#TORPEDO RECORDINGS

[wizardlyghost]

aaaaaaaaaa i think i beefed it so bad on this video interview >_< the first question allowed me to rerecord it twice but i didn't realise those were my two rerecords for the entire interview and fucked up my second answer expecting a second chance >_< god i hope i didn't just ruin my chances

[cfgodsandmonsters]

// AGGRESSIVE SIGHING

just dropped my last d&d game because holy shit I am so tired of getting misgendered.

[waffletardis]

Okay I have to make a destiny post. I saw someone talking about how we never got to see an Ahamkara actually m o v e- but let me tell you this. I have s e e n. In the good ol days of glitching, back when you pressed circle while doing a finisher and went through walls. You could get back into the riven crystal room after the actual encounter started, what i did was manage to phase through partway to the door rivens head comes through. I saw her, moving and rearing up in that middle chamber, LEAPING at me and into the doorway like a cat KILLING ME INSTANTLY. It was amazing. Unfortunately i had already entered my menu in PlayStation so screen recording wasn’t possible but i wish i had that captured she was MOVING IN THERE. They are hiding movements from us!!

[hestzhyen]

Sunken Ships and SoRiku

Hi internet void. I went feral and maybe you'll read the result.

KH has made a lot of choices around SoRiku from a narrative perspective that, in isolation, wouldn't amount to much. A heart-to-heart here, a questionable line there, and so on. The usual things that one would do to court a queer shipping audience in an otherwise het or unromantic work. And SoRiku circles have painstakingly documented every instance to show something that looks more like a consistent and intentional effort rather than a few dollops here and there to keep shippers engaged. There's... a lot. But one stupid, insignificant thing really shook me up and made me a believer in SoRiku Endgame, Actually.

Silly as it is, it's Nomura's reaction to people shipping RikuNami that gets me the most.

Generally speaking a writer doesn't want to interact with fandom shipping unless it's to urgently course correct. As in it would be catastrophic to the narrative if the fandom had the wrong idea. Otherwise it's best to just take note of how people are interpreting things and adjust the next installment accordingly, or live and let live. Keep distant and don't risk accusations of retconning/bad writing/queerbaiting in bad faith. So the normal reaction from Nomura seeing people get excited over RikuNami would have been to just do nothing. But instead, the scene was patched to downplay the smile, and Nomura went on the record to clarify that it's not a setup for a romantic relationship between Riku and Namine.

That's insane.

Why is it so important that Riku remain romantically uninterested in a girl he'd have a natural connection to, huh? What about accidentally implying RikuNami was so detrimental to the story that it was changed and explicitly addressed like that? Even if it wasn't meant to be, surely letting it play out like AkuRoku did would be enough. Just gently clarify and move on with the story (which pretty much sunk the ship on it's own anyway). You don't wade into fandom shipping and launch nuclear warheads like Nomura did against RikuNami unless you want to leave no room for doubt.

Torpedoing RikuNami also doesn't help them keep up appearances in terms of straightness at this point. Leaving it intact would only help the case of Riku and Sora being bffs with the strongest bond 5ever- a huge boon for the writing team if they wanted to avoid things looking too gay. Nomura et. al. are absolutely aware of the impressions and jokes about how gay KH is. And KH definitely would not be the first series to play in to queer ship teasing for the lols until it's time to pair everyone up at the end.

But they did the one thing you're not supposed to do if you're just aiming to queerbait: undermining the plausible straight ship. You don't eliminate the only straight option for your character like that for the sake of "he so gay" jokes! Having a straight option available is vital to make the bait; they don't have to be compelling or important to the story, they just have to exist. Yet at this point, Riku's only option is Sora. They went out of their way to ensure we wouldn't think anything else makes sense for him.

Holy. Shit.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 51

part 1 | part 50 | ao3

Knowing the weirdness is coming doesn't make it less weird.

Steve clings to Jeff's warning like a lifeline in the days after the attack, as Eddie swings wildly from withdrawn and paranoid to brash and itching for a fight. One second he's tackling Steve in a public park, sweeping him off his feet and swinging in a wide, reckless circle, the next he's shooting dodgy glances over his shoulder and suggesting they come up with some kind of tapping code when they want to communicate the urge to kiss or hug in public.

His face is a mess for weeks.

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

Hardly wants to look at it — takes to avoiding mirrors and fucking Steve from behind, or turning off all the lights, or hiding his face behind his hair when he gets between Steve’s legs. Plays it off like he’s just being sexy, trying something new, ‘isn’t this exciting?’ But Steve’s pretty sure he just doesn’t want to see the worry in Steve’s eyes when their kisses hurt his face.

So Valentine's Day comes and goes, and Steve doesn't say it; doesn't say 'I love you,' because he's never sure he's going to get the version of Eddie who’s brave enough to say it back. They don't even do anything for the holiday, really, which kind of kills Steve, even if he won't admit it.

He can't help it; he's a sap.

They do share a heart-shaped box of chocolates in Eddie’s bed the day after, though. Led Zeppelin crooning softly from the record player, and Steve plays it off like he only bought them because they were half off, and Eddie gives him a gooey look and pushes him into the pillows. Blows him within an inch of his young life; smiles up at him at the end, lips slick and full and pretty. Steve thinks, maybe they're okay.

They’ll be okay.

Eddie may still be a little off, a little wobbly, but he’s laughing again, he’s silly and animated again, he’s playing guitar and making jokes, and—

And who is Steve to judge how a person, like, processes or whatever? At least Eddie’s not doing any late night demolition.

They’re gonna be just fine.

The last of the sickly yellow bruising slips away from Eddie's eye as the month comes to a close, so Steve decides to risk it. Asks Eddie out. A movie night, a proper date where Steve can pay for the milkshakes and let their thighs brush against each other when the theater lights go down.

And sure, they'll have to pretend it’s just two straight guys hanging out — do their tapping thing and keep a healthy distance, two bros being pals being buds being dudes — and that shit sucks, but it’s better than nothing.

Steve's never had to worry about PDA before. One more thing he won't admit is kind of slowly killing him; rope burn around his heart when he thinks about it too hard.

"What do you say?" he asks Eddie. They’re lounging on his couch, propped on opposite ends with their legs tangled in the middle. "You want to let me take you out to the city?"

Brookhaven isn't exactly the city so much as the closest suburb whose mall didn't get torpedoed by the commies, but there's a theater and some decent diners, and it's far enough away that they shouldn't run into any classmates looking to cause trouble.

Eddie gives him a wary look. “I don’t know,” he hedges, fingers coming up to worry the thin sliver of a scar under his chin.

Steve swallows the hurt. The twine chafing behind his ribs. "It's okay," he starts to say, but Eddie's eyes flare with defiance.

“Actually, fuck it,” he declares, slapping his knees as he stands up. Gets up onto the couch cushion, spreads his feet wide and puts his hands on his hips; Steve’s little metalhead superhero. Steve can't help his grin when Eddie shakes his hair out big and says, "Take me out and woo me, baby!"

—

part 52

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[777bae]

F1 FEMALE DRIVER HEADCANONS

PAIRING… f1!drivers x fem!driver | WC… 0.4k | Masterlist

➭ Having basically all of the older drivers as your parents (mainly Lewis, Seb and Daniel).

➭ Being slightly younger than Oscar.

➭ Karaoke sessions with the drivers and it always just ends up in you singing beautifully whilst the latter almost lose their voice.

➭ Being besties with Carlos and Lando and either you gang up on either or both gang up on you.

➭ Always being picked as a partner in grid challenges, no matter the topic and somehow your team always seems to win, leading you to be known as the ‘most cultured’ driver.

➭ Being known as the ‘model’ of the paddock as you always turn up in the best outfits during race week.

➭ Having many fans either want to be you or be with you.

➭ Being an absolute idiot with Charles wherever whenever with Daniel or Seb having to marshall your stupidness.

➭ Every driver believing that you and Oscar are a thing, no matter how many times you both try to deny the speculations.

➭ Having gossip sessions with whichever driver you can get a hold of, mainly those being Daniel, Lando, Carlos and Charles. Also having them eavesdrop on conversations you have with your other friends and immediately asking you about it once the call ends.

➭ All of the drivers just ganging up on George and joining in on George’s intro meme, with you winning of course.

➭ Lando and Daniel bullying you into having one of those jpg accounts after multiple fans point out how their own accounts are basically just fan accounts for you (mainly Lando’s). Your first post includes a dramatic and over the top photoshoot by the two before being followed by a few mugshots of the drivers.

➭ Each driver being given a nickname after certain crashes, yours being the torpedo after you infamously charged straight into Carlos’ car (the nickname given as Carlos had, very exaggeratedly, described what you looked like). Other drivers nicknames being: Beyoncé belonging to Lando after the radio recording of him screaming (hitting a high note) after losing control of his car was released.

➭ You basically trying to bully Lance into giving you a few extra notes in cash at any chance you can, whenever Lawrence is not around of course.

➭ Having Yuki take you and Pierre to his house whenever you’re in the country after begging him to let his mother make some food for the two of you. This idea spiralling off the one time Yuki let you try one of his homemade meals, the recipe, he said, belonging to his mother.

➭ ‘Michael Jackson’ being another one of your nicknames as you performed one of the artists dances for a challenge… whilst being dressed up like him. And of course having Daniel record the whole thing and posting it online, leading to the whole f1 world calling you that nickname.

➭ Never ending rivalry between you and Lando (basically you two just acting like kids all the time).

If you would like to be added to the taglist please fill out this form !

