#where should we fit pete in this i wonder

[cryingatships]

Thinking about Kenta slowly settling into the X-Hunter family over the course of weeks and months, partly cause it's a foster home Tony's adopted kids, and partly because he's Kim's boyfriend.

Kenta visits Kim after a group practise just a few weeks after the events of canon and stands stiff next to the doors of the garage, not daring to step inside.

No one notices him (cause we all know how lax X-Hunter's security is lmfao) till the practise is finished and Kim is coming into the garage with the rest of the team to look at their performance reviews, and he notices Kenta standing all awkward and small and tiny.

He waves at Kenta, and it catches Alan's attention and of course he has to invite Kenta in (the man has a knack for picking up 'kids' at a moment's notice).

North tries to protest a little because hello this man literally tried to kill a few of us and sabotage our team in the worst possible way??? But Alan (and Kim's) glare shuts him up, and Kenta is invited inside graciously by Alan.

Kim perks up in his presence, but the rest of the people are still a little tense, especially Babe, Sonic, and Way (he's alive cause I said so. And he and Kenta has history, and not the good or the spice kind so!). They are not the most pleased, remembering the past, taking Kenta's actions as fatally dangerous but nothing personal, remembering how the circumstances made by Tony, and how Kenta went through weeks of therapy, and will be going to years more of it, all narrated by Kim during practise-breaks and team-meetings after he officially joined the team.

Jeff greets him with a smile, and Charlie nods in acknowledgement, having heard of Kenta from Jeff for years, though without any face to put the name onto before. But they resume talking numbers and times with Alan and the technical team, and soon no one is paying any attention to Kenta as he shuffles himself into one of the couches in the corner, stooping down and trying to make himself look as small as he feels.

He hears words, but does not register anything, thinking about the warm smile of Alan, the man who's entire team he tried to destroy, the same team he has poured his life and savings into, according to Kim. He thinks about Way, who has faced Tony for years too, just like Kenta himself, but has betrayed Tony in the end and sided with people who care for him, who loves him, who surrounds him now and would surround him forever. And he thinks about the eyes of Babe, who, like him, has gone through it all with Tony, who pulled himself out, even if it's right at the end. Babe never bent himself back to Tony's will, never put a gun on anyone's head and killed them just because Tony asked him to, never did all the terrible things Kenta has done, even when everything went against him, even when Kenta tried to destroy his career and imprison him in Tony's mansion again. Even when he was at his lowest, he was still strong enough to stand in front of Tony and spit in his name. He thinks of Jeff, who smiled at him, who had run away too, and about Charlie, who almost died thanks to Kenta playing villain for Tony and yet stood up and challenged Tony anyway.

They have suffered so much over the years, as much as Kenta has gone through in Tony's hand, yet they have run away, made their lives in the world outside without fear, have stood in front of Tony and looked at his face and not flinched.

And now they have looked at Kenta, and have let him in, let him stay, even though Kenta does not deserve it in the least bit. Even though he has pulled dirty tricks, tried to kill them again and again. Yet they nod at him, and smile at him, and let Alan and Kim invite him in, even when he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve forgiveness, doesn't deserve love, doesn't deserve Kim's love and Jeff's smile and Alan's kindness, even when he's a traitor, even when he's dirtier and lower than anything else, even when-

"Hey, you ok?"

A hand rests on his back, warm against the fabric of his shirt. The familiar scent of coffee, lemon, mixed with engine exhaust and gasoline tickle his nose. It's a strange combination, potent and slightly stinging, but it feels like warmth, cuddles, and home, even when Kenta does not know what a home is.

Kim sits down next to him and pulls Kenta's face on his shoulder.

"You ok? Are the smells here too much? Wanna leave?"

Kim's voice is an anchor against the rough waves of guilt, shame, anger, regret. He's warm and real by Kenta's side, and his hand is soft and forgiving as it moves through Kenta's hair—now longer and falling on his shoulders after Kim telling him how hot it looks for days. He, at least, doesn't seem to hate Kenta in the garage, since he invited Kenta and all.

"Don't you have more to talk about cars?"

"Not really. Alan let me go today. Saw you shaking alone in a corner and all... thought I should ease you in your first visit here."

"Will that be ok? I'm being a bother here, aren't I? I'll leave-"

But Kim doesn't let him go. A wraps an arm tight around Kenta and holds him to his side. The hands on Kenta's hair become gentler, and Kim's calming pheromones slowly spread between them.

"Nah, it's all good. We weren't talking anything that imp. Plus, Alan's worried about you, y'know?"

Kenta can't fathom why Alan would ever be worried about him. Being concerned for Kim is understandable, Kim's a racer and a good one at that, he's an important new addition to the team. Forgiving Kenta and letting him come in the garage for the sake of keeping Kim satisfied was also understandable, even downright kind, but...

"Why?" Kenta has to ask. "I... did them a lot of wrong."

"You can ask Alan later, if you want." Kim shrugs. "He's like that, I guess. He picked me up too, in case you didn't notice." There's a smile in his voice. He seems comfortable, far more than Kenta had thought was possible in a team that used to be his competitors till a few weeks ago. He seems... at home.

Kenta's glad he has found his home.

"..."

He doesn't say something for a while. Talking to Alan personally, asking him something like that? Kenta can't even imagine it. Tony would never allow someone to walk away without a punishment after trying to harm him in the littlest bit. And Kenta has done so, so much more to Alan and his team.

"Is this making you uncomfortable?" Kim asks after a minute of silence. "I swear Alan likes you, and the guys have all forgiven you too. Mostly, anyway. North's always a bit impulsive, but he's coming around too, so don't feel bad."

Kenta feels bad. He feels so bad. Worse now that he knows he's received so much forgiveness, and all of it undeserved too. Why would someone even do that, forgive people who brought them harm?

Kim notices his silence. And perhaps he takes it for discomfort, for he asks if Kenta is tired, if he wants to go home.

Home. Is that what he and Kim are making together?

He does want to leave, get away from the inquiring, sometimes concerned eyes. Get away from the forgiveness that burns shame and guilt into his skin. He wants to go home, bury himself in the piles of blankets on his and Kim's bed, breathe in lungfuls of his scent and drown in his kisses. But...

"Didn't you say you had to go for a team dinner after practise?"

"Right! About that... Alan's actually asked me to tell you to join us, if you'd like to. But if you want to go home now, then we can leave, let me just tell them goodbye."

And Kenta really, really does to go home. But he also wants to stay. He doesn't want Kim to miss a dinner with his still-new team, not when he wants to stay with the X-Hunters for many seasons still. And... he wants to stay, too. Check if Alan's really ok with him going, if the rest of the team will still be civil in closer proximity.

He wants to see how far kindness and forgiveness can go.

It will be uncomfortable. Enduring prying gazes for a few more hours, and maybe even awkward small talks as they try to shift around and bend the established pack dynamics to let Kenta, coward, traitor Kenta, come into their circle even if it's only for one dinner.

And then again, Kenta may just fuck it all up with ill timed words, or perhaps someone from the team, maybe North, or Way or Babe or Charlie or Sonic, or perhaps even Alan, kind as he is, realizes they've had enough of tolerating a weak, pathetic excuse of a person in their table.

But he wants to be brave, even if it's years late.

Kim deserves a pack. Kim loves him, and Kenta loves him just as much. He's not going to take it all away form Kim just because he's afraid, just because of 'what ifs'.

"No, I'll go for dinner with you. Tell Alan that, please, if they'll still have me."

Kim presses a kiss on his forehead, takes a long inhale of Kenta's scent, and gets up.

"Be right back, then!"

Kenta watches him walk towards the small circle of people gathered around the screens with blinking numbers of red.

He doesn't know what will happen, but he wants to try. He wants to brave. He wants a home. For Kim. And for himself.

#pit babe the series #pit babe #kimkenta #kentakim #pit babe fanfic #yeah so it happened #idk how i swear i was just gonna write a few lines about him being all awkward and then??? #anyway if there's mistakes or inconsistencies blame my sleep deprived brain it's literally like 5am - #ma fanfic #fanfiction #should I write more into how kenta slowly finds his own niche in the X-Hunter team slach pack slash alan's foster family for lost children? #kenta x kim #kim x kenta #where should we fit pete in this i wonder #i need a title too.. but i'm so bad at em

[fredwkong]

Genie: Pete’s Wishes

Pete was a little 20-year-old nerd who had just started interning for a big securities firm. He didn’t top 5’4”, even the extra-small button-up shirts looked baggy on his skinny body, and he seemed even smaller because of his habitual slouching posture. At his first day at work, his new boss yelled at him, causing him to have a panic attack in the bathroom.

That evening, he walked by a thrift store and decided to go in. He wasn’t making much money as an intern, but he wanted to buy something small to cheer himself up. He spotted a traditional brass lamp on the shelf, the kind that genies sometimes come out of. At $20, it was a bit pricey for a thrift store, but Pete grabbed it anyway. It would make a cool conversation piece, if nothing else.

Once he got home, Pete started trying to clean the lamp, which caused it to begin glowing and convulsing until a cloud of smoke billowed out. As the smoke dissipated, it revealed an absolute muscle man of a genie. He wore tiny daisy dukes on his striated thighs, along with a top cropped just above his big, dark nipples. The genie stroked his finely cropped beard as he looked down at Pete.

“So, babe, here’s the deal,” said the genie. “You make the wishes, and I’ll turn them up to eleven.” He looked over Pete’s tiny body and cringing posture again, and curled his lip. “And girl, let’s make those wishes count. We have a lot of work to do here.”

“Um, uh.” The only thing in Pete’s head was the moment earlier that day when his boss had yelled at him. “I… wish I was more assertive?”

The genie smirked. “Good idea.” With a snap of his fingers, the genie filled the room with purple smoke. As Pete inhaled it, he felt like it shot right up into his brain, filling in spaces he hadn’t known were there. He suddenly realised that the way to get ahead in life was to be decisive and commanding. His posture uncurled, and his gaze became sharper. No one was ever going to overlook him or yell at him again.

The smoke also embedded itself in his throat, and he coughed, letting out a much deeper, more resonant sound than he had been capable of before. He now had a thunderous bass voice, a sound that was impossible for anyone to ignore.

Pete met the genie’s eyes for the first time. “Thanks,” he thundered, his new voice incapable of whispering.

The genie gave him an ironic salute. “Come back tomorrow for another wish, babe.”

The next day, no one was able to ignore Pete. He walked with power in spite of his tiny body, and nobody could ignore him when he spoke up to his boss in a meeting in his booming new voice. However, with his tiny stature and ill-fitting suit, they laughed off his advice. When he got home, Pete summoned the genie again, filled with righteous rage.

“Genie,” he roared, “I wish I had the cash to really show up my coworkers.”

“On it, babe,” said the genie, and snapped his fingers. It seemed for an instant as if nothing had changed. Then Pete got a notification on his phone. “You should check that.”

Pete had received an email from someone who said they were his secretary, informing him that his company had closed a deal to trade stocks for a multibillionaire client. Pete was a high-powered stockbroker. As he saw the number of zeroes on his contract, he felt another rush of knowledge into his mind. He knew exactly how to play the market, buying and selling to make sure that he and his clients ended every day with more money than they started with. He wrote a terse reply to his secretary:

“Understood. See you tomorrow. Peters.”

For a moment, he wondered why he had written that name. His name was… Peters, of course. Just like the exclusive boarding school where he’d first started day trading, he still preferred to go by his surname, but kept it casual by dropping any honourific.

“Enjoy those millions, darling,” said the genie, vanishing back into his lamp.

The next day was an exhausting one for Peters. He had the money, he was the boss, and he had an assertive attitude and booming voice, but he was still a shrimpy kid in his early 20s. Clients raised their eyebrows when a short young guy walked into the boardroom to present, and the secretaries, most of whom were older than him, seemed to resent Peters’ success and advantages.

When he summoned the genie, Peters was ready with the wish he had been thinking about all day. “I wish I was truly impressive.”

The genie grinned wide. “Absolutely, master,” he said, and snapped his fingers again. Another thick cloud of purple smoke emerged from the lamp, and this time it cocooned Peters’ entire body. He felt his clothes dissolve, leaving him naked. As he inhaled the smoke, Peters felt years of experience fill his mind. His already deep and assertive voice dropped a few more steps, gaining an imposing rasp.

As the smoke sank into Peters’ skin, he transformed. His black hair went grey, styling itself into a precise, stylish look. His face aged until he looked like a handsome man in his late 40s, with piercing eyes and a stylish grey beard. His whole body filled out as his height shot past 6 feet, bulked up with perfectly maintained muscle. His little cock thickened and lengthened as his pubes lightened to grey, becoming an impressive third leg with churning balls to match. Finally, the last of the smoke coalesced into a scattering of grey hair over his chest, back, and legs, and an immaculate blue suit.

Mr. Peters, the 49-year-old stockbroker, nodded to the genie. “Good work,” he rumbled, testing out the sound of his new, even more thunderous voice.

“Oh, I’m not done yet, master,” the genie purred, and clapped. The hotel room Mr. Peters had moved to with his newfound millions the previous night was immediately replaced with a huge, well-appointed penthouse. Instinctively, Mr. Peters moved to the humidor he kept next to the genie’s lamp. He expertly trimmed and lit a cigar, enjoying the luxurious flavour.

The genie looked him and the penthouse over one more time, and nodded. “See you tomorrow, sir,” he cooed, and blew a kiss to Mr. Peters as he vanished.

The next day, Mr. Peters was on fire. He closed several deals for his company, making himself and his clients even more money, and got taken out for dinner by the director of a competing corporation attempting to headhunt him. The power got him hard, and he was pent-up with a raging boner by the time he got home to make his wish.

“I don’t have time for any dating,” he told the genie brusquely. “I wish for a husband to fuck right now.”

“Order up,” the genie said, laughing, and snapped his fingers.

On the street outside, Larsen was looking for his friend Pete. They had been good school friends, both being little nerds, but Pete had suddenly stopped answering his messages a few days ago, and then seemed to have been scrubbed from existence. No one else remembered him, and people kept mentioning someone named Mr. Peters instead!

Just as Larsen was about to ask one of the building’s valet parking attendants if she knew a Pete living at this address, he felt a tug, as if someone had grabbed him around his belly, and he was suddenly in a dimly lit room. Outside the window was an exquisite view of the city, while inside of the room was a stern-looking man in a suit alongside a dark-skinned man dressed like a slutty himbo.

As the genie continued his work, Larsen became surrounded by a cloud of pink smoke. His muscles grew, his skin became porcelain smooth, and everything about him became classically handsome, like a perfect statue of a man. He grew to a respectable height, still shorter than Mr. Peters, and his dick swelled up, but not quite as large either. Instead, his ass grew into a pair of fuckable, jiggly globes that would be visible no matter what he wore.

The last of the pink smoke shot up Larsen’s nose and into his brain, rewiring him into a dumb himbo slut. Lars had been a German model until Mr. Peters had approached him after a show and offered to give him a luxurious life as his arm candy husband. They had a good enough relationship, and Mr. Peters—Sir—was a good, dominant Daddy, which Lars liked. What made their marriage really special, though, was that while Sir was at work, Lars went and picked up boys for the two of them to share. It was the only way he could get enough fucking during the day to keep up with his unbelievable sex drive.

“Guten Abend, Daddy,” Lars said, as the genie released him. “The boys are waiting in the second bedroom for us.” He stepped up in front of Mr. Peters and undid his tie and top button before Mr. Peters grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him forcefully. A moment later, Lars led Mr. Peters out of the room and to the designated sex den, his bared dick leading the way.

The genie watched them leave. If he stayed any longer, the former Pete was likely to ask for something boring and unsexy like world domination, so it was probably time for him to put his lamp in the gym bag of one of the horny himbos Lars and Mr. Peters were fucking.

Idea with assistance from a bot of my creation.

Click here to see the genie’s next master.

Click here to see all the genie’s adventures.

#male transformation #wish #genie #muscle tf #reality change #daddy tf #daddification #himbofication #age progression #genie of the lamp #male tf #all fwkong

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

You can't always get what you want | Chapter 9 of The Princess and The Duke.

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Pete grows tense, Nancy meddles, and you wonder if you'll ever get what you want. Maybe you'll get something you need.

You can't always get what you want But if you try sometimes, well, you might find You get what you need

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: strained family relationships, abusive parent, threats of physical harm, abuse, mild violence, language, felonies being committed, mild smut, blue balls, angst, shock/dissociation, Police Station/Police Procedures,

Tags:

Author’s notes: Co-written by @angelofsmalldeath-codeine. Things aren’t getting easy quick, sorry/not sorry. The angst and drama will end, we promise. Follow @vi-notifs and turn on notifications for updates when new content drops!

[AO3 link]

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

“Pete, I gotta stop,” you wheeze as you double over, stepping off the path and onto the grass of the park. Your lungs burn as you suck in large gasps of frigid air. Texas may be warmer than New York this time of year, but you had a gym membership there. Now you’re being forced to run, outdoors, in the winter.

“Come on, we’ve barely started,” Peter goads you as he jogs back towards you. You look up and groan as you straighten up.

“We’ve been jogging for an hour, Peter, I don’t do cardio, you know that.”

“Well, you should probably start, it’s good for you.”

“I understand the need for cardiovascular fitness, Pete,” you grumble as you glare at him, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Fine, let’s call it a day then,” Peter sighs dramatically but you know there’s no malice behind it. You’re pretty sure he’s just thrilled you even said yes in the first place.

“Shower back at mine, then get some lunch?”

“Oh, does this mean I finally get to see this new apartment of yours?”

“It’s been two days, Pete. You make it sound like I’ve shut you out intentionally.”

“Ash has seen your new place,” he says with a pout as you stroll back, arm in arm as you try and leech some body heat from him.

 “Ash also helped me move in,” you point out with a nudge to his ribs.

“Sorry I’m not privileged enough to take a whole afternoon off to help you move, who moves on a Monday anyway?”

“Yeah? And who has random Wednesdays off to go jogging?” You throw back at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“You try being an ER nurse, I am at the mercy of the shift chart. I cherish my days off where I can get them,” he shoots you a glare and you concede defeat with a sheepish grin.

“It was all very last minute, I’m sorry,” you say as you stroll down the street, only a few blocks away from your apartment now.

“I wasn’t fishing for an apology,” Pete squeezes your arm, “But thank you.”

“I know, you’re not precious, but I do know I’ve been spending more time with Ash lately and I am sorry if you’ve felt left out.”

“Bitch, are you dying? Where’s this coming from?”

You laugh as Pete teases you. You’ve missed this.

“Note to self don’t be nice to Pete, ever again.”

“Ok, I deserved that,” he says with a scoff as you reach the stairs leading up to your building, “Damn this is nice!”

“Yeah, I got the rent cheap because of that double homicide last year,” you say with a shrug as you head up the steps.

“That was your place?” Peter steps back onto the curb and you groan as you look down at him from the stoop.

“Pete, please,” you rub your hand over your jaw in frustration, “Not you too.”

“You definitely have ghosts,” Pete responds with an indiscernible look on his face, “That’s fucking sweet.”

Pete bounds up the stairs and practically vibrates next to you as you shake your head. You unlock the door and check your post, as he hovers over your shoulder.

“So, have you had any paranormal events yet?”

“No, Pete, ghosts aren’t real,” you almost wish he was as superstitious as Ash, “Besides, what would that even look like?”

“I don’t know.” Pete sighs dramatically as if you’re spoiling his fun, “Cupboard doors opening on their own, cold spots, fuzzy lighting?”

“Pete, those things happen daily, I’m living in an apartment building, in Austin, with a corporate landlord.”

“That’s what they want you to think, it’s all about subverting-,”

You’re making your way to the kitchen when you hear the sharp intake of breath from Peter. You half expect him to be pointing to the corner of the room, imagination running wild at something invisible there. He is pointing to something in the room, mouth agape as you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Tell me you haven’t sat on these chairs?”

