brutal murder cases, and he cooperated with the police in field. He must have been trained so, in the worst scenario, he could fight off the crazy opponent. Now, you would say „But hey, years passed, he probably forgot everything”. Well, wrong. I trained for a short amount of time some kickboxing and i assure you, if you woke me up at night and told me to show off some moves, i would do it without thinking. Maybe not as gracefully and quick, but the point still stands. To wrap it up, Tinsley has the knowledge and training to kick Ricky’s butt, so why won’t he? Keep that question in mind, because we will come back to it!

He’s generally likeable – People in town are rooting for him. They put their hopes of freedom into him. He quickly befriends Banjo, and even characters from Goldsworth’s mansion respect him, even thought they’re hostile towards him. Tinsley has a charisma and charm that brings people towards him.

Ricky is not the only one with the awful mental illness – Tinsley gives me vibes of a very badly depressed person, and it’s visible even at the beginning. He doesn’t treat his body well, he seeks relief in alcohol, cigarettes and physical pain – that’s an important point in the whole analysis. Tinsley is in such a bad state of mind that he’d do anything to just not feel at all. Fighting or having sex with Ricky (or both) gives him momental peace, as wrong as it sounds.

Now, let’s get into the juicy part:

Tinsley and his self-harm tendencies.

That’s a hot take, i know. But you know what? It’s the most logical and perfect explanation for all the shit that’s going on in the Blood series. Let me explain:

In „Blood for Life” we get the most information about his past - i‘m talking about the infamous conversation he had with Ricky. This one part gave me the whole idea of this analysis, it’s so clear! Anyway: Tinsley says about his father: “I blamed myself. My dad blamed me too. Said it was my 'unnatural tendencies’. For a while I thought he was right.” and “My parents left me. Although I suppose my dad left me a long time before he actually left. If that makes sense.” From those quotes we know two things: 1. Tinsley’s and his father’s relationship was strained at best due to Tinsley’s bisexuality and 2. It’s highly possible, if not resolute, that Tinsley’s father abused him. We don’t know if physically, but mentally? Sure. It’s evident in the way he’s speaking about the miscarriages, the falling marriage – he blames himself, always blames himself for others fault. You know who does it? Victims of abusive relationships.

Conclusion: Tinsley’s father (maybe even parents) were abusing him due to his sexuality – a part of himself he can’t change – which made him self-critical and ashamed.

Marriage with Roslyn – And here comes the red flags.

„After a while she started blaming me too”, says Tinsley about the miscarriages of his wife. She was quick to blame him and turn her back to him, and just as quickly she was fine again, when everything went her way. Tinsley saw their relationship as something good, given the fact he had messed picture of family life because of his father, when in reality it was just as bad. In my mind Roslyn changed her ways with Tinsley after they got married, wanting him to be always at her hand. She wanted him just for herself, but also wanted to have a way out, so he wouldn’t stop her from going away. So she bend him under her will. And at the end her plan worked out. „She didn't say goodbye. I woke up and all her stuff was gone and I was alone. I never heard from her again”. He was so broken by his life tragedies that he didn’t even try to go after her. She wanted him only when things were good.

Conclusion: In my opinion Roslyn was manipulative towards Tinsley, using her tactics to make him dependent on her. She wasn’t truly invested in their relationship and left him alone when things went bad. She was good manipulator.

But not as good as Ricky.

Ricky - The Perfect Abuser.

I could write essays and essays about my opinion on their relationship, but i fear i’m gonna hit the world limit, so i’m gonna narrow it down to just the newest chapter, last scene in prison. And boy oh boy.

Let’s start with Ricky’s tactics. Read the chapter once again carefully and you’ll notice that a) Ricky’s attention is all way on Florence Francesca when she has the key. He doesn’t even look at Tinsley, doesn’t care. When his begging didn’t work on her and she gave the key to detective (also Flo why i love you but why) and only then did he start to apologising to and asking Tinsley to free him. And Tinsley fell into it yet again, and can you blame him really? He was locked up for months, dependent on Ricky and his switchy moods.

Ricky is a great manipulator and abuser because he knows how to train people. When you give him what he wants, he treats you well, gives you a reward. If you don’t – he’ll punish you. It’s as simple as that, but his ways of putting it in practice are just so, so scary to me. Tinsley had a weak spirits from the beggining, so you can only imagine what months in impresonment with Ricky did to him.

Ricky saying things like „I love you” or „I’m not gonna hurt you” are all red flags for abuser – he’s lulling Tinsley with empty promises, and Tinsley falls for it head-first.

Goldsworth is a bad, bad person and it’s clear as a day, and Tinsley knows it – so why did he stay?

Let me repeat: Tinsley is a serious case of self-harmer. There are many, many ways of harming yourself intentionally – from abusing alcohol (Tinsley does), chainsmoking (Tinsley does), getting into fights to be beaten up (Tinsley does), having unsafe sex (Tinsley does) and, of course, entering abusive relationships. Over and over. And Tinsley does it.

I don’t have it in me to go any longer with it, because the theme of this hits too close to home, so i’m gonna wrap it up. Tinsley is a victim of not one, not two, but three abusive relationships. At this point i’m really surprised that he’s kinda functioning like a human being. He went through so much shit in his life that i can only hope for the best ending for him.

Also sorry for the messiness of the second half of this. I rushed it because i’m too upset.

Also fuck Ricky Goldsworth.