[grimm-the-tiger]

I made this post a little while ago listing some facts about shipwrecks that probably only I find interesting, so now I’m back to talk about some of them. Specifically, the Olympic. The Olympic was the namesake of the Olympic-class liners, whose most notable member was the Titanic. Out of the three Olympic-class ships - Titanic, Olympic, and Britannic - only one of them was actually unsinkable, and that was the Olympic. 

Over the more than 20 years of its existence, the Olympic was never once in real danger. The Olympic was the danger. On its fifth voyage in September 1911, Olympic was running parallel to the HMS Hawke, a British warship designed specifically for ramming things. Olympic suddenly turned to starboard (right side of the ship if you were facing towards its front), catching Hawke’s commanding officer off-guard; he wasn’t able to avoid the collision and ended up ramming the other ship. Olympic was left with a substantial hole beneath the water line (although flooding was for the most part averted due to its bulkheads actually working properly, *cough* Titanic *cough*) and a slightly less substantial hole above it. Hawke, meanwhile, had its entire bow caved in. Olympic made it back to port just fine under her own power, while Hawke almost capsized. Somehow, no one was seriously hurt or killed. 

Three fun facts about this situation: Violet Jessop, a woman famous for surviving the sinkings of both of the Olympic’s sister ships, was onboard the Olympic when this happened. This incident also reinforced the idea that the Olympic-class was unsinkable. The famous postponement of the Titanic’s maiden voyage also occurred because of this incident; a propeller shaft was damaged in the collision, they needed a new one ASAP, and, well, the Titanic was right there... 

Four years later, WWI broke out. The Olympic was requisitioned as a troop ship, given 6-inch naval guns, and sent on its way. In 1918, while travelling to France with a literal boatload of American soldiers, Olympic spotted U-103, a German U-boat chilling on the surface of the ocean. Olympic opened fire on U-103, which immediately crash dived to keep from dying, then turned to ram the U-boat. Olympic hit U-103′s conning tower and tore open the hull with its propellers. U-103′s crew decided “fuck this” and abandoned ship; Olympic didn’t bother to stop to pick them up, so a nearby American warship did instead. It was later found that U-103 was preparing to torpedo Olympic when they’d been spotted, but they couldn’t flood the torpedo tubes in time. Olympic remains the only merchant vessel in WWI recorded to have sunk an enemy vessel (which would become a more common occurrence during WWII, to the extent that the Nazis apparently tried and hanged at least one captured British merchant captain for ramming one of their U-boats. The Nazis were ones to talk, considering they rehired the man who sank the Carpathia and was notorious for war crimes that included things like “drowning surrendered enemy crews by forcing them to strip and stand on the roof of his submarine, then diving the submarine” and “attacking designated hospital ships that made it very obvious they were hospital ships”). 

Following WWI, while Olympic was being refit for civilian service, a sizeable dent was discovered below the waterline. It was later concluded to have been caused by a faulty torpedo, most likely fired by U-53 while the Olympic was travelling through the English Channel. 

Olympic collided with another, smaller ship, Fort St. George, in New York Harbor on March 22, 1924. There’s not much information on how badly Olympic fucked Fort St. George up, just that Olympic apparently fucked around a little too much and found out, because the collision broke its sternpost (support post in the back of the ship; think of it like a central pillar in a structure), forcing the entire stern frame to be replaced. 

On November 18, 1929, Olympic was cruising not far from the Titanic’s wreck site when the whole thing began shaking for two minutes. This was later found to have been caused by a 7.2 magnitude earthquake off the coast of Newfoundland. 

The Olympic’s last hurrah (and casualty) was on May 15, 1934, when it collided with the lightship LV-117. Olympic had known the lightship was in the area, but didn’t know where exactly it was until they were right on top of it. Olympic’s captain immediately ordered a hard turn and the engines slowed, so Olympic wasn’t moving particularly fast when it did hit LV-117 (about 3 and a half miles per hour), but Olympic was fucking huge, and the people onboard barely noticed when they practically crushed the lightship under them. Only four of the eleven crew aboard LV-117 survived; four went down with the ship and three died in Olympic’s hospital (yes, these things had hospitals; I told you there were fucking huge). 

Olympic was fully scrapped in 1937, forever going down in history as both the only Olympic-class ship that was actually unsinkable and the one with the longest reign of terror. Good God, man. I understand sinking the U-boat, but you didn’t need to bring like four other ships down with you. 

[see-arcane]

Today’s entry is one of many that really drives home why I can never quite bring myself to get into softer ‘uwu he’s just misunderstood and sexy-liberating’ versions of Dracula. Just. I can’t. I really really can’t.

Up to this point, he’s already had a monstrous moment in bringing the ladies their first on-screen kids meal crying and squirming in its sack. He’s had outright predatory back-to-back moments in imprisoning, coercing, robbing, and getting increasingly threatening and handsy with Jonathan. This, capped with the fact that he plans to kill/drink/gift him to the Undead Girl Gang by the end of June.

‘But what about his, “I too can love,” huh? He’s just loving as best a monster can! He could be tearing everyone around him to ribbons for annoying him, Brides and Jonathan included! Instead he goes out of his way to feed the ladies, albeit gruesomely, and has no retort when they laugh at and insult the lonely old bat. And he isn’t planning to kill Jonathan. He wants to keep him! Sure, it’s a sick version of it, but to him conscripting and collecting Jonathan rather than executing him outright is the height of affection! Surely that’s grounds for some of the more ~romantic~ takes in warped gothic flavor?’

To an extent, yeah. 

But he also just dressed up in Jonathan’s stolen clothes to cover up for the man’s own abduction, imprisonment, and undeadifying, while also increasing the odds of Jonathan already getting mistaken for a vampire, bringing home another child for the ladies to devour, and then ordered a pack of wolves to eat a grieving mother alive for making noise at his gate.

And this? This is just the tip of the iceberg for how downright hellish he gets as the novel progresses. 

Dracula can absolutely be a nuanced character within canon, offshoots, retellings, re-imaginings, and so on. And he should be! He’s a very interesting bastard who’s got so much more going on than a few one-liners and a taste for good cloaks and yummy company. But his actual actions in the book--even the smallest ones--just automatically torpedo 90% of my audience enjoyment when I run into yet another ‘Oh, but he did it all because he was in love!/misunderstood!/depressed!/unfairly maligned by the eeevil human Victorian characters in their journals and newsprint and body count records!’ version of the Count. 

Even sillier takes that try to heroify him for kids like Hotel Transylvania just kind of make my brain trip and fall into a pit of ??? 

‘Look kids, Dracula is really a nice guy and a sweet dad who runs a fun little hotel for his misunderstood Universal Horror monster buddies! Isn’t he neat?’

It leaves me biting my tongue and holding this mental grimace as I think about the sacks full of weeping children, the slaughtered mother, a young man imprisoned for making the mistake of endearing himself so much to a sadistic monster that the latter has decided to keep him as a tortured toy and undead pseudo-slave for eternity, with an entire blood buffet of human cattle still waiting to fill out the rest of the novel with trauma, horror, and death. 

‘Ohhh, but look at Francis’ tragique sweetheart version who stole all his redeeming qualities from Jonathan Harker! Ohhh, but look at the funny silly Adam Sandler cartoon and his new everyman-settling daughter! Ohhh, but look at how #cool and modern-sexyedgy an antihero/villain he is when penned by every projecting director and their grandmother! Lighten up, it’s just a different interpretation!*’

*Of the character whose whole deal is psychological torture, being a predatory creep, casual murder, and worse-than-murder of innocents.

I know it skews me towards being a whiny purist. I know. Let folks have fun. I know. But still, it feels so wrong every time I see someone try to ‘awww, he’s not so bad!’-ify him in new media when. No. He is exactly that bad and probably worse. If he’s not, then that’s not fucking Dracula.

tl;dr: Can people just make some new fun/sexy/antihero vampires instead of stapling Dracula’s name on all of them? Can Dracula just be an interesting villainous monster again?? Please??? (Please save me Renfield 2023 and The Last Voyage of the Demeter, you’re my only ho--)

[todaysdocument]

“Preparing Tin Fish,” by U.S. Naval Reserve combat artist William Franklin Draper, September 12, 1943. 

Record Group 330: Records of the Office of the Secretary of Defense Series: Combined Military Service Digital Photographic Files

Image description: Painting of sailors in a small room, working on torpedoes. Some reach inside torpedoes via a side panel, some work on the head of the torpedoes, and some hold the torpedoes steady. 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Plus Baby Makes Three {One-Shot}**

Title: Plus Baby Makes Three {One-Shot} **

Lewis Hamilton x GF Reader

Words: 5.8k

Warning: Mild Angst, Fluff, Fun & Games, NSFW, Mild Breeding Kink, Preggo talk, Preggo Prank, Preggo Fic, Crude Language, Dirty Talk

Summary: It was supposed to be a retaliation prank. A simple, easy prank to get back at Lewis for the one he’d pulled on you months before. You didn’t expect it to turn out like this.

As always, thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Your entire relationship with Lewis had been a never-ending frat party. You enjoyed the same pastimes, including video games, nature, traveling, and pranks.

Hell, your relationship had started on a prank you'd done to your friends pretending to be in the middle of getting it in when they walked in. Everyone's reactions were the same "finally". You both were speechless as they all confessed they knew it was a matter of time before you saw the sparks and finally did something about it.

After admitting it was all a prank you were alone later that night when your first kiss happened. That torpedoed into your first night together. Hence beginning a beautiful, fun, and stress-free relationship

Now 3 years later, things were still going strong. You pranked each other often, a few of those pranks playing out through social media.

Everyone loved your relationship even the diehard Lewis thirsters who wanted him for themselves. They saw how happy he was with you and how unproblematic you were and fell in line to support you.

