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meanstreetspodcasts · 3 years

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Diamond in the Rough

“I was sitting in my office shooting paper clips at a King size horse fly. It was a little sadistic but he was bigger than I was. Well, about the time I had him down on his knees begging for mercy, the door opened…”

There’s nothing in Dick Powell’s early career to suggest he was destined to play hard-boiled private eyes. Had his bosses at Warner Brothers had their way, he’d have stayed in the song-and-dance roles on which he built his career. But thanks to a gamble by a director, Powell kicked off a new chapter to his career and the result were some great radio shows, including one of the medium’s best - Richard Diamond, Private Detective.

Powell got his start in Hollywood in the 30s as a singer in Warner Brothers musicals, including 42nd Street, and On the Avenue. He was frequently cast in the role of a boyish crooner, even as he approached his 40s. Despite his success, Powell was eager to expand into other roles. His efforts were resisted by Warner Brothers, who wanted to keep Powell right where he was, even if he thought it was the wrong place to be. He pursued the lead role in Double Indemnity, but it ultimately went to another actor pegged in “nice guy” roles - Fred MacMurray.

But later in 1944, RKO and director Edward Dmytryk gave Powell the role he’d been waiting for - Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet, the film adaptation of the Marlowe novel Farewell, My Lovely. The film was a success, and Powell received rave reviews for his performance. In a flash, he had shed the crooner image he’d been desperate to shake and he embarked on the next stage of his career.

Powell recreated his role as Marlowe on the June 11, 1945 Lux Radio Theater broadcast of Murder, My Sweet, and he starred as private detective Richard Rogue in Rogue’s Gallery from 1945 to 1946. While it was a fine series, it failed to stand out from the crowd of hard-boiled private eyes littering the airwaves in the postwar years. For his next radio effort, Powell wanted to “make something a little bit different of a standard vehicle.” He recorded an audition show as “the man with the action packed expense account,” Johnny Dollar, but he passed on the series for a show that sprang from the mind of Blake Edwards. Edwards would later create the outstanding police procedural The Line-Up for radio, develop Peter Gunn for television, and would become a celebrated writer and director of film arguably most famous for the Pink Panther film series with Peter Sellers.

Powell and his producer, Don Sharp, asked Edwards if he had any ideas for a vehicle for Powell. Edwards said he did (a lie), and went home to write what would become the pilot for Richard Diamond, Private Detective. In Edwards’ original script, Diamond was a former OSS agent; he would evolve into an ex-cop. One trait he would retain as the script evolved was that Diamond was as quick with a quip as he was with his fists. This played to Powell’s natural comedic strengths, and it helped to give the show a unique voice in the sea of detective programs from the era. Unlike other radio shamuses, Diamond would keep up a friendly relationship with his old colleagues on the force - Lt. Walt Levinson, his former partner; and the oafish Sgt. Otis Ludlum, the long-suffering butt of Diamond’s jokes. Diamond flirted with every skirt that came through his office door, but he only had eyes for his Park Avenue girlfriend, Helen Asher. Shows would often close at her apartment, where Diamond would sum up his case and (in a nod to Powell’s old career) Helen might coax him to do a little singing.

Richard Diamond, Private Detective premiered on NBC on April 24, 1949. Powell was supported by Virginia Gregg as Helen; Ed Begley as Levinson; and Wilms Herbert doing double duty as Sgt. Otis and as Helen’s butler, Francis. Joseph Kearns, Peggy Webber, Bill Johnstone, Jack Kruschen, and other West Coast actors filled out the cast. Later in the show’s run, Frances Robinson would take over the role of Helen, and Ted de Corsia, Arthur Q. Bryan (Elmer Fudd), and Alan Reed (Fred Flinstone) would rotate in and out as Levinson.

The show ran without a sponsor for the first year before being picked up by the Rexall Drug Company (“Good health to all from Rexall!”) in June 1950. In January 1951, the show switched networks and picked up Camel cigarettes as its new sponsor. The show took its final bow on June 27, 1952 (although repeats popped up in the summer of 1953). Powell pulled the plug on the show as he entered a third phase of his career as a successful director and producer.

