#almost my brainchild

[julesnichols]

I love how I set out intending to write something that was 100% pure crack that I didn't ever wanna see in the show and like I still don't, I'd start killing the hostages if they did this in the show, but also I'm now emotionally attached to my own fic and it's become far more serious (both in content and for me)

#about me #fandom things #writing #it's also made me grow a lot as a writer tbh #and i think the fact that i became more attached than intended is why it's taken me so long to be almost done #i plan on doing a multichap sequel or oneshots in this universe #maybe even both #but even so #it feels like letting go of it by finishing it #and i don't wanna do that idk #but two chapters left now and one of them is done #the other shouldn't take long #and it makes me sad #but like also part of me is so attached that i'm afraid of people hating what i put out there #bc i put so much of myself into this tbh like it's my own baby this fic is my brainchild #and idk idk it's 1 am and i'm musing about how sad and hard it is to let go #and to finish smth that came to mean a lot to me

[aenramsden]

The following is not my idea; it was the original brainchild of a friend of mine named Omicron, with help from various others including EarthScorpion, TenfoldShields, @havocfett and ShintheNinja:

So, you know what I want to do one day? Run (or play in) a D&D campaign in which the Big Bad Super Dragon that is fuckoff ancient and unfathomably powerful and whose actions have shaped history and bent the course of nations and had repercussions on the whole culture and society in the region where it's set; the Bonus Special Boss for some endgame optional quest after you defeat the direct BBEG and win the campaign...

... is a white dragon.

To explain this for people not deep into 5e monster lore; D&D dragons are sapient beings, and known for their instincts and tendencies, and whenever you meet an big evil dragon that's really old it's usually this ancient creature of terrible intellect Smaug-ing it up all over the place.

Except white dragons are fucking stupid. Like, they're still capable of speech and thought! They're just… feral, hungry morons. And you almost never see them portrayed as ancient wyrms for that reason; they lack majesty. Critical Role did it, yes, but even then, Vorugal is explicitly the most bestial member of the Chroma Conclave, and the others are the more intelligent planners and long-term threats. An ancient white as a nation-defining endboss, though; not a thug for a smarter master but as the strongest and biggest threat around is just not the sort of thing you tend to see.

Adventurers: "Oh wise Therunax the Munificent, gold dragon of Law and Good, what can you tell us adventurers of the evil dragons which rule this land?" Therunax the Munificent, 500-year old Gold Dragon: "Good adventurers, know this: this land is torn apart by the evil of Tiamat's spawn. The eastern marches are the dwelling of Furinar the Plague-Bringer, black dragoness whose hoard is a thousand sicknesses contained in the body of her tributes. The southern volcanic mountains are the roosting of Angrar the Wrathful, the fiery red dragon, who brings magmatic fury on all who do not worship him. And the northern peaks are home to Face-Biter Mike, the oldest and most powerful of all, of whom I dread to speak." Adventurers: "F-Face-Biter Mike???" Therunax: "Oh yes, verily indeed; two thousand years has Mike lived, and his eyes have seen the rise and fall of five empires, and a hundred and score champions have sought to slay him; and each and every one he bit their fucking face off."

Like... I want to see a campaign where Face-Biter Mike is genuinely the most powerful dragon in the region, if not the entire world. Where sometimes he descends on a city to grab himself some meatsicles and causes a localised ice age by the beat of his vast wings and the frigid wastes of his mighty breath and by the chill his mere presence brings to everything for miles around him, and everyone just has to deal with that for the next decade. An entire era of civilization comes to an end, an empire falls, tens of thousands starve in the winter, all because Mike wanted a snack. Where his hoard is an unfathomably vast mass of jewels and artefacts and precious stones frozen in an unmelting glacier, except he is a nouveau riche idiot with fuckall appraising skill, so half of his hoard is coloured glass or worthless knicknacks, and he doesn't give a shit.

"Your Draconic Majesty, this crown is… It's pyrite." "Yeah, well, it's brighter than this dusty old thing made out of real gold, it's my new best treasure. Throw the other one away." "…throw the Burnished Tiara of Bahamut, forged in the First Age of Man, your majesty???" "See? I can't even remember its fucking name." "But my lord-" "DO YOU WANT TO BE A MEATSICLE" "…I will fetch a trash bag, your majesty."

But at the same time, he's not stupid, he's just simple, and in some ways that makes him more dangerous than the usual kinds of scheming Big Bad you see in these things, while simultaneously justifying why Orcus remains on his throne (because he's lazy). Face-Biter Mike doesn't make convoluted plans or run labyrinthine schemes; he just has a talent for violence and a pragmatic, straightforward approach to turning any kind of problem he struggles with into a problem that can be resolved with violence. Face-Biter Mike has one talent and it's horrifying physical power, so his approach to any complicated problem is "how do I turn this into a situation where I can fly down and bite this dude's face off?" with absolutely no regard for the collateral damage or consequences of doing so, because those are also things he can turn into face-bitable problems.