It had been a while since you pranked him and you could tell he'd lowered his guard. You’d spent weeks laying the groundwork. Weeks dropping hints and playing up faux symptoms and your period symptoms just to make this an easy sell.

You decided this would be a perfect thing to record so set up your filming equipment that you used for your gaming streams and makeup vlogs then got yourself ready.

"You are evil for this."

Snorting, you dropped onto your back and cackled.

"It’s not that bad."

"Not that bad? Y/N he is going to flip. I just don’t know what, a table or himself."

You laughed some more. Your best friend, Zoe was right. It was really 50/50 how this would go. You suspected it would be on the flipping-a-table side though. You hesitated momentarily, wondering if you should reformulate and try again. However, within seconds you committed.

You attached the ultrasound picture that you'd gotten from a lesser-known pregnancy website and edited with an arrow pointing to the blip of an embryo. You’d inserted a few words onto the picture.

"Little Hamilton says hello and can’t wait to meet you guys".

After scanning the picture again for typos and to make sure it all looked good, you started on your caption.

"What are you going to write?"

"Short and sweet right? Anything extra will be suspicious. Let's see. Ummm...ooh I know."

You began and read it aloud as you typed.

"I wanted you guys to find out at the same time as @lewishamilton. Omgg guys 🥺. I am so excited.🤗 Thank you @lewishamilton for this incredible gift. I love you more than words can say and am so happy and honored to be on this journey with you. Can't wait to meet you baby Hamilton. You are already loved so much.❤️🤰🏽👶🏽🍼 #babyhamilton2024 #surprisewerepregnant #bunintheoven

#babybyhamilton

#heshotupmyclub

#sunsoutbutthisbunisstillcooking #filledwithlove #coming2024

"Oh my god. The world is going to lose their shit," Zoe said.

"The world? He's gonna lose his shit. And---posted."

You turned your notification sound all the way up then placed your phone beside you and picked up the TV remote.

"Ready? Let’s see how far we get."

You pressed play on the movie you guys had selected on Prime and settled in. Before the movie had even gotten past the black screen, your notifications went blaring one after the other at rapid fire.

"Holy shit, your bestie squealed.

By the time the opening credits showed up, your phone began chiming with texts.

"Oh my god, barely 2 minutes. Is it Lewis?"

You looked while being very careful not to go into the messages. You wanted to play this very calm, cool, and collected. Sure enough, there was Lewis' name with the circled number indicating how many unread messages remained, increasing with each second.

"Oh my god. He is flipping out I bet."

You put it down and cackled. It was no use playing the movie because with the rapid-fire sounds from your phone, it would be impossible to pay attention. You didn’t click into Lewis' messages and instead read what showed up in the preview.

MSG Lewis: Why aren’t you answering your texts? Baby? You just posted that no way you walked away from your phone. Are you okay?

You snorted then went into IG to look at your post. It already was well into the hundred thousands of likes. The 4th comment, Lewis', had you pinching your lips.

"@y/nthaunicorn what?! This isn’t the kind of thing you post on social before telling me.

You giggled and continued reading the comments replying to him with congratulations and you’re going to be an amazing dad. The number of #mercedesbaby and #babygoatcoming hashtags only made you roll more.

The man was going to learn today that his last prank was too far. He'd canceled your appointment with your OBGYN and had one of your friends pretend to be you to make your appointment as a pre-pregnancy appointment with the intention to conceive.

Lo' and behold, when you’d gone to the appointment you were confused why your doctor was going over your estrogen and progesterone levels and checking the placement of your uterus. When she mentioned that you were in good health and should have no problems conceiving, you nearly passed out.

You tried to tell her you had no intentions of planning a pregnancy but she took it as you getting cold feet to which she then spent a lot of time trying to soothe your “fears”. When you went home with prenatal vitamins and a calendar on your best days for conception Lewis played along saying he was on board if you really wanted a baby.

He was so supportive about it that he freaked you out. He kept the ruse going so long that while you made love that night his whole dirty talk was about putting a baby in you. It was a slight turn on which shocked you because babies weren’t a topic you'd spent a lot of time talking about. For the most part, it took you off guard.

The following morning over breakfast was when he came clean. The way he cackled and ran around the house clearly pleased with himself was so over the top that you silently vowed revenge. You would make him rue the day.

Today was his retribution.

Your phone rang and Lewis' name appeared on your screen. You chortled and stared at the camera as it rang out. The man it feels good to be a gangster sound played in your head while your face evilly smirked. Seconds later, a message from him came in.

MSG Lewis: Why aren’t you answering your phone?

MSG Lewis: Are you okay?

MSG Lewis: Is this real? Are you being for real?

MSG Lewis: Did your IG get hacked?

MSG Lewis: Y/N!

Another call came in and again it was him. Zoe laughed loudly as she wiggled her legs in the air.

"He is losing his shit!”

MSG Lewis: Y/N. Jesus Christ. You're killing me. Pick up the phone baby.

You snorted. He was realizing assertiveness was not going to win. Now he was trying sugar.

MSG Lewis: Sweetheart. Are you pregnant? Is that why you've been sick lately?

MSG Lewis: Why you've been feeling so bloated?

MSG Lewis: Your boobs!😮 Oh shit. Why aren’t you answering?🥴

His texts came in one after the other each one more and more panicked. You just sat back and let him make his descent.

Placing another guac and salsa dipped chip into your mouth, you read the previews of his messages.

MSG Lewis: A baby? Our baby. Oh my god.😳

Your phone rang again, and again you let it ring out. A few minutes later, you got the notification of a voicemail. Once you hit play on the message, his voice came in and you and your bestie listened in.

"Y/N, I don’t know why you’re not picking up and it’s freaking me out a little. You know how I feel when I can't reach you, especially after what happened that last time.”

At that, you perked up because he’d nearly had a panic attack the last time he couldn’t reach you and it was because some paps were chasing you in your car nearly making you crash. He’d had to show up at the police station dropping everything. The pause in the message made you get ready to swipe to your phone app, but then he continued.

“I thought about it for a while and figured maybe you’re afraid to talk to me. Maybe you’re scared that I’m going to be angry or disappointed by the news. Maybe you think I’ll tell you to terminate or that I'm not ready. I thought about it and I wish I was there with you right now instead of halfway across the fucking world. Fuck.”

His sighed in a hefty huff.

“I wish I could hug you and hold your hand and tell you while looking into your eyes that it's going to be okay and that I’m not angry. I’m not disappointed.”

Your brows rose. He wasn’t, you questioned.

“I’m surprised, yes. So fucking surprised. I didn’t think this would happen and never really thought about the possibility of it happening which is so stupid because we don't use condoms. Like at all. I’m shooting your club up every day, multiple times a day. Why wouldn’t it be possible?”

You pinched your lips as your friend gave you a look that said she wasn’t surprised how y’all got down. You rubbed your brow to avoid her side-eye. It wasn’t that you were ashamed. You weren’t it was just embarrassing. You took a few sips from your cherry limeade and continued listening.

“Uggh, I’m rambling. I'm not mad and I wish you’d pick up the phone and let me tell you that plus how much I love you and want this."

A spray of cherry limeade shot from your mouth through the air, "What!!”

You bolted up in shock with wide eyes and a racing heart.

"A baby. Our baby. A piece of you and me. We didn't plan this, but we've been given this soul for a reason, and I am going to welcome and love them with everything I have. I’m going to be there 100 percent. You’re not in this alone, you have me. Call me, please. I love you so much."

Your eyes were wide. Had you heard him right? Was he actually happy about this? Your head snapped to your friend who was also wide-eyed.

“Well shit, plot twist!”

“Was he--.”

“Happy? Yep.”

“Did he say--.”

“He wanted this? Oh yeah.”

You went over the message in your head again.

���Was he--.”

“The sweetest and cutest about it? Yes. Oh my god, Y/N.”

You played the message again and listened to it in its entirety. You didn’t stop at once, or twice. You listened over 5 times but each time you were still flabbergasted by his words.

“Oh my god.”

“Well look on the bright side—he’d never be one of those asshole deadbeat celebs trying to make their girl get rid of a baby they helped create.”

“Why does he want this? Why isn’t he mad? We haven’t really talked about kids. This is so out the blue?”

“You want him to be mad?”

You paused and thought about it. Any other answer besides no was ridiculous. This was an ideal reaction if the situation was real. This was how every man should react to an unplanned pregnancy. He was being major goals right now and it made your heart swell with love and pride.

Your notifications went off some more and you checked them to find some of his fellow F1 drivers commenting about the news. They all were sweet and thoughtful, which made you think again about this prank.

“Shit. How do I tell him it was a prank now?”

Zoe laughed loudly. “I suggest starting with apology head then let him shoot your club up for real and voila baby.”

You smacked her across her stomach while kissing your teeth.

“Be for real.”

“I’m being as for real as your man is.”

A text notification came in then.

MSG Lewis: The jet will be landing in a few hours. It’s not planned but come see me this weekend. I really want to be close to you right now.

“Oh my god.”

