#and i miss that one party we had when michelle moved out of her shitty familys house!!!

[funkle420]

i want no i NEED to be living in a cabin in a friendly community where i still get to have my own space but i get to also live with other cool ppl who are also neurodivergent and artists but my walls are thick so i can fart in peace and talk to myself and we'll all make food and art together and we'll have a big ass garden and at least 2 pets and several chickens

[holylulusworld]

Nrfth (10) - Past pain

Summary: Betrayal cuts deep. If your heart and trust get damaged. Can you find a way back?

Pairing: Chris Evans x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of past heartbreak/shitty behavior/break-ups, groveling, angry reader, arguments, adorable Lilly Anne

A/N: Bunny is the nickname for the reader’s daughter.

No rest for the heartbroken masterlist

<< Part 9

“Mommy, look! I got ice cream with Captain America's colors,” your daughter grins from ear to ear. Her obsession with your former lover’s role always makes your heart throb. If only she knew in reality he’s not the hero she believes he is. “Mr. Chris bought it for me.”

“Of course, he did,” you can’t keep the bitterness out of your voice. “How about you eat it slowly, Bunny.” You softly say as your daughter shovels the ice cream in her mouth. “We don’t want you to choke on it.”

“It tastes great,” she excitedly says. “It got sprinkles on it!” You try to remain calm, and not show your true emotions. How you’d love to punch Chris’s face while he dares to sit next to your daughter, acting like he’s the charming boy next door.

“She wanted me to buy it,” Chris sheepishly says. “I asked her which sort she wants to eat. Lilly Ann politely asked me to buy this one. She loved the colors. Don’t you want to eat something too?”

“YAY MOMMY! Eat some ice cream. It tastes so good,” your daughter grins at Chris. “Right, Mr. Chris. You’ll buy mommy ice cream too..” She batts her eyelashes and give Chris her sweetest smile. “He’s a nice man.”

If only your daughter knew what kind of man Chris really is. A heartbreaker. Someone letting you down when you are vulnerable.

“Right,” you force a smile on your face to not give away that you hate Chris for what he had done to you, your daughter, and your career. “Bunny, eat up. Aunt Tracey is waiting for you. I got something important to talk about with Mr. Chris.”

“OH! Do you want to invite him to my birthday?” She gasps audibly. “Mr. Chris, will you bring your shield? Please? Everyone will be so jealous if you bring it.” Lilly Anne grabs Chris’s wrist, tugging at it. “You will come to my birthday party, right?”

“I-I’d love to. I need to talk to your mommy first, okay? I got a busy schedule and—” he licks his lips. Chris doesn’t want to overstep. Even though, he’d do anything to come to his daughter’s birthday party and play her hero. “I will try to come.”

“Did you hear? Captain America comes to my birthday party Mommy,” your daughter wiggles on her seat. She can’t wait to tell all her friends that her hero will come to her party. “I bet Aunt Tracey will like him too.”

You choke on the air. Tracey will not like having Chris around. She will kill him without batting an eyelash. Your best friend moved heaven and hell to support you. Even when she’s married now, Tracey is a constant in your life you don’t want to miss.

“Lilly Anne, please eat up. We need to head home,” you whisper as you run your hand over her head. She nods but sighs deeply.

“Can I see the doggo again? He’s so cute and friendly,” she sniffs. Your child loves pets, especially dogs and cats. “Please, Mr. Chris. Can you bring him to my birthday party? He’ll get a treat too.”

“We will see, Lilly Anne.” Chris tries not to hold his hopes high. He knows that he fucked big time and broke your heart. There is no coming back from the pain he caused. He can only hope that you find a way to forgive him, or at least give him the chance to get to know his daughter…”

“I will castrate him!” Tracey balls her hands into fists. “He had the guts to tell you that someone extorted him?” She snorts. “Like hell. That asshole never tried to contact you.”

“I burned down all the bridges when I left the States.” You groan as you try to find an excuse for Chris’s behavior. “No. If he wanted to find me, he would’ve found a way.”

“Exactly, babe. Don’t let that bastard get under your skin.” She clicks her tongue. “What if I come with you?” Tracey offers. “We could ask Michelle to keep an eye on our little angel while I give that goddamn liar hell.”

“I don’t want to start a fight or think about the past. I need to…” You shrug. “Michelle was right. I need clarity. I will listen to him and say my goodbyes.”

“Babe,” Tracey searches your face, “don’t get weak for him. We both know he’s nothing but a lying piece of shit.”

“I-“You know Tracey is right. Chris broke your heart and ruined your career. But you loved him with all your heart. A huge part of him is still in your life. In the form of your daughter. “I need to give him the chance to explain things to me. What he did was fucked up, but he gave me something I never would’ve dared to dream of.”

“Lilly Anne.” Tracey lowers her voice. She doesn’t want to wake your daughter. “Fine. Let me take care of the little bug while you give that bastard hell for me.”

She grins. “I love you too, babe.”

“I know.”

“Talk,” you snap at Chris. There is no reason to be friendly around him now. Lilly Anne is not around, so you can be as angry and loud as you want to. “No. Wait. Let me say my part first.”

“Y/N, please hear me out. I know you don’t owe me anything but give me the chance to explain what happened back then.”

“Damn right,” you are in his face. “I owe you shit, Chris. No one would give you the chance to explain your side of the story after what you did to me. You ruined me in any way!”

All damn breaks. You push against his shoulders. “Y/N.”

“No! You won’t say a damn thing! It’s my turn,” you yell, making Chris flinch. “I was in love with you! In love!” You wrinkle your nose to push the tears away. The last thing you want is to cry in front of him. “You fucked me, and then you go and tell me about some other woman.”

“Baby, I-“You slap his cheek this time. Hard enough to leave an angry handprint.

“Shut up!” You point your index finger at him. “And then, I thought that you couldn’t act shittier, you go and ruin my career too. I tried to act professional and filmed the last scenes only for you to kick me out of the show.”

“I told you that it wasn’t my intention-“ he raises his hands in surrender when you glare at him. “Please let me explain.”

“Fuck you!” You cry. “Fuck you! Fuck you! I felt like a freight train hit me. You left me there on the ground, bleeding and crying.”

“Y/N,” he tries again but you push him away the moment he tries to touch you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t!” You sneer. “Sorry doesn’t fix shit! Because of your selfishness, I raised our daughter alone. She asks me about you all the time, and I lie. I lie because I can’t tell her that you give a shit about her mother.”

“That’s not true! I would’ve explained everything to you, but you were gone,” Chris chokes out. “No one knew where you moved to.”

“Right.” You huff. “If you care about a person, you find a way to contact them. You simply didn’t care about me. I was just a warm body you used for some time until you moved on to the next.”

“I loved you too!” Chris yells now. “I tried to protect you! I know it was the worst way to do so but I did it to save your reputation.”

“And yours!” You snap at him. “Don’t act as if you didn’t try to save your squeaky-clean image, Chris. This was all about protecting yourself, not me. Do you honestly believe an apology will make up for what you did to me? You not only broke my heart but ruined my career too. I had to start anew while being pregnant of the man breaking my heart.”

“I know.” He lightly shrugs his shoulders and sniffles. “I fucked up big time. Maybe I was scared to ruin my career and reputation too. I chose the easy way out. I knew you would’ve given a shit if that woman leaks nudes of you and me. But I…”

“You didn’t want to risk that I’ll choose the hard way,” you conclude. “So, you sacrificed our love and my career to save your cowardly ass.”

“I guess…”

As you stare at him, all the anger you pushed down for so many years still runs through your veins. “I hate you!”

You’re trembling with anger. “I know, and you have all the right to hate me. Maybe you should hit me again or run me over with your car. It’s just…”

“No-“ you cut him off. “I won’t let you into my daughter’s life. You will only abandon her for your career. I let you hurt me, but I will not get my baby girl hurt because I’m too weak to protect her.”

“I swear, this will never happen. Please, let me at least come to her party. I promise to play by your rules. Just…” He sniffs as tears roll down his cheeks. You’re not sure if he’s playing yet another role, or if these are real tears. “I can bring the shield and make her happy. If you want to make me leave afterward, I’ll go.”

You square your jaw. Lilly Anne wouldn’t stop talking about Chris, his dog, and that Captain America will come to her party this afternoon. “You’ve got an hour. Bring the dog and the shield.”

You turn on your heels to leave.

“Wait…I can prove that I didn’t lie,” he places his hand on your shoulder. “At least let me prove that I’m not a liar…”

>> Part 11

Tags in reblog.

[betzabobababi]

"24"

Hello Hello! There aren't any pairings for this story I think? (for y/n) Enjoy!!! ANY feedback is appreciated. Please reblog if you like the story, it helps other people experience peoples writing/stories

Pairings: Peter x Mj Ned x Betty x (baby) Emerson Y/n x Lonelynes

Warnings: Swearing - Lonleyness - Weddings - mentions of being drunk (from song lyric)

Summary: Y/n is struggling to move on to the next chapter of their life.

Inspired by: 24-Sundial

"Im 24 now still at my parents house"

You had turned 24 a few days ago, and you still lived with your parents. You constantly tried to move forward and onward but it was difficult. Especially knowing that you did but didn't want to leave Queens.

"Thought I would have figured it out"

You needed a change of scenery but you didn't want to be in a place completely new. So you thought why not move in with my sister. And that worked well until she broke up with her high school sweet-heart and moved to LA. By then you had started to save money so you could move out and move to the outer part of town.

"Friends getting married"

Peter your best friend since both of you were babies and the love of your life had recently gotten engaged to his high school sweet-heart. Michelle Jones, or as most people knew her Mj. She was one of the most bad ass women you had ever met. Coming in second place after meeting Pepper. You were happy for them you really were, but it hurt you on so many levels to see the one and only person you loved getting married, to someone that isn't you.

"One has a baby"

Ned and Betty had gotten married 2 years after high school and they had just brought the little bundle of Joy, Emerson into the world. Emerson looked like if Ned and Betty were conjoined together. Emerson was the carbon copy of both of them. Having both, their looks, brains, and attitude, Emerson was a tiny little baby Einstein in a stroller.

"I barely recognize this town"

Everything changed after high school. You would run into people that you talked to frequently during school, and now you wouldn't recognize them. They would frequently tell you the same thing "Oh you haven't changed at all!" You of course knew that. You knew that you hadn't changed since senior year. You also knew you Needed to change.

"Mama asked me what my plan is for the future"

Alas you ended up moving back in with your parents. You had gone to college but you were never able to actually get hired in the expertise you studied. Your mom would constantly ask you what you would do with your life. Your response was always the same. "I don't know mum, I believe in fate"

"Im 24 now thought I could finally settle down"

You stared at the dimly lit phone screen. It was a website to sign up for speed blind dating. You thought that if you couldn't get Peter then you'd do your best to move on. So here you were in an uncomfortable chair listening to the 10th guy of the night rambling on about how successful they are and how you're stunning and that the both of you would make perfect heirs for their companies.

"Parties end before im drunk"

"Friday night im tired as fuck"

"I dont know how I ended up like this"

"Can someone tell me what the hell I missed?"

You were sick and tired of living like this. You needed a way out. Everyone else was moving on succefuly why couldn't you do the same? Every night you would be laying in your childhood bedroom staring at the ceiling contemplating the meaning of life. Contemplating where you went wrong. Contemplating how you could turn your shitty life around.

"Got no friends, just lots of stress"

The day of Peter's and Mj's wedding finally arrived. You were Mj's Maid of Honor and you also walked Peter down the aisle. May had gotten into a car accident and badly broken her leg so you did her the favor of walking Peter down. Of course it hurt like hell to watch the love of your life and one of your best friends exchanging vows with the most perfect girl in the world.

"It feels like yesterday when we were kids"

You got the 'honor' of saying a speech for both Peter and Mj. You reluctantly walked up the stage and started saying your speech. For Mj it was just saying how lucky she was to find the most caring man you had ever met and having the privilege to marry him. For Peter though, it was a different story. Being his bestfriend meant you had full consent to say embarrassing stories about the both of you. Towards the end of your speech you broke down crying. You brushed it off saying they were happy tears but in reality they were tears of acceptance. You cried because you accepted the fact that you'd be alone forever. You accepted 'giving' your best friend 'away'. You accepted the fact that Peter was never meant to be yours.

"Can someone tell me what the hell I missed? 'Cause I don't know

"Sleep till the sun's down, another breakdown

Feels like the days are all the same

New type of anxious, school never taught this

And what the fuck are taxes anyway?"

You would stay In bed all day and cry the whole time after the wedding. Everysingle day was the same. Eat-Work-Cry-Sleep over and over and over again. Bills were piling up. It's not that you didn't have the money, its more of like you not having the motivation to do anything.