It was in this capacity that Powell brought Richard Diamond to television in 1957 for a four-season run starring David Janssen in the title role, minus the crooning of the radio series. Janssen would later star as Dr. Richard Kimble on The Fugitive. The Diamond TV show is perhaps best known today for its character of Diamond’s secretary, Sam, who was only shown from the waist down to show off her legs. The first actress to furnish Sam’s legs was a young Mary Tyler Moore.

In honor of his anniversary, here are ten of my favorite Richard Diamond radio adventures. Sit back and enjoy some sleuthing and singing with Dick Powell and company in these sensational stories.

"The Lillian Baker Case" - This one is a good showcase for Diamond's girlfriend Helen Asher, who gets to take a rare role in the case of the week. At a department store, Helen witnesses an elderly woman shoplifting. It turns out she's a wealthy eccentric, and later that afternoon she dies - allegedly after leaping from her balcony. (9/3/49)

"The Jerome J. Jerome Case" - Joseph Kearns plays the titular eccentric character - a man who claims to be a millionaire, a genius inventor, and a private detective. He wants to partner with Diamond, but as soon as the gumshoe tries to dismiss him it turns out the kook may have information about an actual murder. (9/17/49)

"The Louis Spence Case" - An unusual, but very exciting, episode finds Diamond racing against time to save his old friend Lt. Walt Levinson. A deranged bomber has escaped from prison, and he's taken the lieutenant hostage. Unless the mayor jumps to his death from city hall within the hour, the bomber will blow the precinct - and Walt - to kingdom come. (3/5/50)

"The Statue of Kali" - It's Richard Diamond's version of The Maltese Falcon (complete with Paul Frees doing his best Sydney Greenstreet). An ivory statue is delivered to Diamond by a dying man, and it's being hunted by nefarious characters from all around the world. (4/5/50)

"The Martha Campbell Kidnap Case" - Diamond is hired to deliver the ransom when a wealthy woman is kidnapped, but both he and the lady's nephew are knocked out, the ransom money is taken, and the kidnap victim is killed. Rick has to use some creativity and theatricality to figure out what happened. (7/26/50)

"The Oklahoma Cowboy Murder Case" - Diamond trades the bright lights of the big city for the clear skies of the plains in this episode that was later adapted as an episode of Peter Gunn. Rick heads west to investigate a suspicious death - a wealthy rancher who expired when he fell from his horse. (9/27/50)

"The Cover-Up Murders" - Rick and Walt partner again when a serial killer stalks the city. Part of his MO is to call the police and boast that he'll kill someone that night at eight o'clock. But what appears to be random madness may have a clear motive, and it's up to Diamond to stop the killings before more bodies drop. (11/22/50)

"Blue Serge Suit" - Jim Backus (later Mr. Howell on Gilligan's Island) is Diamond's new client - a tailor whose supply of blue serge is raided and stolen by intruders. When Diamond's own suit is snatched, he's on the trail of a gang of spies. (2/9/51)

"Lady in Distress" - A beautiful woman hires Diamond, and then she drops dead in his office. With nothing to go on - he didn't even know her name - Rick takes the case and tries to learn what had her so scared and what led to her death. It's a story that was recycled quite a few times. Jeff Regan and Johnny Dollar both solved variations of this script, but the Richard Diamond version is my favorite. (2/23/51)

"The Red Rose" - In another story later reworked as a TV episode of Peter Gunn, Diamond is hired to keep a client alive. The man hired a hit man to do away with himself, but he's had a change of heart. Unfortunately, the hit man is a committed professional and he intends to finish the job. (3/2/51)

Check out this episode!

#old time radio #golden age of radio

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icanneverbesatisfied · 7 years

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Burned- Part Four(Marliza Fic)

Word Count: 3449

Notes: THE END IS HERE! I hope you like it <3

Warnings: swearing, and being a terrible sister

Tags: @linmanuclmiranda @steiiarrs @butlinislin @secretschuylersister @queerenbian @maybe-mikala @ham4fan-fiction

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod

I grabbed my phone from the seat, immediately dialing Peggy’s number. She picked up, and I cut her off halfway through the word hello.