#blood for life #the blood series #tinsworth #tw abuse #tw self destruction #wow it's wild #sorry for long post #ricky goldsworth #cc tinsley #character analysis

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tinsley-goldsworth · 5 years

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you say sorry just for show (chapter 3)

read chapter 3 on ao3 here!

Summary: lucy goldsworth helps c.c. and ricky our as they talk about what to do about maizey and her gang

Wc: 1840

Tw: mentions of injury

C.C. pressed the doorbell near the door of the house he arrived at. He still has no idea why this was the rendezvous point but Ricky seemed to be confident that this place was the place they should go to. Ricky was still in a terrible state, barely conscious and barely able to walk. However, he still gritted his teeth and with the help of C.C., got out of the car and ambled over to the house. A middle-aged woman answered the door and while she had a frown on her face initially, it morphed into a smile when she saw C.C. Tinsley. C.C. recognized her as Lucy Goldsworth, Ricky’s mother and it had been years since he last met her.

“C.C. Tinsley! It’s been so long! Ricky, what happened to you? Come in,” The lady opened the door wide and C.C. helped Ricky walk into the house. Ricky’s arm was pressed onto the top of C.C.’s shoulders and he had to lean all his weight to the side without the broken ankle in order to achieve some sort of movement. When he finally got on the couch, he practically collapsed into the cushion, wincing in pain. The bruising around his ankle looked worse now and the lady walked into the living room with a first aid kit in her hands. C.C. thanked her and opened the kit, taking out the materials he needed. He carefully propped Ricky’s ankle up on a soft cushion and murmured soothing words to Ricky, knowing that he was still experiencing pain.

“You’ve grown so much! Ricky tells me all about you. I’m glad that you helped him sort out his life,” Mrs. Goldsworth smiled as Ricky managed an exasperated sigh at the mention of him telling his mother about his boyfriend. C.C. took out the ice pack and gently pressed it to Ricky’s ankle, causing Ricky to hiss in pain. He held the ice pack to Ricky’s ankle as he took out a couple of band-aids, applying them to the small cuts on the other parts of Ricky’s body.

“I love you but you’re an idiot sometimes. Why did you go in to fight?” C.C. asked as he dabbed at a cut with an alcohol wipe to clean it. Ricky’s grimace softened after hearing C.C. say ‘I love you’ and his eyes were filled with affection.

“I guess I underestimated how many people Maizey brought with her. I thought I would be able to take them with the help of Night Night’s boys but I guess not,” Ricky let out another hiss of pain as C.C. gently pressed the ice pack down on his ankle. C.C. shook his head, chuckling to himself, amused by his boyfriend’s efforts to be valiant. He pressed a kiss to Ricky’s forehead as he packed up the first aid kit and proceeded to discard the backings of the band-aids into the trash.

While C.C. was taking care of Ricky, Lucy had left the room and returned with two cups of tea in dainty porcelain cups. She handed C.C. a cup and set the other on the table next to Ricky. C.C. smiled when he saw that the tea was C.C.’s favorite type, meaning that Lucy still remembered C.C. from his childhood with Ricky.

“You try too hard to be a hero sometimes. You need to watch out for yourself,” C.C. murmured as he scooted closer to Ricky, allowing his boyfriend to kiss him on the cheek. He slowly ran a thumb across Ricky’s lower lip, still in awe at Ricky’s beauty despite the damage he had gone through. Some people’s beauty seemed to fade after time spent around them but with Ricky, he only got prettier every time C.C. looked at him. Sure, C.C. was in love but there was nobody who could deny that Ricky was one of the most handsome men on this planet.

“Says you, who volunteered to find out information about Maizey’s gang. You’re getting more reckless and I think I’ve rubbed off on you. You need to be more careful or you’re going to get yourself hurt,” Ricky took a sip of his tea, smiling as C.C. softly nudged Ricky, pretending to be offended. This caused Ricky to laugh affectionately, leaning into C.C.’s shoulder. The ice pack on his ankle was growing warmer and the bruising was still bad but it was getting better. C.C. smoothly intertwined his fingers with Ricky’s and he didn’t hesitate to plant another kiss on Ricky’s forehead.

“Nah, I think my bravery came from surviving a kidnapping,” C.C. joked, taking a quick sip of his tea, and Ricky laughed his wonderful, melodious laugh. Even though they weren’t in the most ideal situation right now, C.C. wanted this moment of intimacy to last. This was the most relaxed and affectionate the couple had gotten ever since Night Night waltzed into their life with the demanding request. Suddenly, their moment of joy was ruined by somebody knocking on the door.

As Lucy answered the door, Ricky stiffened, slightly more alert than before, but he didn’t budge from his position. Night Night entered the living room with two men by his side and Ricky sat up straighter, trying to seem more composed and less bristled by the pain he had endured. He put on his mask of toughness again as he cleared his throat and roughly asked, “So, that plan clearly didn’t work. We underestimated this gang’s ability.”

“Yeah, no shit,” The blonde man quipped as he crossed his arms roughly. He was standing next to a tall man that had ridiculously long legs and a height that almost intimidated C.C. Night Night saw C.C.’s confused expression and gave his men a pointed look. The blonde man turned to C.C. and stated, “The name’s Silent J Ilnyckyj. That’s Legs Madej. Just call us the Silent J’s. We’re Night Night’s right-hand men.”