"I tell myself I won't be cynical and bitter

And now I see it when I'm looking in the mirror"

You needed to leave the shell. You needed to get your ass up and work your ass off. You Needed Change

"I'm 24 now, wondering when I will be okay"

[annakie]

An Annotated Mass Effect Playthrough, Part Five

Will we make it off the Citadel in this update??

List of Posts: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Flux is my favorite bar in all of the first game, I know there’s not many to choose from, but I like the music best, everybody’s clothed, everyone’s having a good time, there’s slots upstairs for entertainment, there’s dancing, and plenty of space to chill out in.  Also the color scheme is great.  It looks particularly great now with the graphics mod improvements.  

Doran gets a nice glamour shot here.

I’m a tattle tale who always turns this guy in.  I agree with Kaidan...

Also I really love Rita’s quest with her sister.  She loves her sister, Jenna  wants to be helpful, even Doran’s like “Hey I’d love to give her her job back.”  Everyone here is pretty wholesome.  And Jenna gets one of the best surprise appearances in ME3 if you do things right.  ME1Recalibrated fixes the bugs with her quest, too!

Speaking of bugged quests, Hello Conrad!  ME1Recalibrated fixes Conrad’s bug, and even if it doesn’t, ME2Re does.  The only bad thing about that is it makes his apology for accusing you of something you maybe didn’t do make no sense.

Everyone else was sure Conrad would turn out to be evil, too, right? Instead making him into just a big lying dummy with an advanced degree was a great move.  I was kinda hoping he’d show up in the Citadel DLC.   

Harkin is JUST the FUCKING WORST.  I’m always tempted to let Garrus cap him in ME2 because what a waste of air he is and doesn’t learn his lesson.  

This is also maybe the most overt place where FemShep experiences sexism.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s some pretty shitty sexism sprinkled throughout the games (as discussed a bit last post) but ugh this guy, if I could shoot him this game, I might.  At least on renegade playthroughs.

Speaking of Garrus...

Finally, an alien who wants to hang out with us.

As primarily a Kaidan-romancing gal, who tends to keep up with the Kaidan Alenko tag, especially back in the heyday of tumblr, for a while, loving Garrus was... difficult.

In October, when I was finishing up my latest ME3 playthrough and also cleaning up my blog, and also rewatching Doctor Who and thinking a lot about Rose Tyler and Martha Jones, I posted a long thing in a post about Kaidan and Garrus and badly behaving fanbases, which I don’t feel like typing again.  Here’s the whole thing, but I’m going to pull a part of it into here.

I love Garrus, so much.  And I was thinking with this whole parallel DW rewatch / Mass Effect replay think I’m doing right now how both Rose Tyler and Garrus Vakaraian are characters that were ruined for me for awhile due to their respective… overly enthusiastic fanbases who a small percentage of were dicks to people who loved other characters.  The Kaidan tag (and from what I understand Thane got some of this too, but not nearly as bad) was a pretty hostile place for awhile (and yeah I used to regularly check the Garrus tag too and there was a small amount of tag-invasion there but uh, like 5% of what the Kaidan tag got) which made loving the character of Garrus a lot harder for awhile.  But when actually watching seasons 1 & 2 / the end of 4 of Doctor Who, or actually playing the ME games, those characters are awesome.  

Fanbases can be amazing or terrible, and time and time again I think you start to realize that no matter how great a fandom is, there are going to be a few people who can only enjoy themselves by feeding on drama, or on lifting up what they love by stomping on other people/characters/plotlines.  

It’s not fair to characterize everyone who loves a popular thing as someone who does this.  It’s also hard to avoid completely because there will always be jerks, or young/new people who don’t realize what bad form they’re showing.  I did learn by trying to fight it for a year or two, that responding might help that one person not do it again, but it’s not going to stop overall.  

Anyway, don’t be a dick about the things you don’t like.  

It’s sad that even thirteen years past the release of ME1 and eight years past ME3 some people still need to have this fight online.   It’s basically impossible to enjoy like, any non-curated Mass Effect space online because of pissing contests or people spouting the same boring opinions.  Which they’re entitled to.  I’m just real tired of “Kaidan is boring!” “Ashley is a racist!” etc with no further depth of thought being given.

The ability to mute / block people and get away from the worst of it is one of the reasons I’m still on tumblr.  Especially always mute/block “confessions” blogs.  Yeesh.

---------

I’m glad Garrus is here, and I’m glad he’s on the team.  What’s funny though, is that people tend to forget that Garrus like, wasn’t really all THAT popular of a character before ME2.  I know I was only in the fandom for a year before ME2 but I dug in pretty deep in that time.

It wasn’t until he gets his face blown off and starts talking about Old Times that a lot of people started to REALLY like him.  He’s still great in ME1, but not like, elevated to god-tier that so many people did post ME2 release.  But in ME1 he IS neat because he’s really malleable.  Probably the companion who can have the biggest personality shift depending on your choices.

Also, I remember a time when the people who wanted to romance Garrus were like... outliers?  I remember thinking “GARRUS?  As a romance?  That’s... weird.  Who would do that!?”

OH HOW I WAS WRONG.  But that was before reach and flexibility.

Hey I even have a Shep that romanced Garrus in ME2 and ME3.  And I loved it!

Were I to replay a different Shep, she’d be my first choice.

So yeah, I love Garrus, I keep Kaidan in the squad all the time in ME1 and the other spot I try to rotate everyone else somewhat evenly, but you’ll see plenty of him.  Then ME2 he’s by my side most of the way.  And an awful lot in ME3, too.  But I’m happy for him to get crushed on by Dr. Michele and glad to see him and Tali find happiness in ME3.  SO that’s the path we’ll be going down if we get that far here.

I love the Destiny Ascension flyby moment on the Citadel, and it’s so easy to miss.  Also really hard to get good screenshots of.  Thanks Flycam.  Don’t pay attention to the untextured wall in the first pic, just look at the pretty lights!

Let’s go get another squadmate!  This time, a not-as-initially-friendly alien!

What an amazing entrance for Urdnot Wrex.

“Do you want me to arrest you?”

“I want you to try!”

Hell.  Yeah.

Here’s where the somewhat in somewhat evenly comes in.  I probably do favor Wrex and Ashely in the squad in ME1 a little because... well you know what’s coming for Ash and Wrex you get the least amount of time with by far of the other companions.  Also, he’s just... great?  A tank, with some biotics and a shotgun... okay well so am I as a vanguard, but Kaidan has just enough tech powers for us to muddle through where we need to when Wrex is in the squad and he’s so much fun to have around.  His “Fuck you, I don’t care” attitude is great, and his growth story throughout the trilogy is one of the best arcs a character gets, imho.  I just really love Urdnot Wrex.

This is a real nice flight control office you’ve got here, C-Sec.  It would be a shame if someone planted a bug in it later, since literally anyone can just walk on up here uncontested.

This entire area really is so pretty though.

I always pump points into Paragon as much as possible from as early on as possible, and saving these poor guys’ lives is one of the big reasons.  They don’t need to die.

Ash usually still stays in the party up to this point, though sometimes it’s Garrus.  Fist is still a dick in ME2 but he doesn’t need to die here, sorry Wrex.

...raise your hand if you still occasionally forget to pick up Emily Wong’s evidence and have to reload.  I remembered!  ...once I was almost out of Chora’s Den and had to turn around this time.

Kaidan?  Kaidan my love?  My darling... perhaps YOU shouldn’t be the one standing in the middle of the corridor with no barrier or protection?  (I suppose I could scooch over but then I’d look less badass for these screenshots.  Naaah.)

It’d be a shame if someone properly lit the corridor so we could see what’s going on.

But hey... TALI!  Tali Tali Tali!  The first quarian we see, and only one for... awhile?  Is there another quarian in this entire game? I’m trying to remember and seriously can’t think of one.

Anyway, I love Tali, but another character you really need to ignore their most rabid fanbase portions of.  Yikes, Talimancers were really something back in the day.  The biggest problem I have with Tali being in the squad is that normally she’s REALLY useful against Geth and... not so much against just about anything else.  She gets sidelined on my team more than I wish she would.  Especially since she doesn’t show up until very late in ME2 and late-midway through ME3.

Finally, the proof we need.  And the game continues to introduce new concepts to us with the Conduit and we hear the word Reapers for the first time.  We also get a loredump on the quarians and the geth.  

Tali’s voice doesn’t have quite as heavy of an accent in ME1 as it does in 2 and 3.  I guess we can assume she’s lost part of it while on her pilgrimage?  Picking up the local dialects a bit?  The next two times we see her she’s just spent a lot of time with her own people.

Tali’s suit and omnitool look SO GOOD with the updated textures.

I swap Ash out and Tali in at this point, and usually finish up a few more quests along the way.

Ah, Septimus.  You lovesick fool.

Honestly, the very best thing with Septimus is to bring Garrus here if you’re gonna romance him, have Garrus laugh at him for coming undone for love and then... well, ME2 and especially ME3 happen.  But still.  Septimus... always needs a kick in the pants but will get around to doing the right thing.

Hey here’s a cool thing ME1Recalibated does -- Morlan carries a Squad Iconic Armors stock, so you can always find tier-appropriate default look armor for you and all the squad.  Very cool of you, Morlan.  You are currently my favorite store on the Citadel.  Now stop sending me spam, I didn’t sign up for your mailing list.

Look, I have questions about what exactly Xeltan told the consort and how... all that... works... but... I don’t think I actually want to ask them.  Just.. let’s all shut up about all of it, it’s over now.

BTW, according to one of the novels, Councilor Anderson finds Ambassador Cayln super annoying.  I need to re-read that book.

OK fine... I’ll go talk to the Council.

Coming at ya with Actual Proof and a quarian tagging along to back up the claims, the Council is ready to listen.  And while not surprising that it’s finally time to become a Spectre, the actual ceremony is really well done.  With the swelling theme music blaring, and all three councilors stressing what a big deal this is and what will be expected of you, you really feel the weight of this moment.  People take notice.  Although apparently later, Kaidan or Ash get an entire televised event around becoming a Spectre, I guess there’s no time for that right now.

It definitely feels like the game so far has been building towards this moment, not only with POUNDING it into your brain about who Spectres are and why they’re so important and letting you know you’re being evaluated... but it feels like there’s been a shift in the game after this moment.  It’s A Big Deal.

I didn’t finish all the sidequests on the Citadel yet, they can wait, I’ve been here long enough.  Let’s go check out the new cool stuff we can buy.

ME1Recalibrated adds in this Spectre Armor.  Eeehhhhh... no thanks.  We’ll stick with Onyx.

I did cheat myself in a bunch of credits and picked up Spectre weapons though. This ain’t no tryhard playthrough.  

Well OK, we can finish ONE more quest.  Thanks, startlingly loud and triumphant music queue that’s never used again!

Man, this would be SUCH a good pic of the Normandy if... the airlock didn’t go straight through the ship.

We’ve got a ship of our own!  And most of our squadmates to put on it!

Sucks for Anderson to be sidelined, though.  We already love you, Anderson!

It’s cool to get a bit more of the Saren & Anderson backstory here for real.  Still, I enjoyed the book more.  Maybe I’ll do a re-read of all the ME books here soon.

Udina... just keep being you, I guess.  

WE HAVE A SHIP!!!

Okay, whew... we made it off the Citadel.  Now I gotta actually play some more to have more updates to post.  Might be a few days.  Have to actually go back to work tomorrow. :p

Let’s probably do like one sidequest then go get us an Asari!!

[negasonicteenagemess]

my favorite girl || peter parker imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2.0k

Request:  Could you do a request were Peter first noticed the reader because they’re getting bullied because they’re clothes are too small or their shoes have holes in them so Peter defends her and months pass and they begin crushing on eachother and one day Peter offers to walk her to her place and he finds out she lives in a homeless shelter and hes surprised and she just thought he knew. And he feels emberassed but she assurance him and then it just ends in fluff? You’re a great writer btw!

A/N: The last time I posted something was almost a year ago and that’s pretty shitty of me so here we go. Also thank you anon!!!!!!

UPDATE: THIS IS A REPOST AS MY LAPTOP IS FUCKED UP

masterlist

i didn’t proof this, I’m sorry

Y/N sighed, walking through the crowded halls of Midtown as she tried to reach her locker. She just wanted to be unnoticed for just a minute, so getting lost in the crowd wasn't such a bad idea in her mind. Her shoes, old, overused ones that were over worn and ripped by the original owners, squeaked to a stop as she reached her locker.

She pulled the sleeves of her ripped jacket up her arms and opened her locker. She took out a couple folders and notebooks from her backpack then put them in the metal box before her.

"Hey Y/N," Flash beckoned behind her as she rolled her eyes. Y/N slowly turned around with her shoulders slumped, "what do you want Flash?" She sounded so, defeated.