“ElizasinMonticellowehavetogogetherrightnow,” I said in one long string of words.

“Eliza’s what?” Peggy repeated.

“In Monticello.”

“Oh my fuck,” Peggy exclaimed. “I’m putting you on speaker.” She did, and I heard Sarah and Quinn’s voices come through, both demanding to know what was going on.

“Eliza’s in Monticello!” I yelled.

“How in the fuck did you figure that out?” Quinn demanded.

“She left her hoodie in the car and the lyrics for the song and Monticello was written on it and-”

“That’s good enough for me,” Sarah cut in. “Can we go?”

“We have graduation,” Quinn pointed out, a stinging undertone in her voice. “I think that takes importance over finding Eliza.”

“Nothing takes importance over my sister,” Peggy replied. “I’m going. And besides, how long can someone really spend in Monticello? Especially Eliza, who gets bored of places quickly.” I heard Quinn groan.

“Fine, I’m going,” she agreed. “Sarah?” Silence lapsed into the phone.

“She nodded, Maria,” Peggy finally said, and I snorted. “You’ll have to come pick us up.”

“I’m coming.” Luckily, my mom had already went back inside, meaning she didn’t hear any of that exchange.

I walked back in the house and up to my parents. “I’m going on a roadtrip,” I said, and my mom’s eyebrows knit together.

“What do you mean, Maria?” She asked.

“I mean I’m not going to graduation and I’m actually going to Monticello. It’s in Virginia and I have to go.”

“You have to go to graduation,” my dad said, warning in his tone.

“I’m an adult.” I really didn’t want to use the I’m-An-Adult card, but I didn’t see many other choices.

“Maria, you will regret not attending graduation,” my father cautioned. “A lot.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” I replied. “I love you, see you soon.” I walked out the door, got into the driver’s seat of my own car, and headed towards the school.

I pulled up outside of the school, where they were waiting for me, and let them jump in. Quinn managed to get the passenger seat. Peggy and Sarah sat in the back.

“If you two start to make out, I will leap from the window of this moving vehicle,” Quinn said, and Peggy rolled her eyes. I drove off, while Quinn programmed the GPS on her phone.

“Oh shit,” Peggy suddenly said. “We don’t have anything with us.”

“Fuck,” Quinn muttered. “Okay, Peggy, what do you have in your purse?”

“Uh,” she upended it onto the seat next to her. “My credit card, some gum, a pen, a few tampons thirty-four dollars and… Sarah, can you count those coins for me? My cleaning cloth for my glasses-”

“Can I use that?” Quinn asked, and Peggy passed it to her.

“What else, Pegs?”

“A picture of Eliza and I, an old receipt, and that’s it.”

“You have three dollars and ninety-two cents, by the way,” Sarah announced.

“So we have a credit card, thirty-seven dollars and ninety-two cents in means of money?”

“Right you are,” Peggy answered.

“We’re going to have to become strippers,” Quinn muttered, likely assuming that no one heard her.

“We’re not going to become strippers, Quinn,” Peggy replied.

“Sounds fake but okay,” Quinn mumbled. “What do you suppose we do, then?”

“This drive will take, what, seven hours? Monticello will closed by the time we reach Charlottesville, so where will be sleep?”

“There’s hotels that go for 85 a night,” Quinn said. “Do we want to pay that for just going to find Eliza?” Quinn turned around the look at Peggy and Sarah.

“Not really,” said Sarah. “Is sleeping in the car completely out of the question?”

“We could get a ticket,” Peggy cautioned.

“It’ll be fine-ish,” I pointed out. I didn’t have a problem paying a ticket if it meant finding Eliza and bringing her home.

“Y’know, if we find a place that’s open 24 hours and ask the owner if we can crash in the parking lot in our car, then they might be alright with it,” Quinn suggested. “My cousins did it once.”

“You really think we could get away with that?” I asked, chewing my lip. I knew I was liking messing up my red lipstick, but I didn’t exactly care.

“I do.”

“It’s worth a shot,” I decided, taking a deep breath. “What are we going to do for food?”

“Hit up a gas station,” Peggy answered, looking at Quinn.

