#The Variants 001

[jonathanbyersphd]

A FOURTH Henry/Vecna/001 has been revealed in the advent calendar

[corvusalas]

who: selma & open where: Outside the Healer Shop, Diagon Alley

Any day not spent busy felt like a day wasted away in her book. Ever since the end of the war things had calmed down and left the former Ravenclaw in a state of wonderment and unrest. A part of her was still getting used to the idea of a calm life despite all those months that had passed ever since. Nevertheless, Selma enjoyed life to the fullest.

It was unusually sunny, the type of weather that hardly allowed for a bad mood to come to pass. Thus she'd be walking through Diagon Alley, stocking up on things and oh so very intend of making a trip to the Healer Shop. As cliche as it may have been, she was a dedicated healer through and through. Whether that meant stocking up on potion vials and other things or picking up books with new theories or knowledge, it seemed all too normal to the young woman.

In front of the shop she stopped to allow herself a moment to glance through the window at the display, spotting a few new things that left no doubt she'd be picking up. The smallest chuckle escaped as she whirled around and her eyes fell onto one of the stands outside the shop, a hand reaching almost automatically for what appeared to be the last vial of crushed gurdyroot. It was then that she noticed someone nearby. Selma couldn't help but wonder, with how close they were, if she was about to reach for the item the other was aiming for. If so, by chance the apothecary would still have some on hand but still, she was willing to give it a go.

After all, she'd only been here to pick up a copy of a book on native healing remedies throughout the ages. If not for that, perhaps her trip would have brought her closer to the apothecary in question. "Did you want that? If so, would you mind? I'm run short of gurdyroot." Valentine's day season was coming up and she was determined to be prepared.

[fcrox]

Truth be told, Hestia had missed her friend. Of course, they still had their moments, but something felt different ever since the incident and the sad path that had to be taken afterward. All the happier she was to run into her like this. “Oh, please. When have you ever known me to stop with such things?” It was a truth that couldn’t be denied. If left to her own devices the brunette could turn into quite the workaholic, working hard without a second thought. It was as though time did not exist in those moments and thus it seemed to fly away without anyone stopping it. “If you truly wish to leave, I won’t hold you back. Perhaps you can last a little longer and catch up with me? Come, we can sit over there.” The witch pointed toward a seating arrangement off in the corner. A pleading look on her face she glanced back at her friend, hand reaching out in an offer to drag her along. - @ofxsorcery

Ela shook her head when her best friend mentioned paperwork. "You do know that sometimes it is okay to stop working for a bit right?" Okay, Hestia had done so but she still had been late to the party. She scrunched her nose for her moment and then shrugged. "I don't think you've missed much yet. I've been having a drink, met up with Alice and some others. And now ran into you. I'm close to actually wanting to leave, however."

[tomicscomics]

06/14/2024

Happy (almost) Father's Day!

___

JOKE-OGRAPHY: In American Human Slang, coffee is sometimes called a "cup of joe" (a term of debated origin). In this cartoon, St. Joseph (Jesus's earthly foster-father) enjoys a steaming cup of coffee and refers to it as a "cup o' joe." Jesus asks why he calls it that, and Joseph jests that coffee is called a "cup of joe" because it's made out of people named Joe. Jesus correctly reminds Joseph that he's named Joe ("Joe" is short for "Joseph"). Joseph pretends to be realizing this for the first time, then also "realizes" that his arm is missing. He's actually tucked it into his cloak, leaving his sleeve empty, all for the purpose of convincing Jesus that someone made this pot of coffee out of Joseph's own body parts.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ///FILE ACCESS APPROVED ///SUBJECT :: T-161 ///FIRST CONTACT :: 2017-02-22 ///CLASSIFICATIONS :: Anac + Para/Wp + SoL + FF/PfP ///THREAT LEVEL :: Safe for Non-Physical Observation (Under Review) ///FIELD REPORT 001-26-11-00002 :: I found one of my old cartoons! Probably originally drawn around 1905. Now that the Great War has hit a lull, perhaps we can pull THAT off. You know: a Tomics Resurrection. I've heard of them before. We could redraw this old cartoon, improving the saturation, swapping the cold green hue for a warmer yellow, and updating the character designs with their current variants as of [REDACTED]. With the new technologies available, there's even a guaranteed survival rate of 26%, so the odds are in favor of at least one of us living past the process of [REDACTED] with minimal organ damage. Oh, and before I forget, here's the original cartoon, de-aged to a legible status once more.

[madelynraemunson]

CALL OUT MY NAME ♛

(Book #2 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Series)

CEO!bachelor!steve × fem!college grad!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 • 18+ | BOOK #1 (e.m.)

Chapter 002: Long Live the King

Isabelle is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile at the club, you gather up the courage to buy a Handsome Stranger a drink.

↳ 001 (PROLOGUE) // 002 // 003 // 004 // 005 // 006 // 007 EPILOGUE

CW: slight age gap (steve is 31, sweets is 23) , homoerotic steddie workout scene (just guys bein dudes) 😵‍💫🚨 drinking, smoking, gambling, drugs mentioned, shy girl makes one (1) unaliving joke, weight discussed briefly, this chapter contains scene/POV splits, each chapter will have its own warnings

card suits divider by @cafekitsune 🃏🧡

a/n: the hargroves own 'rock you like hurricane', do not try to change my mind.

“SHUT UP & PUT YOUR MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS.”

word count: 5.6k words

♛

12:03 PM - Sweets and Isabelle

“There he goes again,” Isabelle sighs. “Long Live the King…”

It’s the sixth Elvis impersonator you’ve seen so far. Further down the strip of Old Vegas there was Jailhouse Rock Elvis, Unchained Melody Elvis, Elvis-If-You-Tried-To-Draw-Him-By-Memory, and Donuts-On-The-Toilet Elvis.

“I feel like I’ve seen every variant of The King possible,” you remark. “All that’s missing now is ShowGirl Elvis or Stripper Elvis.”

The statement alone piques your curiosity while you and Isabelle continue to walk. Suddenly, you find yourself asking your BFF a very interesting question.

“Would you ever wanna be a stripper?”

Isabelle stiffens abruptly.

It’s a pause you’ve never seen before in your life. But given that Isabelle has been an extreme empath for as long as you’ve known her, women in sex work may be a very sensitive topic.

“No,” Elle says to you, flatly. “They go through entirely too much.”

It’s the response you expected. It’s very easy for Isabelle to put herself in other people’s shoes — or heels in this sense. Even easier if they’re women at the hands of a man who holds a fair amount of power over them. It’s no wonder it seems triggering.

“It’s an admirable job though,” she manages to add. “Strippers don’t get enough credit. If I had a stripper in my life I would treat her like a queen.”

“Well, you'll have the chance to tonight," you smirk. "Given where we're going..."

Tonight you two are headed to Jackpot Gentlemen's Club, a strip joint on the outskirts of Vegas right outside Winchester.

It's more of a business endeavor than anything. The plan is to support all the beautiful dancers, all while promoting Isabelle's lingerie line, Bright & Belle.

For as long as you've known Isabelle, she's always been money-driven.

But in the best way. After divorcing from her ex-husband — Eddie, you believe his name was — Isabelle had been hyper-fixated on the hustle. And after seeing that ‘Girl-Boss’ mindset of hers flourish throughout the years, you wanted to be there for her in anyway you can.

What you haven't told Isabelle though, is that you wanted to feel sexy too. You’ve been deficient in Vitamin A(ttention) as of late, and a non-committal hook up in a "What Happens Here, Stays Here" type city sounded pretty enticing. A graduation reward and all.

"When was the last time you got laid?" Isabelle abruptly pries.

Piggybacking off your thoughts. How on-brand for the two of you.

You mask your thoughts further with a scoff of annoyance.

"Elle."

"Don't Elle me," she bumps you with her hip. "When was the last time you got a proper dicking down? Like really."

"I'm celibate," you lie snarkily.

"Oh come on!" she groans. "I know that's a lie. You know that's a lie. I mean, have you read the room? We are in Vegas."

You indeed have read the room. But that was besides the point. Isabelle has been so focused on creating a better life for herself, and she's done so much for you as well that you felt as if your presence at all times was mandated.

"I just don't wanna be all lovey-dovey in your face," you shamefully admit. "Especially since you're still healing from your own losses with love. Given your divorce from Eddie and all."