“We have to be careful about our second plan. They’re onto us now and we can’t afford to slip up again,” Ricky winced as he shifted his ankle’s position on the cushions. His bruises reminded everybody in the room of the unspoken consequences of failing again. Night Night finally showed some guilt for placing Ricky in a hazardous situation but still didn’t call off the favor and C.C. was starting to get irritated. They had gone through all this work just to have Ricky severely hurt and a target planted on their lives.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” C.C. snapped, his frustration starting to reveal itself in his voice. The Silent J’s and Night Night exchanged a knowing glance and Night Night sighed wearily before he spoke.

“We discussed a back-up plan before but I know Ricky isn’t going to like it.” A dark look crossed over Ricky’s face as he tried to imagine what the plan would include. C.C., however, didn’t seem to be bothered by this and gestured for Night Night to continue on to explain his plan.

“We could send you to join the gang and infiltrate the operation from the inside,” Night Night suggested and Ricky’s eyes flared with anger. Considering that Ricky had just told C.C. that he didn’t want his boyfriend running around and getting hurt, Ricky’s reaction was considered mild. If Ricky wasn’t in pain right now, maybe his reaction would be more explosive but thanks to his damaged ankle, he couldn’t exactly get up and threaten to slit Night Night’s throat for suggesting such a plan.

Instead of throwing his cup of tea at his brother, Ricky shook his head and replied, “There’s no way that’s happening. I’m not putting C.C. in any more danger.”

“I could do it. I wouldn’t mind.” Night Night turned towards C.C., surprised at his contradictory reaction. Part of C.C. wanted to prove that he was just as good as anybody in this room and the other part of him wanted to help Ricky finish off this favor so Night Night wouldn’t have to bother them and he and Ricky could live together in peace again.

“I have another riskier plan that could work. This isn’t our only option,” Ricky argued, clearly upset about the idea of putting C.C. in more danger. C.C. gave Night Night a meaningful look and Night Night stepped outside of the living room, gesturing for his men to follow him. When they left the room, C.C. turned towards Ricky and held his boyfriend’s hands, finally feeling comfortable enough to express his thoughts. He heard Lucy hand Night Night and the Silent J’s cups of tea and took a deep breath, imagining that they were simply back in high school and he was just trying to convince Ricky to let him stay up late to finish an English assignment instead of trying to convince Ricky to let him get tangled up in a risky plan.

“Look, Ricky, I know you don’t want me in danger but I can handle it, I promise. You have to trust me. I trust you and I need you to do the same for me, okay?” Hearing this, Ricky’s anger faded quickly and he heaved a defeated sigh as he nodded in agreement. He still seemed very reluctant to allow C.C. to agree to this plan but if C.C. really believed he could handle it, Ricky decided that it was best to let him.

“You have to be careful. The last thing I need is you getting hurt,” Ricky bit back his tears as he imagined having to live with the guilt of having his boyfriend hurt because of Night Night’s plan but as C.C. had insisted, Ricky had to trust his boyfriend. Besides, he always had his own back-up plan if the plan went horribly wrong, though, admittedly, his plan was the last option.

“Thank you for trusting me,” C.C. mumbled before he kissed Ricky lightly on the lips and called Night Night and the Silent J’s back into the living room. He hadn’t realized that he forgot to untangle his fingers from Ricky’s and felt Ricky squeeze his hand nervously as C.C. told Night Night that Ricky had agreed to let him carry out the plan. Night Night offered a conservative smile, smothering down his excitement for Ricky’s benefit.

As Night Night sat down and explained the plan with the help of his right-hand men, Ricky didn’t let go of C.C.’s hands and maintained his calm. C.C. listened to their plan and focused on perfecting the details and strengthening strategies. There were some aspects of the plan that were extremely risky but C.C. gritted his teeth and agreed to follow through, knowing that if he succeeded, it would benefit everybody. After all, some sacrifices had to be made for a happy ending, right?

taglist: @hot-mess-writer @thesevensins-1990

chapter 4 (the final chapter for this book) is out now!

#fics #tinsworth #bfu #buzzfeed unsolved #bfucu #buzzfeed unsolved cinematic universe #ricky goldsworth #lucy goldsworth #c.c. tinsley #cc tinsley #night night bergara #legs madej #silent j ilnyckyj #angst and comfort #maizey #hot daga maizey

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kirchefuchs · 5 years

Note

Could you tell me about your BFUCU AU?

I tried to keep it brief, but that's harder than you may think. 😅

So it all starts when they are little kids. Francesca and Ricky are both one year older than Tinsley (they are in 3rd grade while Tins is in 2nd), but Fran and Tims have been family friends since, well, they were born. Fran first meets Ricky when he was being picked on for being "girly" (because we all know how people were sticklers for gender roles back then) and Fran is having none of that and stands up for him. They become quick friends despite Ricky rarely actually saying anything (the poor child has social anxiety).

Over time they split up to different schools and Fran never saw Ricky after that. When they grew up Ricky was thrown in jail after being caught flirting with a guy (yeah being gay was illegal back then, so sad). While serving his sentence he was often beat by other prisoners or even the guards, cuz ya know, he's gay and people are huge jerks. The only person he got along with was his cellmate Banjo McClintock (who was thrown in for identity theft and transporting illegal alcohol, it's the 1920s btw), who just didn't care about Ricky's homosexuality (Banjo is pan so he doesn't judge). One day Banjo "overheard" (definitely not eavesdropping) some other inmates whispering about a breakout plan. Banjo used his many charms (and bribing) to get him and Ricky in on the plan. They did escape along with a few other inmates (a few of which were on death row, this is important) and went their separate ways. Many of them, including Ricky, fled to a small town in West Virginia (where the police force kinda sucked at their job). Ricky and Banjo didn't see each other very often because Banjo moved to a neighboring town, but they kept in contact.