“There’s one coming up in six miles,” Quinn answered, setting her phone down.

“I’m going to organize a list of what we need,” Peggy announced, typing on her phone as Sarah made comments over her shoulder every so often.

I pulled into the gas station parking lot just as Peggy finished the list. I was, apparently, on junk food duty(“cheetos, candy, chips. Get it all.”)

“Do you think they’ll question the four nicely dressed girls walking into a gas station like this?” Sarah asked, pulling at the skirt on her dark blue dress.

“No,” Quinn answered, and pushed open the door to the gas station. She walked down an aisle selling souvenirs for New Jersey– everything from pillows to keychains to t-shirts. “They just might hit on us inappropriately.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, and went towards the aisle with drinks. I grabbed a basket and walked down the aisle with junk food, grabbing chips and candy and anything else I could fit in the basket before I set it down on the counter in front of the checkout guy.

Quinn emerged, carrying New Jersey tshirts and-

“Quinn, are those leggings?” She nodded. “In a gas station?”

“We pride ourselves on our unique selection of items,” the guy behind the counter, whose name tag read Jordan, replied. “You will never find another gas station like this anywhere in the world.”

“Thanks, man,” Quinn said, looking towards the drinks aisle desperately. “What’s taking them so long?”

“Not a clue,” I answered. Finally, they appeared from the drinks aisle, carrying a plethora of brightly colored energy drinks, and Peggy had a basket hanging from the crook of her elbow that had water bottled rolling around in it.

“Are you four trying to clear out my store?” Jordan asked.

“No, just scan these so we can be on our way,” Peggy replied, dumping the drinks onto the counter for Jordan to scan. We stood there, Peggy tapping her nails against the counter, as Jordan took far too long to scan everything.

Finally, he finished, and Peggy paid. We carried everything out to the car, and hit the road again. Peggy announced she was going to take a nap, and she dozed off with her head on Sarah’s shoulder.

“Maria,” Quinn whispered, taking a look back at Sarah and Peggy.

“Yeah?”

“What if Eliza isn’t there anymore? Or if she is, what if she doesn’t want to come back with us?” Quinn asked.

I stayed silent.

I had never once considered the fact that Eliza may not want to come back, or that she wouldn’t be there. It all seemed to incredibly and catastrophically impossible to even consider that Eliza wouldn’t want to come back. But now, as I sat and drove, I thought for the first time; what if she didn’t want to come back? After all, Angelica was still there, was still with Alexander. Angelica had poisoned Manhattan for Eliza, spread a cruel, emotional cyanide, and I knew one thing for certain: as long as Angelica still walked the sidewalks there, Eliza never would again.

“Maria?” Quinn whispered, and I felt her cold hand on my arm.

“I’m fine, just…” I took a deep breath. “Just worried about Peggy. She’ll crash and burn if Eliza doesn’t come back.”

“Maria-”

“She’s not eighteen, I mean, she did get to graduation with us because she kicked ass to graduate early, but she’s still only seventeen and won’t be able to stay with Eliza even if she wants to and-”

“It’s okay to be worried for yourself,” Quinn muttered. “I know you’re worried about Peggy, Eliza is her sister, but it’s okay to be worried about yourself.” Quinn reassured, squeezing my arm softly.

I didn’t say anything, I didn’t think I could manage it.

“Maria, you’ve been driving for a few hours,” Peggy said. “Take a break.”

We hadn’t yet crossed into Virginia. We had hit traffic just outside of Philadelphia, and it had slowed us down dramatically. We had lost nearly two hours, and I was determined to keep driving.

“We’re an hour outside of Wilmington, with the traffic.”

“You have no sense of self preservation,” Peggy scolded, clicking her tongue. “Let one of us drive for a bit.”

“I’m alright, Pegs.” I didn’t want to stop driving because I didn’t want to give myself a chance to sit still and think. “I like driving, and it’s my car, anyway.”

Peggy looked skeptical, but she nodded. “If you say so, Ria.” Peggy settled back in her seat, and closed her eyes again.

I kept driving.