"I love your jacket. Where'd you get it, in the dumpster of Forever 21?" Him and his buddies laughed as Y/N looked down and fiddled with the zipper of the jacket littered with holes. "God I would give you money, but let's face it," the brunette chuckled as he set up his 'joke', "you'd probably just by drugs or some shit, right?"

Y/N sighed, biting her lip and refusing to look at the trio of asshats in front of her.

Peter Parker walked through the halls, music blaring in his headphones as he hurried to reach his locker. His steps slowed as he saw Flash and a few of his friends harassing some girl. His eyes went wide when he saw how sad and dejected she was. Annoyed, Peter approached the small group of teenagers.

"Flash," Peter boldly intervened, "just leave her alone. She didn't do anything to you." His eyes darted between the girl and the bully.

"Ah, Parker here to save the day. Of course you'd be friends with the hom-," he was interrupted by the bell. "Well, see you in physics penis Parker." His friends laughed as they left with the heard of highschoolers around them.

Peter approached the girl with a worried look on his face. "Hey, you alright?" He was standing right in front of her now, finally able to take in her beauty. She smiled, "Y-yeah. Thank you so much by the way, Flash can be such a dick."

He chuckled, "I know right?"

They stood in silence for a second, contentment apparent in both of their eyes "I'm Y/N and I have a feeling your name isn't Penis Parker." Peter's smile grew, "I'm Peter actually. Peter Parker."

Months after that day, her and Peter were the best of friends. Ned and Michelle welcomed her into their little group with open arms. She was actually insanely happy at this point of her life. Despite complications with her home, she was overjoyed.

"Hey, um, do you wanna go to like Starbucks or something after school to study for exam week?" Peter asked her as they threw away the cafeteria food that she got for free. "I don't know if I can go. I don't have any money on me." She blushed lightly, embarrassed by the fact.

Peter shrugged, "Don't worry about it. It's on me." She looked at him with slightly wide eyes, "you sure? I mean I don't wanna burden you."

He rolled his eyes, nudging her lightly as they walked back to their seats. "Of course I'm sure! Anything for my favorite girl." He immediately covered his mouth with his hands. How could he possibly recover from something like that in front of such a pretty girl.

Y/N smiled, watching her shoes the tiles, "Well thank you, my favorite boy." She walked a little bit ahead and went to sit across from Michelle. Peter stood there cracking his knuckles with a small smile on his face, "awesome."

After school, Peter met her by her locker. "Hey Y/N," he greeted as he leaned against the locker that was next to hers. She took a few things out an shoved them into her torn backpack, "hey Peter." He fiddled with his hands, biting his lip and avoiding eye contact. He was still a bit uneasy after what he said a few hours ago.

Y/N shut her locker and put her arms through her backpack straps. "You ready?" Peter asked, while standing up properly. Y/N nodded and started walking to the door. They walked through the halls, their hands brushing against each other but neither of them moving to prevent it.

The two of them talked about random nothings as the walked to the nearest train station. Peter, being the kind boy he was, paid for both of their train tickets to get to the closest cafe. They sat next to each other while he told her of all the bad things Flash ever did to him, including that horrid moment at Liz's party last year.

After a few minutes of rambling, he felt her head lean against his shoulder. He looked over and saw that her eyes were closed and her breathing steadied. A smile graced his features as he wrapped his arm around the small of her back to keep her steady.

The women sitting across from them looked at the pair with a kind smile, "You two make a cute couple." Peter looked up, mouth slightly open and eyes wide in shock as he pointed between himself and Y/N.

"Oh, um, we're just friends," he stumbled over his words out of embarrassment. Y/N leaned in further, her hand going to rest onto his chest. He chuckled nervously as the act did anything but prove him wrong.

"Well you could've fooled me," the women smiled and stood up as the train stopped, most likely leaving as this was her stop.

Peter sat there, admiring the girl who was currently using him as a pillow. Y/N opened her eyes when the train was about to stop. She looked at Peter who chuckled at her tiredness, "hey sleepyhead."

She rubbed her eyes and groaned, "shut up." The train halted so, Peter stood and grabbed her hand, "come on. Don't wanna miss our stop."

Y/N slowly stood up, grabbing the backpack from her lap and pushing past the sea of strangers.

Again, the pair walked on the crowded New York streets as they tried to reach the nearest Starbucks. Once they got to the small shop, Peter opened the door for her, and a few others, before the two of them found a place to sit.

Y/N sat in the booth with a huff leaving her lips. "I am not excited for next weeks exams."

Peter laughed at her comment, throwing his bag in the booth, and grabbing his wallet from the pocket of his jeans. "Alright what do you want?"

Y/N looked at him, "I-I've never been here before."

A small, "oh" escaped Peter's lips as he made sure his debit card was in his wallet. "I'll just get you what I'm getting. You good with that?" Y/N nodded as Peter tapped his knuckles on the table, "okay, I'll be right back."

A few minutes went by and Y/N had already set up all of her school stuff while Peter just returned with two drinks in his hand. "Thank you so much, my favorite boy." He placed both of the drinks on the table, before sipping his and sitting down. He looked at her as his cheeks turned a bright red.

"We're still doing this?" Peter groaned, unzipping his bag and pulling out a few worksheets. Y/N sipped her drink, enjoying the sugary taste, "yep." She gave him a small wink that made his blush deepen.

After a few hours of going over notes and helping each other with homework, they decided to call it a day. "Do you want me to walk you back to your place?" He asked as they were about to part ways in front of the coffee shop.

Y/N nodded her head and started walking towards the homeless shelter. They walked and complained about the 'dicks in New York not knowing what personal space was' as Peter put it. The walked for about twenty minutes before they reached the big sign.

"FEAST. Food, Emergency, Aid, Shelter, Training," Peter quietly read out loud as they stopped in front of the building.

"Well, this is my stop," Y/N mumbled, playing with the rips in the sleeves of her shirt. "Y-You live here?" He stammered in wonder.

"Yeah. I thought you knew. I thought everyone knew." She avoided his eyes, messing with her hands. "I just- I didn't expect this." His eyes finally met hers as they both turned to look at one another. "That's why Flash was making fun of me the day we met. He always bullied me because I'm homeless, but ever since you came around he hasn't bothered me."

Peter's eyes softened, and he moved slightly closer to her. She gave a short smile, "you're my hero, ya know?"

Her eyes welled up with a few tears, "ever since I met you, you've made my life a thousand times better. Whenever I'm around you, all i can do is smile."

He took her hands in his, "it's cause I love seeing my favorite girl smile." Y/N looked down, taking one of her hands out of his to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Y/N, you mean so much to me. Every time I look at you it's like my heart is about to burst out of my chest. God, how did I get so lucky to meet someone as awesome as you?"

"Can I please kiss you?" Peter breathed as each breath became more uneven. Before he received an answer, Y/N placed her hands on his cheeks and leaned up to finally let their lips meet. The faint taste of coffee was apparent on both of their lips as Peter moved his hands onto her hips. He pulled away for air, their foreheads leaning against one another as he caught his breath.

"See you at school tomorrow?" She questioned, pulling away and moving her hands to his neck. He absentmindedly nodded his head, "yeah. Yeah awesome."

Y/N giggled, stepping away and giving him a quick peck on his cheek. "Goodbye, my favorite boy."

The next day at school Y/N found Peter at his locker and wrapped her hand around his. "Will you be my girlfriend?" Peter blurted out, making Y/N giggle. "Of course, my favorite boy." They went through their day, meeting in between classes as often as they could.

Every day after school, Peter would go do his 'Stark internship' thing while Y/N would walk back to the center. One day, a few months into their relationship, Y/N went to the cafeteria of the center to talk with one of her friends there when she saw Peter loading boxes into the kitchen.

Shocked, Y/N when in to make sure that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. And sure enough, it was her favorite brunet boy. "Peter?" She questioned. He stood up and turned around, a smile appearing as he saw who it was.

"Hey Y/N." He dusted his hands onto his jeans and approached her. "What are you doing here?" She asked, looking behind him and at the boxes filled with food.

"Well, I decided to start volunteering here." He grabbed her hand into his and started swinging them slightly back and forth. "Seriously?" Y/N asked in awe. Peter chuckled, "yeah. Gotta help out the people of New York."

Y/N wrapped her arms around his torso, her face going into his chest. "Thank you so much," she whispered. Peter took a small step back in shock at her actions, before wrapping his arms around her back. "Anything for my favorite girl."

hope you enjoyed the ps4 reference :))

[sarahbethimagines]

Chapter 13: Get Along

Chapter Log!

Michelle had shown up at house unexpected, and uninvited later on that same Friday. And somehow, someway convinced me that going to the gathering would be a good thing. Sitting in the passenger seat of her 8-year old Camry. I was still trying to decide if she'd been right or not. KISS 95.9 was currently playing on the radio. Love in This Club by Usher blasting through the speakers. And at just number eight on their top-forty countdown, it had me counting the mile markers on I-83. Just praying each one would be the last we'd pass.