"My lord, the dread necromancer Nikodemion is using his undead dragons to attempt a conquest of the eastern kingdom; his agents are everywhere, his plans are centuries in the making, what can we do against such a mastermind?" "I'm gonna fly over the capital and eat the eastern king." "M-my lord???" "The kingdom will collapse without leadership, Nikodemion will win his war, he'll take the capital and crown himself king." "And that helps us… how?" "Once he does I'll fly over to the capital and eat him." "…" "This is why you advisors all suck. You're all about convoluted plans when the only thing I need to win is know where my enemy is so I can fly down there and eat him. Stop overthinking things."

And, like, yeah, it's a simplistic plan, but when you're several hundred tons of nigh invincible magical death, you don't need brilliant strategy; the smartest way to win a war is, in this case, the simplest. He's not even all that clever at figuring out the consequences of face-biting, he's just memorised the common consequences of doing so.

(If you want to go all in on Mike being the major mover and shaker in the region; Nikodemion only even has a pet zombie dragon because Mike killed the last dragon to show up and contest his turf but wasn't going to eat a whole dragon by himself. Nikodemion got to stick around and amass that much power because Mike ate the Hero of the Realm while he was adventuring because he figured the Hero would come and try to slay him at some point. Nikodemion got started because Mike ate half the leadership of the Academy of High Magic who typically keep evil wizards and necromancers in check. And then eventually this product of Mike's casual, careless actions becomes a big enough problem to bother Mike personally, at which point Mike eats him too.)

He doesn't even really fail upwards, either! He is regularly reduced to nothing but the glacier he stores his hoard in, but he's Face-Biter Mike so nobody wants to commit to actually ending him forever lest they get their faces bitten the fuck off. And his hoard's in a huge-ass magical glacier so nobody can get to it without running into the Invading Russia problem; it's hard to wage war when everything is frozen over and you're both starving and freezing to death. Once he's been beaten back to his central lair and has lost all his holdings… I mean, he's still a problem, but he's a far away problem. So he loses his assets and spends a decade in a cave brooding it up while no one dares risk trying to actually kill him, and then a generation or two later he flies down to a kobold colony and gets himself some minions, or a dragon-worshipping mage comes to offer his service against a pittance from his hoard, or a particularly stupid cult starts thinking they can get in good with him and leech off his power, and then he's (hah) snowballing again.

He's also got a very… well, the kind of weird Charisma that Grineer bosses do. Like Sargas Ruk, who's a malformed idiot, but oddly charismatic. As he's a dragon, that makes him a natural sorcerer and thus Charisma is all he needs. He's pretty relaxed when he isn't in a face-biting mood, and he's kind of infectiously optimistic, because his life has taught him that he will succeed as long as he perseveres. So he just believes it.

And sometimes that's really refreshing to work for, as an evil minion of darkness! It's like, you're coming to your Evil Dragon Lord with terrible news; you've worked for evil overlords before, you know how it goes. You fall to your knees weeping and tell him that you've failed to seize the incredibly powerful magical artifact, you think your life is forfeit. And he's just like "Eh, it's okay, these things are all over the place. Better luck next time. You remember the guy who took it, right?" and you go "Y-yes, oh great lord!" and he's like "Sweet tell me his name later and I'll grab it" and then eats a frozen adventurer he kept around as a snack.

His followers tend to quickly realise that if they fail him, bringing some temple's silver or a sack of brightly coloured beads or a couple of dead cows means he's super forgiving because at least he's got something out of the day. "Oh boy, cows? It's been forever since I had those, ever since the Orc Steppe Nomads took over it's all about goats and onions. Today is a good day." He's a master of delegation by dragon standards, in that he just tells you "Just go get it done, I don't care how" rather than micromanaging you and constantly appearing as an image in smoke or taking over your campfire.

The key part of Face-Biter Mike as a threat to players (because he exists in the context of a D&D campaign) works well in that you can rely on several known quantities:

He will not pull sneaky shit that you don't see coming

He will not make convoluted plans that you must work to unravel

He will consistently attempt to come down and wreck you personally if he finds the opportunity and you are a threat to him

You cannot fight him head-on (at least not until the last leg of the campaign, and ideally as an optional boss rather than mandatory)

So as long as you are good at staying under the radar, thwarting his minions (whom he gives broad orders to with almost zero oversight) and not putting yourself in face-biting range, you can deal with him. If you succeed, it won't be the first time Mike has lost his assets and had to go brood in his glacier for a decade or two before rebuilding. It happens; he can deal with it. And that's a win for you within the context of a single campaign, so take the win.