“Maria, that’s it, we’re pulling in somewhere and you’re getting some sleep,” Quinn demanded, glaring at me. “You have been driving for five straight hours, and if I know you, then I know you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

I took a deep breath. I was exhausted, and craving sleep, but I was still afraid of sitting still and finally being able to think about things besides the speed limit and stop signs.

“Okay, yeah. Let’s pick a place and go with the plan from the beginning of the trip.” Quinn nodded, and directed me to a small 24 hour convenience store. After I pulled in she got out to ask the owner if we could crash out there, and returned, nodding her head.

“He’s letting us crash here, but he wants us out before sunrise.” She grabbed one of the NJ tshirts and a pair of leggings, and walked back into the store, probably to change.

I didn’t want to fall asleep without changing out of dress. The red looked good on me, but after being in it for so long, it began to be uncomfortable.

Quinn came back in, and threw her deep purple dress into a bag. “Go change, you need sleep.” She reached back, grabbing me the shirt and leggings that were left, and I walked into the gas station.

“Are you one of those young ladies that needed a place to crash?” I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice. I hadn’t noticed the cashier sitting behind the till, and he smiled knowingly. “What’re you girls running away from?”

“We aren’t running from anything, sir.”

“I’ve seen many people come through here. I’ve worked this counter since I was seventeen years old. That was sixty-two years ago,” he said, leaning forward in his elbows. “Every now and again, people come through here. People with a look behind their eyes and an adrenaline lying on their skin that says they’re either running from something, or for something.” He looked at me, and I felt like he was seeing through me. “So, what’re you running about?”

“I’m helping a friend run,” I answered, not moving from my spot.

“Ah, but I get the sense that you and your friend are running to the same thing, only for different reasons.”

“Yes, sir, we are,” I answered, not totally sure why.

“So, what’re you running for? Love? Money? Drugs?”

“I'm… I’m not quite sure anymore.”

“I think you could do yourself a favour and think on it,” he said. “Here, take some. Share ‘em with your friends, or don’t, it’s up to you.” He tossed me a bag filled with butterscotch candies, and I caught them.

“Figure out what you’re running for.”

I ducked into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it. I spun around, pressing my back against the cold door. I blew out a breath, closing my eyes.

I’m not quite sure anymore echoed in my head. Was I not as sure as I thought? The whole point of the roadtrip– of skipping graduation and losing sleep and driving for hours upon hours, was for Elizabeth Schuyler. But were we truly sure about Eliza?

Against my better judgement, I slid down the door, sitting on the cracked tile of the gas station bathroom. I tipped my head back, staring at the ceiling. I knew that Eliza was as unpredictable as the wind, but I had never considered being unsure of her. Her clues lead to a solid, reliable place, but did that mean that she was solid and reliable? No, it didn’t.

I wanted to sit on the floor of the gas station and cry, but I had a car with three people relying on me; I had to get up and function. I pulled off the red dress, and changed into the thin shirt and leggings. I walked from the bathroom.

“Did you think about the thing you’re running for?” The cashier asked.

“I did.”

“And?”

“And I’m not so sure about her anymore.” I walked out of the gas station before the cashier could reply, and I got back to the car. Quinn had taken the driver seat, most likely to drive in the morning, so I sat in the passenger’s seat.

“You okay, Ria?” Peggy asked. She was lying in the backseat, in the circle of Sarah’s arms. Sarah was asleep, her head leaning back against the window.

“Yeah, just tired.” Peggy was the last person I wanted to share my doubts of Eliza with.

“I can’t wait to see my sister,” Peggy whispered. “Get some sleep, you need it.” I reclined the seat back a bit, and closed my eyes. I slowly felt sleep overtake me, and I succumbed to it.

I needed it, anyway.

“Ria, wakey wakey.” I woke up to someone shaking my shoulder, and opened my eyes, looking back at Sarah. She had shook me awake, and clearly had woken up a few minutes ago. Her curly hair was sticking up in all directions, and she hadn’t bothered to pull it back like she usually did when it was unbrushed.

“Where are we?”

“We’re in Charlottesville, outside of a rest stop. We’re ten minutes away from Monticello, and it’s been open for a while.”

I sat up straight, turning fully to face Sarah. “Why aren’t we in Monticello right now?!”