Your friend laughed again as she teased you about your prank gone completely wrong.

~~~~~~~~

Just as he’d said, Lewis’ jet arrived 4 hours after he’d texted. The call from the pilot came at nearly midnight. You were packed and ready for the weekend with a possible week’s extension, but you were also still debating how you were going to make this right. He thought he was going to be a father and that prospect had him in his feelings. You felt horrible.

MSG Lewis: Did the pilot call?

You’d replied to his text after the message about spending the weekend with him because you knew staying quiet longer would make him more anxious. You were messed up, but you weren’t cruel.

MSG: Yeah. Guess I’ll see you in a few.

MSG Lewis: Don’t be scared. Everything’s going to be all right. I love you.

“Uugh. I’m an asshole,” you said, hanging your head.

The chauffeured car took 40 minutes to get to the airfield and the whole time you tried to come up with a way to easily let him down. If he had been angry you would have been obnoxious with it and laughed in his face, but seeing how sweet he was about it there was no way you could now.

Of course, the flight to Barcelona didn’t take long. The pilot even had the audacity to cut what was a 2-hour and 20-minute flight to just 2 hours flat. The nerve! The whole flight your nerves toiled which made your stomach uneasy. Nothing helped, not ginger ale, 7-up, Sprite, cranberry juice, tea, nor sports drinks. You suspected it was your anxiety manifesting in an upset stomach, so you didn’t stress the flight attendant with helping ease it.

Now it was 3am Barcelona time and you were steadily approaching the penthouse that Lewis was staying in. The closer you got the more nervous you got. When the car began to slow down in front of a cute building with adorable Verona-style balconies you groaned. It was time to face the music. The driver unloaded your bags and helped you inside to the door. As he was about to ring the bell you stopped him and told him you could take it from there.

Once you were alone in front of the door you took a few breaths and tried to get control over your nerves. Before you could ring the bell though, the door opened and there stood Lewis in a white sleeveless T-shirt and grey sweat shorts. Instantly you pouted and waited for him to speak first.

“C’mere,” Lewis said holding open his arms for you.

Without hesitation you rushed into his arms and allowed him to hold you.

“It’s okay,” he whispered as he stepped back into the penthouse taking you with him.

He lifted you off your feet and carried you inside. When he placed you down on a soft couch, he kissed your forehead.

“I’ll be right back.”

Lewis disappeared for a few minutes. You assumed he was bringing in your luggage and rolling them into the bedroom. By the time he came back, you still had no idea what to say. He kneeled in front of you and lifted your chin.

“I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”

Your stomach churned then and you clasped your hands over your mouth while gagging.

“What’s wrong?”

You pointed to your throat, and he got it instantly. Lewis rushed through the halls showing you to the bathroom. Dropping to your knees, you allowed every drink you’d consumed on the flight to empty into the toilet. As you retched Lewis dipped beside you and rubbed your back like the perfectly sweet man he was. It only intensified your “you ain’t shit” feeling and you began crying.

“What? What’s wrong? It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No baby. Don’t say that. It’s not your fault. It’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s a baby, a blessing. Not the end of the world.”

You cried more and repeated your sorries. It was all you could get out. You remained on your knees in front of the toilet vomiting with Lewis rubbing your back and whispering soft words to you promising everything would be just fine. After, he got you in the tub and washed your body for you as you relaxed against him. He rubbed every knot out of your muscle, massaged every tension from your scalp, while making your skin gleam and glow.

When he got you in bed he topped it all off with a body massage from head to toe. You didn’t deserve it at all. When you laid on his chest, you tried to find the words.

“Lewis,” you began with a meek voice.

“Princess.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. I don’t know when along the line of our relationship you got the impression that I was some asshole who would be angry about something like that. I’m not,” he assured.

“You’re not an asshole. I’m the asshole.”

Lewis rolled over to peer into your eyes. “What?”

“How? Why?”

“I—I lied,” you quietly finished.

“Lied? About what?”

“The baby.”

You watched worry and fear wash over his face.

“What do you mean?”

“It—it was supposed to be a prank.”

Lewis rushed a breath out then dropped on his back to stare at the ceiling.

“It was supposed to be payback for your last prank on me with my OB appointment. I didn’t expect you to take it like this. I thought you’d be mad and freak out a little. I didn’t think that you—want it.”

He was so quiet and so unreadable right now you worried he was really hurt.

“I’m sorry baby. I feel like shit now. I didn’t mean to--.”

“So you’re not pregnant.”

“No,” you quietly replied.

Lewis scoffed, covered his face. “Wow.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Wow. Wow. Wow. I was really—I truly—jeez.”

He sat up and stared out into the darkness. You didn’t know how to make this better. You could sense his disappointment, sense his hurt that it wasn’t real. You were speechless and so confused about how long he’d been secretly wanting a baby. Right now didn’t feel like the right time to inquire though.

“Okay. You got me.”

You leaned forward to study his face. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. You got me. I really thought you were pregnant, especially with the way you’ve been acting the last few weeks. Ha! Good one.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Angry that you had the balls to prank me like this or angry that you’re not pregnant?”

You thought about it for a quick minute. “Both.”

Even he looked to think about it. “I’m not angry about the prank. I'd been wondering what you’d do to get me back, but I let my guard down. It was a good prank, ballsy, especially putting it on social but it was good,” he explained.

“And the other?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m angry you’re not pregnant. I’m—disappointed. I should be relieved because as you know our lives right now are chaotic. You with your business, me, and F1. Adding a baby in now would be nuts.”

You heard a but. “But?”

Lewis chewed the inside of his mouth for a few moments then he laid back down. “But the longer I sat with it and thought about what it meant the more I wanted it. I wasn’t mad, or freaking out for the most part, I was relieved it was with you.”

Your heart melted. You rolled on top of him and splayed yourself across his chest. “I’m sorry baby.”

Lewis wrapped his arms around you and traced his fingertips up and down your bare spine.

“How do you feel about a baby—our baby?”

You thought about it for a few moments dividing points into pro and con columns in your head.

“I understand what you’re saying. Our lives are hectic right now. You just signed a contract extension with Mercedes which means more racing, more time away from home. My lingerie line has been blowing up and I just opened a second store location. Things will only get more and more hectic.”

“I want us both to be present,” Lewis added.

“Yeah.”

A contemplative silence filled the room. Both of you were lost in your own thoughts.

“Do you want to have a baby with me, though?”

Your head popped up meeting Lewis’ eyes.

“Only you. No one else.”

A smile slowly spread across Lewis’ lips.

“Only you, no one else,” he repeated.

You kissed him gently and that kiss intensified within seconds. Soon your hands were pushing down Lewis’ shorts with urgency needing to get closer. You were already bare for him, but he needed to catch up. Once his shorts were rumpled at the foot of the bed, you straddled his hips and lowered yourself on his ready and waiting member.

Both of you sighed out in unison relishing the pleasure you only found in each other. As you slowly rocked back and forth on him, Lewis’ hands gripped your hips helping you move. Bit by bit he picked up the pace taking full control of the way your body moved. Back and forth, round and round, up and down.

When you began bouncing on him, Lewis abandoned your hips to cup your breasts. His moans filled the room as his eyes drank in every inch of you. In no time, you felt your orgasm creep up on you. Lewis flipped you onto your back, placed your ankle on his shoulder then took over. That was the final push to send you over the edge.

“Fuuuuck!”

“Mmm!”

Lewis brought your other leg to join the first then held you off the bed as he flicked his hips forward with such force the bed jerked giving the craftmanship a run for its money.

“Yes, baby. Right there!”

“Yeah right there? Like this?”

He slowed his moves, then pulled out fully only to slam his hips into you filling you to capacity. Every time he did it you yelped unable to control yourself.

“Like that?”

“Yes!”

“Mmm, I’m going to fill this sweet little pussy up. You’re gonna be so fucking full of me you can’t walk.”

Lewis ground his hips against you making you feel how impossibly deep he was. Instinctively, you pressed against his abs hoping to keep him at bay, however, he wasn’t having it. Lewis dropped your legs, hovered over you then began rocking into you in the most artful way. His body rocked, ebbed, flowed, rolled, and torpedoed you into yet another release.

As you clenched around him, Lewis groaned.

“So fucking tight. You loving this dick baby?”

“Yes, I love your dick baby. Fuck me.”

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum, you’re so beautiful when you take this dick.”

You cupped your breasts, holding them out like ripe fruit for him. Lewis dipped down and bit down on your nipple making you wetter than ever.

“Fuuuuuck!”

Lewis lowered his lips to your ear as he fucked into you. “You’d look so fucking pretty with my baby in you. Makes me want to fill this tight cunt up.”

“Fill me, baby. I want your hot cum, I want it now," you whined.

Lewis locked eyes with you just as his hand wrapped around your throat. Rolling your eyes to the back of your head, you let him use you as he wanted.

“You want me to cum deep in this pretty pussy?”

Yes!”

“You’re gonna keep every fucking drop, right where I put it.”

“Fuck Lewis, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum with me princess.”

His thrusts sped until you were seeing stars and rainbows. It was an impossibility, but it was what you saw. Your moans matched, desires synced and desperation for one another took over. Lewis flicked his hips forward then came so hard and so deep his grunts were all you heard as he released stream after stream. Your body broke out into shivers at the thought of him intentionally trying to knock you up.

Lewis pulled back and dropped his attention between your legs. Slowly he pulled out only to shove himself back inside. It was like he was trying to keep every single drop of himself inside of your body.

“Fuck baby, this pussy looks so good with me dripping out.”

“How good?”

“So good I’m gonna fill you again.”

With that, Lewis crashed his lips to yours and in seconds round two had begun. You felt sorry for him tomorrow because he would be useless with how little sleep he would have gotten. He didn’t seem bothered in the least though. His only thought was fucking you into oblivion until he’d planted a seed.

The next afternoon, you woke alone with a note on Lewis’ pillow.

“See you on the paddock. Love you.”

You sat up and a sea of nausea filled you. Quickly you ran to the bathroom and heaved the contents of your stomach into the toilet. For the life of you, you couldn’t understand what was going on. You’d confessed about the prank you weren’t anxious anymore. Why were you sick? Could it have been jet lag? You’d never experienced nausea with jet lag before and the flight was only 2 hours long. As you went through the possibilities, you continued to heave.

After 20 or so minutes, you got back into bed with your phone and began googling reasons for nausea when first waking. You’d barely put your head on the pillow before the first result popped up. The result had you bolting upward with wide eyes.

“No fucking way.”

You kept scrolling but your mind still lingered on the first result. You thought back over the last weeks to a month trying to debunk it. You’d only made it a few seconds before your eyes widened even more. You swiped open your love tracker and scanned through the last few weeks. There were so many red colored in boxes, that signified every day you’d been intimate, throughout the month you began to panic.

“No way. Right?”

You sprang out of bed and hurried to get dressed. As you did, you tried to find the closest drugstore. In record time you found yourself in the back of the chauffeured car that Lewis had left behind for you to get to the racing grounds. As the car zipped through traffic, your brain was going almost as fast as a Mercedes race car. You were afraid to put your hat in any basket because you just didn't know what was going on.

With your dark sunglasses on and one of Lewis’ bucket hats tipped low, you dipped inside the store and did a once around the store to be sure no one had recognized or noticed you. You then walked in the general vicinity of where those items rested. If you were a NASCAR driver and this was a pit stop, you would have been the fastest back on the track. In less than 5 minutes you were back in the car and headed back to the penthouse.

Soon you sat in the bathroom at the edge of the huge porcelain tub staring at the 14 boxes of pregnancy tests. You couldn't decide on which one, so you bought 2 of every brand, 5 from brands you knew and the other 2 from unheard-of probably local brands. With a large juiced vegetable and fruit blend in hand, you attempted to finish it off. Since you'd returned another bout of nausea hit you that took nearly 30 minutes to pass.

Right now you were stalling. You had to pee so you could easily take them but it was the thought that crippled you. Right now the unknown felt like a comforting place to be. In 10 or so minutes you would either be disappointed or happy. You were in Lewis' shoes in reverse.

You sighed, guzzled the rest of the juice, then slammed it on the sink counter as a wave of determination filled you.

“Okay, Okay, okay. I got this. I got this. I got this!”

You grabbed the disposable mouthwash cup then tackled it head-on. Once you’d finished and ripped open every bod, you dripped the tips into the cup and laid them all out on the counter. You’d told yourself to sit right back on the edge of the tub, but your legs would not obey. So, you paced the room. Back and forth, back, and forth, round and round, corner to corner, wall to wall.

By the time your phone went off indicating time was up, you were perched on the porcelain tub staring out to nothing thinking of everything. You remained there for a minute more trying to control your breathing then you stood and approached the mess of tests on the counter in organized chaos.

Hyping yourself, you took the first up and stared at the window. Your breath hitched and you moved to take another test up. Glancing at it, you were met with the same answer. You sifted through the tests, taking them up, looking at the results, and moving to the next. You checked once, then twice and every single one of them mirrored back one collective and cohesive—positive.

“Plot fucking twist,” you said.

Your phone sounded making you open your messages to see Lewis’ name.

MSG Lewis: Feeling better?

You scoffed. His timing was impeccable. You took another calming breath before you replied.

MSG: Not much but I’m okay.

MSG Lewis: Still throwing up?

MSG: Here and there.

MSG Lewis: You can stay in bed today. I’ll see you after.

MSG: Not a chance. I’ll be there. Wouldn’t want to miss your P1.

MSG Lewis: Don’t push yourself.

MSG: Says the man who only got like an hour of sleep because he kept pushing for round after round.

MSG Lewis: Wasn’t much pushing needed. You know I can go for days.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was always cocky; it didn’t matter about what. You stepped back and took a picture of all the tests making sure a few showed the results then you began getting yourself ready.