“Why wouldn’t I use furniture in my own home, Pete?”

“Because these are antiques!” He looks at you like you’ve just kicked a puppy.

“Pete, Dave said I could take whatever I needed, he didn’t mention anything about antiques.”

You shrug defensively as you meet his murderous gaze.

“Bitch, your sugar daddy stepdad gave you over eight Gs of pristine nineteenth century furniture,” he cocks an eyebrow at you, “And you don’t even know what you have?”

“I’m not an antique nerd, sue me,” you shrug as you fill two glasses of water and place them on the counter before heading to your bedroom ensuite. You try not to let his comment about Dave get under your skin, but it stings.

“Did your fancy law education in New York not teach you anything? Or did y’all just have IKEA furniture to snort your coke off?”

“Jesus, Pete,” you snap, “I didn’t do that shit. And no, funnily enough I was negotiating contracts worth more than a billion dollars a pop. I didn’t have time to have hobbies, or addictions.”

“I’m just being a salty bitch,” he grumbles as his face softens, “I want a sugar daddy that will buy me antiques.”

“He’s not my sugar daddy Pete, can you cut that out?” you say as you gesture towards your bedroom, “I’m jumping in the shower, can we talk properly about it over lunch?”

“Sure,” Pete says, his face pensive as you turn towards your bedroom.

You shower quickly and pull on some loose sweatpants and Dave’s USMC hoodie without thinking. You pad back into the open plan space to see Pete leaning against the counter, swiping through something on his phone.

“Alright, shower’s free,” you say, breaking Pete from his doom scrolling.

“I won’t be long.”

Pete waltzes into your ensuite and you can’t help but smile as he starts to sing.

~*~

“You got eyes on her?” Dave speaks into the concealed earpiece as he sits at his desk at the office. Each screen is set up to monitor two separate sets of surveillance feeds. The right one cycling through downtown Austin, where Nancy has been circling the same block for the past hour. He’d caught a glimpse of you and Pete in the neighborhood, missing Nancy by a few minutes as you’d ventured further into the city.

He tries not to think about it, because he knows exactly what street Nancy is on. If his suspicions prove true, she’s trying to find where you live. It feels like a betrayal, he’s tried so hard to keep his distance. He’s not once asked for your address, purposefully keeping things vague when you have spoken.

Now he fears Nancy is about to throw all that hard work away.

The other screen is locked in on an industrial lot on the far side of town. A black SUV is parked in a side street, the target arrived last night and hasn’t shown signs of movement since. Dave’s focus is divided, and he knows it. Anxiety claws at the back of his mind as he tries to manage both situations unfolding in front of his very eyes.

“Nancy’s just slipped into a building, boss,” Ari’s voice comes back in his ear, “Resnik must have given her the address.”

“He’s not that stupid,” Dave growls but doubt worries at the back of his mind. He’s been chasing Resnik for the most recent set of photos and there’s still no sign of them.

“Maybe not, but she’s gone inside an apartment building. Do you want me to get a closer look? Assess the situation?”

Dave sighs, a gust of frustration billowing from his flared nostrils as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do it,” He snaps as he notices movement on the other surveillance feed, “I need you to handle this Ari, we just went hot.”

Dave ends the call before patching back through to Kovak.

“You seeing this?” Dave asks as he minimizes Nancy’s surveillance feed, pulling up street level CCTV to replace it. He must be focused now, one slip up and this could go south quick.

“Yep, target’s on the move,” Kovak confirms as Dave nods to himself.

“Tail him, I’ve got eyes on street cams, the moment he stops I need you on him like a rash.”

“Got it, boss,” Kovak says, the sound of his engine starting as he begins to follow the SUV.

Dave watches as Kovak’s small hatchback comes into view on the CCTV. Of all the team, Dave trusts Kovak the most. He’s efficient, details oriented, and most of all someone Dave would consider a friend.

“Stay safe out there, happy hunting.” Dave says with finality before settling into his position as overwatch.

~*~

Nancy loiters across the street from your apartment building, her phone out as she flicks through the digital copies of the photos the PI sent over last night. She seethes at the images of the movers taking the furniture up into your apartment building. The loveseat and chairs were supposed to be hers, when she eventually divorced Dave. She was going to take him for everything she could.

But she puts her bitterness aside, looking between your building and the next unit over. She’s eighty percent sure she has the right place. The building number was obscured in all of the photos, but the steps and entryway look right.

She taps her foot, sure enough of the building, but still doesn’t know how she’s going to gain entry now. She flits across the road, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a Door Dash cyclist and leaps up the steps, immediately she finds the building’s intercom.

She smirks at the fresh label for apartment 2B. Your initial and last name spelled out for her. She tries the door but is met with resistance as the magnetic lock holds firm. She curses under her breath until she sees the USPS van pull up down the street.

Nancy pretends to rummage in her bag, huffing and puffing as she waits for the postal worker to ascend the steps. The man pays her no mind as he buzzes the Super’s office. There’s a brief exchange through the intercom before the telltale drone of the lock being deactivated sounds.

“I just found my keys,” Nancy laughs aloud, jangling her own house keys in triumph at the disinterested postal worker. She sneers at his back as he pulls out the mail for the building, paying Nancy no attention as he goes about his business.

“Have a lovely day!”

Nancy shouts at him as he leaves, waiting for him to close the door behind him before slinking over to the mailboxes. She sees yours, apartment 2B, and sees the corner of a manila envelope sticking up in the mail slot. Nancy can’t help herself; she thrusts her hand into the slot and gently eases out the envelope.

“Texas Board of Law Examiners,” she reads aloud as she sees the inked seal printed on the top corner of the envelope, “What are you up to?”

She tears open the letter as she ascends the stairs, she snorts to herself at the bundle of documentation. It’s the approval to have your Universal Bar Examination transferred from New York to Texas. She stuffs the paperwork back into the envelope, filing it away mentally to use against you later.

She reaches your apartment door, trying the handle just in case, but it’s locked. She searches under your doormat and on the top of the doorframe for a spare key but finds nothing.

“Guess we’re doing this the hard way,” Nancy smirks to herself as she gets out a screwdriver and a hammer from her purse.

~*~

You throw down your cutlery in triumph as you finish up your meal, Peter is still pushing his salad around his plate as he mopes over his phone.

“Pete,” you groan as you hail the waiter over to get the check, “Stop being such a clingy bitch, he’s at work, not shagging his assistant.”

“You don’t know that” Peter narrows his eyes at you as he locks his phone, “I just haven’t had a connection like this before, he makes me crazy.”

“You were crazy before Alex,” you raise your eye as you kick him gently under the table, “What’s really got you strung out?”

Peter scowls at you for a moment before sighing and seemingly conceding defeat to your withering gaze.

“I’m going to propose,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper and your eyes go wide as you try not to scream in delight. You know Peter will kill you if you make a scene in public.

“Fucking hell, Pete. How long have you even been together?”

“Like six months,” he says with a grimace, but you shake your head, your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling.

“Have you picked out a ring?” You ask as you hand the waiter your card, Peter goes to protest but you shake your head, “My treat, I’ve made a lot in tips this month.”

“Thank you,” Pete’s face softens, and his eyes are glassy, “I’ve got a few options, I wanted to see if you would come ring shopping with me?”

“Of course, when?” You’re practically vibrating in your seat as you try and contain the excitement.

“Next weekend? Saturday?”

“Deal, holy shit, Pete,” you say with a sigh, “Who would have thought swinging-dick Peter would be the first of us ladies to settle down?”

“Oh, shut up, you’d be settling down if you weren’t thirsting over your stepdad.”

“Pete, come on,” you slump back in your seat, “It’s not like that, can we just celebrate you right now?”

“You said we’d talk about it properly over lunch. Here we are, so what’s there to even say?”

You suck on your teeth, trying to fight the urge to snap at him.

“Dave’s not some creep preying on his stepdaughter,” you say, knowing he’s not going to back down on it this time so you might as well get it all out in the open, “I care about him, Pete. It’s not about some kink, or the money. I like him for him, and I believe he feels the same way.”

“I’m just saying,” Pete says with his hands raised, “semantics aside, it’s still creepy. He knew where you were on your birthday, came storming up to us like a man possessed. He just gives me a vibe and I’m not into the whole stepcest thing either, hun. Even if it was juicy to watch Mike almost piss himself.”

“After almost getting fucking,” you lower your tone as you lean forward, “gang-raped a few months ago, I’m not exactly pissed that he came looking for me when I was vulnerable. He’s in some government department, Pete, he has to keep tabs on his family.”

Pete raises an eyebrow at you and cocks his head to the side.

“Exactly, his family.”

“Do you know what?” You snap, your chest tight with shame and embarrassment, “You seem to have made your mind up already. I don’t know why I bothered. This is some Nancy level judgement, Pete. I expected better from you.”

“Babe, that’s not-,” Pete starts but you cut him off. You can’t shake the truth from his words, it’s the rot at your core you’ve been ignoring for months. But it doesn’t take the sting out of it, if anything it festers deeper as you’re forced to confront it “I don’t want to hear it Pete, not now. I’ll see you around,” you snap as you storm out of the restaurant, tears running down your cheeks as you step out onto the sidewalk.

You power walk home, ignoring the incessant buzzing of your phone in your pocket. You know it’ll just be Pete, or Ash, and you just want to be alone. Somewhere in the back of your mind you think you’re overreacting, but Pete blindsiding you like that set you off. It’s the kind of shit Nancy pulls all the time, and for one of your supposed best friends to do it to you cuts deep.

You storm through the door to the foyer, not bothering to check the mailbox as you ascend the stairs two at a time. You’re about to fish your keys out of your sweatpants when you see the damage to the doorframe. The dark paint splintered, with jagged slivers of wood jutting out where the catch once was.

You feel like you’ve been doused with cold water as you step back against the wall behind you. You fumble to retrieve your phone, ignoring the multiple missed text messages and calls from Ash and Peter. You pull up Dave’s contact and hit call. It immediately diverts to voicemail, you call again. Voicemail. Your lip trembles as you try to decide what to do. You contemplate calling Ash, but you don’t want to have to deal with her guilt tripping you over Pete, not today.

“I’m calling the police,” you call into the apartment as you knock it open with the toe of your shoe. You wait for a response before dialing 911.

“Oh, honey,” your mother’s voice echoes from inside and you freeze, “It’s just me.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask, voice low as you slowly make your way into the apartment. You keep your phone in one hand, keys held tightly in the other.

“I just thought I’d stop by and see your new place, I see Dave helped you out,” she says with a huff as she nods at the love seat and armchairs.

Nancy is leaning against your kitchen counter, fingertips drumming on the surface. A bright smile plastered across her face. You note the claw hammer protruding from her purse and your stomach churns. One arm is held behind her back, like she’s trying to hide something from you.

“How’d you know I had a new place? How’d you get my address? And Dave just let me take some stuff from his storage locker, he doesn’t even know where I live,” you say with as little accusation in your voice as you can muster. You know this look, the smile that hides the rage so well. Nancy is livid and you stop yourself from asking if she’s had anything to drink.

“Oh, I just asked around, shame Dave gave you these. I was going to make sure I got them in the settlement,” she says cheerily and steps forward, closing the distance between you and you take an instinctive step back.

“And the door?” You tilt your head over to the door.

“Oh, it was like that when I got here, nasty neighborhood you’re living in,” she says without a moment’s hesitation. You might have believed her if not for the evidence sitting pretty in her purse.

“Mom,” you groan, “please leave, I’ve had an awful day and I just want to be alone right now.”

“So, what is this?” She ignores your question, producing the envelope from behind her back and your jaw tightens.

“You went through my mail?” You hiss, rage building inside you as you feel the last tethers of restraint snap.

“Oh, don’t be like that, I did it all the time when you were growing up,” Nancy waves you off, pulling out the paperwork and pretending to read over it.

“Put that down.” You snarl, your fists balling at your sides as you try not to completely lose your shit.

“No.” Nancy looks at you, all pretense of kindness and motherly instinct gone in a flash as she holds your gaze, “You need to admit you’re fucking Dave, on record, because I’m divorcing him and you’re going to help me take him for every penny he has.”

“What?” You ask, dumbfounded as you try and fathom the depth of her derangement.

“You heard me,” she snaps, toying with the corners of each sheet of paper with her manicured fingertips, “Help me take him down, and I won’t shred your application, I know how much this stuff costs. Anders paid for your New York ones after all. What did you do to get Dave to pay for these? Let him fuck your ass? I never did let him do that.”

“Fuck mom, I don’t need to know what you let Dave do to you or not. I paid for these myself,” you say, jaw clenched as you hit dial on your phone.

“I call bullshit, there’s no way you’re not fucking him. You’re wearing that god awful hoodie of his for Christ’s sake, I’m not blind. Are you just using him for his money, or are you doing all this just to slight me?”

“Slight you?” You almost laugh, “I don’t need to do anything to slight you, Nancy. You've made it clear that I do that by just existing. Get out of my apartment, now.”

“What did you just call me?” Nancy snaps and you see her bravado falter.

“Look, I won’t do it, divorce him for all I care, but don’t you dare bring me into it,” you say as you hear the call handler ask what your emergency is.

“My mother has broken into my apartment; she has a hammer and I fear for my safety.”

“Are you in immediate danger?” You hear the dispatcher ask and you suck in a deep breath.

“You wouldn’t dare?” Nancy screeches as her face morphs into a mask of desperation, “I’m sorry, forget I said anything. Here, have the forms.”

“I am, please send help.”

She tries to crowd you, practically throwing the papers into your hands but you shake your head at her. You give your name and address to the call handler before looking Nancy in the eye.

“It’s too late for sorry, Nancy,” you spit, stepping further into the apartment, “I’m not a child anymore, you can’t use me like this.”

“You ungrateful bitch,” Nancy snaps and you barely dodge the slap that comes flying at you. You stumble back, clutching your phone for dear life as you stumble towards your bedroom. You can hear Nancy calling from the kitchen, but you throw open the bathroom door, locking it behind you.

You slump down onto the floor and cry, deep, throaty sobs that wrack your whole body. All you can do now is wait, and hope Nancy doesn’t rip down this door too.

“Miss? Are you still there?” You hear the muffled voice of the dispatcher and bring the phone back to your ear.

“Yes, I’m here, I’ve locked myself in the bathroom,” you respond between ragged breaths as you close your eyes.

“Stay on the line with me, ok? I’ve got officers on the way to you now.”

~*~

“Kovak, sitrep.”

Dave’s eyes burn as he rakes over the surveillance feeds, the SUV entered a parking garage ten minutes ago. Something is off and he knows it.

“Found the car boss,” Kovak’s voice rumbles in Dave’s ear, and he can already hear the disappointment in his teammates tone.

“Abandoned?” Dave asks, already knowing the answer.

“Affirmative,” Kovak says dryly, “Next move?”

“Return to the office; we need to regroup.” Dave sighs as he lets out a heavy sigh. He’s sweaty, tired, and most of all furious that he lost the target. It’s been weeks since the last sighting and this was the best shot they had of getting him.

“See you back at the ranch, boss.” Kovak signs off and Dave takes out his earpiece before throwing it into the top drawer of his desk.

He looks at the time and groans. It feels like hours have passed, but it’s only two in the afternoon. He fishes his phone out of his pants and his heart rate skyrockets as he sees the missed calls from you. He pulls up the security feed from where Nancy was last seen, and he curses at the scene before him.

Three police cars and an ambulance are parked in front of the apartment building, a crowd has gathered around where the police cordoned the area. He feels his blood run cold. Immediately he calls you, but it goes to voicemail. He dials Ari instead.

“Boss?” Ari answers on the third ring.

“What the fuck is going on down there?” He snarls into the handset as he shrugs on his suit jacket, already shutting down his computer.

“Shitshow, boss, you get our guy?” Ari asks, and Dave almost snaps at him but just manages to keep his cool as he locks his office door behind him.

“No, what’s going on, Ari? Details, now.”

“Nancy showed up around lunch time, the girl an hour or so later. Next thing I know the police are here.”

“Was it just my fucking wife? No one else?”

“Just her, but it can’t be good, boss,” Ari says and Dave sighs, he knows Ari can’t get anywhere near the building right now.

“Alright, thanks, Ari. I’ll be there soon.”

“I’d hurry, you might miss your wife being taken out in cuffs.”

Dave smiles to himself at the mental image before hitting the stairs, he’s too anxious to wait in an elevator.

~*~

“Open the door you, fucking bitch,” Nancy wails as you feel her assaulting the door with her whole body.

You’re braced against it, your feet planted firmly on the tiled floor, as you desperately try to keep her out. Your body aches. You’ve been talking with the dispatcher for the whole time, but topics of conversation are wearing thin.

“Officers are arriving on scene any minute now, stay put.”

You don’t have time to thank the dispatcher before Nancy launches into yet another tirade.

“First you fuck my husband, now you call the cops on me. What kind of a daughter are you?”

You don’t answer, she can’t have any proof that you and Dave have slept together, but you don’t know what you could say to appease her right now. Your mind is focused on just surviving, not letting Nancy through the door. There’s nothing else you can concentrate on. “Police!” You hear the shout from beyond the door, followed by a yelp from Nancy.

“Hello, officers, what can I do-?”

“Get on the ground, hands behind your head.” The officer barks and you slump back against the door.

“The officers have arrived, they’re dealing with her now,” you say in a hushed voice to the dispatcher, your body is tense as you wait out the standoff.

“Stay put until an officer gives you the ‘all clear’, ok?”

“I will.”

You hear the static snap and chittering of a taser being deployed before the dull thud of a body hitting the floor. You can’t help but let yourself smile at the image of Nancy being tasered on the other side of the door.

You hear the officers on the other side of the door as they maneuver Nancy’s unconscious form. A soft knock at the door startles you and you haul yourself up onto your feet.

“Is she gone?” You call through the door.

“She’s being taken to the patrol car, she’s out cold. You can come out if you want?” The female officer informs you.

“Ok I’m coming out,” you say, both to the officer and into the handset.

“I’ll leave you with the officers on the scene, take care,” the dispatcher says, and you thank her before pocketing your phone.

You open the door gingerly, eyes flitting around the room to check that Nancy was really gone.

“You got someone you can call? We’ve got an EMT on their way up, so stay put. We’ll need to take your statement down at the station too.” The officer asks and you nod, you’re pulling your phone back out when a call comes in.

Dave

You answer without hesitation.

“Fuck. I’m so glad you called.”

“I’ve been calling you nonstop, kept going to voicemail,” Dave’s voice is close in your ear, and you feel the rush of serotonin flow through you. It’s like he’s already there, anchoring you.

“I was on the phone to the police,” you say with an exasperated huff.

“You ok? What’s happening?” Dave asks and you hear the distorted rumble of his Mustang in the background.

“They’re waiting on an EMT to come check me over, Nancy broke in and started making threats. They’ll want me to make a statement down at the station.” You say as your voice breaks a little, the severity of the situation finally catching up with you. You’re following the officer out of your room when you see the shredded pile of paperwork at the foot of your bed. The Texas Board of Law Examiners logo is visible, confirming that it was the paperwork Nancy claimed it to be.

Way to go mom, adding mail theft to your rap sheet.

You think to yourself as you make your way to one of the armchairs.

“What’s your address? I’m coming to help.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s already trying to bully me into helping her take you down,” you say as vaguely as possible.

“I don’t care,” Dave says with conviction, and you close your eyes. You’re too tired to argue, and the offer is too tempting. You need him, now more than ever. You give him the address as you set yourself down on one of the armchairs in the main room. An EMT appears in the doorway and makes a beeline for you once the officers let him in.

“EMT is here,” you say absently as you feel your last reserves of adrenaline ebb from your body, “I need you.”

“I’m coming, hold on.”

“I’ve got to go, thank you for helping me, Dave.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m a few minutes out, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The EMT checks for any obvious wounds, asks if you’re hurting anywhere. You say you’re fine, you let him check you over for concussion. He asks where you are, what your address is, standard triage as you comply numbly.