After a while (its now early 1930s) some of the other escaped criminals had gotten restless and started committing more crimes in the town. At first Ricky didn't really care, but he felt a little guilty knowing he could stop them (Ricky was trying to be good, remember he was only locked up for being openly gay). He thought that maybe he could just turn them in because he knew all of them, but he remembered that they could very well rat him out as well. Not wanting to be thrown back in jail for that again, he decided on another way to stop them. Killing them, while it sounds worse (he'd be sent to death if he was caught) he knew the police never would catch him, after all they didn't have any good detectives and Ricky had his cousin to go to. His cousin who worked in the mafia, the one and only Night Night. And it worked, he picked them off one by one and hadn't gotten caught, not yet at least.

Not long after the first two murders, Private Investigator CC Tinsley took the case. Any leads only ended in dead ends, and he was not happy about it. After one too many all-nighters, Tins passed out at his desk. When he woke up he found a strange letter on his desk addressed to him but without a sender. And thus started the letter correspondence between Tins and Ricky. It had been about a month and a half before Tinsley finally met Ricky. By then Ricky had finished off all of his targets and Tinsley had figured out. Because of this Tins in kind of reluctant to arrest Ricky. So they have this weird sort of friendship where they don't know if they're just quite friends, but they like each other's company.

A few weeks later is when my fic series starts in the timeline. Ricky and Tins are hella gay for each other and Fran is in kahoots with the mafia (ergo she knows Night and Legs, just doesn't know yet that Night and Ricky are related). Fran, being the ever mom friend is determined to make sure Ricky and Tins are good for each other, and after which will help get them together.

I have a lot more planned for this au, but this is already super long and I don't want to make you read so much. If you do want to see a bullet point list or smth for what happens after this, or just some descriptions of everyone's personalities, feel free to tell me. Hope this satisfied your needs for now. 😊

#unsolved true crime #buzzfeed unsolved #ricky goldsworth #cc tinsley #tinsworth #francesca norris #banjo mcclintock #night night bergara #legs madej #bfucu au #ask #im sorry this is so long

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noirornothing · 5 years

Text

House Atop a Hill

Summary [mystery, comedy] - There were a number of private detectives in West Virginia. Occasionally, Tinsley wondered if the others ever found themselves fetching groceries on-the-clock, armed only with a feather duster, in an attempt to reclaim a Mayor’s house from a well-dressed stranger.

Word Count - 4238

“—next thing I knew, I was on the doorstep! He just sauntered right on in and made himself at home.” The Mayor looked downright devastated, fiddling with his coat buttons as he tried not to meet the detective’s eyes.

Tinsley wanted to feel sorry for the man but was still dumbfounded as to how he’d come into the situation in the first place.

“Was he armed?” It was the only reason he could think up to imagine why the Mayor had simply stepped aside and allowed his house to be commandeered by a stranger.

The man scrunched up his face, the shameful flush spreading to his ears. “I don’t think so.”

Tinsley sighed, jotting it down in his notepad. “And no one else knows about this?”

“They can’t,” he held up his hands in a flash as if to beg. “That’s why I called you. I need to get this thing resolved before anyone else finds out.”

“Then maybe, uh,” Tinsley looked around the crowded diner, “we should’ve met somewhere more private?”

There wasn’t much more talking after that. The Mayor busied himself with a coffee mug as the detective organized his notes, readying himself to march up to the house on the hill. Sometimes it was best to get straight to the point—especially when the client was right useless at providing any valuable information.

They parted with polite goodbyes, the Mayor staying at the table as Tinsley took his leave. He moved to set a few dollars down for the waitress when the Mayor waved him away. Least I can do, he said. Tinsley nodded and headed out the door, the little bell ringing to signify his departure.

It was a crisp spring afternoon. Half-melted mounds of snow stuck fast in the shade while the rest of the earth turned to soft mud. A small cluster of businesses marked the town square, but aside from that, it was rural. A small logging town, not known for anything in particular—a bizarre place to commandeer.

Gravel squished into the silty dirt with each step, the sounds of squelching and scraping enough to send chills down any outsider’s spine like nails on a chalkboard. But to him, it was home sweet West Virginia. Outlandish tales like the Mayor’s weren’t all that uncommon, but each story was unique enough to warrant his services. Strange occurrences meant he got to keep his job.

The Mayor’s house sat atop a hill, the driveway winding through towering conifers. The nearer he got, the more he began to understand. It was a sizeable structure—two stories of gorgeous, hand-built mansion. Clearly a product of the town’s wealthiest days.

Bare gardens and hibernating shrubs lined the property, eagerly awaiting their resurgence. A carefully arranged stone path led to the doorway. He climbed the few stairs to reach it and stopped. The door was mostly glass. Whoever answered would probably see him first. He sucked in a breath and knocked loud and clear.

A minute passed and he knocked again. Just as he was lowering his hand, a figure descended from the grand staircase within. He felt eyes on him. He was being observed.

The figure moved slowly, taking its time reaching the door. From what Tinsley could tell—male, quite a bit shorter than he, lithe, and careless in the way to sauntered across the hardwood floors.

Soon enough, they stood on opposite sides of the glass, watching one another. The man, presumed to be Mr. Goldsworth, had a devious grin plastered across his face. Tinsley tried to keep his face so as not to betray his curiosities. The door swept open without a creak.