~~~~~~~

By the time you got to the racing grounds, it was packed. With two of Lewis’ guards flanking your left and right, you walked through saying hello to the drivers, waving at faces you knew, and taking some footage for your socials. You even had some approach you to congratulate you on the pregnancy. It tripped you up for a second because you’d just found out but then you remembered your prank that had gone wrong and was not right back on track. Every time someone came up and said it you couldn’t help but giggle. It was all so ironic.

Once you made it to Mercedes, the crew saw you first. They began clapping and as you approached. When you were close enough many of them patted you on the back as they expressed their happiness over the news.

“Our first Mercedes driver baby. Congratulations.”

“Uh, thank—you.”

You smiled and tipped your head at the others who were smiling from ear to ear. Toto approached with a grin.

“Such great news, Y/N. You and Lewis are going to be amazing parents. You can count on Suzie and me up for babysitting.”

You nervouisly giggled. “I think we’ll hold you to that.”

“Eh-em.”

To the left Lewis approached with his brow crooked.

“There he is, the soon to be dad.”

He looked evidently uncomfortable as he stood beside you.

“About that," Lewis began.

“He’s going to be such an amazing dad,” you said while staring at him.

The two of you stood there staring at one another. You in complete love and adoration of him, and he in utter confusion. Gradually everyone took the hint and went back to what they were doing before you got there.

“What’re—what’re you doing? Shouldn’t you be telling them it was all a prank?”

“Maybe that’s how it started but—we’re past that now.”

“What do you mean?”

You laced your fingers with his then smiled.

“I—I’m pregnant.”

Lewis looked even more confused.

“What? Is this about last night? I’m sure it’s too soon to be--."

You snorted as you rolled your eyes. “Seriously?”

“What? You said it wasn’t real.”

“It wasn’t, not then. Or maybe it was but I didn’t know. You didn’t put a baby in me last night. There was already one in me. I got sick again this morning and that made me look back into some things on my calendars which had me taking 14 pregnancy tests and they are all positive.”

Lewis’s eyes widened.

“What?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’m pregnant.”

“For real, for real?”

“So for real for real.”

Lewis looked down to your stomach area, then to your face. He smiled before he lifted you into the air. You laughed as he spun you around. Your combined laughter brought the attention of nearly everyone around you.

“Oh my god. We’re having a baby?”

He put you down then peered into your eyes. “Yep.”

He snorted then laughed heartily. “What a fucking plot twist.”

“Right! oh my god.”

The two of you cackled together before he kissed you, not caring who was watching. When his hand cupped your backside you squealed.

“Behave.”

“Not a chance. I can’t believe I put a baby in you.”

“Me neither.”

“Are you happy?”

You smiled and nodded. “Very.”

The way he smiled back at you made your heart swell. You were sure you looked like fools in love giggling with each other like idiots but neither of you cared. Lewis cupped your cheek and then softly caressed your skin.

“You and me.”

You took his other hand and put it on your stomach.

“Plus baby makes three. And with Roscoe--.”

“Makes a home,” Lewis finished.

A stray tear rolled down your cheek, but Lewis’ thumb flicked it away then kissed the spot it once laid.

The news must have been what he needed because a few hours later he stood on that podium claiming that P1. You beamed at him while you tenderly held your nonexistent bump, feeling closer to him than ever before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[jaggedjot]

Thinking about the implications of the shift from season one having each episode structured around a single interview session, to the premiere episode of the second season containing two partial sessions and reference to another that happened off screen. Previously, almost every scene in the show occurred between the moments Daniel prepared to conduct the interview and the conversation immediately following the end of a recording. Each of these sessions focused on an identifiable chapter of Louis’ life, the delineation between which was further emphasised by the subtle changes to Louis’ framing and approach. As Louis begins to question his recollection and interpretation of events however, so those neat boundaries have started to erode. Now, recollections of his and Claudia’s search for old world vampires spill over three sessions, one of which the audience is only aware of due to Daniel making an impatient remark about how meandering it was (“And I want to thank you, Louis, for yesterday’s eight hours on how to avoid the sun and torpedoes while cruising the Mediterranean war theatre.”). The effect of the conversations and passages of time between sessions meanwhile has been brought to the forefront, positioning it as, if not more, important than what is being discussed during the interview itself. This more organic and uncurated structure seems to be a tentative promise that Louis may be able to find something in his recollections that will allow him to grow, but also serves as an ominous warning of the danger that these memories pose for Louis.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 1: Prologue of Mastermind

A/N: And we're off! Here's the prologue, so I hope you all enjoy it! I'll be posting chapter 2 next week :)

December 8th, 1941

Everyone would remember where they were when the news hit the radios.  When every single person in the United States came to a halt, stopping whatever work they were doing, whatever conversation they were having, and just sat and listened to President Franklin D. Roosevelt speak about the attack. 

Ruth Sharpe had just finished helping her parents with breakfast when the breaking news had hit the radio station.  “Sit down, Ruthie!” Her mother hissed, tugging on her arm.  But Ruth couldn’t bring herself to sit down.  So she just stood there, clutching at the kitchen sink as she listened to the horrific news. 

“Yesterday, December 7, 1941 a date which will live in infamy, the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

The United States was at peace with that Nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its Government and its Emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific. Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in the American Island of Oahu, the Japanese Ambassador to the United States and his colleague delivered to our Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. And while this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or of armed attack.” 

This was war—Ruth knew it in her bones.  Her mother had burst into tears as she sunk into a kitchen chair.  Her father sat solemn, eyes trained blankly on a wall.  It was war all over again, and he had already served and done his time. 

Everyone in the Sharpe home was silent.  Even Mary, Alice, and Sarah—all of whom frequently argued with one another about nylons or lipstick and having to share—they were all completely and deadly silent. 

“It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time the Japanese Government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.” 

There would be no peace.  Ruth knew that.  They had watched the news-reports closely.  All of their family in Europe had already disappeared in the wake of the spreading Nazi agenda.  All of their cousins, all of their grandparents, there was no sign of them.  Their letters returned unopened and the horror had already struck the Sharpe family in deeply personal ways.  