You hear a commotion from the hallway and turn towards the door. The moment you see him your resolve shatters. Your eyes are wet with tears and his face falls in despair. His soft brown eyes are wide, his mouth pursed into a thin line as he looks you over.

“Dave.”

“I’m here,” he says softly as he flashes his badge at the officer at the door.

“Sir, we need to take her to the station. Are you her boyfriend?” The male officer from before says as Dave steps over the threshold.

“I’m family,” he says, and you note the strain in his voice.

“We need to take her down to the station, sir.”

“I’ll take her, 5th precinct, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” the officer confirms and Dave nods.

“Alright, come on, we’ll get this over and done with, together.”

The drive to the station goes by in a blur, Dave doesn’t press you to talk. You barely register the fact that he’s on the phone, talking to someone about counsel. You don’t notice you have arrived until   he guides you by the arm into the precinct.  As he hands you over to the detectives on duty, he reminds you not to speak to anyone until you’ve got legal counsel.

You’re sat at a desk in the middle of an open plan room – you vaguely remember it’s called a bullpen – as you wait for the detective to come see you. Your head feels like it’s floating, your body slumped as you try and stay focused, but everything just feels off. Your fingers don’t feel your own as you flex and bend them in front of your face.

“Miss?”

You look up to see a woman, not much older than you, hovering at your elbow. You smile absently at her and wonder why she’s bothering you. There’s a nagging at the back of your mind, you’re in a police station, something happened.

“We need to talk about what happened,” the woman says as she takes a seat next to you. You like her necklace. You fixate on the silver Tree of Life hanging around her neck as she speaks.

“Can you tell me why you called the police?”

“I don’t know, I-?”

“Not another word,” Dave’s voice booms from over your shoulder and you look up to see his face stony, “Her legal counsel is on the way, she isn’t saying anything else until they arrive.”

“She’s not under arrest, Mr-,”

“Special Agent York, CIA,” Dave cuts her off as he pulls his coat to the side, revealing his badge as he looks down at the detective.

“Agent York,” the detective glowers up at him, “respectfully, why is the CIA even involved here?”

“That,” Dave says with a click of his tongue, “is above your pay grade.”

“Dave?” You say softly as you shudder from a sudden chill, “when can I go home?”

“Soon,” he says, his face softening the moment he catches your gaze, “Here, I’ve got to go speak to the Watch Sergeant, if your counsel – Jimmy – arrives before I’m back, you can trust him, ok?”

“You are coming back through, right?” Your voice is meek and wavering. Something deep within you resents how pathetic you sound, but you don’t have any energy to truly care.

“Of course,” he says softly as he takes his jacket off, draping it over your shoulders, “I’m just upstairs. I’ll make sure someone brings you some coffee, ok?”

“Ok,” you nod as you slip your arms into the sleeves, immediately pulling the fabric around you. You smell like Dave, fresh perspiration, his spiced body wash, it grounds you. Dave leaves without another word and you watch him go.

“He’s a protective one, isn’t he?” The female detective asks, and you nod slowly. She’s pretty, with long dark hair and soft brown eyes. Her suit is tailored and her heels low. Focusing on her seems to help you come back to your senses a little.

“He’s a good man,” you respond with a nod as you bury your nose in the collar of the jacket. You don’t want to be here, you just want Dave, you want to go home.

“So, who is he to you?”

“I’m not saying anything without legal counsel present,” you say, eyes narrowing as you try and figure out her angle. The familiarity of the legal process bringing you back to yourself a little more. The sound of the bullpen is suddenly loud in your ears. You can hear telephones ringing off the hook, the smell of coffee and fried food invades your senses.

“Alright,” she puts her hands up, “I was just trying to make conversation, you don’t have to do everything the CIA agent says, you know?”

“I know,” you say firmly as you sit up straight, “I may be the victim here, but I’m not jeopardizing my case by saying anything until my counsel’s here.”

“Clever girl, you watch a lot of Law and Order?” She scoffs and if it were anyone else, you’d have probably laughed along. But the comment stings at your already bruised ego, and you’re done being talked down to.

“Actually, I was an attorney in New York up until last year, about to transfer my UBE to Texas.”

“I see,” the detective frowns before shrugging and sitting behind her desk.

“Coffee for you, miss,” a young police officer addresses you and hands you an oatmeal and raisin cookie and a to-go cup of coffee, “Agent York said you might be hungry too. This is all I could get from the vending machine.”

“That’s wonderful,” you peer at his name badge, “Thank you, Officer Jameson.”

“My pleasure,” the officer says with a grin before leaving.

You sit there, sipping on the poor excuse for coffee in your hands as you toy with the wrapper of the cookie. You know you should eat but you’re just not hungry. Your name is called from behind you, and you turn to see a sharply dressed man approach you. His maroon suit is designer, his steely hair perfectly slicked-back, his wingtips strike the bullpen floor like punctuation.

“Morello, I trust you haven’t been too chatty with my client? Coercing her to talk without counsel present is a low blow, even for you.”

“O’Hare,” Morello says, her expression hardening as she looks between you both, “you know I’d never even dream of it.”

“Sure, sure.” Jimmy rolls his eyes at the detective, “I need a room with my client, no cameras, no two-way windows. Complete privacy.”

“Captain’s out all day, could use her office, you know where it is,” The detective huffs as she turns to her computer, pretending to look busy.

“Always a pleasure, Morello. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to talk,” Jimmy says, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he turns to face you, “Follow me, I know this place a little too well.”

“You friends with Dave?” You ask as you do as instructed, you have to work to keep up with Jimmy’s long strides.

“Something like that,” he laughs at the notion, “We’ve known each other for a very long time.”

“Did you serve together?” You ask as he leads you upstairs, gaining a few wary glances from the officers on duty. You reach the captain’s office, and he pauses, knocking twice and waiting a moment before cracking the door open.

“Not exactly,” Jimmy says as he ducks his head into the room, “Come on, this shouldn’t take us long.”

“You sure we can use this room?” You ask hesitantly as you linger on the threshold.

“Oh no, we most definitely shouldn’t be using it. Felicia will kill me if she knows I used her office like this,” Jimmy laughs as he flops down on a sofa to the left of the door, “Morello could have sealed off a break room for us, but she likes to fuck with me.”

“Who are you really?” You ask as you settle on an armchair opposite him. You put down your coffee and untouched cookie on the low coffee table before clasping your hands in front of you, propping your elbows on your knees.

“I’m Jimmy O’Hare, lead partner at O’Hare, Schmidt, and Bowles,” his answer rolls off his tongue, a rehearsed response.

“And I’m to believe you,” you gesture at him up and down, “a prestigious law firm’s partner is just going to waltz in and take my measly B&E, and assault case on? There must be hundreds of these cases daily in the city of Austin alone.”

“True, but most people aren’t Dave York’s stepdaughter.”

Your stomach lurches at the reminder of your relationship and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from lashing out. You’re still too raw from your argument with Peter.

“Surprised you’re not in there with my mom if that’s the tenuous link between us,” you scoff and you notice the way Jimmy’s lips twitch at the mention of Nancy.

“I think you know why Dave sent me to help you,” he says knowingly as he points to your chest. You look down, mortified as you remember you still have Dave’s hoodie on. You try not to react but your eyes narrow at the thinly veiled accusation. You cringe internally as you realize you’re also wrapped in his suit jacket.

“Enough,” you say, your voice sounding stronger than you expected it to, “We need to get this airtight and I want to go home.”

“Suits me just fine, let’s go through the timeline of events, walk me through it.”

You sigh and rub your sweaty palms on your sweatpants before relaying the events to Jimmy as best you can. It takes less than twenty minutes before he’s finishing up his notes.

“And the documentation you mentioned, you said it was your confirmation to transfer your UBE?”

“Correct,” you confirm, eager to be done with this.

“So, it’s a Class A misdemeanor, there are fines and prison time is almost certain, especially with the other felonies and misdemeanors she collected today,” Jimmy says and you’re nodding along almost mechanically as you try and work through this last part.

“Ok, I want to file for a Protective Order, we should be able to get one on the grounds of stalking, and violence, right?”

“I was just about to suggest a PO,” Jimmy nods, taking down a few more notes on his legal pad, “She’ll probably make bail, so it’s in your best interest to get one. Between the 911 call recording and the screwdriver and claw hammer, we’ve got a solid case for one.”

“Ok, are we done here?”

“I just need you to read over and sign this statement, then we can drop it off with the detectives before getting your photos taken. I should have you out of here in less than an hour.”

“Great,” you say as you take the statement from him, you scan it quickly before signing and handing it back over.

“Sure you gave that enough due care and attention before signing?” Jimmy asks with a skeptical twitch of his brow.

“Jimmy,” you sigh, “Can I call you Jimmy?” He nods and you continue, “I’m not stupid, you’re clearly very good at this, and Dave has hired you to help me. I also used to skim read case bundles on the subway on my way to court. I know what to look for and how to make a case. If I took longer to review it, I’d be a pretty average attorney. I’m better than that, and you know it.”

 “Dave warned me about your smart mouth,” Jimmy chuckles, and he nods approvingly, “Alright, let's get this show on the road.”

 “Smart mouth? I think you meant to say competent?” you sass back at Jimmy and his face lights up, but he says nothing more.

The next hour and a half go by in a blur. You answer follow up questions from Morello, Jimmy interjecting when needed, and get your photos taken. There’s still no sign of Dave as you finish up with the evidence team. Your phone is dead and you’re about to ask Jimmy to call you a cab when you see Dave come through the double doors that lead to the bullpen.

“There you are,” Dave says, his smile radiant as he sees you, “Jimmy, thanks for this. I really appreciate you dropping everything and helping out.”

“It’s no problem, you pay well, and I owe you at least another hundred favors. It was the least I could do.”

Dave nods and pulls the older man into a tight embrace. They separate with a curt nod and Jimmy makes for the exit.

“Oh, and kid?” He calls over his shoulder, looking at you as he goes, “When you’re licensed to practice in Texas, give me a call. Dave’s got my number.”

“You bet!” You call after him before turning to look at Dave. The sight takes your breath away. His hair is messy, disarrayed from where he’s been running his fingers through it all afternoon. His sleeves are rolled up, his top few buttons undone, you can see the glisten of sweat on his brow. All you want to do is reach out and kiss him, pull him against you and fuse your lips to his.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” He says softly and you let out a sigh of relief. You walk out together into the frigid air, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint to stop yourself from taking his hand in yours. Instead, you opt to bury your nose in the fabric of his suit jacket.

The ride home is quiet, but you don’t mind, Dave parks in your designated bay around back and you are reminded that you need to get your own car soon. He ushers you through the door while he calls your super about the broken doorframe, telling you not to worry and to go and shower.

You shower and change into a pair of loose cotton shorts and Dave’s hoodie. Your bare feet pad noiselessly as you make your way back into the main room of the apartment.

“Thank you, yes, we’ll both be here,” Dave says down the phone before hanging up. He sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose, not yet noticing you.

“Was that about the door?” You ask, and immediately Dave’s eyes snap open. His gaze lingers and you see the way he swallows, the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“Yeah, they’re sending the maintenance guy out first thing tomorrow, told us to just wedge it shut for now.”

“That’s safe,” you say with a roll of your eyes as you settle down on the loveseat. You rest against the arm of the chair, bringing your feet up onto the cushion as you rest your chin on your knees.

“I can sleep on the couch, if that’ll make you feel better?” Dave says almost a little too quickly before clearing his throat, “Sorry that was a little forward, if you don’t want me to stay here with you, I can get you a hotel room? That way you are safe, and I can be here tomorrow for deal with the maintenance guy.”

“I want you to stay,” you say as you try not to laugh at Dave’s bashfulness.

“Only if you’re sure?” He says as he crosses the open plan room, you can see the hesitation in his face as he lingers at the other end of the loveseat, unsure if he can sit or not.

“I’m sure, sit with me, please?”

Dave lowers himself down onto the couch and you fight the urge to nudge his thigh with your feet.

“Dave?” your voice is barely more than a whisper as you look at him through your lashes.

“Yeah?” He answers as he leans back, eyes closed as he rolls his shoulders.

“Nancy said something today,” you say softly, “I don’t know if it’s my place to tell you, but she all but said she was going to file for divorce.”

Dave says nothing but he lets out a heavy exhale, his entire body shuddering as he seems to sink further into the sofa.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you say as you shrink back against the armrest, you wait for the scolding remark. You brace yourself for the reprimand for bringing such a difficult topic up. Your walls come up like armor as you wait for the inevitable sting of rejection.

“Hey,” Dave’s voice is low, and you blink away unshed tears as you realize you’ve curled up, away from him on the sofa, “What’s wrong, what did I do?” He asks and you look up into his dark eyes.

“Nothing,” you mutter, the guilt and shame bubbling inside you like a festering wound, “I’m just dealing with a lot right now.”

“Talk to me,” Dave says as he turns towards you, one arm stretched out over the back of the sofa. It’s a silent invitation, welcoming you. It feels like home, “Let me help.”

You close the distance between your bodies, pressing into his side, just like the night in the basement after Tristan. You keep your hands balled, tight against your chest, not trusting yourself to hold him. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in tight as he rests his head against your own.

“This helps,” you murmur into his chest as you take a deep inhale, “Thank you.”

Slowly your hand creeps over his chest, sliding up to his shoulder as you anchor yourself to him. It’s innocuous enough, you just want to feel him, but you know it’s not enough, you want more. You pull back and look up at Dave, his dark eyes searching yours.

His lips are parted as his eyes flit from your mouth and back up to your eyes. There’s an unmistakable energy between you now, something you’ve both repressed for a long time. You tilt your head up, your lips almost touching his as you beg him silently to close the distance.

It’s a soft, furtive, sensation as his lips meet your own. Testing, teasing, as he waits for you to respond. You hold back a whimper as you chase the contact. Your lips collide in a burst of hot, eager kisses. Each hungrier than the last as you move your hand from his chest to his jaw, pulling him to you as his tongue darts along the seam of your lips.

You let him in, his thick tongue claiming your mouth with a fervor that stirs molten desire in your core. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him to you as you slide onto his lap. Your body moves on its own as you hear him groan beneath you, Dave’s hands move to your waist. You grind down onto his hardening cock and shudder as he bucks up into you. His teeth catch your bottom lip as you scrape your nails through his hair, dragging against his scalp.

Your hands wander down his torso now, pulling on his shirt as he groans into your mouth. Your hands fall to his belt buckle, and you feel him freeze beneath you. His hands gently grab your wrists, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Stop,” he breathes as he presses his forehead against yours. He moves his hands from your wrists to your shoulders, gently putting distance between you, “We can’t do this, you’ve been through so much today, it wouldn’t be right.”

Your eyes snap open and the pain on Dave’s face breaks you, it tears you out of your trance and you virtually jump up. Stepping away from him, bile rising in your throat as you realize what you were about to do, the impossible, awful situation you just put him in.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you stand up from the couch, “I’m sorry, I’m going to bed.”

Dave calls your name, but you don’t turn back as you practically run from him. Shame and self-hatred coursing through your veins as you close the bedroom door behind you. You don’t have to lock the door, you know Dave won’t enter your space, he’s too good for that.

Too good for you.

A small voice in the back of your mind taunts.

It’s hard to ignore it, that nagging anxiety that you’re the bad actor in all this. You could have, should have, let this fantasy go months ago. That all of this is your fault. You crawl into bed, wrapping your sheets around you as you sob noiselessly into your pillow.

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

Follow @vi-notifs and turn on notifications for updates when new content drops!

#The Princess and The Duke #TPATD #Dave York Fanfiction #Equalizer 2 #The Equalizer #reader insert #x reader #Dave York fic #Dave York fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fic #Dave York x Reader #Dave York x OC #Dave York x OFC #Dave York Apologist #Dave York did nothing wrong #Dave York Pit #pedro pascal #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #dave york #theywhowriteandknowthings #vi writes

[onebigfangirlworld]

sugar daddies in the house tonight

Summary: Maverick and Iceman use the Navy Gala to show off and you don’t mind being their arm candy for the evening

Relationship: Iceman x Maverick x Female!Reader

Warnings: none that I can think of

word count: 843

A/N: so this idea has just been brewing in my mind for a while now. This is for @daughterofthereaper02 

Masterlist

A Navy Gala. A place where anyone who is anyone in the Navy shows up and brags about their accomplishments. It was a night you dreaded going to because it was so boring, and sometimes you felt like the people you talk to are just talking down to you, instead of talking to you. The only good thing about going to this gala in particular is seeing your boyfriends in dress uniforms. The full white dress uniforms always just did something for you and seeing Tom “Iceman” Kazansky and Pete “Maverick” Mitchell in them just made you want to go feral on them. They said the same thing about you when they first saw you in your dress.

A few weeks prior to the gala, when the three of you were discussing what to wear, they had told you not to worry about picking out a dress, jewelry or shoes. That they would have that covered. You were apprehensive to trust them but after a little persuasion you agreed. The two of them loved to buy you gifts, spending their money to give you the best clothes, jewelry, shoes and anything else you could possibly want. You called them your sugar daddies as a joke once and the joke just stuck around. But you loved them for them as a person and not because they spend all their money on you. 

The night of the gala, Iceman and Maverick were shaking with excitement. They wanted to see you all dolled up in the outfit that they had picked for you. Making them wait for you at the bottom of the stairs while you got ready, they agreed that it should be considered a special kind of torture.

As you descended the stairs, there was a gasp and a mumbled holy shit. You were dressed in an all black dress that reached the floor, with long form fitting sleeves, and a square neckline showing off your chest. The red-bottomed heels made you look taller than you were and your hair was pulled back to show off the diamond teardrop earrings that you wore.

“What do you think?” you asked as you gave a little twirl. 

“Is it too late to cancel and just go back upstairs to the bedroom?” Maverick asks. Tom and you laugh at Pete’s comment. You gently smack his shoulder and mumble a quick ‘no’ before giving Pete a quick kiss on the lips. Turning to Tom, you again ask him what he thinks of your outfit.

“You look radiant but somethings missing.” 

“I thought it would look better with a necklace but you two didn’t give me one so I’m not wearing one.” 

Wordlessly Tom hands you a black velvet box. You look between your two men, brows furrowed wondering what could be in the box.

“Open it,” Pete tells you. You gasp in shock as you open it. There was the most gorgeous necklace you had ever seen. It was a diamond encrusted choker, with diamonds dangling down at various heights. Something else caught your eye with the choker.

“Is that, are those your initials inlaid onto this?” you quietly ask.

“Yes so that-” Pete starts.

“So that everyone knows who you belong to tonight,” Tom finishes. 

“You didn’t have to do this. This is this is too much, I can’t possibly wear it tonight,” you exclaim. 

“We wanted to. Need to show everyone that you're ours,” Tom tells you. You surge forward and kiss him. You pull back from and give Pete a kiss as well.

“We should really get going, cause if we don’t leave now I don’t think we’ll make it to the gala tonight,” You remind them. They let out a sigh and soon Tom is putting the necklace on you and Pete holds your hand through it. Soon they’re both leading you to the car to take you to the gala. 

Later that night, Pete and you were slow dancing together, while Tom was stuck at a table talking to a few different admirals and captains. Truthfully, Tom had just been watching you and Pete slow dance together and not paying attention to what was being said. However he started paying attention, when someone started talking about you. 

“I’m just saying she’s too hot to be with Mitchell. Any chance you think I could get her to leave with me tonight?” 

“She does look really hot tonight doesn’t she?” Tom turns back to the table and looks at the men sitting around it. “Pete and I had a great time picking that dress out for her. We also had a great time customizing the necklace she’s wearing. Even had our initials inlaid into it. Now if you’ll excuse me gentleman,” Tom knocks back the rest of his drink and stands up, “I’m going to go dance with my boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Tom pulls the two of you into his embrace. The three of you stay there, gently swaying to the music, enjoying each other's company and exchanging soft kisses, until the gala is over.