And if you're not going to use him as an enemy, he works pretty well as a quest-giver, too! The costs for failure are obvious and straightforward, and "do whatever, just get me mine" means that players have a lot of freedom in accomplishing their goals. As far as evil overlords go he is actually one of the least dangerous to work for; his pride is relatively subdued by draconic standards, his goals are simple and typically achievable, and he is easily pleased.

(There's also a good chance he is the forefather of any draconic sorcerer in your party, because Face Biter Mike is a deadbeat dad.)

#d&d #face-biter mike #I want this #writing #gaming #advice #funny #criticism #fandom

[bakugoushotwife]

TLC

a/n: this lovely lil comfort fic was requested by my lawfully wedded wife, @keigotakamiz !! i know hawks if your brainchild, so i hope i did him justice! as for everyone else, i know i know, a sfw fic???

pairings: keigo takami (hawks) x fem!reader

cw: periods, comfort, just fluff tehee

wc: 2k

Keigo was extremely perceptive. He may have a carefully curated persona for the other pro-heroes and the hero commission, and that was not one of a loving and considerate partner. But for you, his character was thrown out the window. He was empathetic, highly in tune with you and actually a very doting and caring man. That’s why he was so anxious, you haven’t been yourself all day. Your replies have been short and almost angry with him while he’s been on patrol, and you turned down every option for lunch he offered. This was utterly unlike you, his easygoing, warm, and bubbly girlfriend. So he cuts his patrol short, Mirko owes him one anyway, she’ll take over. He realizes what must be interfering with his pretty girl’s mood, so he stops to get you the food he knows you’ll like because it’s the only thing you ever crave on your period. He takes the liberty to get some other stuff too, some flowers just to see you smile, a few sweet snacks for after lunch, and the ugliest stuffed animal he could find, an inside joke for the two of you. It started years ago, when you were both still teenagers. He found a Frankenstein-esque plush and held it up next to his face, claiming it was his twin. Ever since then, you’ve gifted each other horrendous stuffed animals just to get the other one to laugh. 

He’s hoping this plan will be foolproof, cutting his day short to come check on you was rarely something you took as a good thing, never wanting to be the reason that he didn’t take his job as seriously as you would hope. However, he felt like this was a special exception, given your curt texts and irritated looking snapchats. He takes the bags and carefully secures them, flying over to your place to get there as quickly as possible. He ducks inside through the open window, looking around your vacant living room and kitchen. He tucks his wings back down, not noticing anything out of place. He approaches your closed door, extending his hand to push it open. His suspicions are confirmed by the darkness of your room, the curtains drawn tightly and the TV on low volume. You were splayed out on the bed, cuddling a pillow for dear life. At the sound of your door creaking open, you sit up quickly, prepared to chuck the pillow at your intruder. 

Your arm falls to the side when you see your boyfriend standing in the doorway, slightly illuminated by the light in the hall. He closes his eyes and gives you a sweet soft smile, holding the shopping bags up by his face. 

“Hey pretty girl. I thought you could use some TLC.” He hums, closing the door behind him before making his way to the edge of your bed. Your irritated gaze slightly softens at the sight of him, and you flop back into laying down, groaning aloud. 

Your back is turned to him, arms still wrapped tightly around that pillow. He sighs a bit. You’re definitely on your period. He reaches his hand out to rest on your hip, squeezing the bone gently. He pushes his glasses up to function as a headband, and he tugs his earmuffs down around his neck. 

“I brought you some food.” He coos, a singsong lilt to his voice as if he’s enticing you to eat. 

You groan again, flailing your body against the pillow. “Don’t wanna eat.” 

“Yes you do, you just don’t wanna sit up.” He chuckles out knowingly, his gloved fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you into a seated position. You certainly don’t help him at all, all your body weight working against him. He sighs, moderately amused by you. He knows better than anyone how clingy you tend to be around this time of the month. You’re powerful and independent, all things he values about you, but he can’t deny how nice it feels to be needed, even if you were playing hard to get. You wouldn’t admit it, but he’d ask anyway.  “Aw, babygirl, did you miss me?” 

You huff, rolling your eyes at him before snatching the bags he brought. You squirm under the covers, a sure sign that you’re pleased by his offering. You fished out your food and some medicine he brought, and finally, your gaze towards him becomes loving, and you lean into his body. He smiles, knowing you missed him more than anything, and while all these goodies were nice, all you ever wanted was him by your side. Sure, you’ll feign annoyance in the fact he took the rest of the day off to hold you and eat shitty convenience store snacks, but after that, you’ll cry your annoyance out in his shirt and then fall peacefully asleep to him telling you all about patrol. 