But for Japan to attack?  That hadn’t been what Ruth was expecting. 

“The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.” 

Silence crackled in the home.  And Ruth watched as the next oldest sibling rose to his feet—Jonah was practically tearing towards the door.  “Where are you going?” Their mother spluttered out. 

He just locked a solemn gaze onto the rest of the family.  “There’s going to be a war.  I’m not going to sit here and wait to be drafted.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When war broke out in 1941, both Jonah and her younger brother John were old enough to enlist in the war.  John had just turned 18 in September and so it was no surprise when both of the boys took off to go and enlist.  It had damn near broken their mother’s heart, the thought of her boys going out and fighting in the war. 

As for their father?  He had been unnaturally quiet.  Thomas Sharpe had changed after fighting in the First World War.  Of course, he had been married when he went away and they had had Ruth quickly after—but Ruth remembered early childhood days when loud noises would make him retreat into her parents’ room, quiet tears and loud noises spilling from his mouth.  The quiet store-owner rarely raised his voice and tended to keep to himself. 

Ruth hadn’t known anything different her entire life.  But she thought, for just a moment, her father might have been angry about both Jonah and John signing up to fight in a war.  Her father hadn’t gotten mad though.  

He had started praying, silent tears streaming down his face when it was just their mother and Ruth around.  So when everyone gathered in churches and began praying for their sons and brothers, husbands and fathers—those who were going to fight, the entirety of the Sharpe family had shown up for the event. 

And they weren’t the only ones.  There were other families with boys who had decided to go off and fight.  And as some sort of last hurrah—one of the oldest members of the synagogue had invited a large gathering of people with sons going off to fight to his home.  

Truth be told, Ruth found the entire thing just sad .  Boys who would have to go and kill and become something that they didn’t want to be in order to stop a monstrosity.  In order to defend and protect their families and their homes and their beliefs in God.  But it had to be done.  She felt it like some sort of righteous ancestral fury rising up in her bones.  Because it wasn’t just their fight, it was her fight too.  

It was almost too joyful here, in this home.  Not when Ruth knew that most of these boys would likely not come home.  Not when she knew that it was going to be horrific.  War was merciless and some oncoming storm that they were wholly unprepared for. 

She slipped out of the party, coming to a stop on the fire escape and pulling a cigarette from her bag.  It was a poor habit and one that her parents were unaware that she had developed since entering Brooklyn Law.  But a girl had to de-stress somehow and she wasn’t about to start sleeping around to get her relaxation. 

Watching the streets of Brooklyn, Ruth wasn’t quite sure what to make of things.  The world had inherently and chemically changed on a cellular level.  But on the surface, everything looked exactly the same.  Snow was still falling in the December air and people were still chaotically driving in the streets below.  But inside homes across the country, mothers were weeping and families were saying goodbye in so many different ways. 

Something sounded in the window behind her and Ruth glanced, an annoyed expression crossing her features as she caught sight of Rosenthal climbing out.  “Oh—I uh—I didn’t know anyone was out here,” Rosenthal apologized, glancing back at the party. 

He was seriously considering just risking his life by standing here in the presence of Ruth Sharpe.  It was better than the party, even if it somehow ended in his unfortunate murder. 

Ruth removed her cigarette from her lips, staring him down.  “It’s better than in there.  It’s just loud.” 

“Yeah.” Robert rocked on the backs of his heels, gaze washing over his classmate with a frown.  “When did you start smoking?” 

“Freshman year.  You want one?” Ruth questioned, offering a cigarette in his direction.  He just stared suspiciously at the cigarette.  “I didn’t poison it, you nitwit.” 

“Ouch, rude,” Robert snatched the cigarette from her hands, shaking his head at her.  “I guess I also shouldn’t tell your ma’ that you were bein’ rude?” 

“Probably not,” Ruth retorted.  Her gaze trained back on the city and the twinkling lights that were still as bright as they were in the daylight.  “I take it that you’re signing up, too?” 

“Yeah, yeah I am.  I’m hopin’ for the air force.” 

“Hm,” Ruth mused.  “Well that’s a damn shame, Rosenthal.  Who am I going to compete with in cases now?” 

Robby Rosenthal gave a light laugh, shaking his head at her.  “I’m sure you’ll find someone to disagree with. You’re the most argumentative person that I know.” 

“Oh I’m aware.  And if you can handle me, then you’ll be able to handle whatever those Japs or Germans throw at you,” Ruth insisted pointedly.  “Consider it the real part of training.” 

“Blessings in disguise, I guess,” Robby said, leaning against the bricked apartment wall behind him.  “Your brothers sign up too?” 

“Both Jonah and John,” Ruth said in a slightly bitter tone.  “Abe would if he was old enough, but seeing as how he’s turning 14, I don’t think that’ll pass.” 

“He and Daniel have the same idea.  Everyone wants to get in on it,” Robert mused.  His younger brother Daniel also wanted to participate in the war effort, but he was only 16.  He still had a good two years to go before he’d be able to even sign up.  

“Risa will miss you,” Ruth said quietly.  

“She’s a tough kid. She’ll be okay,” Robert murmured.  “So I take it you’re going to prosecute the hell out of people here?” He shifted his gaze back onto the abnormally friendly Ruth— Ruth was never nice, that was just a fact .  It was a miracle they were speaking in level tones at the moment, honestly. 

“Not a chance, Robby,” Ruth said in a pointed tone.  “I’m thinking of going JAG-Corp.” 

“How are you gonna get your ma’ to sign off on that?” 

“I won’t tell her,” Ruth murmured.  “Same way you didn’t tell your folks about losing the highest grades to me this past year.” 

A small smile crossed Robby’s face.  “If you’re gonna prosecute and help in the war, then you give them hell, alright?” 

“Only if you do the same,” Ruth insisted.  “I need someone to compete with when this war is over, you know.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Robby glanced back inside.  “I better go before someone spots us together outside.  Last thing we want is rumors spiraling.” 

“That was your fault,” Ruth said pointedly.  “Last year, I mean.” 

“Sure it was.” The two of them had been caught in an intense argument about ethics by their mothers, who had a sewing circle—and their mothers had assumed it was a lovers’ quarrel, which couldn’t have been further from the truth, quite honestly. They had both blamed the other person for the supposed rumors and it hadn’t been much fun trying to detangle themselves from such a thing. 

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll find someone who will actually tolerate you, Rosenthal,” Ruth snarked.  

“And maybe you’ll actually figure out how to navigate a relationship.” 

“The day pigs fly,” Ruth gave a mock-salute, rolling her eyes at him.  “Now go on, be a good little boy and stamp out your cigarette.” 

Robby’s jaw ticked as he stared her down.  “You’re gonna get some poor schmuck killed one day, you know that?  And maybe he’d be better off.” 

She placed a hand over her heart.  “Tender, truly.  Well if I were your wife, I’d drink poison.” 

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.” 

And with that, Robby Rosenthal disappeared back inside the window—leaving Ruth sitting out there on the fire escape and wondering how the hell she was going to get herself into the JAG-Corp.

[usafphantom2]

HOW A CATHOLIC PRIEST GOT CLOSER TO HEAVEN

Recently, I was told by Bill Kraus that his father a SR 71 navigator and RSO and a SR-71 Pilot, Tony Bevacqua and four or five other crewmembers would go to the chapel and pray every day they were blessed and protected by God because no Air Force officer was killed in the line of duty flying the SR 71

The actual unofficial top speed of the SR 71 is 3.52. This happened because of the urgings of a Catholic priest!

SR-71 pilot Tom Alison said, “My God, Padre, what more do you want?

I came within 5degrees of burning up this entire airplane! “What more do you want? The Father wanted to make sure that he broke the official record of the fastest speed in the SR 71 that’s what he wanted. Father Hesburgh was used to asking for a lot and getting it. Father Theodore Hesburgh, President of Notre Dame, was an aviation buff. He was hooked after a flight in a barnstormer’s stunt plane at the age of 10 that his Dad paid five dollars for. In his autobiography, he wrote that He has logged nearly three million miles in the air, flying in exotic aircraft such as an F14-Tomcat, a Torpedo Bomber, a Weather Plane, and many more. He also broke the sound barrier several times, flew into a volcanic crater, and piloted a naval bomber over the Pacific despite having no formal flight training. But he wanted more. The ultimate prize would be to fly in the world's fastest airplane and break the current record. That record was set in 1976 at 2193 mph.

President Carter was thanking the Roman Catholic priest for his Goodwill accomplishments; he asked Hesburgh is there anything I could do for you? President Carter recalled the moment Hesburgh asked for the favor: “I said, ‘Fr. Hesburgh, it’s not customary for civilians to ride on a top-secret airplane.’

He said, ‘That’s all right. I thought you were Commander-in-Chief.’”

Two days later, Hesburgh got a call from the Air Force’s chief of staff. He was to report to the Beale Air Force Base, CA, to undergo a training regimen and series of rigorous tests. After passing the physical and psychological examinations administered to astronauts, Hesburgh had to learn how to operate every instrument in the back seat: navigational equipment, radios, and dozens of gauges and meters. He was then put through situational training for various emergency scenarios, including ejection and equipment failure. Father Hesburgh was possibly the oldest VIP to get a ride in the SR 71. He was 61. A close rival for this title would be Senator Barry Goldwater. He was 60 when he got his VIP ride in 1969.

On February 28, 1979, Hesburgh and the pilot, Major Tom Alison, prepared for their attempt to break the Blackbird’s speed record. The priest wanted to push it to the limit..