Isabelle rolls her eyes.

"Oh you mean the divorce that happened four years ago?!" she demands. "Almost five now, I think. Just because you're more likely to have a night to be celebrated and adored as a goddess, doesn't mean any of that is taken away from me."

You smile sheepishly at the floor, hooking your arms with Isabelle's as you two continue on your walk.

"Besides, I'm much older than you," she points out. "I've had my glory days. Now it's time for you to be selfish. Enjoy the rest of your 20s. What other place to do it than Vegas?"

She flashes a charming grin your way. "And I've got your back through and through."

"I love you," you beam at Isabelle tear-eyed. "You're the sister I never had."

“I love you too," she coos. "More than anything in the world. I'd be your non-biological sister in every lifetime if I could."

You two take a moment to fully admire each other, doing your little handshake you came up with when you met her in the early years of college, to honor your established sisterhood.

You and Isabelle against the world. No matter what.

Afterwards, Isabelle wraps you up in her arms as you two walk.

"Onwards, sweetheart. Let's go find you a King of your own.”

“I WANNA SEE YOU WORK OUT FOR ME. WORK OUT FOR ME.”

12:03 PM - Steve and Eddie

“Mmmh…fuck…shit.”

The room echoes with Steve’s strained grunts as sweat pools at his forehead.

It’s the workout of his life. But of course anyone would feel that way, running solely on coffee and a single scoop of creatine, right at peak lunchtime.

“Shit,” The King pants. "Don’t know how much left I got in me, Eds."

His pumps? Weaker. His reps? Gradually more incomplete. And with enough intensity to draw blood, Steve bites his lower lip in concentration, the grunting inevitably summoning Eddie over to his struggling friend.

The rugged metalhead leaps from the bar he was doing pull-ups from and strides towards the retired jock.

“You can handle it, Big Boy.”

Situating himself over Steve, Eddie floats his chalky palms over The King’s protruding chest, feet shoulder width apart and ready to spot.

“I…UGH— I…can’t!”

“Quit whining. I know you can.”

“I CAN’T! It’s too much…m literally shaking, Eds.”

“If you aren’t shaking you’re not doing it right,” Eddie Munson smirks. “Finish for me, Stevie, let’s go.”

The bulk of Steve’s arms relax and contract as The King pushes upwards, face scrunching in euphoric agony with every pump.

SLAM! CLINK!

Eddie's quick to swoop down to the base of the machine with one hand, reach extending to Steve with the other. Meanwhile Steve scrunches himself upwards, leaning forward on the bench as he wipes his forehead that was dripping with sweat. He's tapped out.

"You okay?" Eddie asks.

“Yeah..." Steve pants as he collects himself. "Yeah. I am. Thanks."

Steve takes a moment to look at himself in the high-rise glass mirror.

Naturally the arms come into sight first. There's a foreign roundness to them, and an undeniable softening of Steve's chest that the girls at Hellfire call "broad and beefy", but he can only categorize it as "fluffy". His gaze then dips down to his tummy, an avenue once firm and washboard-like now presenting with a soft, undeniable curve. No abs. Just flesh... a sobering manifestation of what too many nights of dry gin and "The Eddie Special": Spice Level Unforgiven can do to a guy. And while others might call it a “Certified Dad Bod,” Steve never found the compliment flattering. It just reminds him—he's getting older. Living on borrowed time.

"Holy shit," Steve breaks the silence. "I need to lay off the margaritas.”

“Well now isn’t the time to do it!” Eddie exclaims, clearly doing pirouettes on the opposite side of the pendulum. "Have you read the room? We're in Vegas, baby! We need to be excretion-less, out, and ready to party by tonight!"

Finding it nearly impossible to match his energy levels, Steve studies ‘Sweaty Eddie’ as he downs his water, the protrusion of his razor-burnt Adam’s Apple bobbing with every large gulp, the B.O. radiating off his hairy armpits being enough to wipe out the entire state of Nevada with just one brisk movement.

“Man, how did you manage to get married before me?” Steve huffs. “Twice!”

Eddie laughs, keeping the water contained in his mouth with a swipe of his fingers.

“Was that supposed to be a dig?”

“Well you weren’t exactly hot shit in high school.”

“There’s your answer then," Eddie clicks his tongue as-a-matter-of-factly. He does a boisterous dance around his burnt-out buddy. "Ladies love the freaks.”

Eddie studies Steve as he continues to ponder in a tone-deaf abyss.

“That's another thing I've been meaning to talk to you about," Eddie emphasizes. "We’ve gotta get you out of that high school mindset, dude."

Steve looks up again. "Huh?"

Eddie shakes his head. “It's beginning to look like you peaked when you were 18..." He takes a minute to playfully check him out. "Which obviously isn't the truth. But operating from that headspace is what’s stopping you from getting a good lay. I guarantee you."

"That or I just don't have rizz..." Steve grimaces. "Or whatever Dustin always says."

Eddie grimaces with him. He really wished Steve would quit saying that. Or anything from Dustin's vocab bank for the matter. "Yeah. Right. Let's keep that shit a Dustin thing."

He sets his water bottle down.

"Alright Harrington, here's the plan," Eds scoffs. "Tonight we'll put on our best Gatsy cosplays, get some drinks to loosen ya up, and then meander around Jackpot so you can talk up some babes. Work on the confidence...w-"

"Yeah, I think I'll pass," Steve shrugs. "I've got some emails I gotta reply to anyway."

“Oh come on. Think of all the honeys you’ll attract post-pump!” Eddie incentivizes. “Look at them ARMS, baby. Them ARMS!"

Eddie issues himself a seat next to Steve. Steve allows him the space, but doesn't appear to be sold on the plans Eddie had for tonight.

"Look, I'm sorry the girl of your dreams ended up with my bartender," Eddie begins. "And that I unintentionally stole your other dream girl when you guys began hitting it off pretty well... and that her best friend that you were madly in love with ended up being a lesbian and you didn't find out until after the two platonic outings. And that..."

"Are you trying to make me feel like absolute dog shit?"

"No, I'm turning this into an inspirational Ted Talk if you'd let me," Eddie scorns. "Fact of the matter is, Hawkins? Is Lover's Lake. WE..."

Eddie points in the opposite direction, south of The Strip.

"...have arrived at Treasure Island, baby! Lots of fish in the sea. Lots of beautiful women looking to have a good time. You can't make any progress in the same environment that drained you. You gotta lean into new beginnings. And maybe that means finding love in a city outside your comfort zone."

"Yeah, yeah. Just cuz I spawned into a new city doesn't guarantee complete past erasure," Steve mutters. "13 years later, but I'm still that same asshole ASB kid who gave others a hard time for validation. Maybe that's my karma. Maybe I don't deserve love."

"That's where you're wrong," Eddie snaps. "You ARE deserving of love."

It is that moment the two friends' eyes meet. It hurts Eddie to see Steve self-sabotage himself. He was so excited to come to Vegas with him and Shy Girl. Imposter Syndrome will ruthlessly make someone their bitch if they let it. Not today, though. Not under Eddie's watch.

"Your life is just beginning, Steve," Eddie emphasizes. "It pains me to see that you haven't seen your full potential yet. And just because this gentleman got his happy ending... doesn't mean there isn't one for you out there."

"Why do I always run?" Steve sighs. "Why do I always run away from good opportunities knowing full well I deserve to be happy too?"

"Because you're so used to rejection," Eddie snorts. "Believe me. Takes one to know one. You'll miss out on a lot of opportunity doing that. Which is something I'm not gonna let you do. For as long as you're under my wing."

The two friends then share an affectionate, and sweaty, hug. It took a lot of hashing out for these two to get to this point. They weren't exactly the best of friends in high school. But over time, when life reared its ugly head and all they had left was each other, the two gentlemen realized they were more alike than they thought. And that was a whole 'nother avenue of self-love they had to discover; and of course they did it side by side. Steve and Eddie forever.

“Whew, let’s go!” Steve whistles, getting out of his feelings for real this time. “We earned ourselves a Fat Tuesday!”

“Now we’re talkin’!” Eddie smirks. “Can't wait to hit the clubs and find you a hottie.”

"HERE I AM! ROCKED YOU LIKE A HURRICANE."

12:30 PM - Shy Girl and Nina

"If I can't find anything to wear, I'm gonna kill myself."