#writings of one #top gun #icemav x reader #iceman x maverick x reader #tom 'iceman' kazansky #pete 'maverick' mitchell #iceman x reader #maverick x reader #iceman x maverick #tom kazansky x reader #pete mitchell x reader

[ironh3artstark]

Request tony and peter having one year anniversary sex of dating and being official couple. Tony proposed to Peter! Pls write that 😍

Hey! Hope this is okay, I’ve been pretty busy lol! <3 enjoy!!!!

Today officially marks one year since Peter and Tony became boyfriends.

Tony had decided, earlier that week to cancel all of the plans he had and made sure his lover was available as well. He wanted to make sure it was somewhere special to both of them, because of course, he had something more up his sleeve.

He’s Tony Stark, what did you expect?

He was going to propose to the younger boy, and legally make him his.

It may seem early in the relationship but as far as they’re both concerned, they’ve been in love since they both saw each other the first time, in that small apartment in Queens.

Peter was ecstatic, Tony had offered to take them to see the beauty of Leipzig, Germany when there are no battles or disagreements to be fought over. To be fair, Peter didn't care where Tony wanted to take them. As long as they were together.

When they're in the hotel, Peter can't stop looking everywhere. He's holding onto Tony's hand while he observes the settings. Turning everywhere with his jaw dropped, Tony smiles at how joyful he looks.

Peter grins, "Tony! This is like the most perfect place ever! Besides the lab. It's beautiful." He says and smiles widely at his lover.

Tony smiles, brown eyes filled with love and adoration. He stares down at Peter, "Mm. It is, isn't it?" Peter blushes and looks down to the glossy floor with a huge smile on his face.

"The rooms are already ready. Let's get dressed. I have a surprise for you." Tony says, lifting the hand that is entwined in his, and placing a kiss on Peter's hand.

As they walk to their room, Peter keeps rambling and says stuff along the lines of ‘A suprise? This is great’ and ‘OhmygodOhmygod.’

As Peter and Tony enter their hotel room, Peter's eyes widen in awe at the sight before him. The room is bathed in soft, golden light streaming in from the large windows, casting a warm glow over the elegant furnishings. "Wow," Peter breathes, his voice filled with wonder as he takes in the luxurious surroundings. "Tony, this is incredible." Tony smiles, watching Peter's reaction with fondness.

"I'm glad you like it, Pete. I wanted our anniversary to be special."

Peter walks further into the room, his gaze moving from the plush king-sized bed to the sparkling chandelier overhead. He runs his fingers lightly over the silky duvet, marveling at the attention to detail. "It's like something out of a dream," Peter says, turning to face Tony with a wide grin. "Thank you."Tony steps closer, wrapping his arms around Peter from behind. "You deserve the world, Peter. And I'll do everything in my power to give it to you."Peter leans back into Tony's embrace, “Now, we should get ready. We have a reservation at Schaarschmidts.” Tony winks.

Peter tilts his head at the name and looks confused at the man, wondering if he just spoke English or not.

Tony leans down to press a kiss on Peter’s forehead before walking away to head to one of the two bathrooms in their room.

Peter quickly follows suit and heads to the other bathroom, finding his designer suit hanging up, that fits him in all the right places. He was grateful for Tony’s credit card. Just not as much as he was grateful for the wonderful man he can say he’s happily in love with.

Stepping into the shower to wash himself off from the flight, he gets an idea. He can tell this night is going to end in the sheets, so he wants to surprise Tony.

Peter opens himself thoroughly in the shower, angling away from that pleasurable spot in his ass to wait for his lover later.

He thrusts two fingers in his ass, scissoring and spreading himself so Tony can slide in easily.

Feeling that he’s open enough, he finishes washing his body and hair, turning off the warm water and stepping out.

Peter dries off, wrapping a towel around his waist as he locates a blow dryer.

Quickly styling his hair, he gets dressed in his dark green suit that looks perfect on him. Fixing his sleeves in the mirror, he observes himself as he thinks.

He locates his toiletries bag and pulls out some very smoothing chapstick and sprays on some perfume.

Peter smiles at his appearance and runs his hands through his hair once more, walking out of the bathroom, to find Tony on the bed putting on a watch.

Tony looks amazing. As he always does, but tonight he's everything and more. Tony obviously thinks the same when he looks up from his wrist and observes the younger. Tony quickly stands up.

"God, Peter." "You look amazing, Tony." They both say at the same time and Peter blushes while Tony grins.

Tony steps forward to place a palm against Peter's cheek. He guides him to look from the ground, into his eyes. Tony speaks, "You are gorgeous, honey,"

Peter smiles and tries to tilt his head back down but Tony still wants him to look at the older.

Tony leans down slowly, tipping Peter's head up as his lips press against the thinner ones of Peter.

Peter kisses back, slowly moving his lips with Tony. Tony kisses once more before moving back.

He grins at how pink Peter has gotten. “We’re gonna be late. Let’s continue this later?” Tony asks hopefully.

Peter nods quickly.

They walk out of the room, side by side as Tony guides Peter with a hand on his lower back, gently rubbing his thumb to ease his nerves.

As Tony and Peter arrive at Schaarschmidts, the elegant facade of the restaurant bathed in soft golden light greets them. Tony offers Peter his arm, and they walk together, their steps synchronized with a shared sense of anticipation.

The waiter greets them warmly as they enter, leading them to a secluded table adorned with flickering candlelight and a bouquet of roses. Peter's eyes widen in awe at the romantic setting, his heart pounding with excitement.

"This is amazing, Tony," Peter whispers, his voice filled with wonder. Tony smiles, his gaze filled with affection as he pulls out a chair for Peter.

"Only the best for you, Pete."

As they settle into their seats, their conversation flows effortlessly, laughter punctuating the air as they reminisce about the past year and dream about the future.

Midway through their meal, Tony's demeanor shifts slightly, his expression becoming more serious. He reaches into his pocket, fingers closing around the small velvet box hidden within. "Peter," Tony begins, his voice soft but determined.

Peter can hear how his heartbeat increases. Peter furrows his brows and tenses up.

“I’m so glad to have you in my life. You’ve changed me for the better, seriously. You’re incredibly special, kind and generous, so different from me, but I see myself in you in so many different ways, kid. I told you a year ago, you were it for me, and I’m serious. I don’t want anyone else but you, and I hope the feelings mutual.” Tony laughs out.

Peter’s eyes widen in surprise as Tony stands and gets down on one knee beside the table. The almost empty restaurant going quiet as they observe the display of love.

Tony takes the ring out his pocket and opens the box. If you looked closely, it had the same blue glow that Tony’s arc reactor gave off. Peter had stated one day that if he could carry that technology with him everywhere, he would.

Holding the ring up, Tony speaks as Peter is already tearing up.

“I know you might want to wait until you graduate college next year, but I’ll wait. As long as you want. So, Peter Parker, will you do me the honor of putting up with me for as long as you can handle?” Tony breathes out, feeling tears threaten his eyes. Peter’s just a waterfall at this point.

Peter covers his mouth with his palm for a second before nodding so fast he might get whiplash.

“T-Tony, Oh my g-god. Yes! Yes!” Peter replies loudly, perhaps too loud.

Tony sniffles and shoots up, tackling his boy into a kiss. Peter presses his lips back tenderly. It’s a soft and lingering kiss, filled with passion and most likely, the promise of forever.

His arms wrap around Peter’s waist, pulling him closer. Their lips seem to move at the right pace, enveloping each other.

Peter leans back from the kiss first, gazing into Tony’s eyes with a goofy smile, “I want to be with you forever. I love you so much, Tony.”

Tony tilts his head as he feels a tear drop. Tony smiles softly, filled with nothing but love as he responds, “I love you so much more.”

“Let’s get out of here, please?” Peter asks.

When they arrive back to the hotel room, Tony doesn’t have time to shut the door behind him, because as soon as they enter, Peter is pressing him against it and taking his lips into a deep kiss.

Tony moans into the kiss and kisses back, slipping his tongue through the passage. Tony slides a free hand to Peter’s curls, holding the back of his head as he devours his mouth.

Peter is quickly removing his clothes as he kisses back with intent. Tony steps back from the kiss, not without a protest from Peter and removes his shoes and suit jacket. He drags Peter over to the bed, instantly attacking his neck with sucks and kisses, helping Peter undress with unbuttoning his shirt.

Laying Peter down on the bed, he kisses his way down his body, sucking a hickey above his waistline. Peter moans at the sensation of Tony’s goatee against his skin and hitches up his hips to get more.

Tony pushes his hips down gently and grins, “Calm down, baby. I’ll take care of you.” Tony says and unzips Peter’s trousers, wasting no time.

Peter helps Tony by kicking his pants off, and slightly lifting his legs.

“I opened myself up for you.” Peter says while blushing. Tony groans at imagining the sight of his boy preparing himself just for him.

Tony kisses Peter’s smooth thigh that’s next to his head, trailing them up to the place Peter wants his mouth the most. Tony places a ghosting kiss to his length and Peter whimpers at the very light touch.

He doesn't waste anymore time, taking the tip into his mouth. Peter gasps at the feeling of the wet heat that he loves so much and moves his hips up. Tony moans, moving his head down slowly, swallowing Peter inch by inch.

Peter moans in pleasure and reaches a hand out to Tony's head, threading his fingers through his soft, short hair.

"Oh- T-Tony!" He whimpers.

Tony bobs his head faster, and Peter moans louder, feeling himself come close almost immediately.

Tony continues with his movements, rubbing his thumb against Peter’s thigh in a soothing manner, removing it and running his hand over Peter’s tight balls. Making him tipple over to the edge.

“Oh-Fuck! Tony, I-I’m gonna—“ Peter doesn’t get to finish his sentence, he’s seeing stars behind his closed eyes and cumming into his lovers mouth.

Peter breathes heavily while Tony continues to suck him through his orgasm.

Tony swallows it all, sucking his length clean and pulling up. Tony leans up and observes Peter who already looks fucked out. He hasn’t even put his dick in him yet.

Tony leans over Peter and gives him a deep kiss to his slightly parted lips, Peter almost instantly kissing back.

Tony pulls back to lie his head close to Peter’s ear. He speaks huskily, “You taste so good. Still ok?” Peter quickly nods. He bites his lip and spreads his legs for easy access.

“Please, fuck me.” Peter says, his voice low and soft, wanting his lover to completely fill him up.

Tony smiles and kisses his flushed cheek. He reaches over and grabs the bottle of lube he put out before they left and coats his length with the substance.

He positions his tip for the pink hole, gently pushing in. Even with prep, Peter is always tight. He pauses, waiting for him to adjust, then slowly pushes in the rest of the way, bottoming out inside the tight and warm heat.

"Tony..." Peter moans softly, his eyelids fluttering as he adjusts to the stretch, loving the feeling. He could never get enough of this.

Tony begins to slightly move his hips. “How does it feel, baby?”

“It’s so good…please move.” Peter whimpers, tangling a hand into the bed comforter.

Tony smiles and begins moving his hips, thrusting in and out slowly. Peter wraps his legs around Tony's waist, pulling him closer.

Tony's movements grow more confident, and his thrusts become harder and deeper.

Peter moans, his fingers grasping at the sheets.

"Fuck, you feel amazing." Tony groans, his voice husky with desire.

Peter gasps, his eyes wide with arousal and pleasure.

"F-faster, Tony, please." He whimpers.

Tony quickens his pace, his movements becoming more erratic as his release builds.

Peter's back arches as Tony hits his prostate, his body shuddering with pleasure.

"Right there!"

Tony aims for that spot again and again, hitting it every time. Peter cries out, his eyes screwed shut as he writhes in pleasure.

"Oh god, I'm so close." Peter moans, his body trembling as his orgasm builds. Tony increases the pace, his hips slapping against Peter's ass.

Peter clenches around Tony's cock, and his body shakes with the intensity of his release, releasing short spurts of cum out of his again-hardened cock.

“Tony!”

Tony groans, feeling his own release take over. He cums into the tight warmth and slows his thrusts as he pushes himself through it.

He collapses beside Peter, both of them breathing heavily.

Tony looks over to Peter, who’s sliding over to lay on his fiancés chest. Tony leans, to lay a kiss on his slightly sweaty forehead. “I love you. You’re the best person I’ve ever known, Pete.” Tony whispers into his curls, never thinking his love for his protege would take off. And now look where they are.

Peter lifts his head up and smiles softly, “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Tony. I love you too.”

If they spent the rest of their night fucking and making love like animals in mating season, that was entirely up to them.

#starker #tnpt

[marlinspirkhall]

The star trek food cubes are haunting me again. I want to put them in my mouth.

So here are the theories on how to make them.

[ID] Screencap from The Conscience Of The King shows Lt. Riley uncovering a plate of food cubes [end ID]

Tofu, diced.

Marinate in liquid(s) of choice (e.g, lemon juice). Cover with cornstarch. Add red, green or yellow food colouring to blocks as required. Roast and serve.

Suggestion: marinate the cubes in different flavours to correspond to their colours.

Prototype recipe

Melon, diced.

This one is low effort: Red cubes= watermelon, other cubes= melon. Allegedly, the original on-set props *were* dyed melon (but I don't have a solid source), so this may be the best fit.

Royal icing/icing sugar.

This one is just candy: make 3 batches of royal icing, one red, one yellow, one green, dice when half-set and leave to fully set.

Cake, fondant.

Possible, if we assume Lt. Riley was drinking milk in that scene from The Conscience Of The King (Pictured above). This one is also easy to make, assuming you don't object to fondant.

Jelly, cubed.

(Jell-O). Dishonourable mention; this one is too see-through for my liking.

[ID] Screencap from Where No Man shows Kirk eating a green food cube, which looks blue here. [End ID]

Potatoes, Diced.

Roast Potatoes, Diced

This idea comes from CoolPete.com, and my first thought was "please don't put food colouring on the potatoes".

Cool Pete provided a photo of the finished results, and the natural colour of the potato offsets most of the food colouring to make them all look greener than intended. The red food colouring comes out the best. I suppose colour theory dictates that you should use blue food colouring on the potatoes in order to get green cubes, but don't quote me on that.

With this in mind, I'm going to tentatively suggest a horrible idea:

Roast Sweet Potatoes (Yams), Diced

In theory, the redness of the yams might allow the Yellow Food Dye to look more yellow, and make the red more vibrant. There's a greater chance that you will be able to use the green food colouring without it looking blue here, but use at your own caution, because the finished product may look oversaturated. Perfectly edible, but potentially unappetizing (the first bite is with the eye).

Closing Comments:

For uniformity of texture, tofu or melon seems to be the best way to go. If we are to believe that the "food cubes" in-universe are supposed to be fruit (according to that same trekbbs thread, they're placed in glasses in Journey To Babel), then watermelon and cantaloupe are begging for our attention, but we must ignore them, for melon alone does not a meal make!

“I wonder if they were actually supposed to be some kind of fruit in-universe, too? IIRC, in "Journey to Babel" the copper aliens put them in their drinks, which seems a strange thing to do if they were supposed to be the 23rd century equivalent of tofu cubes or something.”

-Avro Arrow

This isn't the end, merely the beginning. I will test out a couple of variations of these meals and report back on which one I think is best.

My current hypothesis is that the tofu will allow for the most variation, as you can marinate it in naturally-colourful liquids of various colours. If it's colourful enough you could forgo the food colouring altogether, or marinate it in something colourless (like salted water) and then add seasonings and food colouring if you wish.

I intend to start by using tofu with diced potatoes as a side, though if I test out too many cube-shaped meals at once, my household will get suspicious, so I need to space this out over the course of a few months. I'm going to use the tag #Food Cube Trek, so filter it if that's not something you'd like to see.

#Food Cube Trek #food cubes #star trek #star trek TOS #girl help I can't stop thinking about the food cubes #long post #cooking with quark

[i-am-the-oyster]

hey! you know icke braun’s autobiography? i saw a post that you made about the book and that you and somebody were working on translating (the post is from like 2022) and i was wondering if you had a pdf or something of the translated version?

Yes! Icke Braun should get so much more attention from Beatles fans.

@packyourromanticmind has very kindly shared the full text that she and her mother translated (below the cut).

If you'd like to follow along the analysis of Icke and Paul's relationship that I've been working on with @ilovedig go here (we're hoping to continue the series soon).

Anyway, back to the translation:

Kathia heard from a friend that a great group was playing the Kaiserkeller in the Grosser Freiheit area . She kept going on at me that we should go see them play. When we talked about it in the Pigalle, people all pulled skeptical faces.. ‘That’s rock n’ roll that they’re playing, it’s absolutely below our level’.    And anyway, for us it was a dangerous area, but still, I was very intrigued. One could go and listen to them and then decide what we thought of the music, and so I went with Kathia.

It was a sort of wake up experience. This music meant, without exaggeration, a total change in my life. For the first time, I saw The Beatles, I was totally out of my comfort zone;    that was my music. From one moment to the next, Earl Alexander and the whole jazz scene was yesterday’s news. The Beatles brought much more dynamic energy and aggressiveness to the stage. I could feel myself bodily transmorph into the music. It wasn’t just the music that I found amazing, I also found the way that the boys presented themselves on stage - their choreography was amazing. Paul was left-handed and stood with John or George together who were right-handed and the microphone was in the middle. So they stood with their faces to the microphone but the public saw them from the side and it was a wonderful symmetry which fitted their music. At this time the band consisted of five people, Paul McCartney on bass guitar and song, John Lennon; rhythm guitar and song, George; lead guitarist and song, Stu Sutcliffe; bass,    and Pete Best on drums. In the shortest time possible, I became a fervent fan. I went to the Kaiserkeller several times. The atmosphere was rough there, sometimes even dangerous because most of the guests there were rockers. Rock n’ roll was their sole music and they had no patience with people next to them who weren’t Exis. The Beatles at that time had their own style. As I said, I don’t understand music a lot, but to my ears, there was everything in their music that later became their sound. Above all, it was rock n roll. They covered Chuck Berry, and of course the rock fans loved him. The music and the beer would flow freely,    the atmosphere could change quickly, and they would have start a fight. This was not allowed by the Kaiserkeller and its owner, (who was called Horst and was a former boxer).    For the rockers, it was a seal of honour to poke fun at the people who that didn’t fit in with them, especially their enemies, among them of course the Exis to which I belonged. The best thing was to ignore the poking altogether and take yourself to another corner. Luckily I always managed to keep away from the fights, without completely losing face.

After a few weeks, the Beatles went into the Top Ten on the Reeperbahn, where their concerts were mostly visited by people who allowed themselves greater musical freedom. So, visitors like Kathia and I weren’t in the minority anymore. We were at the Top Ten most evenings, where a certain trust situation between The Beatles and us developed. There were situations where I really regretted that I hadn’t learnt better English, otherwise I would have had many more chances to have contact with the boys. One morning after a long night in Top Ten, Kathia and I went to bed between 3 and 4am in the morning. We went to her house and fell into bed exhausted, where we spent the rest of the day in bed. In the evening around 8 or 9pm we made our way to Hamburg again, back to the Top Ten. On the way from Ahrensburg, we came past a large strawberry plantation. Because there were no people around, Katia said, let’s steal a few strawberries. The strawberries were small, red and sweet and after we had eaten enough, we said, let’s take some for The Beatles. Kathia went into a barn and came out with a big basket. We picked so many strawberries that the basket overflowed, and on the way to the car, most fell into the road. We put the basket behind my seat and drove off. At 10pm at the Top Ten, The Beatles were already in full swing, and the dance floor was thick with people. Between two sets, we took the strawberries to the stage. The other guests joked and called us the young strawberries. We could have invited the band for a round of beer or schnapps, like the sailors or rockers did, but the strawberries were something else. The Beatles were overjoyed like children, and Paul said ‘what a wonderful idea, you can do this again!’ (He said this in bad German, which he had learnt in school). The four boys started to eat and couldn’t stop. The interval became longer and longer because the basket was so full and took a long time to empty. The public began to protest, so John decided to start throwing strawberries at people, and then Paul and the others copied him. The public then threw back the squashed strawberries and it became a food fight…Luckily most of the strawberries had been eaten. Paul then came down from the stage and asked Kathia and myself if we had a musical wish. There was a song which we liked called ‘Till There Was You’ and Kathia whispered to me that we should choose this song. It was a love song and didn’t actually fit into the whole rock n’ roll genre that they normally played. Unfortunately Paul didn’t understand that this was Kathia’s music choice and thought for years that this was my favourite song . Every time that I went to the Top Ten or The Star and he saw me, he would play ‘Till There Was You, which was was quite embarrassing for me because it wasn’t my taste of music at all, and also because the rockers bombarded me with rude gestures and remarks.    Years later, when the boys were already famous, and I was allowed backstage, we were sitting in the Ernst Merck hall and George Harrison mentioned ‘Till There Was You. I told him that it was actually Kathia’s    music taste and not mine. So he understood,    but there is still footage from The Star Club where one can hear “And now we will play ‘till there was you’ for Icke”.