“Somebody definitely missed me.” He gleams, a shit-eating grin splayed across his cheeks as he presses a kiss to yours. 

You hum in agreement, popping the pills for some relief and picking at the food he brought you. He reached over you and grabbed the bag, digging out the ugly stuffed animal he brought you. It was supposed to be some sort of bird, he thinks, but the way it was printed across the fabric made it look more like a feathered…deer or something. What a perfect gift. He holds it up excitedly. 

“Another one to add to the collection, it made me think of you.” He jests, setting it in your lap. He watches you in adoration, the giggle you give him after you see it was worth any attitude he needed to disarm to get to his sweet girl again. 

You pick up the stuffed animal and hug it close, chuckling at the ugly thing. “Say you, I’m pretty sure this was a misprint of your merchandise.” You tease, checking the tag to confirm your suspicions. Now you’re howling, the ugly stuffed animal was no animal—it was a severely fucked up version of your superhero man. 

He yanks it back from you to see the tag himself, shaking his head at his hero name scrawled across the label. He’s chortling too, horrified by such a mistake but glad it could bring you such joy. Laughter is the best medicine after all, aside from snuggles, of course. You reach over and tug the toy back, cuddling it back to your chest. 

“This is my prized possession now.” 

He rolls his eyes, taking the opportunity to properly remove most of Hawks’ uniform, placing his glasses, earmuffs, and gloves on the bedside table. He shrugs out of his heavy coat and slips out of his boots, tossing the fabric to the floor. He’s certainly not getting out of bed now, not when you’re eating willingly and leaning into his side, an appetizer to cuddling. You groan at the feeling of another cramp rolling through, the medicine not kicking in yet. You pout, your bottom lip wavering and wobbling as you remember how bad the day has been, and that Keigo must have taken the day off to come to your rescue too, and you laid out of work! 

He knew it was coming, so he turns his body a little more to give you access to his chest, where you promptly bury your head under his guidance. His hand comes up to secure you there, resting on the back of your head. The sounds of your little sobs and sniffles soon follow, and he nearly chuckles at how you try to quieten yourself even after all this time. He figures you’re a bit embarrassed to be vulnerable, and he supposes that bit still applies to him as well. But still, you were a leading lady on your own, perhaps it made you feel a little silly to reduce yourself to needing his comfort, so he wouldn’t rub it in too bad. 

“Oh, c’mon babe. Let loose. It’s just you and me anyway, let me be your lil tissue.” He hums encouragingly, his other hand rubbing circles in your back. 

“It’s just be-been such a r-r-rough day!” You stutter through your tears, your wails certainly increase in loudness though, and your hands grasp at his black and yellow turtleneck. He hums through it, knowing you just needed to get it out for a second. 

“I bet, sweets. I’m sorry you’re feeling so bad, but you know I’m not going anywhere ‘til you feel better.” He says, leaning back a little so he could see your face. He smiles sympathetically, holding your tear-stained cheeks in his warm hands. “And before you even start, Mirko owed me a favor anyway so everything’s covered.” 

You smile softly at his comforts, your eyes fluttering shut from the sweet paths his thumbs rubbed in your skin. His smile spreads a bit, and he leans forward to kiss your forehead. 

“Wanna lay down? I’m multi-use, tissue, wallet, sex machine, heating pad, etc, etc.” He smirks a bit, laying back against your impossibly comfortable pillows. He understood why you clung to one until he got here. “C’mere, wanna hold you.” He says a little bit more commanding, just in case you were thinking of being difficult. 

You laugh softly, crawling on your hands and knees back up to your positioning on the bed. He lay on his back, his arms spread to the side as he waited for you to pick exactly how you wanted to curl up on him. He gives you such a kind smile, amber eyes twinkling with his adoration for you. You can’t help but return his grin, his energy always contagious. He reaches out for your hip, tugging you closer to him. You both snicker a bit as you fall the short distance to his chest, laying with your top half stomach down on top of him, legs tangled together in an effort to create maximum comfort. 

“There. Much better, now, huh?” He quizzes, the pads of his fingers smoothing circles into your lower back. You nod, heaving out a long sigh as you snuggle your face into his warmth. 

He knew it wouldn’t be long until you fell asleep, and the prospect made him smile. Whether you ever said it or not, being the only person that could ease your pain and lull you back to sleep was the highest of achievements in his book. He would relish the way you snore lightly and the way you would squirm closer and closer to him as if you wanted to be in his skin. He’ll flip on a show to watch, mostly just for the background noise, because he would watch you sleep. You always looked so peaceful, the stress lines in your face relaxed and your nose twitching on occasion. You were a work of art, maybe a difficult one, but his nonetheless, and he wouldn’t trade this for anything. He prided himself. He can read all your signs, know exactly what you need, and be that. It was the only thing he really wanted to be good at, and luckily he seemed to be a natural at it. He looks down, and sure enough, your lips are parted and barely audible snores slip out. He smirks, and turns the TV up a little, his eyes comfortably watching you sleep until a nap claims him, too.