I'd asked Michelle just about a hundred and seven times since she'd shown up at my door where we were going. And each and every time I did, she gave me the same cookie cutter response. Just a small smirk, and a "you'll see" that had my eyes rolling and my brain contemplating just ending it all. But in Heinz sight, if shitty radio play and a sketchy best-friend were the worst things I had going on in my day, I guess I was doing okay. Still, I impatiently tapped my fingers on my tanned knees the entire remainder of the drive. Only stopping when she suddenly slowed down and pulled off the main road and onto an uneven dirt path. One that certainly didn't look like it was meant for any form of recreational use in the past generation or so. "Okay, where on Earth are we actually going?" I asked at the sight of it. Our small bodies bouncing and swinging around in the cab of her car as it jumped and jostled. Thanking God for the second time in my life for inventing the seatbelt. "Lord, is your patients as thin you are!" She joked, rolling her eyes. And I couldn’t help but start to mutter under my breath for a greater power above to give me some patience. Because if I was handed strength in that moment I probably would have just up and punched her. She was the one that dragged me out to the middle of nowhere and wouldn’t tell me where she taking me to probably get wacked and left for dead. But thankfully for both me, and Michelle's arm a second later she somehow managed to round a brushed corner without bottoming out her little gold car. Pulling into a large open field. We rode down the grass and destroyed patches of road, kept in a straight line by sporadic metal posts till we passed a small white structure caving in on itself. Other cars soon came into view. An array of varying vehicles from little ones like Michelle's to large pickups were parked in a semi-circle, people gathered in the middle. And soon I spotted the most bizarre thing just beyond the group. A towering fifty-foot-tall screen stood sky high. Small white panels pealing at places and completely missing in others leaving nothing but holes or exposed plywood. We were at an old drive-in movie theater. My eyes were probably the size of bowling balls by the time she'd parked her car and turned to me, calling my attention back to her. "You good?" She asked simply. And I looked out through her windshield at the group of people wandering around. Unable to make out exact faces. "I'll be right beside you the whole time if you get overwhelmed." I nodded thoughtfully and chewed on my lip. Not daring to make moves to unbuckle myself, even when Michelle did. There were about twelve or so people in the group if my math was correct. And all things considered, there was probably one person I knew for certain, and only two to three others whom I'd just recognize. "Tweedle Dee?" She called again, probably noticing my internal debate. I looked over to see her now up and out of her car, standing in its open door. "Just remember, all these people are your friends, whether you remember them or not." I nodded my head and forced my hands to move. "You're right" I muttered, crawling out of the car. I tried to repeat Dr. Walker's words in my head, telling myself how this would help me remember. But it was kind of hard to once Michelle ran around to me. She hooked her arm in mine and lead us off towards the crowd, rambling the entire time about how excited everyone would be to see me. But I didn’t need her assuring words for long. Because the second we drew close enough to identify, a long-legged, skunk haired kid was running right at us. "KENNERS!" He screeched, straggly arms waving through the air. A trail of dust being kicked up behind his brightly colored Nikes as he stormed towards us, throwing himself at me the second he could. His sternum crashed into my cheek with full force, knocking me back a few steps and clean into a memory. "Allright, everyone! Listen up!" Jack shouted, from behind me. Causing everyone in our small huddle to turn around and see the raven-haired boy by Alex's truck. His long limbs contorted in strange and certainly uncomfortable ways as he swung himself up onto the dropped tailgate and rose to his feet. Bible in his left hand he'd swiped from the glove box, was then used to tap the beer bottle clutched in the other. Once a gift from Alex's grandmother after his confirmation was now just a prop. His feeble attempts to make any sound fell short. But still, everyone around who hadn't already been watching on turned to see what the commotion was. The air was warm as it swirled around us, ice cold Coronas and Busch Light cans were in everyone's hands as we gathered in the center of our favorite spot in town. The old abandoned Timonium Drive In. It was the core of the summer, and the usually scorching sun just begun to set, dipping slightly behind the large screen which somehow still stood. But Alex's skin was still speckled with sweat as he threw a bare arm around my shoulders. Warm sun-tanned skin sticking to my own. I knew just as well as the boy beside me that the fleeting light wouldn’t stop that twenty-person party from raging on into the night. And as the golden hour shined down on Jack where he towered above us, it was as good of an assumption as any. "Tuesday, July 15th 2005 will be a day for us all to remember!" He shouted, beginning to walk back and forth across the rusted bed. "A day greatness was released from the womb of the greatest band to ever come from the suburbs of Baltimore, Maryland and out into the world!" "Pretty sure were the only ones in the area!" Rian hollered from behind. His arm slung causally around Kara's waist. "Shut up, I'm giving a speech you, turd licker!" Jack laughed, "Today, we as a band, released our first ever full-length album, The Party Scene!" And on that note, everyone started to cheer. Hoots were hollered and beers were sipped but Jack wasn’t quite done there. He kept on talking, pacing and swinging his drink as though he here Charlie Champlin. And our small group of friends were watching his movie. "You don't get much for certain in this life, and we sure as Hell didn't think this little garage band would make it this far, that’s for damn sure!" He drunkenly rambled. "But as I stand here, managing to convince you all somehow that what I'm about to say may have some hidden wisdom or be sweet and meaningful to hold onto and laugh about in years to come. I'll tell you right now, you're dead-fucking-wrong." "Oh, then just get on with it!" Another friend yelled. "Well," Jack popped, coming to a stop and turning to face us all. "I would, but to be honest I forgot what I had to say the second, I climbed up onto this truck. So, I'll just say what mamma Merrick always has. All you're really given is the sunshine and your name!" "My mom doesn’t say that?" Zack chimed in, and not a second later the most miraculous thing I'd ever seen started to happened. As though mother nature was toying with Jack's mention of the sunshine pouring over us all. Not a second more passed before small drops of water began to fall from the sky. And I couldn't even begin to describe just how magical the chorus of our laughter sounded in that moment of time. "Look what you've done now, you fuck!" Rico manically yelled as one drop became two, and then three. And before we knew it large rain drops began to fall all around us from the still sunlit sky. In a matter of seconds, the mere drizzle was a full-blown downpour and people began to scatter. I was ripped from the memory almost as quickly as I'd been knocked into it. Looking up once I could to see Alex holding Jack by the shoulder and rolling his eyes. "You're going to crush her to death if you squeeze her like that!" "Well, I'm not going to apologize for it!" He laughed, turning to me and letting his black and bleached hair fall into his eyes. "I've missed you Kenn, like the dessert misses the rain!" His small, clueless remark made me laugh a little too hard at its relation to my memory. But still, my shoulders instantly rolled back. Now free from his death-like grip and much more relaxed than they'd been just moments before in the car. "I've missed you too, you crazy." I smiled. Not knowing exactly what I'd been missing, but the words felt right as they rolled off my tongue. He smiled at me, big brown eyes glistening in the fading sunlight. I could practically see the sporadic thoughts bouncing through his skull as he tossed an arm around my shoulder and started to walk. "Well how 'bout we say hi to everyone else who's been missing you almost as much as I have." I could hear Alex and Michelle's steps as they followed close behind. Talking softly to one another as Jack lead me by my neck towards the crowd. A few slowly turned around one by one to our direction. But not everyone had seemed to notice us approach, most just carried on with their loud conversations over the even louder music flowing from a Jeep. But one boy seemed to pick up on my presence instantly, a smile spreading across his face I could see clearly from even a foot away how bright and perfect his teeth were. He was a broader man, his head was buzzed, and subtle tuffs of scruff lined his jaw. He didn't look like anyone I'd pictured before, but for some reason my brain drew a connection I didn't even know was there upon seeing that smile of his. "Hey Rian," I waved. His already large smile growing even bigger as he managed to pull me out from under Jacks arm. Tugging me instantly into a brief, firm hug. "How are you?" "I'm good!" He nodded and let go. His smile still so wide I was beginning to think he would start to catch flies soon enough. "How are you, how have you been doing?" "I mean, I've certainly been better." I shrugged, trying to laugh it off like I'd been getting in the habit of doing. He just gave me a knowing nod. "I'm sure, but hey, Alex has been telling us you've been coming along pretty good!" He said motioning to the singer who'd stepped up beside Jack. Already blushing profusely by the time I'd looked over. "Is that true?" "It is..." I dragged. Watching for a second with a smile as Alex kept his hidden before I looked to my other side at Michelle. The shorter brunette shooting me a grin. "I didn't know Alex talked about me so much." "No more than he used to!" Rian laughed, receiving a swift smack to the arm by his shaggy-headed friend. "Alright, well that's enough of a re-introduction to Rian, I think!" Alex cut in right after, deciding that conversation was dead and buried. Being quick to replace Jack's place at my side as he grabbed my hand and hauled me off to the others. Being dragged around that makeshift party and being re-introduced to person after person in my life was a lot of things. For starters, it was outright just a lot. A lot to take in, a lot to digest, a lot of fresh names in the bank, a lot of faces I just straight up didn’t recognize, and a lot that I vaguely did but had no idea of why. It was confusing at times, but fun at others. For instance, when I was put in front of a boy with a rather interesting last name, I remembered him. Not much, but now at least I know Alex Grieco. And that I was assigned to be his guide when he came into Dulaney High just one year after the rest of us. And how we'd laughed the entire time at the fact that even I still didn't know how to get around that damned high school. And the entire time I had someone with me by my side walking me through it all. Either Alex, sipping a beer and sharing a story of something ridiculous and borderline unbelievable I’d done with someone. Or with Michelle, which I almost preferred, not that Alex wasn’t helpful. But purely because anytime someone that didn’t even begin to ring a bell would walk away, she'd turn to me and whisper a juicy bit of gossip on how I'd felt about them back in high school. All of which had the two of us laughing and snickering like immature school girls again. Eventually we'd all found ourselves gathered around Alex's truck. Zack was sat on top the truck's cab. Someone who I'd recognized almost instantly despite his drastic change in appearance from the dark and stormy kid I’d envisioned. I was perched on the tailgate, legs swinging over the edge. Wedged between Michelle and Alex while all the others wereeither sat in collapsible chairs or standing around. Each and every one having a story to share of a time they'd spent with me they just couldn't wait to get out. "And I just stood there, completely shocked," One kid Timmy, a rather robust individual told. "You just slapped the dude clean across the face, no warning or nothing!" "There is absolutely no way I did that!" I laughed along with everyone else. Leaning over and hiding my head in Michelle's long hair once Timmy was done telling his story of me. Large hands up in the air the entire time he explained it. "Oh, but you did, my little fire-cracker!" He pointed at me, exposing my bright red face to the whole group in the process. "Yeah that's a good one," Zack laughed from behind me, hopping down and making the truck jolt just a bit. "But not quite as good as the time we went to Dick's Last Resort!" "Oh, my gosh I almost forgot about that!" Michelle laughed, turning around to look up at Zack as he placed a hand on my totally confused shoulder. Everyone around me beginning to chuckle and nod. Each and every one seeming to recall the moment with ease. I on the other hand was having a much more difficult time. "Why, what happened at Dick's Last Resort?" "Well you know how the whole point of Dick's is that you go, and get those funny paper hats and the waiters basically just pick fun at and mock you the entire time?" Michelle excitedly asked, staring cheerily into my lost eyes. "I mean, kind of, I guess." I shrugged, trying to recall. Still not really seeing how this could lead to a memorable story. Unless my friends really thought a waiter laughing at me was just that hysterical. Which they just might of, honestly. "Well we all went there to celebrate something-" "My birthday!" "Yes," Zack sighed at Michelle's interruption. "And were just downright miserable the whole time! Our waiter was basically bullying you the entire meal. Calling you Scrooge, saying you could drive a preacher to drink with an attitude like yours all this crazy shit!" "Eventually you basically snapped!" Jack chimed in with a chortle. "What did I do?" I asked, genuinely a little worried to hear their responses. But I of course was only immediately answered with a wide variation of laugher. "You made some absurd remark about being able to charm the dew off a honeysuckle or something bizarre like that and went on this hilarious little rant about how cheery of a person you were!" Zack started again, "But then you made the big ole mistake of spewing out that you used to be a cheerleader!" "I was a cheerleader?" I asked, not believing it for a second as I turned to the grinning boy. Scrunching my nose up at his smile. "Not that we knew of!" He chuckled, shrugging a bit. "You cheered for a little later on in high school and hated it they were so bad, but I guess in Boston you were really good at it." "Yeah, you were smoking at the ears practically when our waiter only started to pick on you more, saying that you probably couldn’t get your scrawny legs of the ground!" Michelle laughed, borderline crying she was giggling so hard. "Hey, this is my story for Kenn!" Zack snipped, smacking her lightly on the top of her head. "But yeah, like she said, you were pissed as all Hell, and you made a bet with the guy that if you got up on their stage right then and there and did a back flip that he couldn't say one more word to you the rest of the night!" "I didn’t know I could do a back flip!" I chocked, looking wide-eyed at my boney knees swinging over the tailgate's edge. "Yeah, neither did we!" The boy continued to laugh. "We all thought for sure you were about to eat hardwood when you got up on the platform, but crazily enough you landed it! Still probably the coolest thing I've seen you do." "We did get banned for a year though because of it..." Rian muttered. And everyone started to laugh again. Including me this time. "I don't know, Zack..." Jack sang, taking his turn as he sloshed his beer around in its can. "I think the concerning number of drunk backflips she's done in Gaskarth's back yard would have that story beat!" "I did not do back flips drunk!" I laughed, shaking my head in utter disbelief. "Oh, sweet pea," Michelle sighed, "You've done so many, so far from sober we lost count after fifteen or so." An eruption of laughter exploded through the friend group after that. And I laughed along ever so slightly and I fell, red-faced into Alex's side. "I didn't realize how crazy I was growing up..." I chuckled. So soft probably only the singer had heard. He just sighed and wrapped his arm around my back. Pulling my blushing form closer into him. "It's one of the many, many things we all love about you. Kennedy Paige."

[pllsetskyonice]

just one drink

Christophe Giacometti/Victor Nikiforov

1,614 words

Victor has had enough.

It’s a Sunday night, and for the fifth week in a row, the flat above him is throwing a massive party. The music is so loud the whole block can probably hear it and Victor wouldn’t mind that they’re partying on until God knows when in the morning, but he has a 9 am lecture in the morning and he needs to sleep.

Enough is enough. They've got to turn the music down.

AO3 link

For @giacometti-week Day 3: Relationships

Victor has had enough.

It’s a Sunday night, and for the fifth week in a row, the flat above him is throwing a massive party. The music is so loud the whole block can probably hear it and Victor wouldn’t mind that they’re partying on until God knows when in the morning, but he has a 9 am lecture in the morning and he needs to sleep.

He didn’t mind for the first couple of weeks of term when it was Freshers and everyone was throwing parties every single night of the week, but lectures have started now and Victor came to university to get a degree, not blow his entire student loan on nights out and alcohol and end up living off beans on toast for the rest of term.

Victor can hear people yelling “we like to drink with Chris, because Chris is our mate, because when we drink with Chris he gets it down in eight, seven, six…” upstairs and lets out a sigh. Enough is enough. They’ve got to at least turn the music down.

Victor picks up his phone and keys and heads out of his flat and up the stairs, not particularly caring that he’s wearing his pyjamas because it’s likely everyone in the flat is too drunk to notice anyway. He hammers on the door of flat number four with his fist, and after a good couple of minutes, someone comes to answer it.

“Yeah?” a bored looking girl with bright red hair says, drinking wine straight from the bottle. “Can I help you?”

“Is this your party?” he asks.

“No, it’s not,” the girl replies. “I’m only here because my girlfriend’s brother is on the same course as the guy who’s actually hosting this thing. You want to come in? I’m sure Chris won’t mind another guest.”

“Um, sure,” Victor says, stepping inside the flat. This wasn’t exactly his plan but he’s going to have to deal. The girl leads him into the kitchen, which is packed with people split into various groups, some dancing in the space near the TV, some hanging around the breakfast bar chatting, and the rest sat on the sofas or on the floor around the coffee table, obviously playing a drinking game of some kind.

“Chris!” the girl yells. “You’ve got another guest.”

One of the guys sitting on the sofa looks up and smirks when he sees Victor standing there in his pyjamas. “Not exactly dressed for a party, are you?” he asks.

“Well, no –”

“And you’ve come empty handed. How rude.”