“Because we had to get you up first, and Peggy had to pee.” I had only realized then that Peggy wasn’t in the car, and I sighed.

“As soon as she gets back-”

“We’ll be in Monticello,” Quinn promised, and I wanted to scream in joy. Finally, Peggy walked back into the car, and sat down.

“Go, go, go, drive!” I shouted, and Quinn drove. I say back in the seat, and let myself think for just a minute– and all my doubts came crashing back on top of me like cold water. What if she wasn’t there?

I pushed the thought away from my mind, and chose to focus on the Lady Gaga song playing on the radio.

We pulled up to the parking lot in Monticello, and I rushed out of the car; I half wanted to see Eliza, half wanted to get it over with.

As we approached, a terrible mix of dread and excitement turned in my stomach, and Quinn paid for our tickets.

“These will let us look around all day, and if we have to I’ll buy tickets tomorrow.” We walked– around the grounds, looking through the house, and wandering around aimlessly.

I heard Peggy suck in a breath beside me, and she hit my shoulder. “Look at that girl over there.” I followed her line of sight, and caught the girl in my vision. She had Eliza’s hair colour, and was definitely the same height but–

“Peggy, her hair is way too short. It’s cut in a bob, Eliza’s was to the middle of her back when she left.”

“It could still be her. People get haircuts.” She began striding towards the girl with inhuman confidence, and I walked after her.

“Peggy, don’t-” but she had already tapped the girl on the shoulder, and she had turned around.

I sacked in a deep, startled breath. She was there and she was whole and put together and smiling and it was Eliza and it was Eliza and it was Eliza and it was Eliza.

Eliza’s smile had dropped and her face had drained of colour. “Peggy?” She whispered, betrayal and anger and shock coursing through her eyes in the matter of milliseconds. “Why are you here?”

Peggy blinked, the joy that had animated her had been replaced by something unnamable. “Because you’re my sister, and I love you.”

“Why didn’t-”

“I tell you about Angelica?” Peggy finished, and I saw Eliza set her jaw. “Because I didn’t know. Did you ever think that, for even a second, that Angelica would tell me and trust me not to say a word to you? Because Angelica isn’t that stupid.” Eliza didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “I was too caught up in myself to think about it.” She closed her eyes, a tear slid down her cheek quietly. “Thank you for still coming to find me.” Peggy pulled her into a hug, and Eliza wrapped her arms around her sister, her chin resting on Peggy’s shoulder.

Peggy pulled back. “I should,” she cleared her throat, holding back tears. “I should go find Sarah and Quinn.” She walked away, her curls bouncing.

“Eliza,” I began, and she turned to me. I suddenly got a full view of her face– she had gained a nose ring, and her haircut framed her face nicely.

“Hi, Maria,” she said, and pulled me into a hug, her arms locking around my neck. She still smelled the same; flowers and vanilla.

“I missed you,” she whispered into my ear, and pulled back. “I see you put my clues together.”

“I wouldn’t’ve been able to do it without your sister, or Quinn and Sarah,” I admitted, smiling.

“I’m glad, I missed you and Peggy,” she admitted. “Peggy’s great, I always felt kinda bad about the prank I pulled on her.”

“Why’d you do it, then?”

“I-I don’t know. I was too angry to think straight, and sick of dealing with people that were born with a silver spoon in their mouth and-” she cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “I was sick of people like me. I just, needed to get out and show people that they weren’t above any of that.

“Everything that happened, I felt like I needed to disappear sooner and I chose the victims, then we went and brought the fucking rain down, and it was great,” she said. “And then I had to get away, because Manhattan was choking me.”

“I get it,” I announced. “But I think it was less of Manhattan choking you, and more the people. A city can’t be after you, but the people in it can.”

“Yeah,” Eliza bit her lip, looking at me. “You know what, I’m going to apologize later.” She took a step forward, and in the second that it took her to do that, she was kissing me. There was the small voice in the back of my mind that said this isn’t happening. But, I chose to ignore the voice and instead I kissing her back, letting my fingers trail into her hair.

Whoever pulled away first would be lost to the both of us. “Don’t you dare apologize,” I whispered, and she chuckled quietly.