#kyleewritesmha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #mha fluff #hawks fluff #bnha hawks #takami keigo #keigo takami

[bucknastysbabe]

No Conviction - Ser Criston Cole x Aegon II

For the mother of our brainchild, SMOOCHIELINI @aemondsbabe

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//Degradation, Criston is taking out his frustrations and prior guilt, fat shaming, dub-con, Criston is mean, unreliable narrator, manipulation. Angst, M/M, rare pair, Bondage (light), anal fingering, dildo use, there is prep!, bratting, feminization, Aegon’s a slut at the end of the day, Criss priss takes the idea of an order and skews it, chubby!Aegon, prostate orgasm, nipple play

A/N: THIS IS NASTY DIRTY we will be back to our usual content soon, I put the usual taglist but heed the pairing!

Taglist: @arcielee @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @valeskafics @lovelykhaleesiii @fairysluna @starogeorgina @targaryen-madness @sugarpoppss2 @aemonds-holy-milk @dr-aegon

Ao3: Updated later

Alicent’s big doe eyes were watery, her hair wild. She seemed to become increasingly fraught by the day— it pained Ser Criston to know why she was so wracked with nerves. They both were aware of the plans for the future. Very big plans as Viserys continued to decay. He noted the Queen’s nails were bleeding again.

Criston grabbed her shaking palms, soothing her with a murmur, “My Queen, breathe, what is the issue?”

The Knight was grateful he had gloves on or Alicent’s ripped nails might have drawn blood. The redhead took a deep inhale and exhaled. She begged him, a frantic edge to her tone, “Aegon. He’s uncontrollable. I don’t know what to do. He brought whores into the Keep Sept! Ser Darklyn caught..my son..defiling the place.”

She spat ‘my son’ as if it was bile in her mouth. Criston clenched his teeth, anger beginning to rise up from the pit of his stomach. He was utterly revolted. They were going to thrust this wanton, deviant, gluttonous Prince onto the throne.

They had no other choice.

The green queen’s tone grew hard as she ordered, “Pay him a visit. Make him understand the castle is not his playground. Use any means possible. Your queen demands it.”

Criston squeezed her palms and nodded. He rumbled, “Prince Aegon’s heresy will not go unpunished, you have my promise.” Alicent turned away with a thanks, nails back to her lips. The white knight had an order to execute, striding off to the Prince’s quarters.

He stopped to raise a brow at Ser Arryk standing guard. The twin grumbled, “Princeling’s sleeping off his revels, by all means, go ahead.” He gave a wry smile, Criston not returning the look. Criston dismissed Cargyll, “The Queen requires you to take my place at her side. I’ve been sent to deal with Aegon.”

The other Kingsguard nodded, rolling his eyes at Criston’s serious demeanor. Cole watched him descend down the hallway, turning a corner before opening Aegon’s door. The knight wrinkled his nose at the smell of wine and musk— Aegon sprawled out in his bed, naked.

A bottle of wine sat on the side table. Criston’s eyes jerked to the foot of the grand bed. His lips twisted downwards at the ropes, leather, the collection of ivory to ebony carved cocks. The marcher was stunned. The open display of debauchery. An outwardly sinful collection. He swallowed reflexively, deciding on what to do.

Dark eyes roved up to the Prince. He’d grown rather fleshy with drink and overindulgence at the table. For a young man of twenty, a dragon rider, Aegon had the soft curves of a plump maid. Criston could almost laugh— Aegon probably spent too much time on his back to get a sweat working even with all the fucking he did.

He stalked over toward the side of the bed, leering down at Aegon. Criston had an idea pop in his head— a nasty one. Beating Aegon served no gain. The princeling would just snivel and cry, delving deeper into his cups. The knight’s cock stirred at the image of wide eyes and tears falling down fat cheeks.

Aegon was pretty enough, soft enough, tits grown much bigger than Rhaenyra had at the time he coveted her, sullied his cloak for her. His white hair was rumpled, lips, and cheeks feminine and plump. Criston was well acquainted with wide violet eyes and long lashes. He reminded Cole too much of Ali with that look.

Criston barked, “Aegon!”