After the strawberry episode, we came to know The Beatles better. Sometimes we went with them to a bar. Down below in the port, there was an English speaking pub where you could get English food and be served by English waiters and we went there a few times to eat. It was called British Sailors Society. Pete Best was very rarely there, he usually stayed in the background. And also we didn’t see much of Stu Sutcliffe, he was already dating Astrid Kircherr and concentrating more on his studies in his art school, instead of the music. The best contact I had was with Paul,    not only because he was the only one who spoke German,    but to me he was the most likeable. I went with him a few times to the Raa-Wiese. At one point he wanted to sleep with a girl, a groupie who he met in the Top Ten. He didn’t want to meet in the little room that he shared with John, George and Pete, so there were very few other opportunities for inviting girls back . He asked me if he could take the girl back to mine. Although I didn’t have much space either, but I still said yes. So I invited both of them into my little beatle car; Paul sat next to me on the passenger seat, and he had the girl on his lap. Even though she was small and dainty, it was a very tight squeeze. In a convivial mood we drove along the river at 4am in the morning, reciting tongue twisters. It was my job to say ‘red lorry yellow lorry’ three times. It was very difficult with my bad English…it was even more difficult because I was laughing so much. Suddenly the girl shrieked as in front of us a car appeared. I could only steer the car to the right and we narrowly avoided a crash. However I turned the wheel too sharply and we turned around full circle and came to a stop in the middle of the street. We really had amazing luck that at this time of day, as there was very little traffic. The car that we nearly hit was a taxi , a tank-like black Mercedes. The driver was standing next to his car and shouting like a lunatic, and he was not far from starting a fight. I was in two minds whether to drive off or not, because the taxi driver was a bullish type and he wanted to lay into me. However I decided to walk over to him, and with great effort and honest regret, I persuaded him not to report us so we were able to continue our journey in peace, although the girl now had to sit behind us. That was the worst near fatal collision of my whole life. We had been laughing so much, I didn’t notice that we had somehow ended up on the other side of the road, and we were a hairs breath away from a head on crash. We were uninsured, without airbags or safety belts and it could have been curtains for all three of us and the lorry driver. One could imagine how much poorer the world would have been without Paul..    no Beatles! The band would not have made it without Paul. George might have become an electrician, John an artist and Ringo, well he wasn’t even in the picture.    No, I don’t want to imagine it. I later relayed the story to Thomas Struck,    a Hamburger underground filmmaker who went on to make a small film of our near accident .

It’s strange that there is a rumour in this context which has been going around since 1969, and that is that Paul McCartney apparently died in a car accident in 1966 and has since been impersonated by a double. This rumour became almost a conspiracy theory which the 74 year old Ringo Starr corroborated in an interview in 2015. The theory, he said, was that Billy Shears played the double for Paul. At first, everyone wanted to keep the story going, so that record companies, and concert venues and the public were spared the gruesome details of the reality, and because Shears played his role so perfectly and nobody noticed the exchange of personality, they left it at that. Even on stage, Shears played Paul perfectly . In fact, Ringo asserts, he was better than McCartney! I don’t know what was going on between him and Paul, but such differences to me seemed very hateful. Paul apparently, after this unveiling, very angrily retorted that it was the senile gossip of an old man.

I met Paul long after the supposed accident and I never had the feeling that I was talking to a double. On the contrary, in 1991, at the Hamburg premiere about their previous world tour, I visited him in the Hotel Atlantic. He was standing with his wife Linda and two men at reception and was just about to leave when he saw me. Spontaneously he came over to me and greeted me. Billy Shears couldn’t have reacted like this, because he didn’t know me. Ringo got his comeuppance for his angry diatribes later when a post on Twitter dated    2016 declared him dead. This rumour (and naturally it was nothing more), spread like wildfire over the whole internet. I am curious to see which rumour will be the next one to make the rounds.

Anyway back to reality. When we arrived in Rahlstedt, we had to drive through a little housing estate, and it was night when we arrived; the moon was shining brightly, and the little allotment houses looked like normal houses in miniature form. Paul laughter and said; ‘I’ve never seen anything like this, do dwarves live in them?’ No I said, these are garden houses , they belong to normal people and I live in one of these houses (I was joking). In Paul’s defence , he had had a few drinks, and his tolerance wasn’t very high.

My little room suddenly became quite tight for three people; Paul, his girlfriend, and myself. Paul thought that there was even less space here than the room the group shared above the Top Ten. Because I was feeling hospitable (and because I had a bad conscience about the accident), I gave him my bed, and proceeded to make myself comfortable on the floor. Sleep however, did not come to mind, because the girl tried repeatedly to charm Paul and to pull him into her arms. Instead, he lay with his head supported by the headboard and told us stories about how he and his friends spent their nights in Hamburg. He was talking about himself, John , George and Pete Best. Stu Sutcliffe was better off because he lived with his girlfriend Astrid Kircherr . For the first time I discovered that the four Beatles lived together in a room above the Top Ten with only a little skylight, and that was only a small improvement to the hellhole their previous boss, Bruno Koschmider had put them in when they first arrived in Hamburg. They were still with Stu at that point, so it was five of them in total.    Bruno, who owned the Bambi Kino, vacated a room for them that previously housed the film reels. It was small, unheated, had no window and in comparison to their current abode, it didn’t even have a skylight. To sleep, they had to lie on straw sacks on the floor. The only positive, Paul said, was that this room was directly behind the cinema screen and the boys were able to listen to the dialogue and music of the films that played from 4pm in the afternoon. The room was lit with one tiny bare lightbulb which hung from the ceiling, and there wasn’t even a wash basin in the room. To wash themselves, they had to go to the mens toilets in the cellar. That’s where they got know Tante Rosa, the toilet attendant. Paul was charmed by her, she washed all their sweat soaked clothes, otherwise, they would have had nothing to wear. Without Tante Rosa, they would have long ago been buried in their own dirt. He also told us of the first time they went on stage at the Indra, a strip tease joint, which was also owned by Bruno. Because it was such a bad joint, the Beatles had to share billing with the strip tease dancers. For two months they had to endure this crap, because their previous manager, Alan Williams had told them that they would be appearing in a huge nightclub, (which actually turned out to be the Kaiserkeller). Unfortunately, Derry And The Seniors were appearing there, who were of the opinion that The Beatles had nothing to offer in Hamburg, and they would bring the place into ill repute with their English rock n’ roll. However it wasn’t long before The Beatles were allowed to appear, because the Senior’s contract had expired. However, their living situation didn’t change.

Paul couldn’t stop telling these stories, and I felt very privileged and honoured that he trusted me to share so much. In the meantime, the girl had long since fallen asleep and was snoring loudly, whereas we two talked deep into the night, and our conversation didn’t find an end. Very late in the night, just as it got light outside, Paul suddenly stopped speaking mid-sentence, fell asleep and began snoring louder than the girl. I tried to find myself a bearable place on the floor, but I couldn’t fall sleep for a long time because of the snoring.

I never got to know Bruno Koschmider but after Pauls stories, I’m assuming he must have been a dreadful man. Small, hunched and constantly with a miserable face.. strangely, in World War Two, apparently he performed as a clown, although he never made us laugh. This is the story that Pete Best told us anyway; that ‘he was never a clown and he never made us laugh’. In some strange way however, he had came into the money and was able to buy the Indra, the Kaiserkeller, and the Bambi-Kino cinema . His only merits was he was the first one to bring a British sound to Hamburg; he had started with Tony Sheridan, then came Derry And The Seniors, Rory Storm and The Hurricanes and finally, the Beatles. On the other hand, one could say that he misused these young people shamefully. For instance, The Beatles had to sign an agreement that for 30 marks per person, they had to play four hours a night from Monday - Friday,    and on Saturday they had to play for six hours.    Bruno even took money during their intervals.    When they moved above the Top Ten and were earning 5 marks more a day, they had to play for longer. But even so, they thought it was a move in the right direction, because they got on better with their new boss, Pete Eckhorn. Bruno threw it in their faces that they ‘deserted’ him. Then he became nasty and threw all sorts of accusations at them. First of all, because George Harrison was underage, he reported him for this. Then he reported Paul and Pete, accusing them of trying to burn down his cinema. In reality, they had only left their old boss two used condoms as a farewell present . In the end, it was only John who stayed behind in Hamburg, however he became very lonely without his friends and later returned of his own free will back to the U.K. So the story of The Beatles in Hamburg could have come to an end without much ado . But as luck would have it, they had signed a contract with Eckhorn, which means they could travel back to Germany very soon.

I once had Paul, John and George stay with me at my home in the Raawiese. My landlords weren’t home, only their 12 year old son who hung around us, and their Chinese Nightingale, who were heard singing in the background. We made a small fire in the garden and started to empty a bottle of whisky that we had bought with us. The little boy showed us a mass of twigs which were waiting to be burned, the wood was a little fresh and it was hard to light. After a short while, we had a little campfire, although the smoke got into all our eyes!    Perhaps it was the whiskey talking, or our sporting aspirations , but we decided to start jumping over the fire. After every jump we were allowed to take a slug of whiskey. Even the young boy dared to join in. When John made a misjudged jump and nearly landed in the fire and burnt his trousers, we stopped playing. He complained his only lederhosen was now kaput, although they didn’t seem damaged to me.    In the meantime, the whiskey flask was nearly empty and we were all quite drunk. It was late and the three wanted to get home to rest before their next performance. With my drunken head on, I told them I could drive them, but John wanted to borrow my beatle car instead. The fact that he had no driving license, and probably couldn’t drive anyway, didn’t matter to him. Unfortunately it mattered to me, so instead of driving my taking the car, I took them to the bus stop. It was really hard for us to walk even the few hundred meters with our wobbly legs. If we had driven there definitely would have been another accident!

When I returned to the Raawiese, the little boy came to me in great distress and told me that the nightingale was dead. ‘Which nightingale?’ I mumbled. I let myself be taken to the house where the birdcage hung. Then I saw the problem…The nightingale lay on his back with rolled up feet and he wasn’t moving. Even when I gently nudged him, I couldn’t bring him back to life. Perhaps our campfire had killed him. I actually thought to myself, when the landlords find out about this, I will be out on the street. So I told the boy that our adventures with the fire had to be kept a secret from his parents. He agreed, and we threw some water onto the campfire and moved everything away that was still lying around from the garden party. I was hoping the neighbours were away, and wouldn’t tell on us. Anyway, my fears were ungrounded, because although the landlords were sad about the death of my bird, they never asked any questions. Obviously the little boy stayed true to his word. I met him recently after a visit to the Kleingartensiedlung.    He still lived in the little old house. In the meantime, he had renovated and extended, but otherwise it looked exactly like it did in bygone days. He told me proudly that he tells our story to the people on his estate, and they fall about in surprise when he says that The Beatles once came to his house and jumped over their camp fire.

From April 3rd 1962, The Beatles played in the Star Club. Kathia and I had a sort of place of honour in the upper circle which was always reserved for us. We never paid any entrance fee and we always had a great view. Although since then, I’ve had another girlfriend - we still sat together in the same box. On the box in front of us was Astrid Kirchherr, Klaus Vormann and Jurgen Vollmer. There were the first guard of Beatles friends, and we belonged to the second. The great thing about our box was that we were allowed to use it even when other musicians appeared in the star club . In those days, these were the prominent people in the rock n’ roll scene of the time; Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis.    For all these visits, we didn’t have to pay a penny, except for Ray Charles, who we once saw in the Star Club; that cost me 20 Marks.

Next to the Star Club, there was a place called Zer Holle. This was where I often sat with The Beatles, but also with other bands, such as Gerry And The Pacemakers. There was sometimes a woman joining us called Mary Brown, who was the leader of the Beatles fan club. I was once here with Mary, Paul McCartney, Gerry and a few others. Gerry went on at me that I should become his fan too. He spoke nonstop and he kept repeating the same sentence. “Icke, you should become MY fan”. At the beginning I felt very honoured and flattered, but after a while he got on my nerves . I ordered him a beer and although he was already fairly merry, he toasted me and said, “now I’m becoming an honorary Beatles fan”. I asked Mary to show me my fan passport which she showed me immediately. I was member number 62. Until the late 60s, Mary Brown sent every member of the fan club a vinyl recording of music and best wishes from The Beatles. As an honorary member, I also had to pay very little for the beer. Once, a waiter who was new to the Star Club, asked me for 1.50 Marks and I didn’t have any change, so I gave him a 20 Mark note . He said to me, ‘when I’ve got the change i’ll come back to you’. I tried to attract his attention when he passed by my seat, but he looked at me like he didn’t recognise me. He insisted that I’d only given 1.50 and I became very stubborn and started arguing, and he threatened to throw me out. At that moment Horst Fascher walked past. I didn’t know him very well but he knew me. I told him I’d given the waiter 50 marks    but he hadn’t given me any change. One moment said Horst. The waiter was a head higher than the owner but he knew what was coming. Horst grabbed him by his arm , turned him away from me and said a word I didn’t understand . Then he waited until the the waiter opened his pocket book and gave me 48.50 as change. Normally I’m an honest person, but when I’m being swindled, the war-child in me comes through, who has learnt to insist and get tough, even if it’s at the cost of other people. I didn’t have a bad conscience because of what I had done. First, I did to him what he did to me, and second, on his evening round, he had probably done the same to the rest of his evening guests.

Horst was the eldest of three brothers. They were all small men under 1m 70, but they were feared fighters. He was the first one to have the idea to bring English rock music to Germany. In 1959 he appeared as a lightweight fighter in a match in London. That evening after the fight, he partied through Soho and landed in a club where rock n’ roll bands were playing live.    The German version of this music was also playing at the moment in the Kaiserkeller, but this was a different format. The singer was Tony Sheridan. His appearance was as strong and authentic as Bill Haley or Elvis Presley, who one only knew through Hollywood films. Horst was amazed. Back in Hamburg, he told Bruno Koschmider of his discovery. Bruno flew instantly to London and engaged Tony for his Kaiserkeller . Horst was the second string to his fiddle; he was later responsible for bringing the Beatles from the Kaiserkeller into Peter Eckhorn’s Top Ten, and then to Manfred Weissleder in the Star Club. Both his brothers were waiters in the Star Club but otherwise they didn’t really play a large role. Freddie, on the other hand, who was the youngest brother, became my protector. I was only a little player, and the impression was sometimes that people could push me around. But if I became cross with somebody and Freddie noticed, he would come between us . He was little, and his opponents were mostly bigger so he would grab them by the shirt, pull them down to his level and give them a headbutt, then there was peace.

With his brother Horst, I once had a special adventure. At Christmas of ’62 I had made The Beatles a special Christmas plate (as I had done the year before), where amongst other things I always distributed were bags of Liptons tea. That was a trademark - it was meant to be a quirky reminder of home. I also placed candles on the plates, and I wanted to bring all of this onto the stage, but Horst told me off and said, ‘you can’t do this with lit candles on stage - its much too dangerous…What were you thinking? Give them to me!’    So he dimmed the lighting in the room and took the coloured plates with the lit candles to the stage. The Beatles were already throwing tea bags and biscuits at each other, and Paul took the microphone and said, ‘Icke, you are so considerate’. Because of the teabags, they recognised the plates were my invention, even though Horst had taken them to the stage. The hardened rockers in the audience thought it was a bit feminine and misplaced that I should give such Christmas presents for them. But for me, every appearance The Beatles made was a present that was bigger than I ever could have given them back. Every time I listened to them, an intense feeling of happiness flowed through me . In them, I could forget everything around me. I never experienced such a total immersion in any other rock band who appeared at the Star Club. Perhaps there was something feminine about it , but I didn’t care.

Something feminine was at play the first time I met John. I sat with him and the rest of the band at The Star Club at the end of the night after their gig. The bar was the shape of a large oval on which one side John sat with George and a few other guests, whereas Paul and I were about five meters away on the other side. We chatted about who was our favourite author.    Naturally the guys only knew English or American authors, that was clear. Who mentioned who I’m not so sure. One said Lewis Caroll, another said Dylan Thomas. I had recently seen the play Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas, otherwise I knew nothing of him. ‘And you Icke?’ Asked Paul..    ‘who is your favourite author?’. ‘Henry Miller, I find him really great’, I replied.    At the same moment, John glanced over to me. Up until then, he had been watching - with his usual slightly bored expression, Bettina the bar lady as she washed up glasses and cleared up the bar. Our conversation didn’t seem to interest him enormously. Now he looked at me directly in the eyes. Silently and without taking his eyes off me, he came around the whole length of the bar, kissed me on the mouth and walked back to his place. At first I was very surprised and didn’t know what to do about this. Then I found it slightly amusing and didn’t think any more of it . A few days later, it happened again. I met him on the walkway behind the stage and again he took my hand and kissed me. That made me actually think about the fact.. ‘Oh my God, am I gay?, because I don’t know if I can do this’. But what was really behind this, I don’t know, and never knew. Maybe the kisses were a sort of overture? Because amongst homosexuals, he was known as a Klemm-schwuler (‘camp gay’ /closet case).    I have no idea.    In any case, I saw his girlfriend Cynthia, who visited him in 1961 and who he married a year later. Quite apart from that, he was often seen in the company of girls a lot.

On the 10th April, 1962, the fifth Beatle, Stu Sutcliffe died of a brain tumour. It was the same day that his band colleagues, (apart from George), landed at Hamburg airport a few days later to appear at the Star Club. I had very little contact with Stuart, because he left the band a year before I knew them to concentrate on his studies at the art school. Amongst his friends, his death was a huge shock. Especially hard hit was John, who was at art school in Liverpool with him and was close friends. For days he ran around like a corpse through the city, until he found himself again.

In the first half of Nov 1962, when The Beatles appeared at the Star Club again, the drummer was Ringo Starr and not Pete Best. I couldn’t get used to it at first. Even though I had very little personal contact with Pete, I felt that an important part of the brilliant ensemble had been lost. After a while, I became used to Ringo and strangely, the music became somehow rounder, and in any case, not as loud as before. Perhaps I’m just imagining it, as I’ve said, I’m not the greatest music expert. My impression was that Pete always drummed like a madman, whereas Ringo fitted in with the music. What Paul had said to me was that it was Brian Epstein who replaced Pete. It was already then very obvious the enormous influence this man had on the group. From the beginning of November, he monitored their performances and they appeared in a new, specially made outfits which they had overlooked so far in their Hamburg performances. Now they were in preppy clothes. And accordingly, they behaved themselves on stage. No more mucking around and no insults. It was only when Epstein left Hamburg on Nov 10th, they were able to go back to their old style of performance. Already on the Sunday evening, just a few hours after they had taken their manager to the airport, they were wearing their old leather rags and dancing on the stage as normal. John as usual, offended the whole audience by insulting them.