Shy Girl and Nina are found anxiously strutting around Fashion Show Mall, attempting to find some cute lingerie sets before their guest performances tonight.

"Bold of you to say for someone who looks good in everything," Nina scoffs.

The club they're performing at tonight is called Jackpot, a strip joint in the outskirts of Vegas right outside Winchester. It's no Hellfire, but the name of the game remains constant: CAPITALIZE OFF OF MEN'S DESIRES.

"I need something dramatic and sexy,” Shy Girl prowls. “Something Vegas has never seen before. Something to make me stand out for the tips. Something that screams... here I am."

"We can check Victoria's..." Nina suggests.

"Tried that. Eddie pretty much bought me every set from there."

"How about Love Loft on the second floor?"

"Their sets fit me weird. And I would like their wires to hold my titties up. Not puncture my lungs, thank you very much."

Spoiled with every piece of lingerie she could ever ask for, Shy Girl still had nothing to wear tonight.

It's expected coming from a dancer who has worn and done it all. Having rocked the city of Hawkins like a hurricane straight out of California, Shy Girl was just aching for some action elsewhere. And in light of her friend Steve's booming business over the past couple of years — and in celebration of her husband's early retirement from CEO-ism — why not bring the goodies to Vegas?

"What about this, Hargrove?"

"Ew. Too much glitter."

"Okay... this then?"

"Too little glitter."

"Bitch, if you don't just DECIDE!"

It's taken ages for Shy Girl to take up the amount of space that she does. And with this newfound confidence, there was no going back. During her time at Hellfire, Shy Girl had learned to become a goddess in her own skin, the baddest bitch who was deserving of the softest life; and there wasn't anything her controlling twin brother could ever do to change her mind. And even if he wanted to, he would have to get past those steel, metal bars first. Something that's remained unsuccessful for the past year and a half.

"It can't be too sparkly, but it also can't be too basic," Shy Girl notes aloud. “Something that hugs the girls just right, but isn’t too snug in the crotch area.”

Nina nods absentmindedly as they continue to patrol.

“Something that won’t cost an arm and a leg,” Shy Girl adds. “But also not something made by a child in a sweatshop.”

“Totally,” Nina hums.

They tread onward, having probably met their steps for the day, Shy Girl growing increasingly more agitated with every stride.

“I just want something that makes me look pretty, ethereal, and soul-snatching!" she grunts again. "Is that too much to ask?!”

“Something like that?”

Shy Girl turns in the direction of Nina's pointing finger. And in her field of view is the prettiest set she's ever seen.

"Are you kidding me?!" Shy Girl squeals in excitement.

Seductive and scarlet red. Tight, satin material embellished with extravagant-looking faux diamonds. The star of the set is the heart shape neckline, with showgirl-like frills at the hips that resemble an eternal flame.

Running to the display now, Shy Girl reaches over to fondle the set while Nina desperately sets off after her.

The set is more stunning the closer they got, with so much attention to detail, it was surely crafted by a girl's girl. Someone who knows what the people want and exactly how to get it. And also a woman who is calculated.

Lady in Red.

"It's even called Lady in Red, dude," Shy Girl beams, a prominent twinkle in her eyes. "This set is made for me. WHO IS THE MASTERMIND BEHIND THIS MONEY-MAKER? I could just kiss her."

“Hmm... Elle Warren," Nina reads. "CEO of Bright & Belle.”

Beside the set is a podium that show-cases the set's creator. She's smiling in her headshot, with a pink suit and her arms crossed, showing off her radiant smile, and even more radiant ocean eyes and Barbie-blonde locks.

"Every woman deserves to feel beautiful, bold, and UNSTOPPABLE. My mission is to empower women by turning pain into power. Bright & Belle is designed to celebrate all body types, all shades, and all sizes, offering a collection that makes every woman feel confident and comfortable in her own skin. I hope to become the rainbow after someone's storm, one sexy set at a time."

“Wow," Shy Girl coos. "She’s so pretty... and inspirational.”

“Biased much?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wh- look at her! Blonde curly hair? Piercing blue eyes, she looks just like you.”

“Maybe Billy and I have a triplet we just don’t know about,” Shy Girl theorizes, the conniving pearly-white Hargrove smirk reappearing on her face.

“Girl with the life you live, y’all might as well," Nina rolls her eyes. "Now c'mon. Let's go see what this club's all about. Bet it can't beat Hellfire."

9:00 pm - Sweets

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH A NIGHT OF SIN?"

“Now this… this is heaven.”

It appears that Jackpot is where the party is at. Isabelle's eyes light up with dollar signs when she observes the booths filled with patrons, stage badazzled with the sexiest dancers you both have ever seen, and a bar so full that there was hardly any room in the corners to wall-sit.

"Looks like we've got some impressions to make," Isabelle remarks. "That being said, I'll be in the powder room, if you'll excuse me."

You watch in disapproval as she issues a joking tap atop the tip of her nose. When she sees you scowling at her, Isabelle shrinks herself back down immediately.

"I'm joking, Sweets," she says. "I'm just going to the bathroom. You know that."

"With every joke there is a little truth," you mutter. "And you've been making a lot of blow jokes lately."

Isabelle was hooked on benzos and cocaine her first year of college. Granted, you both went to school in PULLMAN, the "hippie haven" of Washington State, so it didn't make her that much of an outlier.

But the abuse was heavy, most of it correlating with the abuse she endured in her marriage.

"Are you using again?" you accuse.

"No, honey."

"Then why'd you make a joke?"

"Because I thought it was funny. Stop looking so much into it."

You take a second to issue yourself some deep breaths. Noticing your distress, Isabelle gives you a consoling rub on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made that joke," she frowns. "I know how much you worry for me. But I'm clean. I promise."

"Okay," you mumble.

Friends don’t lie. And Isabelle has never given you any reason to doubt her. So why should you?

"I'll be back," she excuses herself again. "Just gonna go use the lil Big Sisters’ room. We'll be shaking ass with the strippers before you know it."

You snort to yourself as she scampers out of your sight. Now it’s just you alone with your thoughts and yearning.

Isabelle's speech from earlier echoes through your ears once again. It's time for you to enjoy your 20s. College is over and you can finally let loose. So why did you feel guilty, wanting to roam free during Isabelle’s most pivotal moment instead of supporting her? You two have been joined at the hip for so long, it felt unnatural to exclude her from things. You wanted to do everything with your “big sister”.

"Alriiiight, ladies and gentlemen," the DJ announces as he transitions his performance track to a familiar 80s song. "Thank you so much for coming and supporting all of these beautiful dancers!”

The crowd erupts in rampant cheers and whistles. You clap along too, while scanning the room for a nice guy to talk up.

“We have a special treat for you tonight,” the DJ continues. “We’ve got some dancers from out of state, so give them a warm Las Vegas welcome…”

Your gaze piques in curiosity as the R&B track fades into a guitar riff, soon to be melted into a very familiar song from the 80s, critically acclaimed by people who lived on the edge of Sexy and Wild.

“…All the way from Hawkins, Indiana…” says the DJ. “…from the HELLFIRE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB...GIVE IT UP... FOR SHYYYY GIRLLLLL!"

The music now blares through the speakers as one of the dancers makes her grand entrance. And soon a specific corner of the room erupts in a frenzy the moment she fully emerges onto the stage.

"Here I am! Rocked you like a hurricane."

And she is a smokin' hot hurricane if you ever did see one.

You fawn over the stripper’s captivating eye make-up. Her bouncy, golden blonde hair with just as bouncy, perky, tits. And the ass on this chick? That thing’s got a zip code and a mind of its own. Just look at it go.

Everyone cheers, specifically two people in the corner, presumably her hometown peeps who flew out to see her perform. There's a girl with long, dark hair, and given her attire, you presume she's a performer too. There's also a man next to her, also with long hair and is most likely her partner, hooting and hollering as if he wasn't even allowed to hoot and holler at home, handing everyone around him some shots while he praised every move she made.

“What a fucking badass,” you say to yourself. "She's got the crowd by the horns."

And that captivating red set. It suits this ‘Shy Girl’ so well it almost makes you tear up. It is then not too long after that you realize you’ve seen this set before.

It’s one of Isabelle’s sets. One of your best friend’s creations. The Lady in Red.