Victor sighs. “Actually, I came up to ask if you could turn the music down. You see, I’ve got a 9 am lecture in the morning and I don’t want to miss it –”

Chris cuts him off again. “Oh come on, live a little! You’re only a first year student once, enjoy it whilst you can. Mila!” The red haired girl turns around from where she’s standing with another girl at the breakfast bar and gives Chris a questioning look. “Get this guy a drink, would you? Wait, what did you say your name was again?” Chris asks him.

“I – I didn’t. It’s Victor.”

“Alright then Victor, what do you want to drink?” Mila asks, already reaching for one of the bottles of vodka. “You want ice?”

“No, really, I can’t –”

“Nonsense,” Chris says. “If you really think we’re that boring, you can leave after one drink. And we’ll even turn the music down for you. But until then -” Mila brandishes a cup of vodka coke in Victor’s direction – “you’re staying.”

“Alright, fine, just one drink,” Victor agrees, taking the cup from Mila and having a sip. “Just the one.”

-

Except somewhere along the line and between the games of Ring of Fire and Twenty One and On The Bus, the one drink Victor was meant to be staying for has turned into a whole lot more. He’s sitting next to Chris, who not only throws really good parties, but is also really hot. Victor’s at least eighty percent certain Chris has been flirting with him for a good chunk of the evening as well but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up because Chris seems like the kind of guy who flirts with anyone.

Mila’s wine bottle is now long empty, and she brings it over to the coffee table with an evil glint in her eye. “I think it’s about time we make some people do things they’re probably going to regret in the morning.”

“Spin the bottle, are you fucking kidding me?” one of the guys on the other sofa snaps. “What is this, some shitty sixth form party?”

“As I recall, you’re the only one out of us that’s actually still in sixth form, Yuri,” Mila says sweetly. Yuri glowers at her. “And we’re not just playing spin the bottle, we’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”

“As though that’s any fucking better?” Yuri says, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “We all know you’re doing this as an excuse to fuck your girlfriend in some poor unsuspecting sod’s bedroom and make her scream so loudly we can all hear.”

“I am here, you know!” Mila’s girlfriend Sara snaps. “And it’s not Mila’s fault she’s so good.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Yuri mutters. “Can we just get on with the game already?”

“Oh, so you’re playing, then?” Mila asks as she moves everything off the coffee table and puts the bottle down in the middle of it.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Mila just grins. “Okay, I’ll start. Whoever the bottle lands on has to spend seven in minutes in heaven with me, and then we’ll move around the circle until everyone’s had a turn. If you’re iffy about you or your significant possibly kissing someone else then I suggest you sit this game out because it’s really not for you. Right, let’s go!”

Mila spins the bottle, it rotating on the table a few times until it comes to stop pointing directly at Sara. Yuri tuts and mutters something along the lines of “fucking typical” as Mila takes Sara’s hand and leads her out of the kitchen, a timer left on the table ticking down from seven minutes.

Emil and Michele are next, then Phichit and Seung-gil, then Leo and Guang Hong, followed by Yuri and Otabek. It’s now Chris’ turn, and Victor tries to will away the butterflies in his stomach as the bottle starts spinning, but all it does is make them worse.

The bottle spins and spins, Mila watching in anticipation as it starts slowing down and eventually comes to stop.

Victor.

The bottle stops on Victor.

“Looks like tonight is your lucky night,” Mila smirks. “Have fun, boys.”

Chris stands up and holds out his hand. Victor takes it and lets Chris lead him out of the kitchen and down the hall to what Victor presumes is his bedroom. It’s slightly quieter once they’re inside and Victor feels so nervous because he’s never been in any situation like this before.

Chris must have registered this, because he lets go of Victor’s hand and looks at him with a concerned look on his face. “You okay?” he asks. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, good,” Victor says, gingerly sitting down on the edge of the bed. He contemplates getting his phone out but that would just be rude so he decides against it. Chris has somehow managed to wangle himself one of the few rooms with a double bed, and it’s something that Victor’s trying not to think about and can think of nothing but at the same time.

“You got a boyfriend or girlfriend at all?” Chris asks, sitting down on the other side of the bed. Victor shakes his head. He hasn’t got a boyfriend, or girlfriend, and nor has he ever had either of them. In fact, he’s never really done much of anything in that department. Like, at all.

“You ever kissed anyone before?”

It’s a question that throws Victor off guard, and because he’s drunk and not thinking straight, he answers “No” before he’s even had chance to think about it. Chris looks kind of shocked at first, but quickly regains his composure.

“So you’re a virgin,” he says casually. “Cool. Nothing wrong with that.” He goes quiet for a moment, frowning to himself. “Would you like to? Kiss someone, I mean?”

“Yes,” Victor replies. “The opportunity has just never arisen before, that’s all.”

“Well, it’s arising now,” Chris says, shifting closer towards Victor. “If you’re up for that, of course.”

“Yes,” Victor says, and then Chris is kissing him. It’s gentle at first, soft and delicate and closed mouthed, but upon realising that he’s getting no resistance from Victor, he deepens the kiss, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue in. It’s a completely new experience, but Victor finds himself enjoying it, kissing Chris back and moving closer. If he was sober, he’d be nervous as fuck right now, but he’s not, so he kisses Chris back like it’s something he was born to do and enjoys the moment.

Time slips by and before they know where they are Mila is banging on the door, telling them their seven minutes are up. “Do we have to stop?” Victor find himself asking as Chris pulls away to answer the door.

Chris looks surprised. “You want to stay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Victor replies. “I do.”

“Alright then,” Chris says. “Mila! We’re just going to stay in here!”

“Oh, I bet you are!”

-

So Victor stays. Needless to say, he doesn’t make it to his 9 am.

He really doesn’t mind.

[placetobenation]

Back in June 2013 the Place to Be Nation invaded the information super-highway with the launch of the website you are visiting just now. Since then a back catalogue has grown to include thousands of podcasts and written pieces, some of which you might have missed and it is my arduous task pleasure to go through the archives and bring you some of the highlights of PTBN through the years.

First up this week as always is the audio offering, and on this week in 2015 was the Place to Be Podcast Annual Halloween Spooktacular, now is its 5th year. In this episode, the P.I.Cs welcome in a group of costumed party goers for discussions on all things Halloween including masked wrestlers, Halloween Havoc, costumes and more! And what would a PTBP Halloween special be without some special guests?!

So fire up this action-packed episode by clicking here, grab a pumpkin full of candy, put on your costume and let the guys get you in that Halloween spirit.

And whilst your listening to the show, and putting your costume on, have read about a legendary WWE stipulation around ladies taking clothes off! On the back on PTBN’s hugely successful Greatest WWE Wrestler Ever project, Stacey O’Loughlin continued to argue for the underrated ladies of the Attitude Era and beyond. Here Stacey takes a Diva Deep Dive into the (and I cannot believe I’m finally getting to write this) psychology of the Bra and Panties Match! Stacey’s arguments are always well researched and though out (she was once able to make a compelling argument that Michelle McCool was the modern day Stan Hansen!) so give this a read and she may just change your opinion on these matches.

Yes, of all the subjects I could have chosen for this week, leading up to the first ever all-women’s WWE PPV, we’re going to talk about Bra and Panties matches. Think of it as a “how far we’ve come” moment. For whatever issues they’ve had building to Evolution, it is still going to be light years removed from… well, this.

And yet, I am here to tell you that the Bra and Panties match is not without its charms. No, not those charms. Wrestling charms! Yes, really. Bear with me.

As I went through and watched them all, the interesting thing about the Bra and Panties matches is that they actually were… interesting.

Of course, the problem – well, the wrestling problem at least, obviously there are MYRIAD real problems with this sexist bullshit that I already yelled extensively about in the beginning. But the issue in a purely wrestling sense is that they stemmed from a major logic hole: a match where the loser’s clothes are removed, involving popular babyface women whom the crowd wanted to see with their clothes removed, neccesarily makes the crowd want the babyface to lose the match, and thus her clothes. This leads to absurd situations like the face being booed for “kicking out” of an undressing, or fighting desperately to keep her kit on during the match only to happily strip for the crowd moments later after she’s won.

But if you get beyond that plot hole, the matches themselves were worked in a fascinating way. Honestly, they often seemed to employ more internal logic (and wrestling moves) than a lot of regular matches.

Yes, wrestling moves.

Almost every time I watched a Bra and Panties match I noted to myself with surprise just how much wrestling there was. Sometimes it would be someone hitting suplexes or power moves that they wouldn’t otherwise attempt. Sometimes it was some nifty hold or counter they’d use out of nowhere. But most of the time, it was because of the rollups.

I think it was at InVasion in a tag team B&P match that It happened for the first time. It being, Trish Stratus rolling Torrie Wilson up into a pinning combination and taking her pants off while she was upside down. Nifty, right?

Once this B&P match hack was discovered the whole game changed. Next time someone went for the same rollup but they got reversed and beaten. Other women tried doing different types of rollups to get their opponent upside down. Then they’d get countered on the ground into even more pinning holds. Suddenly we get to Stacy Keibler vs. Torrie Wilson on July 4th 2002 and they go into a full blown, balls out, Eddie vs. Dean rollup counter sequence in the middle of a Bra and Panties match.

Now on the surface, doing a big Eddie vs. Dean gambit in a match without pinfalls sounds pretty silly and I’m sure you all laughed. But it’s not silly! They’re not going for pins, they’re trying to get the pants!

It’s genius!

Torrie Wilson and Dawn Marie had a B&P match when their feud of the century had cooled off to a gentle simmer after Royal Rumble 2003. They tried all the tricks, including the rollups, and ended up coming up with a new position entirely: draping someone over the top rope to un-pants them. It was fun stuff, and again, very clever. But Tazz sniggered halfway through about how, “Well, this is no Benoit vs. Angle…” and this infuriated me like you wouldn’t believe because honestly, he was right. This definitely wasn’t Benoit vs. Angle.

Torrie vs. Dawn was worked WAY smarter than that bullshit.

As the years went on, more and more Bra and Panties techniques were developed. The tops were always easy enough to remove, so they key to victory was still in getting your opponent into a vulnerable position to get those pesky pants off.

For example, Candice Michelle had started using a Tarantula variation when she started wrestling, and when she used it on Maria in a Bra and Panties Gauntlet match, Maria escaped and used Candice’s convenient upside-down position to steal her pants. Candice learned the lesson and the next time she was in a B&P, SHE used the Tarantula position to take Melina’s pants off from underneath. Learned psychology!

Another one of my favourite B&P finishes was again in the aforementioned Gauntlet, when Torrie started arguing with the ref about something or other, even going so far as to try to hit him. As the referee blocked Torrie’s shots by grabbing her hands, Maria came from behind and pantsed her! (Fair dinkum that whole Gauntlet was fun as all get out until the disappointing, Mae Young-related finish.)

When Trish Stratus returned to TV in 2005 after injury she had a novel approach to being in a Bra and Panties match: wear ridiculously large boots over ridiculously tight pants. Good luck ladies – those bad boys ain’t coming off in a million years! Living Legend Trish wasn’t fucking around.

Even better was the fatal four way at Great American Bash 2006. Michelle McCool was doing her heel schoolteacher thing, and during the match someone ripped off her skirt only for her to be wearing another, smaller skirt underneath! More genius!

My favourite Bra and Panties match (imagine having such a thing!) is one of the very last ones, Melina vs. Candice Michelle in early 2007. Ashley was getting the Playboy push that year, so Women’s Champ Melina vowed to go through all of the Playboy covergirls on the roster. As Melina railed against these women for taking their clothes off, Candice came out to defend the Playboy sisterhood, dared Melina to try to take HER clothes off and challenged her to a Bra and Panties match!

Logical build, storytelling, stakes… this thing had everything!

The match itself was good too. Candice did the Tarantula spot I mentioned before. They also did some fun wrestling on the ground, where they were working holds but someone reaching for an item of clothing left them open to be countered into another hold, then the other guy would reach and get countered, and so on.

I can’t stress enough how fascinating it was to watch the women incorporate the task of trying to grab your opponents’ clothes into wrestling matches, and come up with solutions. I adore the idea of “problem solving” in wrestling matches.

It reminds me of something I noticed in the Trish Stratus vs. Mickie James matches. The first time they faced each other during the storyline, Mickie had a hammerlock on and Trish found herself stuck. She couldn’t do the ‘bend down’ counter that Triple H taught her, because that would push her ass into Mickie and she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Then when Trish did counter and put a headlock on, Mickie just groped her breast to escape it. Trish was struggling, because she was trying to wrestle without leaving her body vulnerable to these unwanted advances. Mickie was basically using sexual harrassment as a defensive tactic, and Trish in turn had to solve the problem of trying to win the match AND defend herself from wandering hands at the same time.