“Kissing you wasn’t what I need to apologize for,” she said, and I felt a freezing cold spread through my veins.

“Tell me what it is, ‘Liza.”

“I’m not going back to Manhattan with you,” she whispered, and the cold in my veins froze into ice. “I want to travel, go to place I haven’t been.”

“I’m not going to be seeing you for some time, am I?” I asked despite being petrified of the answer.

“Maybe, I don’t know. I’ll see some things and visit, and maybe I’ll slap Angelica in the face like I should have.” I laughed, and she laughed and for the moment we were laughing, things felt good. “But I’m not going back to a place where I feel choked.”

“I know,” I answered, and I took a deep breath. “But, for just a moment, can we pretend that everything is okay?”

“Are you willing to deal with the consequences of pretending?” She inquired.

“I am.”

And so, we did.

#Marliza #writing #hamilton fanfic #fanfic #marliza fanfic #roses writing

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amarriageoftrueminds · 2 years

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God the Howlies episode in AC was such a debacle. Another thing I’ve noticed is that after she and her team meet with the Howlies she’s essentially under their protection from the misogyny and the constant belittlement of her coworkers. Neither the Howlies nor her fellow agents object to her orders, despite being more experienced in military strategy (on account of actually being in the frontlines and not just cowering in a bunker doing secretary work) and the agents don’t make snarky comments at her like they usually do. She spends the half the season trying to earn her coworkers’ respect (something she verbalizes more than once) so you’d think as the founder of feminism & the lord and savior of poor oppressed silly Betties she wouldn’t take kindly to other men -whether or not they’re her friends- being the source of whatever little respect she gets. But she has no problem using strong and influential men as a reference when other men don’t treat her like she wants them to. Seriously, watching that scene where they were sitting by the bonfire (where they also established that Peggy was not like other girlsTM for loving whiskey. I’ll never get the American fascination with women who drink whiskey) sharing war memories was so cringeworthy. It’s like the scene in every high school movie where the freshman hegemon sees the awkward kid they bully be friends with the cool seniors and feels insecure when they laugh around, tell funny stories and share inside jokes; then starts to act like they’ve been friends with the awkward kid all along to stay in the cool kids’ good graces. It’s so fanfic-like. Peggy Carter is a glorified Y/N.

continuation of (XX)

You’re completely right. She’s a Canon Sue.

They really looked at a comics character based on Virginia Hall (i.e. real peg-legged American heroine who managed to stay undercover in Nazi-occupied France twice, despite having a thick Baltimore accent, and helped captured Resistance fighters break out of Gestapo prison!!)

...and thought ‘hmm yeah she’s boring let’s incorporate the Nazi woman instead and ignore the other non-Nazi love interests (they’re Jewish) oh and let’s make her a Bletchley Park codebreaker and a martial artist boxer and friends with a billionaire inventor and she has a Tragic Past and-’

All she’s missing is the long ebony black hair with purple streaks and red tips that reaches her mid-back and icy blue eyes like limped tears. 💅

(The irony of them doing all this thinking they’re making her Steve’s equal by it, when in fact it’s doing the exact opposite. She has no power or significance outside of a man. Steve is his own original character with shown competence and independent motives and backstory; she’s just a cheap mirror who follows everything he does. The very idea of a dance partner means she cannot perform her only function without a man. Even in WhatIf her only powers or accomplishments are all just Steve’s.)

As for the Howlies ep; yeah it’s just more of the cringey mythologising of a past she never actually had (how Disney!)

She wasn’t on the Continent with the Howlies.

She wasn’t any kind of a soldier or fighter.

Her training is not in anything that would be of use or interest to them.

(They’ve got a tech/radio guy in Morita, a translator in Gabe, an explosives / French geography / Resistance Underground expert in Frenchy, airborne assault expert in Monty, an expert sniper / Hydra lab-internee in Bucky (the only reason they even know there’s a Valkyrie base is because he told Steve! without him, Hydra would’ve blown up half the world!), extra muscle from Dum-dum, all the gadgetry they need from Stark, all the aerial recon they need from Stark’s planes, and Steve’s brilliant tactical mind.