"That's my wife!" the Van Halen-looking guy boasts proudly. "THAT'S MY WIFE! Doing amazing, baby!"

Your suspicions were correct. Shy Girl is that man’s wife. And what a lucky man he is. Urgently grabbing your phone, you go to shoot Isabelle a text about the dancer wearing her set.

to: Isabelle Warren

Girl come quick! A dancer on stage is wearing Lady in Red! She's really good!

Enamored, you watch as Shy Girl swoops down to her knees on the left side of the tip rail. She blows the bar a kiss. When your eyes follow in that direction, you see a — very attractive — man who seems to be part of that same group, judging by how they interacted with one another from across the room.

There's a glimmer, a familiar pining in his fiery, molten eyes as he leans back against the barstool, admiring the dancer from head to toe. When they meet gazes, Shy Girl winks at him and struts away.

The exchange draws you to reach two conclusions: the man is either secretly in love with this chick, or they've been friends for a really long time.

Suits was about to be deeply infatuated with you, though. With your sudden boost of confidence to want to approach him tonight.

Without another lingering thought, you strut over to the bar to greet the older piece of eye candy with your signature, warm grin.

"Hi there.”

But his reaction is the least of what you expected.

"Oh god," the gentleman sighs. "Did he send you to me?"

Confused, you take a look around.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Oh cut the crap, kid, I've seen it all before,” the man scoffs pessimistically. “What'd he promise you? Huh? Tickets to see Adele or Blue Boys? Free rounds of shots?”

"He didn't promise me anything," you huff in protest. "God forbid I actually wanna talk to somebody on a night out. Is this a trauma response because if so, this needs to be visited. In therapy, perhaps. Not a bar."

The ego — or lack of — of the guy seemingly deflates, a flushed red color appearing at the heat of his cheekbones before radiating to his ears.

"You mean you willingly came up to me?" he continues to stare in disbelief.

"Yes..." you narrow your eyes at the Pick-Me-Nice-Guy in front of you. "But something tells me I shouldn't have."

His gaze softens even more. It's apologetic now.

"It's not every day I get approached anymore," he says. "Usually I'm the one that does the chasing."

"Well, why not?" you shrug, deflating your ego along with him as well. "You're handsome, young, look like a fun time... How can the ladies not?"

It catches him off guard.

"Young," he laughs at this. "How old are you anyways?"

"23," you gaze at him through your eyelashes. "How old are you?"

"I'm 31, cutie."

You can feel your heart beating in more places than one. And when your eyes travel down to his lap, you're greeted by a warm and open manspread, the base of his knees angled towards your body, the same way his broad torso invites you into him.

You accept his advance.

"Oh come on," you blush. "That's not even that much older."

"Not that much older? Just you wait," he says with a slight chuckle. Your breath hitches his knee brushes against your ass. "Soon you can't drink the way you used to, your knees hurt, and you wake up ten pounds heavier than the day before. Trust me, I know."

"Rich coming from someone who's a few years removed from my generation."

And rich, judging by the intoxicating cologne that clung to his skin like a second layer. Rich, judging by the perfectly pressed, popped collar of his Maceoo dress shirt. Rich, judging by his wait-list only watch that rested neatly on his wrist, catching the glare from the strobe lights every so often.

"You're kidding," he snaps you back to reality. "You're really Gen Z?"

"Yeah, can't you tell?" you tsk. You watch as his pupils drastically increase in size the more you sway into him. "I'm part of the knows-what-they-want-and-gets-it type of crowd."

You nod to the bartender to start a tab for you. Playing it safe, you request two gin-and-tonics, offering a glance to the now more-than-receptive man in front of you.

"Can't relate," he breathes. "'m a millenial."

"Ah, the hate-my-life crowd."

"Better than the hate-my-wife crowd” he winks, subtly jabbing at the ever-so-argumentative Generation-X.

"Oh definitely," you agree, clinking your glass with his. "And I can tell by your friends you guys are the total opposite."

Both of you look back over at the his friends, and to your surprise, discover that the group is staring back at you as well. Group being the Shy Girl dancer's husband and the dark-haired dancer beside him. When your eyes meet theirs they immediately look away, but sheepishly smile to each other along with "do you see this?" type of nudges.

"So what's your deal?" you smirk, turning back to the guy. "You seeing anybody?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be here talking to you, honey," Suits smirks, his espresso eyes devouring you while his palm hovers over the small of your back. "I’m really sorry we got off the wrong foot. I’m Steve.”

You tell him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve.”

“You as well, Sweets.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I own my own business,” Steve smiles. “Been doing it a couple years now, and it’s really taken off.”

“What business is it?”

“I sell bobby pins,” Steve explains. It confuses you at first but you remain supportive. “But they’re a special kind.”

Intrigued, you watch as Steve digs into his pocket to fetch you some samples.

“My buddy Eddie over there owns a strip club,” Steve explains, nodding towards the feral, long-haired guy over in the corner. “And unfortunately one too many dancers have gotten roofied, so I made bobby pins that change color when it senses something weird in your drink.”

"Do they now?"

"They sure do," Steve nods proudly. "The bobby pins turn black if they detect the roofie drug. So if you think your drink's been spiked, that's a foolproof way for ya to check."

“This is very neat,” you beam, holding the pretty pink bobby pin in your hand.

You’re twiddling it between your fingers when you notice Steve’s breathing falter. He clears his throat for a brief second, before resting his hand slightly over yours.

“May I?”

You nod and allow him his bobby pin back.

There's little you can do except try not to melt, quietly swooning as the older man you're perched on gazes at you like a muse. His touch is gentle, as if you're a marble bust—his fingers brushing away the shorter strands of your curtain bangs, savoring the dimples above your chin.

“There,” he grins. “Now I can see those pretty eyes.”

You and Steve find yourselves getting lost into conversation, well past Shy Girl's set, and most likely way past her friend's as well. He tells you about his life back home and you tell him about your final year of college. The gloominess of Seattle. Your excitement about being able to start a new life. And when you reach to give him back his bobby pin, he gestures it away.

"Consider it a gift. If I won't be seeing you again, I'd at least want you to be safe."

“Who’s to say you won’t see me again?”

"Well," Steve chuckles into you. "Maybe you'll find some other sucker to charm and you'll forget all about me."

Closing up the space between you two, you shuffle yourself closer in between his knees, rubbing yourself teasingly against his iron-pressed lap while he wraps his strong arms around you to keep you in place.

“Oh don’t be so silly,” you hum, softly tracing his stubble before clasping his beating chest. “You’ll definitely be seeing me around.”

"You trying to give me your phone number?" he cocks an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I mean... I was implying that you’d see me walking around The Strip. Vegas is pretty small,” you point out. “But if you’d like to stay connected, I’m not opposed to that either.”

Steve tongue dances in his cheek as he stares you up and down.

"Or who knows," you add. "Maybe you'll see me at an Adele show."

Steve cackles at this, receptive to the teasing you're giving him and reeling you in as a response.

“Well, Sweets, if that's the case, then I’d love to see you again before I go back.”

You two exchange phone numbers, close out your tab, and Steve is on his way. Turns out, he's also part of the In-Bed-By-9 crowd, but tonight was considered a splurge. When he disappears from sight, you set out to find Isabelle.

Luckily, her golden blonde locks are easy to spot in the crowd.

“There you are!" you exclaim when you find her, hooking arms with her as you two start towards the tip rail. "I met a guy while you were gone. His name is Steve, he’s a CEO.”

“Such a CEO name,” Isabelle tuts. “But that’s amazing. Is he older?”

You nod, blushing. Isabelle squeals, ecstatic for you.

“Ugh, older men are the bestttt, girl. Where is he now?”

“Rounding up his friends," your eyes scan the room. "I think they’re done for tonight. His friend was one of the dancers and she was wearing your Lady in Red set. She's from Indiana too, but I forgot where.”

“And I missed it?!" Isabelle exclaims, completely engaged now. "Now you HAVE to point them out to me.”

So now you two are on a mission, peddling through the strip club like two lost sheep looking for their herder. After five sweaty drunks and lots of assertive "excuse me"s later, you're able to catch sight of the guy just by the back of his head.

“That’s Steve," you immediately point him out. "Right over there."

“Oh my god,” is all Isabelle says.