The prince stirred and whined, rolling onto his soft tummy, exposing more plush thigh and a round ass. Criston rolled his eyes, ignoring his stirring cock. Aegon’s pallid fleshy hips had jagged pink marks, a sign of the glutton gaining too much for his skin to keep up. The marcher couldn't understand how the buffoon had no shame in his naked body, especially in a state such as this.

Criston’s eyes jerked back to the foot of the bed. Aegon was ruled by his extreme hedonism. His nasty thought blossomed into a plan. The knight sighed in annoyance. He’d remain chaste, but Aegon would get some sense fucked into him.

Criston undid his gauntlets in quick snaps, eyes blown and focused on the prince. Next came his pauldrons, dropping to the floor in a loud clank. Aegon snuffled and stirred, groaning, “Fuck off Cargyll, m’alive.”

Finally, the heavy cuirass was off. The marcher remained in his white garb. He took off his boots before snatching the phials of oil and the biggest carved cock available. The cloak was neatly placed out of sight— Criston would deal with his guilt later. This was for the crown, for his queen, for the future of Westeros.

He placed the heavy cock down on the bedside table, placing a knee on the plush bed. Aegon finally jerked and squawked, reddened eyes wide. His puffy lips opened and closed like a fish. The prince questioned “Cole? What in the seven hells are you doing here? I’m trying to rest! Did you not hear me tell Cargyll to fuck off?”

Criston wanted to snarl and jerk the brat around. He remained quiet, face placid, staring Aegon down. After taking a breath, he spoke, “I came to check on you. I don’t appreciate the attitude, my prince. You’ve been more withdrawn than usual.”

Aegon’s face softened, eyes gleaming from the attention Criston was lathering upon his minuscule ego. He murmured, “This isn’t some scheme from Mother, is it? You merely care for Aemond.” The blonde’s mouth pouted, face eager for a smidgeon of praise.

“No. I care for all of you. What’s going on Aegon? You surround yourself in Flea Bottom, but you seem lonely around the Keep. I notice more than you think.” Criston was not lying when he said his piece. Aegon irked him but he held affection for all of Alicent’s children. He also knew Aegon sought touch and affirmation in the lowest of places.

Aegon’s face softened, his body still bared to Criston’s sight. He mumbled, cheeks flushing, “I am already an idiot fool, I can’t fight, nor will I be as smart as Aemond. What is the saying? The black sheep.”

Criston placed a knee on the plush bed, leaning to cup a full cheek. He replied, “The black sheep of the family, yes. Although I believe that title is for the bitch on Dragonstone. You don’t trust yourself enough, hm? You never gave yourself a chance.”

Aegon nuzzled into his palm, eyes growing teary and cheeks flushing. He inhaled a bit, body shifting. The prince complained, “Why are you here? To make me feel worse? It’s too late. This is what I am. I’d rather be drunk than try and be laughed at more.”

Criston put his other knee on the bed, climbing towards Aegon. He purred, “So you’d rather spread your legs like a two stag whore and guzzle wine, feast and fuck your life away?” Aegon whimpered softly as Criston jerked the prince underneath him, pulling him up by thick hips.

“Ah- what are you doing?”

“Maybe you’ll learn some worth if I fuck it into you, pretty princeling,” He quipped back, fingertips digging into pliant flesh. He felt good. Too good. Aegon squirmed but Criston had him pinned under his toned frame. The prince whined, “Why, don’t, this is...no!”

“Your wanton pussy says no to me then? How strange,” Criston hummed, “Aemond would never defile a sept like you have. Disgusting.” The pale body under him struggled, tears pouring from the blonde’s eyes. Criston reached around to grab at a rock-hard cock, laughing meanly as he gave tentative pumps.

“Truly are a deviant. You probably dreamed of this,” he groped Aegon’s fat belly, “A glutton too. You were so slim. What happened? Aemond had a pudgy face. You’ve got tits now.”

Aegon mewled pathetically, bucking back into Criston’s hips. He whined, “Stop it, stop it, s’not that bad!” Criston snorted, grabbing a handful of chubby tits, Aegon sobbing and shivering. The knight pinched at the stretched nipple and swore, “Plump little princess. Content to laze around and get her pussy fucked all day. You have no conviction. No ambition to rule your kingdom.”

Criston reached over to grab the oil, Aegon’s sniveling music to the marcher’s ears. The prince tried to sneer, “Y-you swore to be chaste, you already fucked that up! Picking another Valyrian again?”

“No, no, simpleton. As much as I disgustingly lusted for a Targaryen princess on my cock, I have doubled over my faith. This is merely a lesson for you. Smart girl, wish you used your bigger head more, it is a scheme from your mother,” his gloved hand cracked across Aegon’s peachy ass, “As I pondered, figured you’d be apt to listen with a cock up your cunt.”