After cruising at 30,000 feet just under the speed of sound, Allison and Hesburgh dove 5,000 feet and broke the sound barrier. They then turned their nose upwards and rocketed past 80,000 feet, accelerating through Mach 3. As Hesburgh watched the speedometer, the Blackbird pushed past 2,200 miles per hour, breaking the plane’s speed record.

In his autobiography, Hesburgh said that when he’d landed, he “asked Tom if he had pushed the plane as fast as it would go.” Allison responded, “My God, Padre, I went within five degrees of burning us up. What more do you want?”

Hesburgh fulfilled a lifelong dream — he set an unofficial airspeed record in the world’s fastest airplane, an SR-71 Blackbird. This became the Father's proudest accomplishment, a story that he told over and over again to his friends. This is a truly remarkable story about a man who asked for an almost impossible task and received it!

Written by Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[letsplaydcttrpg]

Wheel of Destruction - Equipment Selection

Our chosen champion for this adventure is: NIGHTWING!

Since we're taking over for Batman on this case, we get to choose any THREE pieces of Bat equipment to take along! (Full character sheet below, but tl;dr is we already have: Combat Disk, Gas Mask, Stun Bomb and Wrist Rockets)

Here's our stat block:

Skills: Acrobatics: 10; Charisma: 9; Detective: 7; Gadgetry: 8; Martial Arts: 7; Military Science: 7; Scholar: 7 (History, Literature); Scientist: 7; Thief: 7; Vehicles: 10

Dex: 7 Str: 4 Body: 6

Int: 7 Will: 6 Mind: 7

Infl: 8 Aura: 6 Spirit: 5

Equipment:

Combat Disk [Str: 0 Dex: 0 Body: 8]; HP Cost: 34, Uses: 7, Duration: 10

Gas Mask [Str: 0 Dex: 0 Body: 0]; HP Cost: 4, Uses: 2, Duration: 10, Powers: Systematic Antidote: 8 APs

Stun Bomb [Str: 0 Dex: 0 Body: 0]; HP Cost: 17, Uses: 1, Duration: 1, Powers: Explosive Effect: 3 APs

Wrist Rockets [Str: 5 Dex: 0 Body: 5]; HP Cost: 4, Uses: 1, Duration: 8

Connections: New York Police (high-level), Wayne Foundation (high-level)

Motivation: Seeks Justice

Wealth: Multimillionaire

Job: Multimillionaire

Race: Human

[imreallyloveleee]

Where do you think it all went wrong with Riverdale?

honestly, part of me is like, the show's over and nothing but fandom matters. so who cares?

the other part of me loves to complain about Riverdale and will continue to do so until the day I die in the parking lot of Michael's Diner in Montgomeryville, PA at the age of 86. so, long-winded answer under the cut

I'm tempted to say it's the s4 b*rchie kiss. It was so wildly out of character for both Betty and Archie that it's laughable. You know how you can tell when something is just blatantly OOC with no justification? They...don't justify it. They find ways to dance around any interaction that might offer clarification. They mute the reactions of the characters who should be devastated by it. And then they jump ahead 7 years so it's easier to just handwave it away as something that happened a long time ago.

but the thing is, I did keep watching after that. I thought: okay, at least we should get an exes-to-lovers arc out of this, which is one of my favorite tropes. there is no way they would spend 4 seasons developing Bughead as this loving, supportive, communicative, sexy, and almost-unbelievably-compatible couple just to tear them apart and never do anything with that dynamic again. maybe it'll be even sweeter seeing them come back together after so much hurt and longing.

boy was i wrong!!!!!!!!!

so, the episode that actually made me stop watching for good, with the exception of some standalones like The Jughead Paradox and the finale, was the s5 musical. that was when i realized that this team of writers was 100% willing, maybe even eager, to completely drop storylines they themselves had been building over the course of a season - do a 180 with all of the characterization and relationships - and then act as though the buildup they wrote never even happened.

in this case, i'm specifically talking about the Bughead reunion storyline they dropped in s5. i'm not going to pretend like it was a GREAT buildup - and it was mostly on Jughead's side, Betty's character in s5 was basically an emotionless misery bot that had sex sometimes - but it was there. Jughead told Tabitha he had unresolved feelings around Betty. that's followed by an entire episode that lays out Betty & Jug's time jump relationship, and how Jughead still believes she's the one who saves him from himself. they work on a case together, they start opening up to one another. Jughead's so worried about her he can't eat.

and then...you know what happens.

(i'll also note here that there was random bts stuff that strongly indicated the musical ep storyline had a drastic last-minute rewrite: lili tweeted a blue dress, suggesting the song with that line was meant for her character; RAS said cole had to do last-minute recording sessions; supposedly crew members have confirmed this was the case, too. since none of it's 100% confirmed you can take it all with a grain of salt, but i believe it.)

it was so fucking insulting as a viewer to give my time and attention to a show made by people who would not only randomly drop the threads they set up, but torpedo them altogether, and then behave like the fans are the ones somehow at fault for expecting a story that actually follows through on its own emotional and plot beats. we're just shippers, so our opinions are dumb and biased! it's just a tv show, so who cares! get over it!

so, i stopped watching, because i knew they would continue to write without any thought or respect for their characters or their audience, and therefore inevitably write themselves into another corner. and, shocker, i was right. they did it again, whisking everyone away to the 1950s because actually resolving any of the scenarios they set up was ToO hArD. why bother when you could just make every single character Righteously Angry and Incurably Horny all the time, lecture the audience about social issues that have already been mainstream progressive for the last several decades, and call it a "love letter" to your fans?

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (AOS Edition) Chapter Fifteen

AOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Fifteen: Hidden Motivations

Summary: Marcus reveals the type of man he is, and Khan gives Kirk a dangerous option.

            “Captain on the Bridge,” said Sulu as Kirk, Spock, and (Y/N) arrived back.

            “ETA of the incoming ship,” said Kirk.

            “Three seconds, sir,” said Sulu.

            Kirk sat down in his chair, and (Y/N) and Spock took their stations.

            “Shields,” ordered Kirk.

            “Yes, Captain,” said Sulu, raising the shields.

            The approaching ship dropped out a warp and appeared before them. It was massive, dark grey, and loomed menacingly over them. (Y/N) recognized it as the largest, most recent model on Marcus’s desk. Many of its lights were off, making it a black mass, nearly invisible against the sky.

            “They’re hailing us, sir,” said (Y/N).

            “On screen,” said Kirk, swallowing nervously but setting his face into a calm expression. “Broadcast shipwide, for the record.”

            (Y/N) nodded. That was a good preemptive move, should Marcus threaten them at all. It was, of course, Marcus’s face that appeared on the screen.

            “Captain Kirk,” he greeted coldly, all the warmth gone.

            “Admiral Marcus, I wasn’t expecting you,” said Kirk, smiling. He was much better at acting alright than people gave him credit for. “That’s a hell of a ship you got there.”

            “I heard that you’d taken Harrison into custody in violation of your orders,” said Marcus, not entertaining Kirk’s pleasantries.

            “Well, we, uh…We had to improvise when our warp core unexpectedly malfunctioned,” said Kirk. “But you already knew that, didn’t you, sir?” He decided that, if Marcus was going straight to the point, he would, as well.

            “I don’t take your meaning,” said Marcus.

            “Well, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To assist with our repairs?” asked Kirk innocently. “Why else would the head of Starfleet personally come to the edge of the Neutral Zone?”

            “Captain, they’re scanning our ship,” said Sulu quietly.

            “Is there something I can help you find, sir?” Kirk was glad he’d moved Khan.

            “Where is your prisoner, Kirk?” questioned Marcus.

            “Per Starfleet regulation, I’m planning on returning Khan to Earth to stand trial,” said Kirk.

            Khan. The word hung in the air.

            “Well, shit,” sighed Marcus. “You talked to him. This is exactly what I was hoping to spare you from. I took a tactical risk and woke that bastard, believing that his superior intelligence could help us protect ourselves from whatever came at us next.” He leaned forward. “But I made a mistake. And now the blood of everybody he’s killed is on my hands. So I’m asking you, give him to me, so that I can end what I started.”

            Kirk shifted but kept strong. “And what exactly would you like to me to do with the rest of his crew, sir? Fire them at the Klingons? End seventy-two lives? Start a war in the process?”

            “He put those people in those torpedoes,” said Marcus. “And I simply didn’t want to burden you with knowing what was inside of them. You saw what this man can do all by himself. If we woke up the rest of his crew?” He scoffed. “What else did he tell you? That he’s a peacekeeper? He’s playing you, son, don’t you see that? Khan and his crew were condemned to death as war criminals. And now it’s our duty to carry out that sentence before anyone else dies because of him.”

            (Y/N) didn’t doubt Khan was a cruel man. That was clear from his willingness to die and his acknowledgement of his own savagery. After all, the Eugenics Wars of Earth took place during his lifetime. As a “superior” man, it was likely Khan was a part of them.

            However, that didn’t change that Marcus wanted his expertise and wanted his dead now so there was no threat to Marcus’s power. No one could reveal what he had done, how he had engineered a war, if the evidence was destroyed. Marcus was still in the wrong. And they couldn’t let him win.

            “Now, I’m going to ask you again! One last time, son.” Marcus glared at Kirk. “Lower your shields. Tell me where he is.”

            “He’s in engineering, sir,” lied Kirk smoothly. “But I’ll have him moved to the Transport Room right away.”

            “I’ll take it from here,” said Marcus. He cut off the communication channel.

            “Do not drop those shields, Mr. Sulu,” warned Kirk as he stood.

            “Aye, Captain.” Sulu understood the position they were in.

            “Captain, give your awareness of Khan’s true location in the Medbay, may I know the details of your plan?” asked Spock.