You turn to Elle and it's like she's seen a ghost. Panicked, you watch the color drain from your best friend's face in real time, followed by a nearly audible gulp in a pulsating room and obnoxious strobe lights. And for a brief second, it seems like Elle had nearly lost her footing, with how her knees seemingly buckled below her.

“Elle…" you nudge her. "A-are you okay?”

"Yeah… I'm fine...it’s just…” she stammers. “That's Steve Harrington."

"You know Steve Harrington?"

"More than you know."

Suddenly, her gaze shifts when she studies his friends.

It’s a look you’ve never seen before in your life. At least not on Isabelle’s face.

Her once radiant ocean eyes, so full of warmth and sunshine, have turned icy and sharp, like shards of broken glass. A tension builds in her face as her jaw clenches. You look down at her hands and see that they're curled inwards, as though she'd been fighting to keep a brewing anger from the depths of her, relatively silent, fury from erupting. And then, before you know it her ocean eyes flare with an almost palpable heat. Danger. Fire, almost.

"And the guy next to him?" Isabelle grimaces. "The erratic one with the stripper around his arm?"

Isabelle's lips tighten bitterly.

"That's Eddie Munson... my ex-husband."

🏷️ taglist: @xblueriddlex @angietherose @winchester-angel @aactuaaltraash @hugdealer @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic @mediocredreams @bl0ssomanddie @corkadymu @eddiesguitarskills @mrsjellymunson @cadence73 @m-chmcl-rmnc @n-slayaaaaa @corrodedcoffincumslut @kennedy-brooke @micheledawn1975 @maisiepotatobeans @1deverland

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

001

Pairing : Miguel O' Hara X Reader

Genre : fluff

Summary : In which you, his best friend, takes care of him when he's sick.

Wordcount: 1.5k lol 

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

An odd sound leaves Miguel's lips, something between a cough and clearing his throat and he glances at you with the hope you won't notice.

Which you of course do.

You've been his best friend for years. The only person he hasn't lost yet. The only person he allows to be close to him. And the only one in his universe who knows of his identity and occupation. The other spiders know who you are aswell. You don't have any powers as you aren't a spiderman variant, but the other spiders like you a lot. Probably more than they like Miguel. ( You're often their ticket to getting stuff easy through him.)

" Are you okay?"

He glances at you with his usual, brooding expression, before his eyes move back to the screens focused on the multiverse.

" Ju-" 

As he tries to speak his voice sounds extremely hoarse, and so he clears his throat.

" Just fine."

You shake your head.

" No you're not. You sound hoarse. Are you sick?" You ask him.

He doesn't turn to answer.

If you were anyone else, he'd glare at you, maybe even tell you to mind your own business. But he doesn't. Of course he doesn't. 

Miguel's aware he's got at least a bit of a crush on you.

When he doesn't reply, you approach him. He watches in concealed curiousity what you're about to do.

He freezes when you raise the back of your hand to his head. He can't help but lean into your slight touch, turning qinqto absolute putty in your hands.

It's a pitty you retrace your hand all too soon, followed with a surprised expression.

" Miguel, you're heating up! You definitly have a fever.-"

" I'm fine Mi Perla-"

You scoff, cutting him off mid sentence.

" No you're not. You're sick. And you're going to rest, we're not going to argue over that. Layla?!"

Miguel can't stop you as you call out to his assistant.

" No, I have work, you know the multiverse rests on-"

" Y/N, what can I do for you?"

Yes, even his AI seems to like you more than him, something that makes him roll his eyes.

" I know, the multiverse rests on your shoulders. Didn't you build an entire team to help you with it?" You reply, giving him a pointed look before turning to the AI.

" Hi Layla, can you call Jess in please? Tell her Miguel's taking the day off, he's sick." You tell her.

" Will do! Get well soon boss." Layla says, turning to Miguel before dissapearing again.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words leave his brain the minute you gently grab hold of his hand.

" C'mon. Let's get you to bed."

-

And going to bed he did. After you've personally delivered him to his room and instructed him to get changed into something more comfortable, he finds himself fast asleep the minute he lays down.

When he wakes up again, you're back, seated beside his bed on the floor, leaning your head on the edge of his bed. The tv in his room is on, and he recognises a series you've told him about a few times playing. As soon as he moves, you're moving aswell.

" Hey, how're you feeling? Too hot? Do you need me to refresh the towel?" You ask him hurriedly, moving to get up.

He stops you by placing a hand on your shoulder, taking his time to sit up. The folded cold towel which was laid on his forehead dropping in his lap, his skin still feeling feverish.

" Why are you seated on the floor?" He asks instead, bypassing al your questions.

You blink, before glancing around the room.

" There's no chairs in here." You point out.

" You could've sat on my bed. It's more comfortable." He explains plainly.

You blink again. 

It isn't as if his bed is small. Considering he runs the entire team, his bedroom is the biggest, a nice spacious room, with a spacious bed. 

When you don't reply, he speaks again.

" Come sit down." 

He pats the spot beside him.

" You sure you don't need the space considering you're sick and stuff?" 

He rolls his eyes.

" Sit down before I'll drag you on myself." 

At the well intentioned threat, you finally move, getting up and eventually seating yourself beside him on the bed. 

" You didn't reply to my questions though." You point out, turning to look at him.

He gives you one of his rare smiles.

" Don't worry, I'm alright." 

" Okay. Tell me when you're feeling hungry though, I'll make you soup." You smile at him.

The two of you sit like that for quite a while, Miguel joining you in watching the series.

He feels pampered with the way you care for him, refusing to let him as much as lift a finger.

At some point, he eventually has to go to the toilet. When he comes back, he sits slightly closer to you, his arm touching yours. He feels a flutter in his chest when you lean your head on his shoulder.

Later on, after diner and back to watching tv (stuff he picked out this time, doesn't matter that he falls asleep every so often in between.), the two of you are once again back to comfortable sitting beside one another on his bed. 

" You can lay down if you'd like?" He suggests, noticing you shift every so often in your spot.

" Wouldn't that be a little, I don't know, uncomfortable for you? To share your bed like that?" You ask, tilting your head.

He shakes his head, not even having to think about it.

" You're my best friend. I don't mind."

" Okay, wake me up if I fall asleep though. Or if you need something." You tell him before getting comfortable.

20 minutes pass before you fall asleep, just as you had expected. 

Miguel watches you for a few moments with a small affectionate smile. You looked so peaceful, he couldn't bring himself to wake you. 

His fever has gone down quite a bit, his skin thankfully not feeling feverish anymore thanks to his quicker healing. 

Eventually he decides to turn off the light, climbing back in bed before, also daring to throw an arm around your middle.

-

When he wakes up again, his fever is gone, and so are you.

Although he's a little dissapointed, he does understand you probably left for a fresh set of clothes and everything.

He's also made it clear that he doesn't want you to walk home by yourself at night (you often leave at ungodly hours, or really late. You'vefallen asleep in his office a few times before.) Your apartment is thankfully not too far off from HQ, and he trusts you've asked one of the other spiders to have walked you home.

He's become a little overprotective over you considering you're the last person outside of his business he has.

-

It's midday when he sees you again, having just returned for a mission. You're seated at his desk, swiping at your phone when he walks in.

" Mi Perla." He calls you in greeting.

You look up from your screen, smiling as you spot him and pocketing your phone.

" Miguel, how are you feeling? I take it your fever left?" You approach him.

He hums. You raise your hand to check again, and he subconsciously slightly lowers his head more into your reach.

" That does feel better, glad you're okay." You tell him, retracing your hand.

He takes your hand in his, and the surprise on your face is evident as he raises the back of your hand to his lips.

" Thank you for taking care of me last night, Mi Perla."

002

[ A/N: I actually really enjoyed writing this. Let me know if you'd like to read a pt.2 or send me requests please. I really want to write more about him but my brain is a little blank.]

[kytsos]

very belated post of my 2023 sylki secret santa year-end gift exchange gift for @variant-001 with a scene from their fic perfect partners

[lynxfrost13]

Thinking about my Penrose prototype mynah and Elster again bc I wanna flesh them out more..

I think I at least have names for them right now!

MHNR 001 is called Kosmos! As a prototype mynah variant built for the Penrose mission the technicians that worked on her affectionately gave her the name. She’s your typical mynah persona but in a smaller frame (still bulky by other replika standards!) and also has some additional ship piloting knowledge uploaded into her memory. Her three primary tasks are to pilot the ship, to mark planets/asteroids/etc that have valuable resources for the nation, and to extract some of those resources.