It’s easy to focus on Bra and Panties matches as a kind of Divas Era shibboleth but there are examples of this kind of creative problem solving in all of the “sexy”, exploitative Divas matches. I already talked about the legitimately fantastic, BAZILLION STAR LINGERIE PILLOW FIGHT. There was that Trish vs. Stacy Mud Match where Trish was thrown off the stage into the pool, so they could at least elicit “Holy Shit!” chants and get a highlight reel bump in before having to splash around like morons.

Speaking of splashing, even the damn water fights were fun! There was one on SmackDown that Victoria made her own, wearing floaties and a snorkel to the ring, slipping and sliding around, and taking a bloody Styles Clash from a 100lbs. woman in the middle of a puddle. There was also a water-related battle royal in 2007 that was basically a perfectly fine battle royal disguised as a water fight.

When the Divas Title was created in 2008, the first contenders for the championship were both decided in ‘Golden Dreams’ matches – basically, pole matches. Now, pole matches are pretty universally terrible but honest to God, the second Golden Dreams match may be the best pole match I’ve ever seen. Once again, the women were the masters of getting the best out of two minutes and a shitty stipulation.

Speaking of poles, in 2006 Torrie and Candice had a Paddle on a Pole Match that has to be seen to be believed.

The first move of this match is Torrie fingering Candice’s arsehole. I swear to God this is fair dinkum. Candice rips her shirt off for no reason. Then Torrie takes over and starts DROPPING BOMBS, hitting a Stinger Splash, a spear and a God damn BUCKLE BOMB out of absolute nowhere. She naturally follows this heavy artillery up with… the Stinkface, but when she shoves her ass in Candice’s face Candice GIVES HER A FINGER UP THE ASS RECEIPT AND WINS! What a payoff! Psychology 101!

The prize for retrieving the paddle was getting to spank the loser, but Candice graciously offers her own ass up first and they just end up spanking each other and giggling and what the fuck am I doing with my life that I’ve ended up here writing about this stuff in earnest.

My point is, even with all of the stupid sexy bullshit, and even with the girls having to throw kayfabe to hell to dance or strip or playfully spank each other afterwards, during the matches themselves these women are still trying to make it work. Still trying to approach these absurd ass stipulations from a wrestling angle and figuring out cool ways to incorporate wrestling moves or psychology into them.

My mantra throughout this entire series has been that you can find good wrestling absolutely anywhere. Even in the middle of a Bra and Panties match, if you look hard enough. I used to think rollups in these matches were silly, but then I looked again and realised what they were trying to accomplish and the logic involved. Which is more than can be said for a damn lot of regular wrestling matches.

Given these preposterous situations, I thought the Divas often did a great job to hunker down and work the matches as well as they possibly could. Which is all we could ask of them, really.

The matches listed below are what I would describe as the best, most fun B&P-style matches. If you don’t believe me, have a look for yourself.

Next week I’m going to tackle someone who has featured heavily in this piece, and who will also feature this Sunday at the Evolution PPV. If I’m still alive after watching the Evolution PPV that is.

Check it out: Trish & Lita vs. Stacy & Torrie – Bra and Panties Match (InVasion 2001) Stacy Keibler vs. Torrie Wilson – Lingerie Match (No Mercy 2001) Stacy Keibler vs. Torrie Wilson – Bra and Panties (Smackdown, July 4th 2002) Torrie Wilson vs. Dawn Marie – Bra and Panties Match (Smackdown, February 13th 2003) Trish & Ashley vs. Victoria, Candice & Torrie – Bra and Panties Match (October 3rd 2005) Torrie Wilson vs. Candice Michelle – Paddle on a Pole Match (August 28th 2006) Melina vs. Candice Michelle – Bra and Panties Match (Raw, March 19th 2007) Memorial Day Divas Beach Blast Battle Royal (Raw, May 28th 2007) Michelle & Cherry vs. Victoria & Maryse – Water Fight (Smackdown, March 28th 2008) Golden Dreams Match (Smackdown, July 4th 2008)

[theliterateape]

Hope Idiotic | Part III

By David Himmel

Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.

A MONTH LATER AT WORK, JUST BEFORE LUNCH, CHUCK BURST FROM HIS OFFICE into the area where Lou and I sat. He ran his hands through his short hair, clawing his scalp.

“Fucking Jesus!” he said.

Lou and I swiveled our chairs toward him and leaned back ready for the meltdown.

“Department meeting!” Chuck said. “Now! Cuba Café! Neal, you drive!”

“I can’t. I have to get gas.”

“Good. Get it on the way back.”

In the car, Chuck kept ripping at his head and cursing under his breath.

“You want to tell us what’s going on?” Lou asked.

“I need a beer first.”

Our department was going to be dissolved. “A restructuring,” is what the Palm Gaming executives called it. Although the three of us loathed the corporate humping we had to do to earn a buck, we had a pretty sweet seat up. While our department was independent and served much like a communication agency to the four Strip properties, the restructuring would require each property to manage its own internal communications. We were being split up. Worst of all, our positions would fall under the umbrella of the Human Resources Department.

Beyond the occasional legitimate sexual harassment problems or veiled threats of retaliatory violence from a disgruntled former employee, HR served little necessary purpose. It existed mostly as an employee party planner. Companywide emails from HR regularly looked like they were written in crayon. Lots of big, colorful fonts and clipart and seasonal-appropriate .gifs of Cupid, leprechauns, jack-o-lanterns and Santa Claus. I once brought in a flyer I received from Stephen’s daycare about an upcoming event. The flyer for young parents with babies looked just like an email HR sent to 70,000 adults employed at a casino regarding changes to the Employee Dining Room’s soda fountain. (There would be two Diet Coke dispensers — part of a new health initiative.)

A lot of the information we dispersed was at the behest of HR, but knowing that we weren’t technically HR employees was important to us. The days of freelancing on the Palm dime, joking around and extended drinking lunches were numbered.

“Melvin Wilson is going to be my direct supervisor,” Chuck said. Melvin Wilson was the company’s diversity golden boy: A mid-forties black man with an ex-wife and five children under the age of seven. He was a reformed juvenile delinquent, having served a stint at age 15 for selling crack to an undercover cop. After prison, he found Jesus, and from there, a job in human resources. If HR had a cheerleading team for the company, Melvin would be its captain. “And they’re making me the senior manager of communications at Tigris. So I’ll have a more hands-on boss to micromanage me while I’m managing a smaller department. The upgraded title is bullshit.”

“It comes with more pay, right?” I asked.

“Fifteen hundred a year,” said Chuck. Lou and I laughed.

“So what does this mean for us?”

“Nothing is official yet, but you’ll probably stay with me at Tigris. I’m worried about you, Lou.”

“Are they going to fire me?” Lou asked.

 “No. You’ll be sent to one of the other properties. And the whispers are that Lancelot’s Kingdom is gunning for you.”

Lancelot’s was Palm’s unloved, ugly stepchild of a property. Built to look like a medieval castle and themed as such throughout, it had become a glorified motel with rooms-by-the-hour since falling into disarray when Vegas outgrew its family-friendly identity. It was where hospitality careers went to die and where visitors checked in with hopes of hitting the jackpot but checked out emotionally empty and financially broke, having realized how hard exploitive capitalist dreams can crash.

“When does all of this take effect?” Lou warily asked.

“Probably by the middle of June.”

“Well then, I wouldn’t worry too much about me.”

“Why?”

Lou took a big bite out of his Cuban sandwich, which had just been delivered to the table. “I’m moving to Chicago at the beginning of June.”

“What the fuck for?” I asked.

“To make something of myself. Become a real writer in a real city,” he said with his mouth full.

“Are you saying I’m not a real writer because I live in Las Vegas?”

“No! Of course not. I was trying to be funny.”

“Because you’d be right.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a real writer. You just published your second book.”

“I write corporate masturbatory dreck and hump editors’ legs for twenty-five cents a word. My book is being outsold 500-to-1 by The Twinkie Cookbook. I’m not a real writer. I’m a hack with a dusty PhD who changes his son’s shitty diapers in his spare time. The only time I see my wife’s tits is when she’s feeding my son. Chuck, you can’t let him do this. He can’t leave us here.”

Chuck was a clawing at his scalp even harder. A few more ounces of pressure and he would have separated it from his skull. But there was nothing he could have done.

Lou’s mind was made up. He was in love and he was going to leave us behind for the big city and the girl. His commitment to the grand gesture surprised even him.

My book is being outsold 500-to-1 by The Twinkie Cookbook. I’m not a real writer.

He had sworn off the idea of love after his last serious relationship four years before. It’s not that he didn’t believe love existed, but that love was a hassle. Back then, he’d just bought his house and had settled in nicely to the bachelor life. Without a girlfriend, he was free of relationship trappings like constant accountability and awareness of someone else’s moods and feelings. Without a girlfriend, he was able to come and go as he pleased, do what he wanted, when he wanted, with whom he wanted. He liked being on his own — alone but never lonely. Girls came and went without much emotional effort from either party, which Lou found idyllic. He never felt anxious or hurt as a result of another person. When he was younger, he wanted to have a wife and kids, but after experiencing the spoils of bachelorhood, he had decided that he would have been perfectly happy never being married or having a family of his own, but rather always be free and available for the excitement of first kisses and the wonderful strangeness of sleeping with strangers. He figured that his friends would have kids, and he could be their cool Uncle Louie.

But then Michelle happened. In only a few months, her affection for him, and his for her, made him feel that real, workable love could exist. They had already been friends for eight years. That meant she knew who he was. She knew his idiosyncrasies, and she didn’t seem to mind them one bit. She may have even loved him more because of them.

And now, as for the move, Michelle was the perfect catalyst. Lou’s return to Chicago had been in his plans since first arriving in Las Vegas ten years earlier. Since he had a job straight out of college, he decided that as soon as his career had outgrown Vegas, he’d make his way home again. The decade was staring him in the face, his career was in the best shape it had ever been in, and Michelle would be at his side. He had what he referred to as trajectory.

“What about your house?” Chuck asked.

“Glad you brought that up. I’d like to sell it and use the money to buy a place in Chicago. Until it sells, how about you live in it and pay me rent? You’re moving out of your place now anyway, so what the hell? You won’t find a better place for the money.”

“And when it sells?”

“I’ll give you thirty days to get out.”

“I’ll talk to Lexi about it.”

“Lexi?” I asked.

“Yeah, we’re moving in together. Moving into your place, Lou, while we look for our own doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“Everything discussed at this lunch sounds like a bad idea,” I said.

We ordered another round of beers before driving back to the office in silence.

✶

AS LOU’S EXODUS APPROACHED, THERE WAS A SHARED ANXIETY BETWEEN THE THREE OF US and especially between Chuck and him. It was more than painfully apparent that their more youthful, troublemaking days were behind them and that their time together was limited. Therefore, every moment together had to be savored. So, on a typically bright spring Sunday morning in Las Vegas, Chuck and Lexi came bursting into Lou’s home while he made breakfast in nothing but white boxer shorts.

“Let’s go!” Chuck yelled.

“Good Christ! What’re you doing?” Lou demanded.

“We’re going to the Grand Canyon today. The three of us. Get dressed.”

“Nice boxers, Lou,” Lexi teased.

“You’re lucky I’m wearing anything at all.”

“I rented a Jeep. It’s goddamn gorgeous out. Come on. We’ll get breakfast in Boulder City.”

It was a day well spent. They walked out onto the new Skywalk and laughed at the magnitude of how disappointing it was. They threw big rocks down and took bets with each other on how many seconds it would be before they heard a thud. They reveled in the idea that they were making changes to the earth through destruction. Lexi took a photograph of Chuck and Lou standing at the edge of a ridge with nothing below it but the absolute bottom. They went off-road through the Joshua-tree forest, and Lou made his case against the band U2 — pompous and riding its own coattails. They stopped at a quiet desert bar for a few beers and a couple games of tabletop shuffleboard. Lexi asked Lou if he thought he’d miss Las Vegas. “I’ll certainly miss being able to have days like this,” he admitted.

✶

A WEEK LATER, CHUCK AND LOU WERE DRIVING THROUGH THE DESERT AGAIN, this time one-hundred-twenty miles north to the small mining town of Beatty, Nevada. This was a routine getaway location for the guys. It was on the edge of Death Valley, so there would usually be a couple of geology students from some university there studying its soil and plant life and temperatures. At night they drank at the Sourdough Saloon, situated on the main road just before the only stoplight in town.

The Sourdough Saloon had a large horseshoe-shaped bar where an Amazonian bartender served cold beers at two-fifty each, whiskey and tequila for four bucks, and generic frozen pizza from the supermarket for five dollars a pie. Old rifles and taxidermied heads of big-horn sheep adorned the walls. The jukebox was loaded with Dion and The Belmonts, and Johnny Cash.

This trip, like all the others, was a raucous spectacle. Lou drove them to Beatty in record time. When they walked into the bar, the bartender was in a shouting match with an equally large, though slightly less masculine, patron. From what the boys could tell, things were about to get out of hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” Chuck asked Lou.