            “I told Marcus we were bringing a fugitive back to Earth,” said Kirk. “That’s what we’re going to do.” He paged engineering. “Mr. Chekov, can we warp?”

            “Sir, if we go into warp, we run the risk of seriously damaging the core!” said Chekov.

            “Can we do it?”

            “Technically, yes, but I would not advise it, Captain.”

            “Noted.” Kirk closed the comms. “Mr. Sulu, set course for Earth.”

            “Yes, sir,” said Sulu.

            “Punch it,” said Kirk.

            Sulu pressed the lever forward, and they jumped into warp.

            “Lieutenant Uhura, contact Starfleet,” said Kirk. “Tell them we were pursued into the Neutral Zone by an unmarked Federation ship.”

            “Comms are down, sir!” said Uhura in alarm.

            “Permission to come on the Bridge!” said Carol, appearing in the elevator.

            “Dr. Marcus,” said Kirk in concern at her alertness.

            “He’s going to catch up with us,” said Carol.

            “What?” said (Y/N), standing.

            Carol nodded. “And when he does, the only thing that’s gonna stop him destroying this ship is me, so you have to let me talk to him.”

            “Carol, we’re at warp. He can’t catch up to us,” said Kirk.

            “Yes, he can. He’s been developing a ship that has advanced warp capabilities—”

            “Captain, I’m getting a reading I don’t understand!” alerted Sulu.

            The Vengeance was catching up.

            Blam!

            It fired several shots, and the Enterprise was thrown to the side. Screams went up in lower decks as the sides of the ship were ripped open. And still, the Vengeance kept shooting. The Enterprise spun out of control and out of warp, violently throwing the officers around.

            “Where are we?” said Kirk in alarm.

            “237,000 kilometers from Earth,” said Sulu. Red warning signs flashed over every control. “Shields are dropping. We’re defenseless, sir.”

            “We have a bulkhead breach!” said another officer.

            “What’s the damage?” asked Kirk.

            “Major hull damage, Captain. Several casualties,” he reported.

            The Vengeance, turning on the Enterprise, fired again as the smaller ship floated listlessly.

            “Evasive maneuvers!” ordered Kirk. “Get us to Earth! Right now!”

            “Yes, sir!”

            “Captain, stop! Everyone on this ship is going to die if you don’t let me speak to him!” said Carol.

            “You can’t be sure that’ll work,” said (Y/N), worried. They wanted to focus on escape. They doubted Marcus could be reckoned with.

            “But we have to try,” said Kirk. “Hail him.”

            (Y/N) obeyed.

            “Sir. It’s me. It’s Carol.”

            The firing stopped instantly. Marcus’s face appeared on the screen.

            “What are you doing on that ship?” he demanded.

            “I heard what you said,” she said. “That you made a mistake and now you’re doing everything you can to fix it. But, Dad, I don’t believe…” Carol swallowed “that the man who raised me is capable of destroying a ship full of innocent people. And, if I’m wrong about that, then you’re gonna have to do it with me on board.”

            “Actually, Carol, I won’t,” said Marcus.

            “O-Oh.” Carol stumbled as dematerialization energy appeared around her. She turned and stared, wide-eyed at the crew. And then, the Transporter of the Vengeance caught her, and she was gone.

            “Can we get her back?!” said Kirk.

            “No, sir,” said Sulu.

            “Captain Kirk,” said Marcus coldly. “Without authorization and in league with the fugitive John Harrison, you went rogue in enemy territory.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. He was making the story he’d give the rest of the world.

            “Leaving me no choice but to hunt you down and destroy you,” finished Marcus. He had marked them for death. “Lock phasers.”

            “Wait, wait, wait, wait!” shouted Kirk.

            “Target all left torpedoes on the Enterprise bridge,” ordered Marcus.

            “Sir!” cried Kirk. “My crew was just…was just following me orders.” He couldn’t let his people die. “I take…I take full responsibility for my actions. But they were mine and mine alone. If I transmit Khan’s location to you now, all that I ask is that you spare them. Please, sir. I’ll do anything you want. Just let them live.”

            Spock looked at (Y/N), and their eyes widened at the moving sentiment. Kirk really did love them all. He was a true captain and friend.

            “That’s a hell of an apology,” said Marcus. “But if it’s any consolation…I was never going to spare your crew. Fire when ready.” The comm channel shut off.

            Everyone on the bridge tensed. The phasers turned on them. (Y/N) drew closer to Spock and took his hand. If they were going to die, the last thing they wanted to feel was his aura, his love, him. Spock squeezed their hand in return.

            Kirk faced them all. “I’m sorry.” The two words encapsulated all the terrible, grieving emotions he held in his heart.

            Then, the lights of the phasers dimmed, and they dropped into a standby mode.

            “Their weapons have powered down, sir!” said Sulu.

            “Enterprise!” a familiar voice cut across the radio. “Can you hear me?!”

            “Scotty!” exclaimed Kirk with a wild grin.

            “Guess what I found behind Jupiter!” said Scotty.

            “You’re on that ship!” said Kirk.

            “I snuck on,” confirmed Scotty.

            “Oh my god,” said (Y/N) in surprise, looking at Spock in amazement. “Great job, Scotty!”

            “Yes, well, seeing as I’ve just committed an act of treason against a Starfleet Admiral, I’d really like to get off this bloody ship! Now beam me out!” said Scotty.

            “You’re a miracle worker,” said Kirk. “We’re, uh, we’re a little low on power right now. Just stand by. Stand by.”

            “What do you mean, ‘low on power?’ What happened to the Enterprise?” He heard something behind him. “Call you back,” whispered Scotty, turning off the radio.

            “Scotty!” called Kirk, but he was gone for now. He whirled on everyone else. “Spock, (L/N). Our ship, how is she?”

            “Our options are limited, Captain,” said Spock. “We cannot fire, and we cannot flee.”

            “There is one option,” said Kirk grimly. Spock and (Y/N) furrowed their brows. Khan. “Uhura, when you get Scotty back, patch him through.”

            “Yes, sir,” said Uhura.

            “Mr. Spock, you have the conn,” said Kirk. He walked into the elevator, and (Y/N) and Spock jumped in

            “Captain…I strongly object,” said Spock.

            “To what? I haven’t said anything yet,” said Kirk evasively.

            “Since we cannot take the ship from the outside, the only way we can take it is within,” said Spock. “And as a large boarding party would be detecting, it is optimal for you to take as few members of the crew as possible. You will meet resistance, requiring personnel with advanced combat skills and innate knowledge of that ship.”

            “You’re going to try to work with Khan,” said (Y/N), translating all of Spock’s evidence. “Even though he’s incredibly dangerous.”

            “I’m using him, not working with him” said Kirk. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

            “An Arabic proverb attributed to a prince who was betrayed and decapitated by his own subjects,” said Spock.

            “Still, it’s a hell of a quote,” said Kirk.

            “I will go with you, Captain,” said Spock.

            “No, I need you on the Bridge,” said Kirk.

            “We cannot allow you to do this,” said Spock. “It is my function aboard this ship to advise you on making the wisest decisions possible, something I firmly believe you are incapable of doing in this moment.”

            “You’re right!” said Kirk. “What I’m about to do, it doesn’t make any sense, it’s not logical. It is a gut feeling. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I only know what I can do. The Enterprise and her crew need someone in that chair that knows what they’re doing. And it’s not me. It’s you, Spock.” Kirk swallowed and looked down.

            “You’re the best captain we could ask for,” said (Y/N), smiling at him. “And since we need you as captain, no matter how good a leader Spock is—” he nodded a that “—I’m going with you.” Spock looked at them in alarm, as did Kirk.

            “No. Just me.” Kirk shook his head. “I’m not putting anyone else in harm’s way.”

            “Captain, I can see better than anyone if Khan is going to attack us. I can read him. You can’t,” said (Y/N). “And you need someone else to make sure you get back here safely.”

            “T’hy’la, I refuse to let you risk yourself like this,” said Spock, staring at them.

            “I know, Spock,” said (Y/N), smiling and touching his face. “But this is the logical choice.” They looked at Kirk. “You know it is.”

            Kirk let out a sigh. “…You are.”

            “And I’m not taking no for an answer,” said (Y/N).

            “Even if I order you?” said Kirk.

            “We’re already committing an act of treason. I’ll add mutiny to the list if you’d like,” said (Y/N).

            Kirk nodded sharply. “Very well.”

            “T’hy’la—”

            (Y/N) leaned up and kissed Spock. “I’ll be back, love. I promise.”

            And then they disappeared into the Medbay with Kirk.

l

            “Tell me everything you know about that ship,” said Kirk sharply, approaching the cot Khan sat on. Behind him, Bones was doing something with his blood and a dead tribble (not the current problem to focus on).

            “Dreadnought class,” said Khan smoothly. “Two times the size, three times the speed. Advanced weaponry. Modified for minimal crew. Unlike most Federation vessels, it’s built solely for combat.”

            “I will do everything I can to make you answer for what you did,” said Kirk. “But right now I need your help.”

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes at the satisfaction winding through Khan’s emotions.

            “In exchange for what?” he said.

            “You said you’d do anything for your crew,” said Kirk. “I can guarantee their safety. Captain.”

            Khan scoffed. “You can’t even guarantee the safety of your own crew.”

            “Would you rather deal with us or Admiral Marcus?” said (Y/N), tilting their head and raising an eyebrow.

            Khan looked at them, and a new emotion filtered into his aura. “You.”

            “Then are you coming with us or not?” questioned Kirk.

            Khan’s eyes didn’t leave (Y/N)’s face. “Lead the way, Captain.”

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