Btw Her favorite plush (they let her bring some for stabilization! They don’t take up too much space!) is a dinosaur with a grumpy expression. It reminds her of her new Elster friend :]

LSTR 001 was dubbed “Dorredt” by Kosmos because according to the mynah calling her 001 was boring, and while trying to think of a name she misread a package and came up with Dorredt. Elster doesn’t care if it means Kosmos will stop bugging her about potential names. She’s your typical elster, quiet, serious, and maybe a little awkward! Her duties involve anything involving ship repair/maintenance and land survey. Her and Kosmos both tend to the Penrose ship’s garden but Dorredt is better at handling the plants due to her less clunky build.

Her favorite spot to be alone is the storage area, sometimes she just sits there and reads the labels on items for fun. There’s other things she could do too but not a lot was provided for her specifically..

[cityof2morrow]

Tutorial: Custom Sidewalks & Sewers

Published: 5-24-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY Here is a quick step-by-step guide for making sidewalks with the Streetscaping 001 (Simmons, 2024) and Repo Pack (Simmons, 2023) sets. Make sure you have some niche/repo pack recolors in-game as well. I recommend these for the sewer material. This method is ONLY for lots with a 2-click or a 4-click foundation (the default height). I recommend using a road default or overlay without grass/sidewalks. Feel free to alter steps based on your gameplay needs. DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs + the Streetscaping 001 (Simmons, 2024) and Repo Pack (Simmons, 2023) sets. If you’re using a 2-step foundation and want large dogs to access the building, get the Stair Mod (Simler90, 2021). SIDEWALKS

Once your building has a foundation, add steps (or ramps) so that sims can get from the street to the first floor. You won’t need Simler90’s Stair Mod for buildings on a 4-click (default) foundation. If you want steps/ramps to match everything else, add the step/ramp cover pieces (front/center and side).

2. Add 2-click platforms and/or foundation pieces to the existing foundation of the buildings. I always put one row in front and a few pieces on the left/right ends of the lot.

3. Add curb pieces across the front and any other deco you want. You may need “move objects on/off” and “grid on/off” cheats.

4. Play around with recolors/swatches to get the look you want. For matching and variant maxis textures, check out the #co2repopack tag.

NOTE: Due to default game coding, your sidewalk will be visible in neighborhood view with some slight quirks. Objects in this set may appear to float slightly above the foundation in neighborhood view on 2-click foundations and any other foundation less than the default 4-click high (default height). This may also happen with the steps/ramp. This wasn’t a big deal for me, and everything functions/looks as it should otherwise.

SEWERS

The sewer canal is made for a 4-click foundation, deck, or stage – this comes in handy if you plan on having sims walk around your sewer tunnels - BUT you don’t have to use it. Add it and recolor the “sewer material” as you wish (look for element recolors HERE and under #co2repopack tag).

2. Using the tunnel is optional –place it on the same tile as the canal piece.

3. For functional sewers – where sims can walk around the interior – add floor tiles. You can even make a “bridge” across the water.

4. Add other deco and walls as needed. NOTE: You’ll probably need to combine pieces and use placement cheats.

CREDITS Thanks: TS2 building communities and other creatives. Sources: Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik).

[xmencovered]

X-Men 001 Lee Variant / Published: 2018 / Artist: Jim Lee

[eithniel]

Nothing like singing to clear your head...  My sylki gift exchange for @variant-001 , hope you like it

[rainmustfallts4]

Rain Must Fall (Reaper’s Rewards Special) ◇ #001

⊶⊰Information & Index⊱⊷⊶⊰Ep. 1⊱⊷⊶⊰Chronological Tag⊱⊷

Reaper's Rewards Special: ⊶⊰Latest⊱⊷ ⊶⊰From the Beginning⊱⊷ ⊶⊰All Reaper's Rewards Posts⊱⊷

─────────────⊶⊰◇⊱⊷─────────────

Nobody panic, it’s finally here!!

Okay so I stayed up until nearly 9am waiting for the event to start – if my calculation was correct, which it should be since I used a website and not my own brain, it should have started at 7. I wanted to stay up longer but I was soooo tired.

BUT! It was here when I woke up c:

This is what popped up as soon as I loaded into my save. Of course I had to use my Super Sim! If his memory is really getting that bad… can I just say we’re married even though we’re not? >.>

The tasks for week 1! There’s two different ones, which I didn’t realize at first haha

Here are the first three tasks we need to complete. She already has a bit of gardening under her belt so this should be easy peasy.

I planted three of each c:

And by doing so, I unlocked my first two rewards! The first one is a book which, lame~ I don’t think I can use it because my level is too high in gardening. But I want to collect all the books anyway so I don’t have to buy it later.

The freezer boney, though? SO COOL! I adore it ❤

Look at how cute it is ;_;)

Next, we had to research a plant – which my dumbass forgot to screenshot the task of c: I already had a snapdragon growing so I went ahead and researched that.

Oooo this looks fancy 😮

I really like the black variant, it’s so cool!

Next, we had to read the newsletter from the Ambrosia Society. I’ve seen a few people have an issue with this but, thankfully, I was bug free for this event (subtle flex who.)

She’s far too happy to have earned a cookbook lmao

There’s a new option to research Ambrosia so we headed over to the computer. She had this thought bubble a few times during this and it was SOOO cute so I had to add it c:

Now, I spent too much time on this but I regret nothing.

Here’s a closer version if you have trouble reading small text like me c:

And here is the actual popup. They don’t mention the price and that’s how they get ya shaking my head.

[jack-in-the-dark]

Jack Builds Spaceboats: The Rally Vincent, Part 2: Akira-class, My Beloved

Disclaimer: I am by no means an expert at this game and the information I present may be erroneous.

I love the Akira-class. I cannot overstate that. Ever since I first saw the beautiful USS Thunderchild and her sisters at the Battle of Sector 001 in Star Trek: First Contact, I have been in love with this ship.

I love that way she looks. The way her design makes her swoop. I love her lore. I love that she's basically what you get when Starfleet decides to throw subtlety out the window. I love how she's sleek and aggressive while still maintaining that Starfleet feel.

So here comes an autism rant.

The development of the Akira-class starship started after the Battle of Wolf 359, where an entire fleet of starships was annihilated by a single Borg cube in a matter of hours, if not minutes. It was a massacre, and a wake-up call. It was a reminder to Starfleet that having fighting ships, while frowned upon by Federation ideals, is an absolute necessity for the peace and safety of the Federation.

So the engineers got to work, and designed four new classes of ship designed primarily with kicking Borg ass in mind: the Defiant, the Sabre, the Norway, and the Akira. While the Defiant, Sabre, and Norway were more compact and smaller designs, the Akira-class was a full-fledged cruiser at over two-thirds the length of the massive Galaxy-class explorers.

She also had a truly massive hangar bay that ran the full length of the saucer section, allowing her to carry an unheard-of amount of support craft.

What truly set the Akira-class apart, though, was the fact that she is absolutely fucking covered in torpedo launchers. Most Starfleet ships have, at most, four torpedo launchers - two fore, two aft, with phaser arrays covering the ship (the Galaxy-class, for example, is considered a battleship with two torpedo launchers and over a dozen phaser arrays). The Akira-class has three phaser arrays. She has fifteen photon torpedo launchers. Four facing forward in the weapons pod, three on each side covering the aft port and starboard quarters in the mission pod, one in the saucer section just above the deflector dish and, most unusually, two photon torpedo launchers on each side of the saucer section facing directly port and starboard.

A big part of why I started playing Star Trek Online was because I wanted to fly an Akira-class. I longed for it. So naturally, I pounced on the opportunity the moment it presented itself.

You can imagine that it came as a bit of a shock when I learned that the torpedo-heavy cruiser-carrier I loved was, in game terms, an agile glass cannon designed to use dual cannons.

I exploded. A lot. So much so, in fact, that I straight-up swore off flying escorts almost altogether and started flying cruisers instead because they could take a goddamn hit.

I was angry, I was disappointed, and even a little heartbroken.

But as my knowledge of the game grew, I kept going back to the USS Rally Vincent, re-evaluating and tweaking, and eventually even making a ship that I felt actually worked with what an Akira-class should be.