Teary doll eyes and trembling lips stared over a pale shoulder. Aegon’s white hair hung limp in his face. He tried to squirm again, pissed off, by his swears and leg kicking out. Criston shoved the softling by his neck, Aegon crying out in frustration.

The knight reached back for that discarded rope, yanking Aegon’s skinny wrists up and trying them. Criston hissed, “Goddamn brat. That’s what you are. You’re going to listen and maybe I’ll make your needy pussy feel good.” He was disgusted with himself— Aegon’s strangled moans were delicious.

The headboard clattered as Criston tested the ties. He took a moment to murmur, “Too tight?” Aegon rasped, heaving a sob, “N-no! Fuck me already! Make your point!” Criston’s lips quirked up, sliding a calloused thumb over Aegon’s twitching entrance, drawing a pitiful whine.

He poured oil over the twitching pucker, slicking his gloved fingers up. Criston had no experience with this but he knew an ass had no lubrication. Therefore, it was his job to open Aegon up. The prince squirmed impatiently, blotchy red cheeks ripe with embarrassment.

Criston could be gentle. But the leather whip told him otherwise. He pressed two fingers against the tight ring, trying to work himself in with circular movements. Aegon mewled, chubby thighs trembling, arching his back into a thick crease. Dark eyes hungrily watched Aegon's softened body fold and shake, idly worried why he thought it to be so fetching to the gaze.

“You’ve let yourself go to seed. No better than some lord's fat spoilt daughter. You’ve seen Aemond,” his other hand pinched Aegon’s back roll meanly, grinning at the prince’s whimpery pleads, “He’s lean and talented, even with one eye. You could’ve built yourself up in the yard.”

Aegon cried out as Criston’s oily fingers dipped inside the ring of muscle, the knight roughtly shoving them in deep. Aegon thrashed at the burn, cock bobbing against his drooping gut. The elder continued, “You might’ve been decent with a sword. Maybe you could read up and try to be smart? Aemond studies for hours.”

Criston cruelly jabbed his fingers in short thrusts as Aegon whined and babbled, “I- I can speak Valyrian! Stop talking about him now!” Aemond made Aegon’s hackles raise easily— the dutiful brother, the better son, the beloved. Alicent had eyes for the special son and his monstrous dragon.

Criston’s fingers curled against a nub that make the softling jolt in his ropes, throwing his wild hair back. The knight raised a brow— he’d heard Aegon talking about a spot that made the male whores squeal once. This must be it.

“I’m merely giving you some advice, Aemond excels. I could get you into fighting shape, hm?” He drug padded tips against the little spot, Aegon breathily moaning, “Ser Criston, Ser, please! No more about him!”

“Should’ve been born with a cunt. Let him breed you up with pretty Valyrian babies. You’re close enough anyways, always crying and needing your achy cunt pleased. Tits and hips made for babes. Greedy, greedy, greedy,” he tutted. Criston eagerly thrust his fingers, a grin plastered on his handsome face, eyes feral. The squelching added to Aegon's embarrassment, desire, and needs.

Aegon made a desperate noise, shivering all over. Criston flipped Aegon onto his back, seeing the fuss. The prince whined as his wrists twisted, eyes turned away, pouty lips swollen from biting. Criston eyed the milky cum decorating Aegon’s striped lower belly.

“Whore. Is that what we have to do to keep you in line? Keep you fucked out, drunk, and fed?” He snarled, face dangerously close. Aegon spread his thick thighs, tears leaking down his fat cheeks. The prince moaned “Fuck meeee, fuck meee, please just fuck me! I’ll be good!”

Criston groped at a tender breast, demanding, “You’ll be a good what?”

Aegon sulked as he huffed, eyes finally on Criston’s dark gaze. The knight slapped his fatty thigh, the prince wailing, “Your good little princess! The princess! Yes! I’ll listen!”

The brunette cooed, “Good girl, you’ll get your pussy fucked again. Such a lustful sort. Gorgeous whore. Look’it you.” His soiled gloves took their time squeezing Aegon’s curves. He hooked his fingers into a deep belly button, and the blonde began to whine again. His once-softened cock was already straining against his stomach.

“What? Gods. Surely all this blubber doesn’t turn you on? You need a corset, my Princess,” he laughed again.

Aegon stammered, “N-no, all this touching. S'sensitive.”

“Mhm, sure Aegon, you think I don’t see you at supper? Never miss supper do you? Ruled by your own greed. How will you be king? We’ll be penniless! Easy for your uncle and sister to take over.”

"I'll listen, you can be my hand, keep me in line," Aegon wetly cried, "Please, please, Serrr, need it."