“Ah, you must be the butler.” Goldsworth took a step forward and leaned in the doorway, head cocked.

Tinsley shook his head. “Afraid not. I’m here to speak with the new owner.”

“That would be me.”

“Fantastic.” He pulled the notepad from his pocket along with a pen and began to jab at the text. “Well Mr. Goldsworth, I’m here to inform you that you are trespassing on private property.”

The man balked in mock-offense. “If anyone’s trespassing, I’d say it’s you. Did we not just establish I’m the owner of this fine home?”

Tinsley shrugged and let the notepad slide back into his pocket. “Self-proclaimed owner.”

“I don’t see anyone trying to stop me.”

It was true enough. The Mayor, in his shame, had refused to contact the authorities. He hadn’t had the bravado to stop the man himself and had instead called the first private detective he could find. Two hours later, Tinsley had arrived. To frame the situation— Goldsworth had only been on the property for the better half of a day. And yet Tinsley had never seen a man look more at home.

He was well-dressed, suited for the extravagance even if it found itself in the middle of nowhere. Dark hair, dark eyes, and Tinsley assumed, dark intentions to match. He waited for the man to say more but was met with radio silence as Goldsworth turned his attention over his shoulder.

“If you don’t mind, I’ve got a fireplace to attend to and no one else to do it for me. So—” he made a motion for Tinsley to scram. “Tell the butler to hurry it up if you see him.”

Tinsley sucked in a breath to protest but exhaled when an idea lit up his brain like a shoddy string of Christmas lights. Multi-colored at all angles, tangled up in details, and undeniably dangerous near a suspicious outlet.

“Alright, you got me.” He held up his hands in defeat. “The Mayor sent me up here to pose as a warden. I was actually hoping this was my chance to get out of the butler game, but—”

“The Mayor’s a fool,” the man interrupted, waving one hand in disgust. “I think you’ll find I’m a much more…generous employer.”

Though he’d left all of his things back at a motel room in town, Tinsley felt an invisible sack of luggage fall onto his shoulders courtesy of the statement. Needless to say there was a lot to unpack in that sentiment.

He put on his best butler-speak and went for it. “As you say. It is Mr. Goldsworth, correct?”

“Sure.” He smiled and leaned out of the doorway, taking a step back into the house leaving enough room for Tinsley to slide through.

Not wanting to break his cover before he was more than one step inside, Tinsley went straight for the fireplace. A hearty stack of firewood sat beside it, caged in with black iron bars. He retrieved a couple of logs and arranged them expertly around the flames. He may not have been a butler, but he did know how to tend a fire. Another consequence of being a local.

“Don’t forget to change,” Goldsworth called to him from atop the stairs. The man vanished at the top, disappearing into one of the many rooms, leaving Tinsley alone in the main hall. He was about to start a full search of the ground floor when the voice sounded again.

“And go buy some more food, will you?”

“What happened to the real butler?” Tinsley asked over the large collection of grocery bags he’d set on the table. He’d found the Mayor almost exactly where he’d left him, a few seats over to be precise, chatting with some townsfolk in the diner. He seemed to be pretending it was a catch-up-with-the-people day.

“You mean the housekeeper? She had the day off. She’s only part-time-- lives just up the road. I should, ah, tell her she’ll be taking a paid vacation this week.”

Tinsley pushed a couple of the paper bags aside so that he could actually see the man. “I would do that, yes.”

The Mayor was fiddling with the buttons again, and Tinsley noticed one of them was getting loose. The man finally looked up from them, nervous but thoughtful. “You wanted to know how to take care of the house?”

“Just for a day or so.”

“You could stay in the kitchen,” he suggested, finally managing a bright idea. “There’s a closet with cleaning supplies off to the side. Say you’re making a very complex dish in honor of the house’s…new owner.”

It was visibly difficult for the man to say, and finally he felt the pangs of sympathy. He didn’t disagree the Mayor was a fool, but most people were, himself included.

“I’ll get this thing sorted out soon,” he reassured the man, planting his palms on the table as he rose out of the seat. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Sorry detective,” he looked down at his shoes, “no-can-do.”

Tinsley smiled, but the expression was wrought with pity for them both. He gathered up the hefty load of groceries and began moderate the trek back up the hill.

Goldsworth had yet to reemerge since he’d returned to the house. It was quiet, save for the crackling of the fireplace. He’d added more wood, paying close attention to the quality of the flames. The last thing he needed to do was burn the place down.

A pan hissed as a mess of chopped vegetables met sizzling oil. Sourced from a nearby in a saucepot, garlic-scented steam wafted into the air. Tinsley wasn’t entirely sure what he was making, but he knew how to look busy. Create as many dishes as possible. One burner contained a pot of water which had been boiling for half another. Multiple cutting boards had been dug out from the cupboards, all piled with ingredients which couldn’t possibly form a single, cohesive meal.

He jerked his hand away from the pan as the oil crackled, having met the moisture from the vegetables. He probably should have dried them off first.

“Careful there.”

The voice surprised him enough to nearly send the pan flying. He spun to see Goldsworth making his way into the kitchen, the same grin still curling up the corner of his lips. He leaned both elbows on one of the tall counters and rested one hand atop the other.

“I was, uh,” Tinsley looked over what he’d prepared so far. It was a whole lot of nothing. “I wasn’t sure what you liked. Sir.”