Then, in 2022, I started seeing rumors around the STO subreddit: Cryptic was working on a Legendary Akira-class. Now, "Legendary" variants are typically only for "Hero" ships, those that served as the focus of a series (like the various Enterprises, the Defiant, and Voyager). The idea of a Legendary Akira-class was... curious, but also very very exciting.

So I immediately started saving up, and holy shit am I glad I did. When Cryptic announced the Legendary First Strike Bundle and the stats of the ships it would come with (the Legendary Multi-Mission Command Carrier and the not-talking-about-it-in-this-post Legendary Temporal Ops Strike Wing Escort Warbird), it was like Cryptic had read my Christmas list and decided I'd been such a good boy this year that I was gonna get everything I wanted.

This was finally a frame that could be an honest-to-goodness Akira-class. Still nimble, but not a dogfighter, able to take a few on the chin, packing enough firepower to make a Klingon blush, and full Command specialization seating primary and Miracle Worker secondary, giving her access to some fantastic Bridge Officer abilities and arguably the best torpedo-buffing BOFF ability in the game, Concentrate Firepower III.

It was truly an evolution of the Rally Vincent's build, going well beyond mere improvement. The advent of the Advanced Hangar consoles elevated the build even further, making her one of only a handful of ships I have capable of dealing with Elite content despite her decidedly off-meta build.

I genuinely wish I could give this ship a hug. She really is a dream come true for me.

[usafphantom2]

OTD in 1969, The Iconic XB-70 Valkyrie Mach 3 Super Bomber Made Its Last Flight

February 4, 2021 Military Aviation, Military History

Three drag chutes were needed to slow down the landing roll of the XB-70. (Image credit: Reddit edit The Aviationist)

The massive XB-70 Valkyrie is the largest and heaviest airplane ever to fly at Mach 3.

The North American XB-70 Valkyrie was the most ambitious super-bomber project of the Cold War. The massive six-engine bomber was slated to be the ultimate American high-altitude, high-speed, deep-penetration manned nuclear bomber designed to fly high and fast, so as to be safe from Soviet interceptors.

Two Valkyrie prototypes were been built at North American Aviation before the Kennedy Administration cancelled the program as a consequence of the doubts that surrounded the future of manned bombers believed to be obsolete platforms. The threat posed by Soviet SAMs (Surface-to-Air Missiles) put the near-invulnerability of the strategic bomber at high altitudes in doubt. In low-level penetration role, the B-70 offered little performance improvement over the B-52 it was designed to replace (!) and it was much more expensive with shorter range.

Some fascinating variants of the aircraft were proposed. Some envisaged the B-70 carrying an Alert Pod, or flying as a Supersonic Refueler or as a Recoverable Booster Space System (RBSS). You can find all the details about these crazy concepts in this story we have posted last year.

Ezoic

The B-70 program was canceled in 1961 and development continued as part of a research program to study the effects of long-duration high-speed flight with the two XB-70A.

XB-70A number 1 (62-001) made its first flight from Palmdale to Edwards Air Force Base, CA, on Sept. 21, 1964. The second XB-70A (62-207) made its first flight on Jul. 17, 1965. The latter differed from the first prototype for being built with an added 5 degrees of dihedral on the wings as suggested by the NASA Ames Research Center, Moffett Field, CA, wind-tunnel studies.

While the 62-001 made only one flight above Mach 3, because of poor directional stability experienced past Mach 2.5, the second XB-70, achieved Mach 3 for the first time on Jan. 3, 1966 and successfully completed a total of nine Mach 3 flights by June on the same year.

Photo of the XB-70 #1 cockpit, which shows the complexity of this mid-1960s research aircraft. On the left and right sides of the picture are the pilot’s and co-pilot’s control yokes. Forward of these, on the cockpit floor, are the rudder pedals with the NAA North American Aviation trademark. Between them is the center console. Visible are the six throttles for the XB-70’s jet engines. Above this is the center instrument panel. The bottom panel has the wing tip fold, landing gear, and flap controls, as well as the hydraulic pressure gages. In the center are three rows of engine gages. The top row are tachometers, the second are exhaust temperature gages, and the bottom row are exhaust nozzle position indicators. Above these are the engine fire and engine brake switches. The instrument panels for the pilot left and co-pilot right differ somewhat. Both crewmen have an airspeed/Mach indicator, and altitude/vertical velocity indicator, an artificial horizon, and a heading indicator/compass directly in front of them. The pilot’s flight instruments, from top to bottom, are total heat gage and crew warning lights; stand-by flight instruments side-slip, artificial horizon, and altitude; the engine vibration indicators; cabin altitude, ammonia, and water quantity gages, the electronic compartment air temperature gage, and the liquid oxygen quantity gage. At the bottom are the switches for the flight displays and environmental controls. On the co-pilot’s panel, the top three rows are for the engine inlet controls. Below this is the fuel tank sequence indicator, which shows the amount of fuel in each tank. The bottom row consists of the fuel pump switches, which were used to shift fuel to maintain the proper center of gravity. Just to the right are the indicators for the total fuel top and the individual tanks bottom. Visible on the right edge of the photo are the refueling valves, while above these are switches for the flight data recording instruments. (Image credit: NASA)

A joint agreement signed between NASA and the Air Force planned to use the second XB-70A prototype for high-speed research flights in support of the American supersonic transport (SST) program.

However, on June 8, 1966, the XB-70 62-207 was involved in one of the most famous and tragic accidents in military aviation when it collided with a civilian registered F-104N while flying in formation as part of a General Electric company publicity photo shoot over Barstow, California, outside the Edwards Air Force Base test range in the Mojave Desert. The aircraft were flying in formation with a T-38 Talon, an F-4B Phantom II, and a YF-5A Freedom Fighter.

North American XB-70A Valkyrie just after collision. Note the F-104 is at the forward edge of the fireball and most of both XB-70A vertical stabilizers are gone. (U.S. Air Force photo)

As explained in a previous post here at The Aviationist:

Towards the end of the photo shooting NASA registered F-104N Starfighter, piloted by famous test pilot Joe Walker, got too close to the right wing of the XB-70, collided, sheared off the twin vertical stabilizers of the big XB-70 and exploded as it cartwheeled behind the Valkyrie. North American test pilot Al White ejected from the XB-70 in his escape capsule, but received serious injuries in the process. Co-pilot Maj. Carl Cross, who was making his first flight in the XB-70, was unable to eject and died in the crash.

The root cause of the incident was found to be wake turbulence: wake vortices spinning off the XB-70’s wingtip caused Walker’s F-104N to roll, colliding with the right wingtip of the huge XB-70 and breaking apart. As explained in details in this post, wingtip vortices form because of the difference in pressure between the upper and lower surfaces of a wing. When the air leaves the trailing edge of the wing, the air stream from the upper surface is inclined to that from the lower surface, and helical paths, or vortices, result. The vortex is strongest at the tips and decreasing rapidly to zero nearing midspan: at a short distance from the trailing edge downstream, the vortices roll up and combine into two distinct cylindrical vortices that constitute the “tip vortices.

Although research activities continued with the first prototype with a first NASA flight on April 25, 1967, the last one was on Feb. 4, 1969.

The only remaining XB-70 Valkyrie super bomber in on display at the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force at Wright-Patterson AFB in Dayton, Ohio. In October last year, it had to briefly moved outside for display maintenance. Here you can watch a video of the monumental move.

A view of the six massive afterburners on the XB-70 Valkyrie as the aircraft is towed out of its display hangar temporarily for museum maintenance. (Photo: National Museum of the U.S. Air Force via YouTube)

About David Cenciotti

David Cenciotti is a journalist based in Rome, Italy. He is the Founder and Editor of “The Aviationist”, one of the world’s most famous and read military aviation blogs. Since 1996, he has written for major worldwide magazines, including Air Forces Monthly, Combat Aircraft, and many others, covering aviation, defense, war, industry, intelligence, crime and cyberwar. He has reported from the U.S., Europe, Australia and Syria, and flown several combat planes with different air forces. He is a former 2nd Lt. of the Italian Air Force, a private pilot and a graduate in Computer Engineering. He has written five books and contributed to many more ones.