The Beatles last performances at the Star was Dec 18 -31st, 1962 . On New Years day, they were due to go back to England. I took Paul in my little beatle car to the airport, where he met with the others. Then the announcement came that the flight to London was delayed by four hours. Wonderful I thought, I have more time to hang out with them. It was in these last hours that I could talk to them all on the same level; because what happened in the next few months in England, at the crazy speed it developed, none of us, the Beatles or the fans could have imagined. The next time I saw them, they were absolute world stars and they lived in a different world. That time in the airport bar we were still thinking that in a few months, they would be appearing at the Star Club again . They were in good spirits, and not just because of the previous night where we had celebrated all night, and drunk a lot of alcohol.    It was more because they were heading off on small tour in Scotland, which was due to take place the next day beginning in Keith. But most importantly, they were beginning a tour with Helen Shapiro, where they would appear as one of the six warm up acts. Helen was 16 years old, so a few years younger than The Beatles, but much more famous and much more savvy than the boys. Musically they didn’t think much of her, but her fame was hard to discredit. It was going to be their first professional tour. Us Hamburger fans followed their journey via newspapers and the radio, how they were celebrated by the public, and soon Helen Shapiro was displaced. This tour lasted a month from February to March 1963, and catapulted The Beatles into the heavies of rock music. Together with Tommy Roe and Chris Montez-Tournee, they had broken through. Brigitte Janner, who was my girlfriend at the time, kept me up to date with how famous the band were becoming and the welcome they received whenever they appeared .

It was three and a half years later that I saw them again. A teen magazine called Bravo had organised a lightening tour through Germany with them, and three weeks before had started creating an advertising frenzy . Even the people from Der Bild and Bravo stood outside my house and wanted to interview me. I said they could interview me if they could get me into the Beatles press conference . They didn’t want to do that, perhaps they couldn’t do it. In any case I didn’t give them an interview. The next day in Der Bild newspaper, there was a big article entitled ‘Icke And The Beatles’. There was a photo of me with wide open eyes, which somebody had shot the moment I had opened my door for them. It was not exactly a good image of me and I would have stopped the publication of it had I known. Also in this article, there were loads of made up stories . These stories started circulating at my work which made me uncomfortable, not least because my colleagues were gossiping about me. After all, I was head of the department, and I didn’t want to be compromised.    There were newspaper articles in Der Bild and Bravo about me in Reinhold & Mahla (my workplace) which was uncomfortable for me, because it meant my colleagues had ratted on me.

The tour was booked from the 24th - 26th June; three days in three cities. Through the press photographer, Peter Bruchmann, I found out the Beatles would be arriving at 5 30 am on a special train at the Ahrensburg station, so I got up at 4 in the morning not to miss this moment. As the train approached, I stood very close to the edge of the platform. A mass of journalists, fans and other commuters also stood on the platform. It was terribly noisy and nobody could understand a word anyone was saying. Luckily, I found a favourable place on the platform - facing the wagon in which the Beatles were basically stood right outside my nose. I saw the guys standing at the window and Paul saw me too. He moved his lips as though he wanted to say something to me, and pointed to the front where they were going to disembark. Unfortunately this was about 10 meters deep with people who were all trying to see the band. I tried with all my might to push through but I was still stuck in the middle. It was just impossible to get through. The Beatles had already disembarked. They were corralled straight away by the bodyguards who had freed a walkway through the crowd. However, Paul managed to turn around, he called to me, ‘We’ll see you later!’, and then they ran at speed through the walkway, out to where the cars were standing, surrounded by journalists and fans who were waiting for them. They were taken with a police escort to the Castle Tremsbuttel, where they were staying the night.

The whole thing happened so quickly that on the way home, I thought it had been a dream. On the way back in the car, I asked myself, what did Paul mean when he called out to me? How should I approach him, how was it going to work that we would see each other when the instructions had been so vague. The two concerts were scheduled for 3pm - 4.45pm and then 7pm - 8 45 pm. In between both concerts there were press conferences being held, to which unfortunately I wasn’t invited. I managed to get a ticket for the second concert, but I still hung around for three hours with the other fans in the hall. Suddenly on the loudspeaker I heard my name. ‘Icke Braun is asked to come to the desk’. I thought to myself, what do I need to come to the desk for? but I went anyway. A man was standing there who I had met before - he was from the newspaper, Der Bild. He told me that Paul McCartney wanted to speak to me, then turned around and went into the conference room and I followed him. Already outside I could hear John Lennon’s voice and as the door opened, I saw him joking with the journalists. As everyone was only speaking English, I didn’t understand much of it. The Beatles were sitting on a podium together with a man I didn’t know. Later I discovered that that was Neil Aspinall who was the personal assistant to the Beatles. George saw me and waved me to his side. I went a bit nearer to the stage but kept my distance. Why should I stand around on the stage looking stupid when I had nothing to say? So I stayed where I was and waited until the end of the conference until I said hello to the guys. A few journalists then left the room but most stayed. When the Beatles came down from the stage, George asked me ‘how are you and what are you doing with yourself’? I said, ‘yes I’m good, I’m now married!’, John heard that and called, “Where’s your wife, let’s see your wife!” and Neil said to me; the Beatles wishes must be obeyed! So I called Evelyn and told her the Beatles wanted to meet her. She was able to come straight away because we had talked about something like this happening. We withdrew into a little room, and suddenly I saw that there was Kathia and Bettina from the the Star Club. I must have overlooked them amongst all the chaos. When Evelyn appeared, she was the first to be introduced to the Beatles. Everything revolved around her and as they were all speaking in English, I stood by looking stupid, so I took the chance to go to the toilet. in order to do that, I had to go through the hustle of journalists who were waiting to grab one of the Beatles. When I came back from the toilet, they were begging me to take them back into the conference room. One said, if you take me with you, I will give you 1000 Marks.    When I got back to the Beatles, I asked if I could bring a few people in to meet them, but John and the others were emphatic; no way, we want this to be just us. Bettina took a few photos out of her bag, which showed the Beatles in the Top Ten and    the Star Club. The boys were delighted and told her that they would like to have the photos. I told them that the photographer who took them was standing outside the door. ‘Fetch him in, fetch him!’ said John excitedly. The photographer was called Peter Bruchmann, and was absolutely delighted to be the only journalist to be allowed into the conference room. It was he who had given me the tip that the band would be alighting off the train at Ahrensburg . I knew him from the time when the Beatles played at the Top Ten. At that point he hadn’t heard anything about them, and I had to persuade him to come and see them and take a few photos. These became the most famous photos he had ever taken.

A few years ago, we spoke and he told me that his career never got better than these early days. Sadly in 2014 he died. The last photo that he ever took of The Beatles in Germany, he took at the Ernst-Merck-Halle concert venue. The other people in the picture were Bettina, Kathia, Evelyn and i. Unfortunately he couldn’t supply photos from their Hamburg time to the boys at this moment, but he promised them he would send them on if they gave him a forwarding address, however, in the general melee this conversation sadly got forgotten.

All together we stayed for two hours and told each other what we had been up to in our lives. Amongst other things, I asked if they and The Rolling Stones were enemies like the German press insisted. They said that was total nonsense; they were very friendly with them. Then we went into the dining room where we ate fillet steak with lots of onions. Ringo pushed the onions fussily to the side of his plate, and said ‘the whole world knows that I don’t eat onions apart from Hamburg evidently’. During the second concert, we sat int the first row in reserved places, so I could have said myself 20 Mark fee! The Beatles only played half an hour because they wanted to introduce some Hamburg band which included The Rattles. A few of these bands ended up being a bit disappointed because they were just pushed to the side and their music was hardly listened to. Unfortunately, I as an audience member, could understand because everyone had came to see the Beatles, not the Hamburg side acts. Paul told me before the band went onstage that we would see him afterwards, however they disappeared from the stage straight away; while the public was still clapping and calling for more, they were already in their cars. That was the only way to take them from their fans in safety. This was the only contact that my wife Evelyn had with the Beatles.

I myself had two more opportunities to meet Paul McCartney. The first time was in Scotland in 1988. I had long been married to Uta and she was pregnant with our first child. The car we had brought along was a Renault, a fairly long car, where we were transporting a canoe which wouldn’t fold, so it didn’t look very elegant. We had came to a town called Campbelltown, to meet our friend Mary who we had worked with at Amnesty international in Jagerberg . Mary remembered visiting us and seeing a picture of Paul, and told us that her mother had worked for him, at his estate which was not far from here. I said to Uta; ‘come on, let’s go and drive to see him’. But she did not want to go, so therefore I drove there alone. On the way, I had a rethink about what I was actually doing. The estate was guaranteed to be a tourist attraction for journalists and fans, so Paul would likely always have bodyguards on duty. If I were to arrive in my completely filthy Renault with a monster of a canoe on the roof, I wouldn’t stand a chance to get past the bodyguards. They would think that a lousy jerk was coming, who has no reason to be here. That I was once a friend of the famous Paul McCartney, they simply wouldn’t believe. The estate was quite a way away, but I stopped the car and really thought this through - should I carry on with this adventure, or would it be best to simply turn around and just go home. The humiliation that I could be turned around and sent away… I would never get over . For a while I fought with this, backward and forward, then I turned the car around and drove back at a snails pace.

So the last opportunity where I met Paul was in 1991 at the world premiere of Get Back, directed by Richard Lester. After the press conference, I met him and his wife Linda in a room at the back of the cinema. In the room with me was Astrid Kircherr, Ulf Kruger and Achim Reichel and his wife, who had won a place at this this meeting in a competition. During our chat, I mentioned my adventure in Scotland. Even though it was embarrassing to talk about this in front of people, I told Paul that I had planned to visit him, and that I was fearful of the consequences, didn’t trust my courage enough and therefore turned around. He said, “Oh for Gods sake Icke, that’s such a shame. It    would have been wonderful if you had actually visited me”. It sounded like he really meant it. I’m still angry at myself over this, sometimes I’m too much of a doofus for this world.

#bonithica ask #packyourromanticmind #thanks again! #icke braun #paul and icke #tillthereweretangents

[smolwritingchick]

Smol Brainstorm: Amity Reunion

Author's Note: This reunion will happen. Not sure when but it will. Yes, Jen will still be with BTS. It'll be interesting to write how things come together as the years go by for them to have this reunion. I wonder if they'll ever get along again.

-----

After stretching, Jennie discussed what would happen with their new song.

“Okay, Trinity, you will be starting the song," she announced.

“Starting?? As in like the first verse?” she asked, bewildered.

“That’s what starting the song means.” Jen let out a chuckle.

“But I…I never lead.”

“Well, you will today.”

“But we never did that.”

“Well, today we will. This isn’t the Pussycat dolls where one person gets to sing everything all the time.” Jen turned directly to Hailey as she spoke.

“I don’t like this idea.” Hailey crossed her arms. “What do you guys call it over there in Korea? A visual? I’m more suited to be in the middle and start the song because of my vocals.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. We are not going to do this your way, anymore. Trinity’s voice fits the beginning of the song. It’s fresh.”

“So, are you calling my vocals dull?”

"No, you’re good but the way you’re acting was the main reason why this group fell apart in the first place. What you need to get through your head is that this is not a solo. This is a group. Teamwork makes the dream work, Hailey. You didn’t get this far by yourself. We all got this far together. It’s not all about you. You should’ve never been in the group anyway. You were better off as a soloist. Almost every song your voice overpowers us. Even our fans said so. You sing like you’re competing with us instead of harmonizing and finding a nice rhythm for the music.”

“Preach!” Angelina called out, earning an annoyed glance from Hailey.

“I have to agree,” Layla spoke up.

Trinity turned to Hailey and shrugged. “Sorry girl, you do sing a little too loudly and overpower us. It’s annoying as shit, to be honest. I couldn’t even hear myself sing in a few songs years ago. But if you take your vocals off the song, you can hear me and everyone else as clear as day.”

Hailey let out a sigh. Okay, they did have a point, she couldn’t deny that. Maybe she was too greedy for the spotlight and wanted everything about her. As much as she hated to admit it. After a while, reluctantly, she decided to swallow her pride and go along with what Jennie had proposed.

“Fine…” Hailey murmured.

That surprised Miss Bangtan. “What?”

“I said…fine…"

She stared at her old leader in surprise. No argument, no nothing. Just straight on in agreement with her? Hell froze over.

"You…you do have a point so…what do you want us to do?” Hailey asked her.

Jennie began to smile. "Thank you,"

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, JW. Now tell us what you want us to do," Hailey waved her away but Jennie peeped the small smile trying to come across her face.

After going over the majority of the first part of the song, Jennie finally came across the chorus and announced, “Now, for the chorus, I believe that Angelina should be in the front this time.”

Trinity snorted. “Angelina? You can’t be serious. Angelina can’t dance. She is the most awkward dancer-“

“Trinity, for Pete’s sake, shut up.” Angelina rolled her eyes.

“No, this is bullshit, Jen! You really want Angelina to be in the front? Ruining the entire performance with her two left feet? I don’t even know how she got into Songstress in the first place, her dancing isn’t any better with the music label she’s on now. Jennie, I strongly suggest she stays in the back for the ENTIRE performance.”

That struck a nerve in the rapper as she spat out angrily, “Bitch-“

“Enough.” Jen grabbed a hold of her and backed her away from Trinity. “What we are not going to do is bring each other down like this. We shouldn't attack each other's skills that we aren't the best in. We should be uplifting each other and helping. Trinity, you should help Angelina with her dancing, not belittle her for her skill. You disappoint me. Really. I thought you would be like Hobi and help the rest of us with our dancing to make sure we are doing things correctly,"

Trinity sighed and crossed her arms.

“Jennie…stop being the peacemaker.” Hailey shook her head. "It's not going to work,"

Jennie raised a brow and gestured for her to do something. “Okay, well, Miss Leader are you gonna stop them from fighting?”

“Just let them fight.”

“I don’t want us to fight, anymore. It's been years. I want us to get along and work together as a unit. You know, after all this time, I thought you would be a better leader and learn from Namjoon at least. Now, for this dance, I feel like everyone should have their time to shine and be in front to dance.”

“Angelina has no rhythm at all!” Trinity exclaimed.

“I can show you the rhythm of my fists,” Angelina suggested.

“Do it, I dare you!”

Layla watched back and forth, not knowing what to do while Jennie rubbed her temples at their bickering.

This was going to be a long day…

As the group practiced the dance with music, Trinity and Angelina bumped into each other.

“It’s the OTHER way.” Trinity snapped and rolled her eyes, getting sick of Angelina messing up.

“You were too close to me.” Angelina snapped back. As they continued to dance, Trinity decided to bump into her on purpose to get back at her for bumping into her first. “You know what…” she murmured before her hands started swinging.

#smol brainstorm #smol oneshot #smol drabble

[rancidpancakebatter]

Drop In-Chapter 7 [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader

Summary: You like Peter, and Peter likes you. This should be simple, so why isn’t it? Well, maybe it’s because you were already friends? Maybe it’s the stress of senior year? Maybe it’s because someone had to get bit by a spider? Who’s to say?

Word Count: 3.2k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying, Anxiety, Depression,

Some negative body image in this chapter and pretty early on. I’m really tapping into the insecure teen years with this story. 

( Previous | Chapter List | Next )

A/N: Homecoming is happening! Football and Mayhem and Peter

Bit of a filler, because it’s gonna get sad and stressful.

also it's midterms and I'm exhausted so I'm sorry but this is very unedited and kinda...dry? I dunno but it's the best I have rn

You looked over your bed, where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has its limitations.

You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case. 

Once that was settled, you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game, so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change.

You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours. 

As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies, and hope, and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below. 

You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with it. 

You pulled a deep, centring breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter, you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in, and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments. 

“Are you excited?” 

His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection. 

“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”

He chuckled at your response, remembering his own teenage woes of old. 

“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back, and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete, and we just made jokes. At one point, we narrated what we thought the players were thinking as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”

There was a tension in your father’s shoulders that he didn’t know he held, but he felt it leave as you told him about your day. It had been so long since he had seen you so animated. You were excited, and he was excited for you. 

“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding; we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”

That earned a very loud laugh from your father. 

“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”

You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”

You both agreed on the compromise, and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter. 

Your father answered it at your request. 

“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”

“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”

You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.

“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us, but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off, but they could both come, and then May could get some pictures. If not, I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”

His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad, knowing he was the only one who might care. 

“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”

Your father left the bathroom, and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh. 

You stayed on the phone with Peter for a bit while you got dressed, reviewing the plan once again. You decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way. There was a bodega nearby that Peter absolutely loved, and you agreed to go. It was cheaper and quicker than some fancy sit-down meal. And it was special. Something for you and Peter. The thought made you feel warm inside. 

You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that, he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind. 

There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class; he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you. 

You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that orchestrated your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder, yes, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer. 

The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from halftime, and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures, and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you, but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often. 

Peter was hesitant, but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright, and you were basking in it.

You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting, and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving of your peers while juggling heavy instruments was mesmerising. Then the homecoming court emerged. 

A stage was wheeled onto the field, and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event, about the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three pairs from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair.

You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside her passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine. 

She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised slightly and wiggled her fingers with enthusiasm. Peter waved back, and you felt your throat tighten ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused, and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again, and you realize she’s talking to you. 

“I like your top,” She mouths again. 

You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress, but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks. 

You go to reprimand him, but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you like that, how could you be mad? All boyish charm and crinkled eyes. You make a face at him, and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at his arm. 

This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boy toy hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurance that she looked great. Pete is getting frustrated, and you raise your camera in preparation.

He turns to make a face at you. His eyes are captured mid-roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever immortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to upload it later. 

After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and you’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee. 

“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief.

“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is a gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweetness- and when fresh, it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scouts can rival what is happening in this tent.”

When you reach the counter to order, you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane, but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barely see over them. Pete takes another photo of you, and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out. 

On your way back to the game, you're splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue, and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips, and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autumn hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light. 

 You’ve made your way back into the “field.” The concessions lines were long, and your beloved tent was well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved, you almost lost Peter in the crowd until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person. 

He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety, and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you.

He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take- if any- while munching on your sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out. 

You looked up at the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling silver metal. But in case you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief. 

Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then at the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle, then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed. 

You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”

He feigned anger, but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell upon the two of you. 

“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”

He wrapped his arms dramatically around you both, with his toes barely touching the ground, as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn, and he was delighted to take some. 

“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some, but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your scrumptious snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to Silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here.”

You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at each other sceptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half-eaten, rice-crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together. 

He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter. 

He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”

Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.” 

Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity.

“Nick, dude. I told you we could, next Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”

Nicholas only takes another bite. Defiance drives his every movement. Although, you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.

“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should come back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”

Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. Watching LOTR high did sound like a fun evening, but it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter. 

Still tucked under his arm, it’s hard to hide from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night, but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go; the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing. 

“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planning these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.” 

Only Nick sounded annoyed by his answer, and for that you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”

You feel his fingers run across your shoulder, and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”

You looked over your bed where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First, was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has limitations. You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case. 

Once that was settled you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change. You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours. 

As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies and hope and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below. 

You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with them. 

[maybe describe the dress or sum]

You pulled a deep, centring, breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments. 

“Are you excited?” 

His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection. 

“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”

He chuckled at your response, remembering his teenage woes of old. 

“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete and we just made jokes. At one point we narrated the team’s thoughts as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”

There was a tension in your father’s shoulders that he didn’t know he held, but he felt it leave as you told him about your day. It had been so long since he had seen you so animated. You were excited and he was excited for you. 

“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”

That earned a very loud laugh from your father. 

“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”

You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”

You both agreed on the compromise and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter. 

Your father answered it at your request. 

“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”

“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”

You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.

“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off but they could both come and then May could get some pictures. If not I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”

His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad knowing he was the only one who might care. 

“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”

Your father left the bathroom and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh. 