“Well, I’m not so crazy about the outfit after all.”

Tinsley looked down and sighed. He’d found the cleaning supplies earlier, and a few of the housekeeper’s spare aprons. He’d thrown one on over his clothes, having hung his coat up by the door. It was a neat black piece, perfectly acceptable for anyone who was five feet tall, which the housekeeper must have been. On him, however, it was quite the opposite.

“Can’t say I am either. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what the Mayor was thinking.” He earned a laugh from the other man and decided to question him while he was in good spirits. “And you. Any personal preferences I should know about?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” The man stood back up to full height. It wasn’t much of a change. He made his way over to the cutting boards, inspecting their contents. “I won’t be sticking around too long.”

“No?” He watched the man out of his peripheral, stirring the vegetables far more than was necessary.

“Buy low, sell high.” Goldsworth slapped him on the back and shot him a look that said he wouldn’t be getting any more on the subject. The man walked away after that, turning the corner into the living room.

Tinsley finally stopped stirring and realized the carrots had nearly been reduced to mush. Not like pan-frying carrots had been a good idea in the first place. He shot a look over his shoulder to make sure the man was gone and slid the contents of the pan into the trashcan.

He went to retrieve the next vegetable, untying the apron and tossing it over his shoulder as he did so. It landed with a quiet fwhump, and the next set of ingredients sizzled in the pan.

He’d lain the Meal out on the table just as the sun had set beneath the rugged mountain peaks surrounding the town. The trees were bathed in amber light, and the mansion glowed with firelight. Lovely scenery aside, he called it the Meal because there was no one word for it. It was simply everything.

He didn’t stick around once Goldsworth seated himself at the table, toting a collection of files. He flipped the first one open as Tinsley climbed the staircase, feather duster in hand, to do some investigating.

All the lights were off in the upstairs hallway. He flicked them on and stepped into the first room—an office. Presumably, the Mayor’s.

One of the filing cabinets was open. He slid the drawer our further, noticing some sizeable gaps. He assumed those were the files the other man had been walking around with. The other files in the drawer contained a collection of land grants and sales. Most were sales between locals accompanied by the occasional federal exchange. He left the drawer as he’d found it, half open, and went to the Mayor’s desk drawers.

It was impossible to tell if they’d always been messy or if Goldsworth had been rummaging through those as well. He rested his hands on his hips and tapped one foot in debate. Goldsworth had spent half the day hunting for whatever he was looking for, and apparently, he’d found it. Tinsley figured whatever was in those folders would tell him the reasoning behind this whole affair.

He slipped out of the office, flicking off the light and heading back downstairs. The other man was still at the table, food mostly untouched as he scanned through the paperwork. He dragged a finger across the pages, reading intently. Tinsley approached the table, trying his hardest not to look as if he were reading over the other man’s shoulder.

“Anything to drink, sir?” He asked, hands clasped behind his back.

Goldsworth mumbled a confirmation, but no specific request. Tinsley took off into the kitchen and retrieved the first bottle of wine he saw. It was a light red— made from grapes of some hybrid variety. He rifled through the drawers for a corkscrew and once he found one, twisted it deep into the porous material and pulled the cork out with a decisive pop. He returned to the table, holding the bottle with both hands as if it were one a makeshift silver platter.

It was only once he’d reached the table what he realized he’d only set water glasses. He made a split-second decision to go through with it and poured the wine into an empty water glass. And in that moment, he was close enough to read a few precious words on the page.

…for the acquisition of land…natural resources…recipient’s signature…

And then he leaned away from the glass, tilting his head, awaiting dismissal.

“Anything else?” Goldsworth looked up at him, finally remembered he was there, and noticed the wine-filled water glass.

He felt the dark eyes pierce his alibi, traveling from his own eyes down to the bottle. “Join me for a drink?”

Tinsley pulled out the nearest chair and did exactly that, pouring himself a glass. He was at an angle, but still close enough to read the text in between glances.

They didn’t speak for a while—Tinsley sipped at the wine in an effort to look preoccupied. It was a legal document concerning the sale of a valuable property to an unspecified recipient. It wouldn’t have taken long to read, but for the large chunks of fine print lining the bottom third of the page. Goldsworth seemed to be scanning them all for anything unexpected, but eventually he sat up straight, looking satisfied at having found nothing to annotate.

“How long have you been working here,” Goldsworth drew out the last word, “he who shall remain nameless.”

Tinsley swirled the contents of his glass. “Just a couple months.”

He closed the files, resting one hand atop them as he reached for his own glass. “Is that so.”

A heavy silence descended upon the dinner table. As it carried on, the air seemed to crackle like the oil in the pan. Goldsworth took a sip, then opened his mouth to speak again.

“What exactly does a butler do in his free time,” another sip, “sit in the gardens? Chat up the locals? Read?”

“I think I left the oven on.” He gave a decisive slap on the table and practically flew out of his chair and into the kitchen. There, he pretended to fiddle with the knobs on the oven before grabbing ahold of the edges. He would have to go back into the living room. He’d have to find a way to finish their conversation without incriminating himself and report back to the Mayor.

Unless their conversation had to be postponed.

He murmured a silent apology to the house’s true owner and turned one of the burners on full blast. The flame rose high and eager as Tinsley went to the storage closet, withdrawing a couple of rags. He scanned through the labels on a few of the chemicals, quickly finding a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He doused the rags and went back over to the burner. He took a deliberate step back and tossed the balled-up fabrics onto the burner. They lit up at once, quickly becoming engulfed in flames.