@TheAviationist via X

[captain-astors]

001 for furutui (and/or 002 for Hairu Ihei and Mahito (jjk)) if you want to? (can't see the ask post on your blog anymore so ignore this if you don't feel like it)

Oh! Yes this seems fun.

For Furutui!

when I started shipping it if I did:

I had a dream in which the two of them were out drinking and eventually started to walk back to the office, and while they were crossing a bridge Furuta, was walking up on top of the barrier like a child while they talked about life and ghouls and statistics. Eventually the conversation turned to a sort of dull, half-serious banter. "Get off the wall" "Why?" "You'll fall, idiot." "Aw, do you care?" "No, just get off it." at which point Furuta let himself tip to the side experimentally, and Koori reached out to grab his arm and pull him back. Furuta stepped down onto the normal path, then after that they walked silently and then fell asleep at the office, tangled up too closely to each other with Koori crying silently for a reason he couldn't name himself. When I woke up I decided I liked it and would stick with this.

my thoughts:

They're funny and terrible for each other. I think there should be some biting.

What makes me happy about them:

The inherent complications, nuance, dislike and attachments that come with it make this pairing a lot more intriguing for me than most others in TG for some reason. Also the potential of them both getting what they want, in the most offending way to them possible. Furuta wanted a family and a normal life, but it's a man and the children are sort of feral and adopted, and he cares about them all to some extent anyways? The toybox has caught him. Disastrous for him, delightful for me.

what makes me sad about them:

There's no content for them at all, even from before the great fandom die-out. I feed myself and pester others.

While I like their mindgames there's really just a specific window of time in which most of my contemplations must remain and not a lot of room for things to change without a decent amount of canon-altering which is not my forte.

things done in fanfic that annoy me:

I dislike Koori being portrayed as completely clueless about Furuta's weird schemes and manipulations. He allows them because they provide temporary shelter not because he thinks it's normal. Though, there's only like 3 fics for them in English so I guess beggars can't be choosers.

things I look for in fanfic:

Existing. I'm starving

who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

Furuta shouldn't touch anyone really, I like them together because they're both terrible for eachother in a way that most other characters don't match, but I could see either of them with some variant of Kaneki (Haise for Koori Black Reaper for Furuta). Due to an ask I really need to get around to answering I actually like imagining them all in one terrible Koori-annoying polycule of self-destructive tendencies.

my happily ever after for them: Post-Dragon, Furuta lives, heavily injured and at a mere fraction of his previous potential after the Dragon essentially siphoned all of the power Rize's Kakuhou lent him. Annoyed with the narrative loose ends Furuta is pretty much content to just wait around until he wastes away, that being until a team dealing with the dragon orphans finds him and takes him back to a hospital, not recognizing him due to just how badly he's been eaten by the Dragon. He sure gets recognized by some of the other members of the cast though after treatment and the question basically comes down to "How do we murder him", because V is still trying to protect itself and no one wants to deal with this guy. He's to frail to do much for the time so they just kind of leave him be as he's treated and come to the conclusion that he can live under extremely strict surveilance and secrecy because technically he does still have a lot of intel. Koori, as someone who knew him well to their knowledge, is charged with trying to help pry that out of him. Furuta's knowledge has to help with soothing Shikorae's rampage (who, in this narrative I imagine mainly rampages after the scent of his brother's Kakuhou, which is still in the engine of Furuta's old Quinque) and along the way Hajime, faceless but alive, gets scooped up into the same facility they're keeping Furuta at, and together Furuta and Koori have to navigate being people together as, mostly by Koori's instigation, trying to let Hajime have the "normal life" Furuta deprived him of by proxy under the assumption that his parents were dead and Hajime would be dead soon too, but surprise, you can't just sweep all of your deeds under the rug with a disappearing act. Basically the entire premise is that Furuta has to actually try to take a more constructive approach to this whole fated early death thing and clean up part of the mess of his show, and he is Not Happy but it will be good for him.

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

Usually Furuta’s the big spoon and Koori just huffs about it, but sometimes when Furuta just won’t stop talking while Koori wants to sleep, he flips around and basically shoves Furuta’s face into his chest, drawing him closer to quiet him down and then they’re just left clinging to each other like begrudgingly complicit koalas.

what is their favorite activity:

Most things that they don't have to talk through.

Ihei Hairu

How I feel about this character: 

She's very intriguing to speculate about, and I enjoy how intense she is about her motives and desires, and how obviously corrupted by her upbringing her worldview is. Just wish she was a part of a different series so she could be directly and completely compellingly well-written, but since one cannot change her source the strange thing about TG characters is that I feel the more Ishida leaves vague for them the more fun they are. So I like her a lot.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: 

Matsumae, Koori. Both of these relationships are very bisexual to me.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: 

Rize! I think it would be fun to see the two interact and be strange together.

My unpopular opinion about this character: 

Not much of a fandom left to argue against, not sure.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

my OTP:

Matsuhei probably long-term. I like Koori and her having feelings for eachother as a past, developing event, but they really don't have the messy strangeness I enjoy other than some miscommunications, nor are they just dynamic enough to make up for it. Matsuhei on the other hand, can get strange.

I have a whole fic scenario in my head where they both survive the fight but pass out, leaving Furuta to run off and play the know-nothing cowardly part he still desires to keep without killing Matsumae completely. Ihei survives because despite being stabbed, her half-human nature manages to knit her back together enough to survive, but the this fact spreads quickly and to keep the knowledge that they're all partial ghouls from spreading, the Washuu declare she was actually a full-ghoul who infiltrated their ranks, and throw both of them into Cochlea. Her continued loyalty despite this means they're pretty confident she won't try and tell anyone the truth of her nature, even in a cell. The two of them are placed next to each other, and begin a very messy dynamic of hatred and discussions, which leads to Ihei slowly changing her unquestioning loyalty, which leads to "We have a better chance of getting out some day if we work together" which leads to strange romantic feelings eventually.

my crossover ship:

Uncertain.

a headcanon fact:

She can walk on her hands.

Mahito

How I feel about this character: 

He's interesting, I'm not actually that invested in him his design's just very fun to draw

All the people I ship romantically with this character: 

Not sure! I read a fic between him and not-Itadori-brotherified Choso once which was funny, he was so weird about it. A couple people tagged the art I did a while ago with Nanahito which sounds intriguing, Mahito is definitely too strange to hold up a lasting relationship with either of these people but I think they could be fun having on-and-off things.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: 

His dynamic with Junpei is fun to watch, I love them both.

My unpopular opinion about this character: 

Liking him at all?

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

I don't know, haven't kept up with JJK well enough to know if "geto" used him yet but I think that would be interesting.

my OTP:

Don't have one.

my cross over ship:

I'd like to put him in a container with all of the other messed up love-deprived murderers I like. Not romantically but to have them fight to the death and take the winner like the cricket jar thing.

a headcanon fact:

He does not have an "assigned gender" by design as a curse, but he modified the shape of his soul to give himself the top-surgery stitches because he saw them on Geto and thought they were neat. I added them reflexively in that one drawing but I will commit to the bit now.

[witchywcmans]

FALSE GOD ━━ a miguel o’hara au.

In the Web of Life and Destiny, two variants are always fated to meet and fall in love. Miguel and Willow in Earth-001 ... Miguel and Willodean-June in Earth-1218 ... Miguel and Willodean in Earth-1610 ... are you noticing a pattern? Willodean "Jude" Wright is supposed to meet her soulmate, her Miguel O'Hara in Earth-616 ... until she doesn't. Jude has a complicated relationship with whoever is puppeteering the strings of her life. The daughter of a preacher and a mother who did some very bad things, she moved from her small town in Louisiana to the hustle and bustle of New York. Now a photographer, Jude has always yearned for more. So when she gets a call from her father, telling her that her godfather was murdered and he would've wanted her at the funeral, she decides to pack up her life and hit the road. But you see, Jude Wright was never supposed to go back to Louisiana. And now, a variant of Michael Morbius from Earth-1610 is wreaking havoc on a small town in Louisiana, killing old folks like Jude's godfather. Only one person could correct the canon – who could put Morbius back and keep Jude Wright distracted enough until her real soulmate came along. The last thing he expected, though, was to fall in love with her.

READ CHAPTER 4 HERE ao3 | wattpad

TAGLIST ━━ @saturnknows (want to be added? send me an ask or dm!)