You stayed on the phone with Peter for a bit while you got dressed, reviewing the plan once again. You decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way. There was a bodega nearby that Peter absolutely loved, and you agreed to go. It was cheaper and quicker than some fancy sit-down meal. And it was special. Something for you and Peter. The thought made you feel warm inside. 

You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true, that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind. 

There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class, he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you. 

You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that [souttracked] your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder it’s true, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer. 

The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from Halftime and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often. 

Peter was hesitant but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright and you were basking in it.

You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving was meserizing. Then the homecoming court emerged. 

A stage was wheeled onto the field and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event. About the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair. You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine. 

She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised sight and she shook it back and forth with enthusiasm. Peter waved back and you felt your throat tighten, ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again and you realize she’s talking to you. 

“I like your top,” She mouths again. 

You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks. 

You go to reprimand him but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you how could you be mad? All boyish charm and scrinckled eyes. You make a face at him and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at him arm. 

This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boytoy, hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurances that she looked great. You raise your camera just in time to catch Peter making a face at you. 

His eyes are captured mid roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever imortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to uplaod it later. 

After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and You’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee. 

“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief

“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweet and when fresh it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scout’s can rival what is happening in this tent.”

When you get up to the counter to order you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than two of your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barley see over them. Pete takes another photo of you and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out. 

On your way back to the game your splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autum hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light. 

 You’ve made your way back into the “field”. The concesions lines were long and your beloved tent was in well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved you almost lost Peter in the crowd, until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person. 

He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you. He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take, if any, while munching on you sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out. 

You look up to the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling metal. But incase you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically, as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief. 

Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle and then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed. 

You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”

He friegned anger but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell apon the two of you. 

“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”

He wrapped his arms draumaticly around you both with his toes barely touching the ground as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn and he was delighted to take some. 

“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your delcectible snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here,”

You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at eachother skeptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half eaten, rice crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together. 

He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter. 

He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”

Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.” 

Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity. “Nick, dude. I told you we could Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”

Nicholas only takes another bite. Defieance drives his every movement although you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.

“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should came back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”

Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. While that did sound like a fun evening, it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter. 

Still tucked under his arm it’s hard to hid from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go, the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing. 

“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planing these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.” 

Only Nich sounded annoyed by his answer and for the you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”

You feel his fingers run across your shoulder and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”

Tag List: @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @djdre92, @drunkangels, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Invisibletrolleyson-jeremy, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @Possiblydeads-blog, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @qualitybeliverflower, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

#rancid writes #peter parker skate king #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #andrew garfield spiderman x reader #andrew peter parker #the amazing spider man #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #spiderman #pre bite peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm #peter Parker imagines #spider-man imagines

[shiroikabocha]

it seems like fandom consensus is that the end of S2 was bad—I guess I’m in the minority then because I liked it? I mean, it felt pretty rushed, they could have used two more episodes to draw out the storyline. But uh. The big thing people seem to hate, because it came out of left field or because it ruined the arc, um… am I crazy for enjoying it? It seemed a fitting cap to the narrative? Spoilers under cut.

I loved Izzy’s death! Not because I hated Izzy, far from it—I liked that he got to be the star of the most intense emotional moment in the finale! I understand the criticism that he spent all his dying breath on comforting the guy who abused him—but like. Maybe I’m reading it wrong. But I took everything Izzy said to Ed as something Izzy was also saying to himself: “I fed the darkness because I thought I needed it, but I don’t need it any more.” “You’re surrounded by family.” “You are loved.” This is all coming from the guy we saw drunkenly dragging himself across the floor repeating you’re born alone, you die alone—and it gets proven wrong, directly refuted! Izzy doesn’t die alone!

And like, yeah, it would have been wonderful if Izzy got to enjoy his emotional maturity for longer—but he did get to enjoy it for most of the season, which is a pretty damn long time in TV-land! We got to see him whittling sharks and dispensing wisdom, relearning sword fighting and developing a friendship (!!!) with Stede, singing at Calypso’s Birthday and dancing with Wee John—we saw him receive and give so much love this season, and that’s even before we get to that very on-the-nose speech about what piracy means (for the record, that’s about when I started thinking Aw beans he’s gonna die heroic in a few minutes, ain’t he). He got to spend multiple back-to-back episodes being a snarky badass enjoying the pirating life! To paraphrase Black Pete, fandom’s going on and on about how Izzy died, and not talking enough about the fact that while he lived, he motherfuckin lived!

He had SUCH AN ARC this season! Izzy went from “hell yeah Blackbeard is BACK” to “this doesn’t feel the same as it did before” to “is it because I’ve outgrown this?” to “do I even know how to do anything that ISN’T this?” to “we’re all going to die, it doesn’t matter what I do” to “we’re all going to die, so the ONLY thing that matters is what I do” to “I’ve outlived my usefulness and I don’t know what I am” to “can I be something different?” to “I can hold on to things from my past that help me and let go of things that don’t” to “it was never really about Blackbeard, was it? ‘Blackbeard’ was what we did together because life gave us shit options, and I got to thinking that if we stopped doing ‘Blackbeard’ then we couldn’t do anything else—but we can. We can do new things. We can make new family, we can reinvent old family, we can do whatever the fuck we want, and if what I want has changed then so shall I—and so should Ed, so should we all. That’s what piracy’s about.”

And I don’t think his death ruins any of that? If anything, it feels like—I dunno man, to me it feels like this whole season has been Izzy becoming the kind of man who could die exactly like this—secure in the knowledge that the fight wasn’t for nothing, that the love will go on, that he helped do something meaningful, more than just surviving another day—that he made it to an emotional place where he could ask Ed just to be with him. The thing he always wanted—Ed being with him—and for so long, couldn’t ask for outside of the context of violence and conquest and all the things the ‘Blackbeard’ performance demanded… it was good!! I liked it a lot!

The one thing Izzy probably never expected to get in life is a good death, a death without regrets, and he gets one!! It wasn’t too late for him to change his life!!! It’s never too late!!!!

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd season finale #izzy hands #I understand and respect everybody who didn’t like it but I liked it a lot

[blkbonnet]

Thinking about this art by @mattewkanada and imagining them sat there on deck just casually comparing rings. Stede makes a comment about how lovely the ruby is and how it’s never been a colour he’s really worn. He’s not sure if it’s for him. Ed doesn’t agree and takes it off before confidently putting it on Stede’s finger. Whoever told him what colours he could and could not wear deserves to be thrown overboard with cannonballs tied around their ankles. "You look good in everything, mate.” He smiles as he points down at Stede’s hand as if that proves his point. Stede pulls his gaze away from Ed’s face and looks down at his hand and finds himself marvelling at the jewel. It really does look lovely, although he doubts that has anything to do with him and everything to do with the fact it belongs to Ed.

He immediately offers to give Ed one of his own rings. “The turquoise one, perhaps?” He says it’s always been his favourite. The colour, he explains, is how he kept the ocean close to him when it felt so far away. An impossible dream that got him through the monotony. "My true heart, if you will.” Ed is almost glad Stede is still staring down at the ring because he’s sure his face would give away just how much his own heart is beating for this man. His own impossible dream made true. Despite the meaning behind the ring, Stede doesn’t hesitate as he takes it off and reaches for Ed’s hand. Stede has to try several of Ed’s fingers before finding one it fits. It’s something they both have a good giggle about, completely oblivious to the fact Lucius is watching from afar clutching at his chest. Black Pete hears the steady stream of ohmygodohmygodohmygod and also looks over. By the time the co-captains are sat there, hands out in front of them and fingers spread as they look lovingly between each other and their new rings, half the crew have stopped what they’re doing and are watching. The rest of the crew hear about it within minutes. But Ed and Stede are still only paying attention to each other. They carry on sitting there, talking about everything and nothing, until they eventually move on with their day. Thinking very little about the swapped rings now sitting proudly on their fingers.

Lucius is the first to express how happy he is for them. Stede is rather baffled at the seemingly random outburst but thanks him anyway. Black Pete joyfully slaps Ed on the back and finds himself immediately pinned to the mast. Ed drops him as soon as he realises he’s a friend not a foe but he’s too busy fighting the adrenaline to hear any of the congratulations. Although by the time dinner comes around it’s quite obvious to them both that something weird is going on. Roach bringing out another forty orange glaze cake only confirms it. But everyone is just so happy that they decide to simply join in with the celebrations and have a wonderful night too.

It’s not until the following morning that it hits Stede. He’s woken up slowly, the early sun hitting the new ring on his finger where it’s still resting on Ed’s chest. He looks at it and thinks of Ed. Almost as if sensing it, Ed sleepily reaches for his hand and links their fingers together and falls back to sleep. Stede smiles at their joined hands and seeing the rings next to each other only heightens that feeling he’s still getting used to. Yet it’s right in front of him now. His heart in Ed’s hands, quite literally. It feels so right. Better than any dream. He thinks this is how it should have felt when-

“ED! ED! Wake up! They think we’re engaged!”

Ed, who does not wake up, only snuggles back into his pillow and lazily replies. “Well we usually are at this time of the day but I think that cake took it out of me,” he rubs his exposed belly with his other hand, “I’m good to sleep for another few hours”, and rolls over much like a cat would in a sun spot.

Stede gets distracted by the first bit because well, he’s not wrong, and then again by the belly. Ed not being a fan of sleepwear is something he still can’t decide is a bad thing or a very, very good thing... Then he remembers why he woke him in the first place. So he averts his eyes back to Ed’s face and carries on with his revelation. That wakes Ed up. He looks up at Stede with more vulnerability in his eyes than either of them are ready for.

“And is that… a bad thing?”

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that. It catches Stede completely off guard. Marriage is something that has only filled him with dread his entire life. But he lets himself imagine it now with Ed and…

“No. No, it’s not.” The only thing that scares Stede is how easy it was to get to that answer. But then he realises it was easy because it was honest. This life with Ed is better than any dream. He not only can imagine being tied to him for the rest of his life, he wants it. This, him, them. Forever. They’re both smiling at each other (like the lovesick idiots they are) as they both wordlessly come to the same conclusion.

They don’t emerge from their quarters until well into the afternoon but when they do, they do it hand in hand and freshly engaged.

#our flag means death #ofmd #blackbonnet #stede bonnet #ed teach #gentlebeard #accidental engagement anyone? #this has no doubt been done before but I just couldn’t stop once I started writing #text #mypost

[angievores]

A Theory on how these two could Start or have Already Started or can call it as random rambling on vegas pete

They said they toned down Vegaspete story a lot. That means with problematic parts they may also have changed their starting point. So here's my thoughts on how their story may progress keeping novel aside.

"They say their relationship is painful but beautiful.its all consensual.Be ready when it happens. It's equally fun as the main cp. They are two puzzle pieces which fits together." Everything is said by cast or showmakers.

For me to be painful means at any cost they would want to be together but can't because of their external goals. They both has some deep pain inside which they will embrace in each other's presence. It's beautiful that means their love is going to be pure and very deep. Achieving all of this in a room from starting seems difficult in 6 episode.

For their first time to be consensual after getting captured,both should have at least certain amount of attraction for it to be impactful. The attraction from pete ( even if it's very slight,just physical nothing romantic)at least should exist before confinement for people to not call it stockholm Syndrome. Vegas we know could get it in a split second. Even if pete initiates just to buy some time, it would still be dubious and without any attraction, it's difficult to make it beautiful.

So what if they had a history ,not anything sexual but some important interaction, maybe something emotional where they saw an interesting side of each other. It's not impossible as they know each other for a long time. But that very very little spark is hushed down by them as it was impossible. For pete it was his boss and his boss enemy. For Vegas he is very much obsessed with kinn to focus on anything else and pete isn't of any strategic importance towards his goal.

Vegas keeps tabs on everything around kinn. He sent that lady assassin to check porshe even before his dad told him so. So he must have done similar on his all bodyguards. He may have found someone cute or handsome (you know whom) but not of very much importance to kinn. They changed kinn's type so why can't vegas type also. In the series every bodyguard belongs to kinn, just arm, pol, pete are assigned to khun. There doesn't seem to be any head bodyguard for khun. In fact pete, arm, big and porshe are his most trusted and of highest ranks. Vegas must keep all of them on check from time to time.

Vegas did found porshe handsome but it's not until kinn chocking porshe, he realized porshe importance. Then after his dad's order he has to focus on him. For whole second family and bodyguards to participate in friendly facade in ep 7 , it must be kan's order (getting porshe on there side is that important to them).

Now talk about vegas pete,This interaction is very odd in ep 4. (Very unlikely but what if he came for pete but got kinn and porshe luckily).The gesture of Vegas touching Pete's shoulder seems to be signify their relationship. It's same when pete played Vegas in special episode. In evry poster, trailer Vegas hands are on pete shoulder or chest or face. We all can see pete is very nervous or scared in his presence compared to others even when he wasn't spying. But why?? and what for??

He could sense Vegas evilness but he was unhinged in ep 7 when Vegas mutilated a body and was comfortable in working with him. So it's not just fear of authority.

He is scared Vegas would do something to him. Why? Did Vegas tried something on him in past? Like making some advances as in ep 6.

He is interested in him or is aware of Vegas intentions towards him (if they have such). But it's not anything deep and very little physical attraction or amusement that is insignificant to Vegas compared to his goal kinn.

Was he this excited bcz of porshe headbutt (a challenge) Or bcz that reminded him of something similar in the past. Or bcz this time porshe (a challenge)is kinn's weakness too? I wondered that bcz this still was present in a romantic mv and hand gestures represent him and pete. Why giving porshe related still when his romantic pairing is pete? (If there's such a twist as Vegas liked porshe bcz of pete, I'll die). Because Except this still, there's no solid proof that he follows porshe bcz he is personally interested in him. In fact it's all ambiguous , he is trying so hard bcz of dad, bcz of kinn Or both. He himself never said anything when porshe isn't around. They can easily change this ambiguous love triangle situation into vegas never liked porshe Or was interested in pete from beginning. This way it serves both the purposes in first half (vegas being second lead) and second half (vegas being crazy for pete)of series.

But pete is always blurred or not shown in porshe presence to Vegas. Maybe bcz even if pete somewhat interested him at some point,he chooses to completely ignore him as his main focus is kinn and pete would be a waste of time. (Novel spoiler-he is driven by revenge) or because they don't want to show us pete reaction now(because it's insignificant or because it'll be a huge spoiler).

This time, pete himself walked into Vegas vicinity. Was Vegas showing his intentions or caught on pete's feelings (if he has some). That "take care" was a warning that if you come more closer , you have no idea what I'll do to you. How would he know a condom will get such a reaction from pete? (Has he observed pete before). Pete was totally creeped out. He got the message very clear.Or has he seen or sensed this vegas before too?

pete has successfully caught his attention till this point. Vegas no longer wants to ignore him. Was Vegas thinking "you are very daring, even after so many warnings came this close". Vegas is in full mood to play with him. This interaction was very different from any novel interaction (although more creepy) Vegas didn't gave him any warning but played according to pete's lame excuse. Dropping him quietly to his room doesn't seem like Vegas (maybe gave him indirect warning or gave him food to confuse him more).

One more thing vegas doesn't leave a single opportunity to touch pete. While pete doesn't like or feels uncomfortable with any unfamiliar closeness or touches, especially from vegas. I did another post on this. He has a very strong sense of personal space.

Another reason is in their consume you trailer,vegas approaches pete first before observing him and instantly got obsessed at first touch while both were already bathing in red chrysanthemum (passionate love) and red wine (transformation). He plays with his chest (heart), before hurting him. While Pete's body reacts, his face observes. I don't know how to interpret it. Either after capturing he'll first play with him and then hurt him more Or if he hurts him just after capturing, now he's playing with him (in background of course)

If that's true then when he'll found this boy in his wardrobe one day,he won't let him go that easily. He would be presented with a golden opportunity where he can play with pete however he wants. vegas capture pete because he interests him (as his prey) rather than to just vent his emotions on him. That submerged spark will came floating and will turn into fire when they get unmasked in the room.

There's a single still hinted at Vegas torturing pete (electric taser one) &so far many stills are misleading, like kinn chocking porshe.(Have you any idea what could be misleading about it if it is) . If not for consume you trailer, there isn't single frame of them being together but they can't start their story abruptly, there needs to be significant hints dropped in background which will later show that their story was progressing and will make us coming back to these episodes.

Puzzle pieces that fit together.Those who are love starved can give tonnes of love upon receiving a drop. Vegas wants someone to see him and pete wants someone to take care of him, the guy is always tired taking care of others. Of course they'll later share deep emotional bonding .

Before you accuse me of being delusional,I myself also don't believe fully in it. I don't expect anything at this point. @secondtime20 it's because of your post that I got these thoughts in my mind. Anyway It's just a theory or possibility,and may seem like a ff but if they go by such a path, it'll somewhat solve their problematic start. Also explain their late start as being in same room will be just catalyst for their relationship. And it won't be totally out of context . There are ambiguous hints here and there. (Man if he needs to be obsessed with pete, do it from the very first episode). Also explain why they can't show much interaction between them in first half.

Another way is pete turns out as fcked up as Vegas. Will directly look into his eyes when unmasked. Will be the one initiating everything.

On a side note, very unlikely but what if he was serious here.

I know he was joking and it was foreshadowing future. But so far I have noticed they sometimes hide serious plot behind comedy. For example, khun smacking vegas for jealousy but was actually protecting his brother, actually khun's whole existence, pete having guts to plan search his boss room but was actually ordered by kinn(maybe), him acting oblivious to kinnporshe relationship, him acting idiot in hallway but founding vegas room. But it's still very unlikely of above pic being true.

#vegaspete #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #vegas theerapanyakul #pete kinnporsche #vegas kinnporsche #vegas x pete

[jaladwolf]

A Giggly Gift for Pete(Christmas Special)

Cast: Finn(Ler), Dottie(Ler), Pete(Lee)

This was a request from my lovely follower @tkfanz428, who requested a Christmas themed fanfic featuring the Silly Pete’s gang.

Warning! This is a tickle fic, so if you uncomfortable with this topic then don’t read.

Summary: The Silly Pete’s gang is celebrating Christmas, but Pete seems to not be enjoying as much, so Finn and Dottie decided to try and lift his spirits.

It was Christmas Eve at Silly Pete’s. Finn had come over to his old restaurant to celebrate with his old friends. While it wasn’t really expected, Dottie was overjoyed to see him return to spend Christmas with them.

“Oh my gosh you’re here! You’re actually here! It’s been so long since we’ve last seen you!”

Dottie was absolutely over the moon, throwing practically a million ideas for Christmas activities. From baking cookies to decorating the tree with homemade ornaments, the whole speculative.

“Oh wait I should tell Pete that you’re here.”

Dottie took his hand and led him backstage to where Pete was, practically brimming with joy when she saw him sitting on the floor reading a book. “Pete! Look who came to spend the holidays with us!”

The rat animatronic jumped a bit, before turning around to see his coworker with Finn right behind her. Finn, who looked a bit nervous went up to greet him.

“Uhm h-hi Pete… how are you doing?”

Pete looked up at him, a scowl now present on his face as he glared at him, causing Finn to tense. He then looked over at Dottie before speaking:

“What is he doing here Dottie?”

Dottie, noticing his face, tried to keep the situation from escalating.

“Oh Pete come on. He’s here to celebrate with us.”

Pete just scoffed as he turned his back to them.

“Nope not happening.”

As he went back to his book, Dottie looked rather upset. It was clear he was doing this so that they would leave him alone. He never wanted to celebrate Christmas with them and even when he did, he barely did anything. She wanted to lift his spirits. But how? Suddenly an idea popped into her head. She decided to play along and make him think she was gonna leave him alone. “Okay if that’s what you want, I’ll leave you be.”

She then took Finn aside where Pete couldn’t hear them. At this point, Finn was a bit confused until Dottie told them what they were going to do. She walked back to him with an innocent smile as he gave her the same scowl, not taking his eyes off the book.