Lou noticed a short, older man at the other side of the bar watching them. He must have sensed their confusion, because when he and Lou made eye contact, the man nodded slightly and began to walk around to them. He didn’t look like the average local. Instead of worn work jeans and a tattered undershirt with a trucker hat, this man wore khaki chinos, a blue button-down and a faded blue baseball cap. When he reached them, the bartender had a handful of the enemy patron’s hair and was shaking his skull the way a dog shakes a dead rat in its mouth. Lou whispered to Chuck, “I think this guy is going to fill us in.”

The old man smiled with one corner of his mouth as he reached into his pocket, then brought his hand to his neck and spoke in a slow, humming robotic voice. “iT’S oK. THeY’Re BroTHeR aND SiSTeR.”

Lou at first didn’t see the stoma in the man’s neck because he was too far away. And by the time he was close enough, Lou’s focus was on the battle at the bar. The man had to speak through a mechanized voice box. Chuck laughed. Lou thanked the man and offered him the barstool next to them. “Buy you a beer?” Lou offered.

“BuDWeiSeR. ThaNK YoU,” the man buzzed.

The fight ended shortly after that. Chuck and Lou drank heavily. When the old man was drunk enough and had left the bar, nerdy geology students replaced him. Chuck told the bartender he wanted her to show him her tits. She threatened to kick his ass. Lou offered to kick her ass instead. Then he apologized, bought her a shot and she backed down. They dropped twenty-eight bucks in the jukebox and played Dion’s “Runaround Sue” on repeat for an hour. With the little cash either of them had left — a couple of ones and a five — they scribbled messages on them and stapled them to the ceiling amidst other paper currency. They read:

Help! I’m lost. If found, please call Chuck Keller at 702-353-8068; This dollar bill was once touched by a real live Jew; Figure it out. – CK and LB, May 2007.

At one point, Lou escaped to the bathroom to vomit. When he returned, Chuck was gone. “Did you see my friend?” Lou slurred at the bartender.

“The little bastard was asking to see my tits again. I threw him out. Next time I’ll kill him.” Lou laughed. “Fuck you!” she yelled. “Get the fuck out of here!”

Chuck didn’t make it far after being tossed out on his ear. He ended up passed out in a heap in the street, using the sidewalk curb as a pillow. “Let’s go, asshole,” Lou said, as he kicked him. “We have to get off the street.”

They had enough sense to secure a hotel room before going to the bar, and once they found Lou’s car, which was in the Sourdough’s rear parking lot, Lou drove them to the hotel. He tried to anyway. All the booze rendered his short-term memory and global cognitive ability completely useless. He knew what the hotel looked like — a series of white, aluminum-sided trailers. He knew it was only two blocks from the Sourdough. But instead of driving there, Lou blew through the stoplight and drove away from town, north on U.S. 95 with Chuck comatose in the passenger seat. Where the fuck am I? he wondered.

After an hour of weaving the lane and the shoulder, he saw a small red light ahead and thought, Great, a whorehouse. I’ll pull in, and we’ll just sleep there. He and Chuck had been to brothels before. Not as customers, but as curious journalism students on a road trip to Lake Tahoe. He knew these places had what were called trucker rooms, which could be rented by the hour — much like the girl — for the long-haul truckers in need of sleep who passed by on America’s loneliest road.

But no one answered the door of the small house when Lou knocked. So he went back to the car and drove toward what he hoped was back to Beatty. An hour later, he was in town but still couldn’t find the hotel. He thought, Fuck it, I’m parking it right here and going to sleep.

He woke up to Chuck slapping him in the face. The late-spring desert sun was pouring through the car windows, cooking them both.

“Hey! Wake up, you fucking asshole. Why are we sleeping in the car? And in a gravel parking lot?”

“Because I couldn’t find the damn hotel last night. Drove more than an hour on the highway. Was just going to rent a trucker room for us at a whorehouse, but no one answered.”

“What do you mean, you couldn’t find the hotel?”

“I mean I have no idea where it is.”

Chuck pointed straight ahead through the windshield and laughed. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Lou had given up looking for their hotel in the hotel’s parking lot. The white, aluminum-sided trailers were about ten yards away from the car. It was morning, and they had to head home, but, since they spent the money, they figured they should get some use out of the room. They stormed the place like savages, ripping the bedding apart to get between the sheets catch some proper sleep for a few hours before showering and heading back to Las Vegas.

Dehydrated and hung over, the drive back felt much longer than the ride there the night before. Plus, they had reached the end of what was going to be their last adventure together for a while. Lou was leaving in a week.

“When did you know you loved her?” asked Chuck.

“Maybe when she first kissed me.”

✶  

IT WAS THE DAY BEFORE NEW YEAR’S EVE 2006 — her birthday. Like always, Michelle was back in Vegas to celebrate the holidays and her birthday with her parents. After a birthday dinner at a steakhouse inside the high-end neighborhood casino resort with her parents, she invited Lou to join them at one of the casino bars. Her parents were both smashed and giving away twenty dollar bill after twenty dollar bill to the bartop poker machines. Michelle was drunk, too, but sober enough to refuse to get into the car and go home with her mom and dad in the sloppy shape they were in. Lou offered to give her a lift. On the way home, they made a stop at her favorite taqueria.

“You know, you really missed your window with me,” she said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your window to be with me. All of those times we were each other’s stand-in dates to things, you never once tried to kiss me. And now it’s too late. You missed your window.”

“I didn’t know there was an open window.”

“That’s exactly your problem, Mr. Bergman. You. Don’t. Know.” She flipped her blond hair as she turned her head to look away from him out her window. This was how she flirted — by giving him a hard time.

When Lou pulled into the drive-thru, Michelle unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him, her back against the passenger door. “When you finish ordering, I’m going to kiss you,” she said.

Lou looked at her and laughed.

“Welcome to Los Tacos. Order when you’re ready,” the voice crackled from the intercom.

“I’ll have three regular tacos, two chicken soft tacos and…” he turned to Michelle who was still perched against the door. “What do you want again?”

“Two tacos and an order of nachos. And a Diet Coke.”

He turned back to the intercom. “Two tacos and an order of nachos.”

“And a Diet Coke!” Michelle said.

“I know. Relax. And a Diet Coke. Please.”

“That’ll be seven-fifteen. Second window.”

Before Lou could even depress the clutch, Michelle pounced. She swung her right leg around so that she was straddling him. It was a tight squeeze, and their faces were close.

“You’re kidding me,” he said.

She looked deeply into his eyes for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and slow and hard. It was deep and shallow. It was passionate. It was incredible. And when it was over, it left Lou dazed.

Michelle looked at him and said, “Okay. Now that that’s done, we can go back to being friends.” She swung her leg back around, plopped down in the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt. The car in line behind them honked. Lou looked at her.

“You can do that again if you want.”

“Nope. That’s it. Just showing you what you’ve been missing out on.”

He pulled up to the window, paid and drove her home. As they divided the tacos in her parents’ driveway, Lou asked her, “You’re still going to be my date for my New Year’s party tomorrow, right?”

“Of course. We’re friends. And friends don’t stand each other up. Besides, my parents are going, too. I’m not going to stay home alone.”

“All right. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Then I guess you will. Goodnight, Mr. Bergman. Thanks for the birthday tacos.”

“Thanks for the birthday kiss.”

She smiled at him and headed into the house.

By the morning, he was over the kiss. It was no big deal. He kissed girls all the time. But when she showed up at the party wearing a perfectly fitting little black dress, he felt butterflies in his gut. And at midnight, they kissed again. And when the party was over, they drank the last of the champagne on his bed. And she spent the night with him. And as they lay together, Michelle Kaminski took Lou Bergman’s head in her hands and said, “This face… I’ll never look at it the same again. What have we started?”

✶  

“WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE?” Chuck asked. “To fall in love?”

“Just like you remember. Except better.”

They drove a few silent miles. Then Chuck said, “I met a girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her name is Gina Acerbi. She’s that pretty Italian girl who works up in sales and catering. Tiny little thing; great tits. She was in my diversity training class. I don’t know what to do.”

“What is there to do? Nothing wrong with knowing a cute girl.”

“There is if I’m fucking her.”

“Jesus Christ, Chuck. You and Lexi are moving in together in a week.”

“I didn’t plan on it. Jesus, man. Like Michelle, she just came out of nowhere.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I want to feel what you feel. I want to know what it’s like to love someone so much — and know that they love you just the same — that you’re willing to throw away your entire life just to be a part of theirs. I want that. I want that passion of making out in a fast-food drive-thru. I want those goddamn butterflies. You know what I get now? I get to move in with a girl — who I care about, and yeah, I love her — but a girl who reads the Bible in bed. You can imagine what my sex life has been like with her.”

Chuck had a point. He’d always been a sexual animal, often a crazed beast with an enduring tumescence. And whenever he and Lexi had a mini-breakup, he made sure to do as much migratory humping as possible.

“The Bible is sexy. In parts. Violent, too. That ought to turn you on,” Lou said.

“The Bible doesn’t give me butterflies.”

“And Gina does?”

“And Gina does.”

Part I Part II

[diary4]