The mass quickly became a fireball, seeming to undergo a minor explosion as smoke began to fill the air. He began to wonder if he’d gone a bit too far when the flames swallowed up the fabrics entirely.

“Mr. Goldsworth,” he ran into the dining room once he was sure the smoke had reached past the kitchen. The man was already looking in his direction, far too suspicious. “I’m going to have to ask you to evacuate the property.”

The man made it clear he had no intentions of moving and stayed seated at the table. He tapped one finger on the files.

“It’s, uh, on fire.”

Goldsworth frowned, sliding the files off the table and into the crook of his arm. “Fine.”

He pushed past the detective, not looking back as he slid open the main door and disappeared into the dark. After a few precious seconds, Tinsley raced to the door and peered outside. There was the roar of an engine, followed by two headlights illuminating the driveway. The car pulled away, leaving him alone in the house.

He swallowed and thought about what to do next. Then he remembered the fire.

The stovetop, presumably the rest of the oven, and part of the countertop had been reduced to a charred mess. Thankfully the flames had dissipated once their fuel had turned to ash, and a simple turn of the dial extinguished the remainder.

He’d gone to the phone after that and called the motel. Once he’d realized he’d be staying in the house he’d offered up the room to the Mayor. The man answered after just one ring.

“Tinsley, what have you found?” He sounded downright miserable.

“He broke into your office and took some files. They were all regarding the sale of a rather large amount of land. Anything you might know about?” He waited through the silence on the other line.

The man cleared his throat. “I might, yes.”

Tinsley frowned, leaning in closer to the phone. “Did you know something like this could happen?”

“No, no, nothing like this,” the man scrambled, “I have no idea why he’d come for the files.”

“What then?”

“The land,” the Mayor spoke quietly, barely registering on Tinsley’s end of the line. “Was recently sold. Or, it was about to be.”

“That I gathered.”

A heavy sigh. “At a very high price. It’s not something the folks around here know about.”

Tinsley waited for the nervous man to explain himself. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have to push.

“I—I just wanted to bring some property back around. There’s not much money in timber these days, detective. They—they found natural gas deposits nearby, and I had the say over that particular sector. So, I sold it. I thought maybe it’d bring some industry to town, give the people something to be hopeful about.”

“Then why don’t they know?”

But Tinsley knew. His hometown had fallen into similar straits before, until the discovery of certain natural resources. But it had come at a great cost. The risks to harvest it, the new bureaucracy, and the old-ways-die-hard mentality could ruin a good idea in no time at all.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” the Mayor mumbled. “But the deal’s been made. All that was left to do was ship off the paperwork and have the last couple pages notarized.”

That caught his attention. “So, the deal’s not done yet. It won’t be official until after the meeting?”

“That’s right.”

“So, all we have to do is show up first!” Tinsley looked around for a clock. It was creeping on in the evening, but there was still plenty of time to set a plan into action. “When is it?”

“One week from today, in Charleston.”

Tinsley was about to say something else when a bright light shone through the glass lining the front of the living room. Crunching gravel signified that Goldsworth, or perhaps someone else, had returned. Part of him had been hoping the man would disappear altogether, but such was not the case as the shorter man climbed out of the driver’s seat.

“He’s back.” Tinsley slammed the phone down on the receiver and made to look like he was dusting off the table as the other man came through the door. He shut it quietly, and once again a thick silence descended over the great hall. All the files were gone.

“I went into town to drop some paperwork into the mailbox,” he made his way closer to Tinsley, steps falling softly onto the hardwood floors. “And ran into a local. Funny, I didn’t think country folk stayed out so late. But while I was there, I happened to ask about what kind of company the Mayor kept in that big old house of his.”

Goldsworth was close. Too close. He stopped just before they collided, an unreadable expression glinting in his eyes.

“Not much, apparently. Just him and his housekeeper. Mary.” He said the name half in jest and half in something far more sinister.

“It’s a family name,” Tinsley choked, feeling his back press against the table.

Goldsworth shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

Tinsley half-expected the man to whip out a knife and gut him then and there. Or maybe shoot him and bury him in the gardens. But then again, he would be one hell of a deadweight to drag that far. He involuntarily raised up both hands in self-defense, holding his breath until the man spoke again. Or rather, laughed. Goldsworth finally stepped back, placing one hand on hip, and looked him over.

“So, you’re not a butler. I’m betting you’re some kind of spy.” Goldsworth looked lazily around the room. “Who hired you?”

He thought for a moment about how to answer. “The buyers. Wanted to see who they were dealing with.”

The eyes on him became harsher. “Not very trusting, are they?”

He shook his head. “Skeptics. But that’s how they made their fortune.”

The other man seemed to understand the sentiments. He abandoned his stance and crossed the room to a relatively large armchair and sunk into it, motioning for him to do the same. Like walking on eggshells, he did as the man instructed, taking a seat on the couch across from the chair.

“I’m going to give you two options.” He had one arm on each rest, impossibly casual. “One, you leave now. You walk down that hill and never come back. You tell your bosses I check out, and you’re done. Case closed.”

Tinsley sat frozen, waiting for option number two.

“Two means you stick around, gather me a little information here and there, and earn double your paycheck.” Somehow, the man seemed to relax further, sinking deep into the chair.

“Why?” He couldn’t help but ask. Why he’d even give him the option was unthinkable.