“I thought you said you’d leave you alone.”

“I know I know but I want to ask you something”

Pete quirked an eyebrow as he looked up at her, his hands behind his head.

“Fine. What is it?”

“I was just wondering if you were willing to accept a gift from us. You know, even if you don’t want to celebrate with us.”

Really, he thought. Before he could answer, he felt a pair of hands squeeze his sides, making him jump.

“H-hey why you little-!”

He immediately spun around to see Finn behind him. He tried to push his hands off but that’s when he felt a pair of hands prod at his underarms. By the time he managed to put two and two together, it was already too late. He looked at the two of them, his scowl now a nervous smile.

“C-come on… can we be civil about this… please?”

The two just looked at each other with a knowing expression.

“Sorry Pete but you kinda brought this on yourself.”

As soon as Dottie said that, her hands darted to his waist, kneading the sensitive area with her fingers as Finn began scratching at his underarms. Pete was already in a complete fit of laughter, trying to squirm out of their grasp.

“Pfft-heHeHahahaHa! You jerheheherks! Quit it!”

He attempted to push Dottie away with his foot, but that only resulted in her grabbing his ankle before fluttering a finger near his sole pad.

“OhoHoho God NaHat- not that!”

Dottie just gave him a playful grin as she began squeezing his paw repeatedly, causing him to go into cackles. He attempted to push her away, but that’s when he felt Finn go down to his tail, using a finger to twirl it around, sending him into slight hysterics.

“AhaHahaHahAha! Finn Stohohop!”

Finn couldn’t help but giggle at his laughter. This was one of the few times he’s actually seen Pete in a situation like this. He had to admit it felt nice. Seeing him squirm in an attempt to lessen the tickling suddenly gave him a playful idea.

“Hey Dottie. What was that spot he said he where his sensors were broken again?”

Dottie slowed down her tickling as she thought for a moment before giving him an answer.

“Oh I think it was his hips.”

Pete gave Dottie a glare as he felt his face turn a bright red.

“Dottie you traihihitor!”

Finn chuckled a bit before placing his hands on his hips, causing the animatronic to tense before beginning to protest.

“Uh- Finn Finn waihihit no no no no no no Ihihi- I swear to gohod-!”

But it was already too late. Finn immediately dug his fingers into hips, causing him to let out a shriek, throwing his head back in mirth as Dottie began drawing shapes in his underarms. He was practically incoherent at this point, with snorts and hiccups being present as he tried to speak.

“AHAAHAHAHAH!*snort* NAHAHAHO NO NO NO! PLEHEHEHEASE I*hic*CAHAN’T-!”

At this point he had completely given up trying to break free since every attempt resulted in them switching spots. But he wasn’t gonna outright beg for mercy.

…Yeah that idea flew out the window as soon as he felt Dottie target his ears, causing him to squeal.

“EYAHAHAHAHA-!*snort*NOHOHO! PLEHEHEASE!*hic* I BEG OF YOU STOHOHOP!”

After hearing him practically begging them to stop, the duo decided to finally show him mercy and ceased their attack, letting him catch his breath.

“Hey uh… you ok?”

“*huff**puff* Yeah I-I’m fine. J-just you wait. I’m getting my revenge.”

The two suddenly realized what they’d just gotten themselves into, slowly backing away as Pete stood up with a sinister grin on his face.

“N-now now Pete. Let’s talk about this…”

“Hmm you know what. I’m gonna be nice and give you both a head start. How about… 10 seconds?”

Pete began counting down as he slowly began walking up to them.

“10…9…8…”

Upon realizing he was being genuine, the duo began giggling as they started running away from the monster that they’ve created.

“3…2…1! Start running!~.”

They didn’t really get far, so Pete was easily able to catch up with them. He managed to catch both of them as the two tried to negotiate with their coworker to no avail.

“Sorry guys but I can’t let such an action go unpunished.”

While they both seemed to regret what they did, in reality they really didn’t. The two were just happy that they were able to lift their friend’s spirits. Now they just had to figure out how to get themselves out of this situation.

Yeah! Finally done! Again thank you @tkfanz428 for the idea! Merry Christmas y’all!

#ask goldie anything #grawolfquinn #fnaf tickles #tickle fic #christmas

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

PLAYING WITH THE BOYS

PART 6; SOMEONES ON YOUR MIND

Warnings: mentions of death, attempts at starting a fight, not really anything bad.

Summary: what was supposed to be a calm and normal briefing turned into a war zone in a matter of minutes after a dilemma was proposed to the group.

Wordcount: 1.2k

The next morning was the hottest day of the year so far and Robin was already exhausted from the California heat. 

Miramar was hot on a regular day but today was boiling hot. She stood in the closed office area where they were having a meeting later as she set up the room. They were going to have a normal day without any actual flying and instead learn more about the logistics of the mission 

"Morning Robin," Pete said as he walked in, leaving the door open behind him, "How's your mother?" 

He chuckled, turning to look at him, "She's good Mav, you gonna ask her out on a date yet?" She questioned, watching the faint blush spread over the older man's face. 

"We should get ready, they'll be here in a minute," he suggested and she chuckled, nodding her head in agreement. 

Minutes later the group came in, sitting down in their full flight suit's. Robin was just wearing a tank top today and a pencil skirt, knowing that today was going to be warm. 

"This is more of a mission briefing than anything, we just want to answer any questions and then Maverick will take you all downstairs to do some drills, check in with a specialist, just keeping you all fit and healthy," she explained. 

She gestured to Pete and he nodded, taking a stand in the middle, "On that note, does anyone have any questions?"

Some people asked a few logistical questions but they were all simple and easy to answer. At least until Bradley started to talk.

"I was just wondering how this is all possible," Rooster said, putting his hand down as he looked at it. 

"I promise you it will be possible," Pete said, looking over at Bradley. 

Before he could come back with some sparky comment that would undermine Petes rule, Robin cut in. 

"So do you understand the mission or is this just an excuse to argue with Maverick?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows at him. 

"I understand the mission ma'am, it's just-" he began before he was cut off by Hangman.

"How can we trust Rooster when him and Maverick keep on arguing," he said, his tone cocky, "We all know why,"

"Why don't you mind your own business Hangman?" Robin asked, less of a question and more of a threat towards him. 

She could feel tension bubbling up in the room as everyone began to question what was going on in the group.

"Maverick used to fly with Rooster's dad before he died while Maverick was operating the plane," Hangman announced, a smug grin on his face, "We all know its his fault that your old man died,"

There was a split second where his face contorted into one of misery before his fight or flight mode kicked in. 

Instantly, Bradley jumped up, eyes dark and angry as he pounced towards Hangman. Robin, Payback and Fanboy all jumped forward, holding him back from attacking Hangman. The other man jumped up from his seat in a defensive position but nobody went to his side 

"Calm down Rooster, he's not worth it," she tried to reason with him but he continued to struggle against the three. 

"Let me go," he grunted, his voice sounding weak and defeated. 

Robin had never seen that look in his eyes before. He was furious and she knew how much his dad meant to him so to hear him being mentioned and slated by somebody who he despised hurt him a lot. 

"Brad," she whispered, voice quiet as she moved from her position where she was holding him back to standing in front of him, hands on his shoulders. 

In that position he was forced to look at her and the second that his dark eyes met hers he calmed down, the tension in his shoulders going down.

The room was full of suspense, nobody sure what to say after Bradley tried to attack Hangman for the comments made on his father. 

"Everybody out," Maverick ordered, his voice confident but also conflicted as he looked at everyone, unable to make eye contact with Rooster. 

Maverick had always cared for the boy even if it was something Bradley would never understand. So to see him hurt over something that had happened three decades ago that Pete had caused, it brought back all the pain. 

"You know I'm right, he can't be trusted," Hangman said, the man walking back Maverick with a cocky smirk. 

"I'll be back in a minute, okay Brad," Robin said, placing a hand on his shoulder before following out after Hangman, the sound of her heels the only sound in the room despite Bradley's heavy breathing. 

She stormed out after him, pressing her finger against his chest. To say that she was furious was an understatement and she was going to make it clear how personal attacks weren't accepted here.

"You don't bring people's personal life into this, do you understand?" She questioned, her voice raised as she looked at him. 

The man may have been over 6 foot tall but she was squaring up to him, her blood boiling over what had happened as a result of him. 

"You need to keep your ego in check Hangman and think about the mission and not just your reputation. You can't handle that Rooter is better suited for this than you are so you personally attack him," Robin was getting louder and louder as the smirk on the man's face just grew. 

"What's your problem? You just sad that your little boyfriend can't fly? Does he blame it on his dead daddy a lot?" He asked, voice patronising as he looked down at her. 

Her yelling could be heard from the conference room and some of the words could be heard when they weren't muffled. The whole group were silent as they heard her yell at him, never hearing him raise his voice back. 

"So you're going to leave him alone about this aren't you Lieutenant?" When he didn't reply she raised her voice, "Lieutenant?"

"What are you gonna do about it?" He was toying with her and she knew he was trying to rile her up. 

Her jaw clenched and she had to restrain herself from smacking him in the face but she rested, "If I hear you talk about his father one more time I won't refrain from punching you into next year,' she said before turning on her heel and walking back into the room. 

Everyone was staring at the door as she walked through and she laughed, "You heard everything didn't you?" Robin questioned, a blush spreading over her cheeks as she realised all her words had been heard. 

"It was quite muffled, if that's any consolation," Fanboy said, a smile on his face. 

She cleared her throat before turning to look at Bradley, "You good Lieutenant Bradshaw?" She asked, the tension between them obvious as he nodded, pulling his eyes away from her. 

There was an awkward air in the room and everyone could tell. Robin looked around, eyes narrowed as she realised Pete had left the room. 

She walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm free tonight if you wanna talk," she said before walking off, hoping nobody had heard her. 

Series Masterlist Part 7

A/N, I know it's a short chapter but I don't know the exact words said and I didn't know what else to add. The next chapter will lead more into their relationship and the one after that will be the beach football scene! I'm also going on study leave from Monday so I'll have extra time to write.

Taglist:

If you want to be added just message me or send me and ask or comment, I don't mind

@n3ssm0nique @sparrows-corner @littlewhiterose @serrendippity @clairejpg @marytvirgin @uglyratlmao   @blessupblessup  @daniekay7190 @callistoluvsleep @hockeypuckspost @sydneejean @ipractical-joker @storyteller-le @mmkkzz @theforevermorereject @anolddayslover @rosemarytownescarter @lilbalfie @dcamelia @18crazybutcutealsopsycho

#brad rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #brad bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #brad bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster fanfiction #rooster fic #top gun x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick oc #oc #miles teller x reader #miles teller #mj writes nonsense #playing with the boys series

[the-wayside]

Part 4 - Porsche is an angel and deserves only love and cuddles (formal title: Anatomy of Episode 5 - the aftermath)

Oh my sweet angel. If I could just wrap you in bubble wrap and drop kick everyone in the Theerapanyakul family, I would.

This episode really puts through Porsche through the ringer because yes, he is dealing with the very painful acknowledgement that Kinn had sex with him when he wasn't in his right mind, but that's not the only issue with the event. We love layers *cries in the corner in onion*.

He is deeply conflicted and being torn in 6 different ways with multiple axis and very distinct sides to it. One, where his choices taken from him, two, what was (from what we can tell) a pleasurable experience, three, the question of his sexuality, four, the imposed silence and resultant shame and five, the degradation of being punished (victim blaming).

That...is a whole lot to be going on with.

We start the episode and Porsche doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to put a name to the night in the hopes it will just go away ("I'm not that weak"). He's so drained that he just stands there and let's the water hopefully wash away not only what happened with Kinn but prior to it with Vegas.

The punishment, such as it was, forces the event back into Porsche's mind. Compounds this is your fault, you shouldn't have done this - and something I do want to touch on - is that Porsche drinking the drink was not his fault, but it wasn't Kinn's either. It was an accident of happenstance. I say this because people leveled this as Kinn's fault, he didn't know the drink was drugged. He didn't know Porsche was looking at him for some sort of approval. I bring this up because I also discussed in part 2 about how this punishment isn't solely for Porsche. I would argue it isn't about Porsche at all. This punishment is about Kinn and correct his behavior so as to not lose the respect and loyalty of his guards who do not like Porsche having such a high favor with Kinn.

Porsche is incredibly isolated because he can't, won't, speak about what happened to him. I also don't think he even knows how to articulate what it is that happened to him. What's interesting to me is that in his recollection of events, his memory is focused on his experience, his actions for the most part. I also wonder if there is some misattributing and imperfect recall to his memory, common in stress responses, because the shot of Kinn's trousers coming off is different. In ep 4, Porsche takes them off, in ep 5, Kinn reaches for his trousers.

Again, please do not take this as victim blaming, it is a proven fact that memory is an imperfect thing and people can and do remember events differently to others. My point is, does it mean anything? If Kinn is the sober one does that mean his version of events are "true" or is it a romanticized version of what happened? Or is it both?

Porsche's bathroom breakdown is the most visual representation of toxic masculinity I've seen in awhile. He cannot and refuses to share with information with Pete, a man he would otherwise consider his friend, because what? He thinks Pete is more loyal to Kinn and Khun? Or because he thinks Pete will look down on him for getting himself into that "situation"? It's a hugely layered scene and Apo just ate it up.

I mentioned in part one the disassociation of that scene and it is so well done. Porsche starts off in his slacks and by the end is in his underwear without any real explanation as to how. He is so overwhelmed by what it all means: did I like it? Should I have not liked it? I really don't think Porsche is conflicted about whether it should have happened or not. He knows it shouldn't have and that had he been sober there is a 98% chance it wouldn't have. So something else is driving it. It's that it did and he is trying to understand how this all fits into his understanding of himself. He is different now. He isn't Porsche of yesterday morning. It is understandably terrifying and confusing on top of the obvious implications.

And to make matters worse, Kinn...well he's reverted to form. He touched Porsche in such a way and now here he is, fixing to have a night of fun with someone else. How used must Porsche feel. He is having a full scale breakdown and Kinn is like, wow is that the time? Must be Friday night, funsies!

He is being told right in front of his face: you don't matter. Your pain, your issues, your conflict don't matter. You're a warm body and I'm done with you.

So it's no wonder he wants to get back to some semblance of himself with a gorgeous leggy blonde, decidedly nothing like Kinn. Except Porsche is pulled back into that night and how he felt. His actions with the lovely blonde directly correlate to his actions with Kinn. He can't touch her because he can't forget being touched. He didn't want it but he can't forget it.

Enter challenger, Vegas. Bruh, I have my eyes firmly set on your fine ass. But he gets a pass because he provides Porsche with the one thing he needs: escapism. To not think, to not have what happened drilled into his skull. I see you, you sexy toxic motherfucker. I see you. Vegas is exploitative af because he had to know even without the events of that late night, Porsche would have been off because of what he did. You cute, but sus. I get that you think Porsche is cute now too but stay away. Just stay away from all Theerapanyakul bodyguards.

Porsche's return shows that his ride with Vegas has bolstered him. He isn't on the back foot with Kinn now. He has regained a piece of himself. My punching fists moment was when Porsche questioned (told) Kinn about the pain he caused. You 100% do not get to decide whether you hurt someone. He needed to hear it. But Kinn is in his "I must control everything" phase so Porsche double dog dares him. Own me? Come at me, bitch. I'll bite you a second time. It is somewhat intentionally careless. What more can you do to me? Take my life? You've had my body so lessgo. Kinn is trying to set boundaries but so is Porsche. You took something from me but you can't have anything else. I will fight you to the death if you try. We see him slowly re-emerge, changed, but still ballsy and ready to defend his rights. Kinn doesn't know what to do because Porsche was and is a wild card. Good. Suffer.

His fire continues with papa Korn who is playing both sides like an award winning violinist. Oh my son punished you, how's about you go home collect yourself and come back. He realizes he's losing Porsche and is trying to placate him. Beautiful montage ensues before Kinn enters the lion's den.

Porsche remains understandably combative. Kinn needs to work infinitely harder if he wants to bring down Porsche's wall. It's interesting to me that Porsche says, you never care about me rather than you assaulted me. The emphasis readjusts onto you used me, you left me there, you degraded me. You turned me into one of your whores.

This is where I know we're going to get a lot of flack in the fandom that Porsche forgives too quickly and it doesn't give what happened enough gravitas but that was never the purpose of what happened. And, you know, I watched the BTS and I trust Apo and Mile. Apo joked about the scene in ep 4 and I don't believe for one second that he would joke about enduring trauma. He is a very articulate and knowledgeable person. He knows his character better than anyone and he wouldn't jeopardize that for anything. So, I would draw the conclusion that the framing of the events of ep 4 isn't driven by the dubcon/noncon element but the character/narrative driven progression. Does it make it any better? No. But it tells me where I need to focus my attention. We can flog that horse but things are what they are and if it becomes too much then we need to curate our own experiences.

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #text #kp meta analysis #scheduled

[tucychenford]

Okay... okay... I have thoughts. Can't promise they'll all make it out coherently but here they go...

OH MY GOD!!!

Ok... next thought... I'm glad that the promo last week wasn't shameless bait. I was very annoyed assuming it was gonna be. I'm pleased to be wrong. If anything that promo under sold it.

So I know it wasn't a "real" kiss but I feel safe in stating that we seem to be officially crossed the threshold into "feelings" territory. No more misreading things to fit our narrative... we are validated gosh darnit!! I think it started last week during the fake proposal for Lucy, and then this week Tim was clearly effected by that kiss.

I love Dim. I hope to see him in more episodes (real Dim not just Tim undercover as Dim) he was hilarious. Wish we got more of Juicy (also was that supposed to be her real name? Kinda seemed like Tim was implying that lol)

Now for Lucy's how we met scenario. I can't imagine that's the first time she cooked that running from the cops fantasy up in her head. It was way too quick and sexually charged to be just coming to her in the moment lol. I'm here for it. And I look forward to reading the fanfica it will inevitably inspire (*hint hint to any fic writers out there hehe* 😉)

And now for the kiss... ahrkuwj hhdidjnekdiwihsjc!!! 🤯😭😵‍💫😵😵... I think that sums that up.

Also note Lucy headed directly to her bedroom post-kiss... ahem... I'm just saying... (fic writers where you at? 😜)

As for the rest if the episode. Highlights include everyone gathering around the computer to check out Dim's mugshot haha.

I loved seeing Nelle and Adam Tudyk back again! And going strong! I've said it before... I hate how much I don't hate Pete Davidson, lol. The dude has charm and he's hilarious and I can begrudgingly see why every random woman in Hollywood wants to date him lol.

I really wish I cared about Nolan's storylines... I genuinely began watching this show due to the sole fact that I love and adore Nathan Fillion. I don't get why they remove him from so much of the storyline for the finales of his own show... I mean yes obviously he had the main storyline this time but he was still removed from the rest of the cast... why??? Season one finale was more about Tim getting infected... season 3 finale he spent the episode dealing with a lawsuit which should have been a filler storyline in a random non-finale episode, while the rest of the cast was busy doing more important things. I love Nolan. I do. I don't care about his stories and I hate that.

Bailey... ugh. Ofcourse... ofcourse she's perfectly able to fight off two people with guns no big deal! Did we have any doubt? 🙄

I'm wondering if Thorsten will be back next season. The actor posted about the finale on instagram and it seemed kinda like a goodbye post. And now Harper won't be a training officer anymore. Happy about her and Lopez continuing to work together though!

One gripe... it seemed a little unfinished. The end of Nolan's shootout seemed a bit rushed to cram into the last few minutes of the show and they just drop Tim and Lucy from the episode altogether after the kiss. Thought they were going undercover? Eh, oh well. I'm happy with what we got

If nothing else feelings have officially been realized.

#chenford #the rookie #4x22 #lucy chen #tim bradford #tucy #john nolan #my hand is cramped from writing all this lol