What, exactly, would they need her for?? Carrying more clipboards? Tidying more flags off maps? Missing more saboteurs? Not getting to more grenades on time?? More irrational attacking of Steve?? Hmm. I guess she would be pretty good practise for having a Nazi nutjob around who could fly off the handle at any moment...

If there were more Howlies than shown in CATFA, they wouldn’t even need her as a spare pair of hands -- they accidentally made her even more irrelevant!)

And if she’s supposed to be a spy:

1) she definitely wouldn’t be wherever they are, she’d be undercover somewhere, where a spy would be needed;

2) why would she walking around with the famous guys and appearing in public showreels, thus blowing her cover and rendering her even more useless than she is already?

As well as having zero military experience or background, Pggy has no rank.

As Steve himself clearly pointed out when he ignored her ‘orders’ on the plane, she has no right to boss Commandos (or Agents) around. She’s just so in love with the sound of her own voice that she assumes (in ignorance of how society actually works for non posh people) that her high opinion of herself = the right to be in charge.

Very typical Upper Class assumption of superiority.

All her scenes with the Howlies are straight up lies.

She wasn’t even on first name terms with Bucky, the original Howlie!

And to paper over this giant crack, they just introduce new Howlies, as if to say ‘ohh, yeah, she did spend loads of time with them, it was just characters you didn’t see, it was just off screen.’

Newsflash, fucker! That’s not how characterisation works!

Hmm okay, I just decided Pggy’s actually a many-tentacled alien in disguise as a human. It’s just that the scene where you found that out was off-screen.

And, ah yes, spirits. Yet another thing they've stolen from Erskine and Bucky -- the only people in all of CATFA shown drinking them (by choice).

(Steve and the Howlies, including Dum-dum, drink beer in the pub scene, when they are at liberty to choose their poison. Pggy is never shown drinking at all. But hey, why let a silly thing like consistency get in the way of further bullshit!)

The people writing really think that what makes a character good is just ‘introduce them and then show how great they are by having every other character kiss their ass. Job done!'

Kind of like a reverse Whorf Effect. They don’t have to actually go to the bother of showing us how she’s great, exactly, they can just tell us she’s great -- because everyone says so!

What’s laughable is that HA’s really out there saying Pggy doesn’t need external validation.

If that were the case, she wouldn’t be throwing temper tantrums and shooting at Steve in public when he’s interested in someone else, or defining her whole life around him. And she would never once say anything about getting her male colleagues’ respect because, actually, if she didn’t need their validation, she would never mention it; she would be indifferent to them, (gaining their respect as a motivation would never even cross her mind.)

In fact, they show us her in every iteration being absolutely desperate for male validation. The classic ‘not like the other girls’ Pick Me. (Tbh I think probably the writers are too old to be aware of this; their politics are still in the 90s).

Most damning of all is the ‘I know my value’ line.

Passing over the absolutely rancid ‘I’m a cool girl -- and cool girls’ don’t complain!’ vibes (oppressed people should just shut up about it -- as long as they know they’re oppressed, that’s all that matters. Hmm. Sounds like something a Republican would say.)

It’s said to stop a male colleague going and speaking up for women’s recognition in the workplace.

It shows that actually Pggy doesn’t give a shit about feminism. She wants herself, personally, to be respected by the men... but not women generally!

(Textbook white feminism. Has the glass ceiling shattered for her by powerful men, by virtue of her class, and then as soon as she’s given power to help other women, she instead immediately rebuilds the glass ceiling underneath herself, when it looks like there’s a danger of other women slipping through. They cannot be allowed to do that, since their presence would undermine the idea of her specialness, for being the only woman there.)

If instead Pggy had insisted on being given recognition, as a woman... that would’ve had a positive effect on all the other female workers in the SSR.

But they’re not the Main Girl, so who gives a shit, right? 🙄

#long post #antipeggy #antisteggy #p*ggy meta #mcu meta #mcu critical #steggy is hydra trash party #ac meta #toAyourQ #hey nonny #dat's me #meta #mcu #yet each man queues the thing he loves #the AC Anon #tw peggy

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meanstreetspodcasts · 4 years

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