Again, the man laughed. It was almost light enough not to be sinister. “You’re the worst spy I’ve ever seen. If you try to pull anything, I’ll know. I always know.”

The logs in the fireplace had been reduced to coals which smoldered with a dying heat. As the glow faded, plunging them low lights, Tinsley felt a shiver run down his spine. All he could see was tiny flecks of ember and the white gleam of teeth. Like those of an animal. He took in a breath to steady his nerves and exhaled.

He slapped both knees and stood up with a purpose. “Well then!”

He felt the eyes on his back, curious as he crossed over to the fireplace, and began adding more fuel. It would need to be rekindled, but that was easy enough. He looked over his shoulder at Goldsworth who watched him shamelessly over the back of the chair. Tinsley set one final log and admired the neat arrangement. It would burn well.

“I guess I have some explaining to do.”

#buzzfeed unsolved #ricky goldsworth #cc tinsley #house atop a hill #fanfic #oneshot #probably #too much fun to call filler #my writing

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sunnysidehq · 5 years

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◟˖﹡˙⊰ THE INTERROGATION ⊱ ʿ﹡˖◝

as soon as the news of winnipeg sanders’ disappearance made it to every paper’s first page, the citizens of sunnyside have been talking. where some believed nothing to have changed in town, others have started to notice subtle changes -- leaves on her doorstep which seem to be hiding something, the smell of her delicious cookies wavering through the streets -- but who is to tell right from wrong ? at this point, it is pretty clear to the inspectors that, while the initial shock of the news has worn off, the town was left in a certain state of confusion and paranoia. fingers are being pointed, but none in the same direction... where is winnie ? what happened to winnie ? is someone involved ? who knows m o r e ? all burning questions on everyone’s mind ( whether they’ll admit it or not ) -- especially detective basil baker has lost many nights of solid sleep over them.

with high hopes, the detective called in every single citizen for a profound interrogation -- but contrary to what he expected ( and hoped for ) basil found out a l o t about the citizens’ personal issues and feuds ( and by mcduck, these people sure seem to have a lot of issues ) and disappointingly little about what may have happened to mrs. sanders. every clue he thought he had stumbled upon, ended up being another dead end...

a sketchy ANYA ROMANOV who brought up some weak alibis turned out to be bartending the night of the disappearance, confirmed by megara achebe and ( a s l i g h t l y ) intoxicated charles charming. there goes the first suspect. the innocent, cute duo FAWN REYES and PEYTON BENNETT had mismatching alibis... but after a second round of questions, the dead end turned out to carry the name CARA HEART -- a brat with obvious personal issues to work out, but none that actually seem relevant to the case. and who could really suspect fawn or peyton... neither of them would even be capable of killing a fly. same with WENDY DARLING and FELIX WRIGHT. suspect two, three and four were scratched from the list. based on personal records ( and reputation ), the detective and inspectors hoped to find out some more dirt on RALPH WRIGHT and mr. OOGIE B -- OSCAR BAILEY, but these gentlemen turned out to be dead end five and six. ralph’s alibi was rock solid and so was oscar’s -- though the department has decided to keep an eye out on the latter; after all, it seems the man is withholding stuff... enough reason to dislike a nosy person such as winnie, don’t you think ? but that’s a whole other case. and talking about other cases, the police department has added a couple side-investigations to their list of tasks: ELSA ARENDELLE’s illegal ‘ hacking into the system ’ practices and the more and more frequent occurrence of the so-called ‘ pixie dust ‘, which the BELL SISTERS may or may not have something to do with ( further investigation sure is needed ). also the tadashi HAMADA case may get pulled out from under the dust -- maybe there is a link between that case and the disappearance, anyways. it is worth looking into.

in the end, the interrogation led to only two remaining suspects -- SEBASTIAN CRAB who doesn’t have a solid alibi and little miss MORGAN SILVER who’s alibi is less stable than a piece of jelly. whether these two actually have anything to do with the disappearance is still a mystery to both the detective and the inspectors -- nor does the fact that the others aren’t on the suspects list anymore mean they are off the hook. it is clear that the interrogation has brought up very little useful information, so it is vital that inspector biance and bernard sharp keep their eyes and ears open for more rumors, gossips and possible clues. if you have noticed something off ( or you’d like to stir some drama ), make sure to contact the POLICE DEPARTMENT -- every little help can cause a break through in the case !

IN SUMMARY : while some interrogations have brought up some oddities around town ( the smell of winnie’s pastries or leaves on her doorstep ) and winnie’s behaviour right before her disappearance ( her seeming tired and slightly off and distracted ), nothing major has come out of them; no big clues. while initially quite some citizens made it to the suspect-list ( anya, peyton, cara, fawn, tinsley, sebastian, oscar, morgan and elsa ), after a second round of interrogations only sebastian and morgan remained on the list because their alibis aren’t solid. the news of who got interrogated twice spread like a wild fire around town, making people slightly suspicious of these people -- especially the remaining two suspects have made a name for themselves around sunnyside now. luckily for them, there is no proof of anything so far, so the detective’s guess is as good as anyone else’s... this first update on the case sure has brought some more suspicion among the town’s inhabitants... is everyone really who they claim to be ? who has secrets to hide ? who is holding back on information ? hopefully, time will bring more answers... and hopefully, this has been a wake-up call to all citizens, to remain attentive at every given moment.

#sunnyside:plotdrop #plot drop 002 #// not every role has been mentioned angels but there are so many more plot drops to come!!#i promise everyone will get their moment in the spotlight <3

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