14/8/18

Fucks sake.I’m currently engaged in mission ‘get all the way to Bristol and take my stuff out of the boys house to my house then get home again without anyone noticing’, and so far I’ve made a right cock up of the whole thing. Got to Egham station at an inconvenient time anyway because it was inbetween trains to Reading so I had to wait 20 minutes for one. Then somehow, I was so lost in my own stupid thought that when the train to Reading came I did t even notice, and by the time I’d realised and ran to it it was already pulling away.Serves me right I guess. It’s just another one of the blows karmas dealt me since I officially gave up on morality.Oh yeah, that’s right, you guessed it.I suppose this chapter of the story, which is kind of like chapter two of the Eric saga, commencing after the yearnful intermission, started last Friday. So this is the Friday that’s Friday fast approaching Saturday which would be the Saturday to mark 2 weeks since I officially broke things off with Eric. Had a god awful boring week last week where absolutely no one was around and absolutely nothing happened. Started going stir crazy. More than relieved when Michelle planned to have this little gath on Friday night.Anyway the whole thing turned out to be a bit of a cop out, because there wasn’t enough alcohol and it was a weird, Jamie Foster dominated crowd. The ‘main event’ was Molly’s new boyfriend Oscar, being trotted out and introduced for the first time. It was especially exciting because the word (corroborated by social media) was that he was really really peng. Anyway, it was funny because he turned out to be kind of a dweeb - he had a bit of a tragic man bun and he vaped and he tucked his tshirt into his jeans etc. Anyway, I got pretty drunk and ended up kinda passed out with Soph and Smell on the sofa, in self imposed exile of the general conversation which we only joined in to nag John to take us home. I don’t know if it’s cos it was kind of a shitty night or cos I felt kind of excluded, or if it was just a side effect of being drunk and free of inhibitions, but all of a sudden all I wanted to do was forget all this abstinence nonsense and hit up Eric. Maybe it was also something to do with how unbearably horny I’ve been all week - the predictable time of the month. Anyhow, I felt no pressure to follow through on Friday night only because I knew I was going out again the next day, and that that would provide a far better opportunity to hook up. In the morning I sort of told myself that the whole thing was rubbish, but I think that in my heart I kind of knew that there was no way I wasn’t messaging him on Saturday.Anyway. Saturday rolls around. Unbearably hungover. Meant to be going to Maddie’s to pre for this Artshouse festival thing in London. The whole day has been organised and sold as Maddie’s leaving party, and despite the fact I no longer like Maddy and didn’t really know anyone else going apart from Beth, I’d allowed myself to be convinced to go by Beth, who I felt guilty for leaving alone. I had apprehensions, but I sort of knew it would be fine - once you’re drunk things normally are - and besides, aren’t I supposed to thrive around new people when wasted? It’s true, I always manage to make some random friends. And I did. I can’t be bothered to describe the whole day because it’s not really the topic of chapter two, but yeah, it was fucking lit, i slammed way too much coke, was lucid for the most part but am missing a patch between dancing and being on the tube home with Beth, and, oh yeah, around 7 pm lost all inhibitions completely and hit Eric up with an ‘oi’.It was raining hard, we were drenched to the skin and being shunted around to the sound of tech. I wiped the water off my phone and checked it once every ten minutes or so - after forty minutes he still hadn’t responded. Imagine my sudden panic. Here I had been, assuming that Eric was on standby and would always be there when I fancied dipping my toe back into sin. What if he had in fact moved on? What if he was going to blank me - leave me on read? What if this was operation Lucas all over again?!!In a desperate bid to retain my dominance in the relationship, I sent an angry follow up: ‘don’t you dare ignore me Eric, you shit’.Anyway, long story short, he replied soon after that and we arranged to meet up that evening. My memory sort of melts away around this point, but I know from the messages that I was pretty forward and initiated quite a lot of the whole thing. I resurface from the blackout on the tube with Beth, and it’s at this mind fuck that we resurface.Riding the line with Beth. We’re having some melty, loud, drunk conversation, lying all over each other and the carriage. Then she has to get off at a stop and I’m left on my own, sliding away from the back of her blonde head and the platform and not knowing where the hell im going.Hit up Eric - ‘I’m in central’ (I think?)He comes back saying he’s wine drunk and tired and can’t be bothered coming to central, so I say I’ll come meet him in Uxbridge. Only problem is - how to get there.At this point i try to ascertain my location and find myself staring hard at the blue rectangle that says ‘Embankment’. Right. All I need to do is get onto that blue Piccadilly line, then I can slide all the way down to Uxbridge easy peasy.How I managed to get onto the Jubilee line I will never know - my navigational tactics were just sheer will power. At one point I got on a train, realised I was sliding in the wrong direction and had to do a rapid U-y at the next stop. Somehow, though, around 11 at night, I found myself gliding into Uxbridge station. By this point of course my phone had gone flat, but I haphazardly hoped this wouldn’t pose a problem, and it didn’t, because when I came through the barrier Eric was sitting, dark and broody, in the corner of the station.So he gave me his coat, a kind of quilted denim thing, because ow as wearing nothing but a crochet bralet, and we hooked arms and began ambling towards his. When we got there we continued drinking wine, and I think we did kiss quite a bit but nothing else, our clothes stayed very much on and I sat on his stomach and rattled off what I’d been doing all week and the conversation got deeper until (I don’t remember this) eventually I fell asleep on his chest.So here’s the thing - I fucking fancied him so much. It was like all the doubt and annoyance that had made me doubt whether I did before had evaporated, absense had done its fondening work on the heart, and we were head over heels, all over each other, all gazing eyes and thoughts like ‘I just can’t believe how handsome you are’ bouncing about in my brain. It was the same the next morning - we chattered and laughed with all the ease in the world, and lolopped on each other and I could barely tear myself away to go home.It’s wet and strange but I really just can’t get over how perfect he looks. So I’m not stupid, I know he’s not the best looking person in the world. But for me, for my personal taste, he just looks perfect - like he’s just perfect?! I could play with his hair and stuff for hours man. Hell.He made this stupid spoof film with his friend Janek, ‘the polish cinematographer’, which is on YouTube. In it they’re just sitting around smoking chatting shit trying not to crack up. Basically when I’m bored I just whack it on and I can’t stop watching it. It’s like back when I first met Charlie and I had those two videos of him impersonating Varys and saying ‘if you don’t have a croquet lawn you’re a fucking peasant’ that I couldn’t stop looking at. Except Eric just looks so much better. I don’t know if that’s the me of today talking or if the me of two years ago would agree. Either way - that’s how I feel now. This shifting sands of time and personality thing is impossible to keep up with. I guess you just have to surf the present ?I hope Eric feels the same way as me. I’m kind of concerned that he isn’t really capable of getting all giddy and in love and excited, because he’s been with with so many people and had so much of it. Even I can sort of sense how this time isn’t going to be as giddy and as romantic as it was with Charlie - the first time is always the best, salt in the glass of water that is your heart etc. There were a few things he said which sort of indicate that he really does like me. In the morning, wrapped in each other’s arms with some music humming in the background he said ‘this is what I missed. Just chilling. You are one chillllll motherfucker’. Does that equate to being someone with whom he feels himself falling mind body and soul infatuatedly in love with? Maybe...?​

[musiccosmosru]

We’ll start with the most obvious thing: there is no Kokomo. Not off the Florida Keys, anyway. Sure, a couple places staked claims, but only after the occurence of the least obvious thing: a has-been pop act, minus their lead singer and creative engine, scoring a #1 hit off the soundtrack to a forgettable film about bartending. “Kokomo” — released 30 years ago this month — was the Beach Boys’ first original Top 20 single in 20 years, and their first chart-topper in 22.

With or without their erstwhile captain Brian Wilson, the Beach Boys never came close to replicating their early success, but no matter: Every time a quizmaster asks what the seven locations are in the song’s chorus, every Gen-X hand in the bar lunges for the pen. “Kokomo” was a peculiar last cultural gasp for everyone involved: not just the performers, but also their collaborators. Together, they formed a coastal coterie, an assemblage of connections both fortuitous and tragic.

The state of the Beach Boys in 1988 was, in a word, shitty. Their last record, 1985’s digitally crispy The Beach Boys, performed middlingly despite contributions from Culture Club, Ringo Starr, and Stevie Wonder. A couple clues to their malaise appear within the record. On the back, there’s a dedication “to the memory of our beloved brother, cousin and friend”; Dennis Wilson, the band’s drummer and only true surfer, had drowned in the water off Marina Del Rey in December of 1983. And on the label, there are three songwriting credits for E. E. Landy.

That would be Dr. Eugene Landy, Brian’s personal therapist, business manager, and professional ghoul. At one point, Wilson’s family had to sell some of his publishing rights in order to afford Landy’s $430,000-a-year fee. Landy’s role as confidant, coupled with Brian’s reluctance to tour, kept him largely away from his bandmates, though they had the right to perform and record as the Beach Boys. And so, when director Roger Donaldson sought the band to pad out the soundtrack to his film Cocktail, they turned the assignment over to their producer, Terry Melcher.

CREDIT: ABC Photo Archives/ABC via Getty Images

Though Melcher had only been been producing the group for a few years, his relationship with the band was a couple decades old at that point. In the mid-’60s, he and future Beach Boy Bruce Johnston made surf-pop as Bruce & Terry, and then as the Rip Chords. Melcher moved behind the boards, becoming a major architect of the West Coast folk-rock sound. At one of his house parties, he re-introduced Brian Wilson to Van Dyke Parks, who tried to help Wilson through the aborted Smile sessions. Parks continued to provide lyrical and instrumental daubs to Beach Boys tracks in the years afterward. In a twisted return of favor, Dennis introduced Melcher to a guy he first met trashing his house: Charlie Manson.

The aspiring megalomaniac also aspired to be a songwriter, and both Dennis and Melcher were impressed with his embryonic sketches. But Manson’s psychotic behavior scotched his chance at a record deal; incensed, he dispatched some of his followers to Melcher’s old house, where they murdered five people, including the actress Sharon Tate. The Manson Family’s spree killings blew a hole in the psyche of America’s counterculture, and sent Melcher into something of a tailspin. He took on fewer projects, eventually signing on to produce a couple television shows for his mother, the actress and singer Doris Day. By the mid-’80s, he was back in the Beach Boys’ orbit. When he was tabbed to find a song for Cocktail, he reached out to an old friend: John Phillips of the Mamas And The Papas, whose hit “California Dreamin’” the Beach Boys had recently covered.

Phillips had spent the decade juggling different Mamas And Papas lineups. He and Denny Doherty were the only returning members; Cass Elliot died in 1974, and Michelle Phillips divorced John in 1970. Their roles were filled by former Spanky & Our Gang leader Elaine McFarlane and Phillips’ daughter Mackenzie, respectively. The group toured and did the requisite casino residencies, but legit success was hard to come by. (The entire time, according to Mackenzie Phillips, she and her father were involved in what was termed an “incestuous relationship.” She made the accusation in her 2009 memoir, as well as on The Oprah Winfrey Show. Immediately afterward, various relatives and family friends issued statements attesting to their belief or disbelief in her account.) By 1986, John was demoing tracks with Scott McKenzie, best known for his Phillips-written 1967 smash “San Francisco (Be Sure To Wear Flowers In Your Hair).” One of those tracks was “Kokomo.”

You can hear Phillips’ version on the 2010 collection Many Mamas, Many Papas. (The set also contains the racist ditty “Chinaman,” as well as a song called, simply, “Yachts.”) His “Kokomo” is stately and wistful. Other than Florida, Kokomo is the only place mentioned, making the composition a sort of paean to a lost paradise of the mind. It’s been suggested that he was thinking of Mustique, an island in the Grenadines purchased in the ‘50s by Phillips’ friend, the British aristocrat Colin Tennant, 3rd Baron Glenconner. Tennant nearly went broke maintaining the damn thing, eventually transferring ownership to the islands’ wealthy homeowners (a group which has, at one time or another, included Bryan Adams, David Bowie, and Mick Jagger). Regardless of origin, the “Kokomo” demo was missing a chorus. And that’s where Mike Love enters.

If Brian Wilson was like Paul McCartney, pushing his bandmates to precisely render his sonic fancies, Mike Love was like … well, Paul McCartney, desperately trying to keep all the stakeholders happy and productive. He’s rarely given his due as a songwriter: He sued Brian in 1992 more or less for this reason, eventually winning co-writing credit for 35 Beach Boys tunes. The occasional “Good Vibrations” aside (a lyric written with McKenzie’s “San Francisco” in mind), his gift is punch-ups: tweaking phrases and adding earworms. He scrapped Phillips’ past tense. It sounded like regret, which is not Love’s bag. All he’s ever wanted to do is provide escape. So when it came time to write the chorus, Love sang Melcher a map.

The result was ruthlessly catchy: a combination of dreaminess and insistence, like a tank disguised as a cloud. The “Aruba, Jamaica” bit was bumped to the beginning for maximum effect; Love managed to work in a reference to cocktails, and possibly (in the line “that Montserrat mystique”) a reference to Baron Tennant’s island folly. Van Dyke Parks parachuted in to arrange the steel pans and play accordion, despite (allegedly) being stiffed by Love on plane fare. Studio saxophonist Joel Peskin (whose professional relationship with the Boys stretched back to 1979’s L.A.) contributed the oddly poignant solo. One name was notably absent: Brian was unable to attend the sessions, possibly due to his doctor’s interference. When he first heard the song on the radio, he didn’t even recognize it as a Beach Boys tune. His solo record had just dropped — deliciously, the opening lines are “I was sittin’ in a crummy movie/With my hands on my chin.”

Released 7/18/88 in advance of Cocktail — with Little Richard’s soundtrack closer “Tutti Frutti” as the B-side — “Kokomo” didn’t get any traction. It was only after moviegoers heard the tune scoring Tom Cruise’s move from New York to Jamaica that it caught on. Despite critical indifference (the movie is Cruise’s worst film Rotten Tomatoes) both Cocktail and “Kokomo” became #1 hits: the former for two weeks, the latter for one. In November, “Kokomo” supplanted Phil Collins’ “Groovy Kind Of Love” at the summit. (Collins, however, got the last laugh when “Two Hearts” beat “Kokomo” for Best Original Song at the 46th annual Golden Globes.)

A couple weeks after “Kokomo” hit #1, the Beach Boys (with Brian) guest-starred in an episode of the sitcom Full House. The climax of “Beach Boys Bingo” features the Tanner clan rockin’ out to a stadium performance of “Kokomo,” then climbing onstage to do “Barbara Ann.” The whole thing was old hat for Full House star John Stamos, who had been the Beach Boys’ ancillary percussionist for a few years by then. (He played steel drums in the “Kokomo” video, but not on the record.) If you watch the scene carefully, you’ll see Brian sporting a “Californians For Dukakis” shirt; Mike, infamously, is a Trump supporter and a contributor to Tipper Gore’s pro-censorship Parent’s Music Resource Center.

Having scored an improbable hit, the Beach Boys pivoted to movie soundtracks for a time. They landed “Still Cruisin’” in Lethal Weapon 2 and the Melcher-written title track for Problem Child; neither went anywhere, and the band returned to the state-fair circuit. “Kokomo” was, it turns out, irreplicable. Its lightweight arrangement and hermetic vibe have proven resistant to imitators: You won’t find many notable covers beyond, say, the Muppets. Its real legacy was in lending its name to a host of bars and resorts across the Caribbean Sea. The Orlando Sentinel found a few in a December ’88 investigation, with Key Largo’s Chamber of Commerce noting that “[w]e are flooded with calls, absolutely flooded. We had six calls on the answering machine this morning and several calls during the day.” Sandals renamed their Montego Bay resort “Kokomo Island” for a while, which must have been a nice two-for-one for the song’s fans.

In time, though, “Kokomo” fever faded, and the men responsible for it are starting to pass on. Carl Wilson died in 1998, John Phillips in 2001, Terry Melcher in 2004, Scott McKenzie in 2012. Mike Love, who has long enjoyed the exclusive rights to tour under the Beach Boys name, is the sole living writer. Last fall, he released a double album, with the second half devoted to re-recordings of Beach Boys classics. “Kokomo” is nowhere to be found. Presumably, he decided not to mess with perfection.

CREDIT: Ron Galella/WireImage

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