Criston hummed in contentment, stretching black gloves against ivory thighs, spreading Aegon wide open. He smirked at the way Aegon's belly bunched into two thick rolls, forcing his little tits up. The knight swallowed down drool, he mustn't lap or suckle. He had to break his prince down some more.

The dark haired knight reluctantly leg go of a thigh, eyes drifting from Aegon's used hole. He grabbed that carved cock from earlier, slathering the earlier discarded oil onto it, something floral scenting the pungent air. The prince mewled and spread his legs, puffy lips swollen and spit-slick. Criston muttered, "Where the fuck do you even get these things...this one is lumped.."

Aegon panted, "S'for that spot."

"The spot that makes the spoilt princess squeal?"

Violet eyes watered some more, Aegon swallowing down a whine, softly pleading Criston- promising his utmost attention, duty, and service. Only if the Kingsguard would just use the toy! Criston smiled darkly, shoving the bulbous tip of the ebony cock into Aegon's stretched hole. The younger cried out, back arching again, almost sobbing with pleasure.

The marcher focused on settling it deep inside, pleased with the knowledge it would rub Aegon's tiny sweet spot raw. His hands were still gloved, he might fuck around with Aegon's small pink cock. Criston began to pump it in and out, watching tied wrists struggle as Aegon whimpered and moaned.

He shifted further forward, white garments rubbing against sensitive skin. It was as if Criston was practically fucking Aegon now, hand holding the toy being pistoned by his hips. His other hand groped its way up Aegon's flushed body, thumbing and pulling at a puffy nipple. Criston shook his head, commenting, "Your tits are growing princess, look how eager you are, shoving them into my palm."

He pinched harder, Aegon crying out in pleasure-pain. Criston leaned forward to hiss "We need to do something about your teat before they're bigger than your wife's. I expect some riding and training, yes?" Aegon babbled and sniffled, nodding along, slurred promising. The elder smiled down, easing his grip, patting Aegon's cheek.

"S-Ser, harder, I beg of you, m'close, I'll be sosososo good!"

"If you continue to be good after this, then you'll be rewarded every time. I think that's a good plan," Cole remarked, hand drawing dangerously close to Aegon's flushed prick, "I always have to handle you brats anyways. You're just a brattier princess who needs special treatment. Like your fucking bitch sister."

Aegon's thighs and ass clenched down on the thick cock, hitching on a warbling sob. The Kingsguard licked his lips, suddenly aware he was biting at them. He leered as he gripped the handful of cock, thumbing at the leaking tip. Cole reminisced with a frown, "Rhaenyra was more pliant after I played with her clit too, I guess you two are more similar than I thought. Deceptively pretty."

The prince's breathing had grown so thin it was as if he was breathing through a straw, eyes wide and lolling around, mewling and carrying on. Criston kept ranting, raising himself into a tizzy, "Luckily your hungry cunt will be attended to. Only in the keep. Until you can prove yourself to be competent! Can you respond to that?"

Aegon babbled, squirming from the pressure on his oversensitive cockhead, the Kingsguard fucking the carved toy into his ass, dragging across that little gland. Criston hummed, "There we go, the princess can behave when her clit's being rubbed hm? S'too much? You're leaking all over me, messy girl." He was having absolute joy with this, Aegon wailing and painting his soft tummy repeatedly, pearly seed shining on his pallid skin.

He'd roughened his touches, drove that ebony cock harder, lost in Aegon's cries. The poor thing busted again, begging for mercy, red-faced and spent. Criston felt that was enough, easing the toy out. He scooped up the copious seed and fed it into Aegon's slobbery lips, the whore lapping it up dutifully, hazy eyes the picture of a sweet royal. A good, well-behaved Targaryen.

Criston patted his cheek again, humming, "Good. I expect to see you at dinner. Then we shall discuss further plans. Whore."

He crawled off the bed, taking off his messy gloves and tucking them away with a shiver. Disgust crawled up the knight's spine. He turned toward the window as he put his armor back on. Aegon whined, "W-where are you going? Can we not talk about the plans here?"

He glared at the sot, scoffing, "Not like that we will. Get yourself cleaned up, I'll be taking my leave. Listen to as I have told you, Aegon. Criston donned his cloak, inwardly counting how many flogs he would receive for his sin. For the wetness in his breeches. For his hardened cock and desire for Aegon's wanton nature.

Aegon arrived at dinner well-behaved, quiet, and sipping his wine. He cast uneasy looks between Ser Criston and Alicent. The queen smiled, "I know you would help, Ser Cole, he looks better already." Criston watched those pouty lips tremble. Perhaps it soothed the scarred tissue of his heart caused by another. His lips quirked up as he bowed his head, "No issue, my queen, Aegon needs a firmer hand."

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aegon ii x criston cole #criston cole x aegon ii targaryen #hotd rare pair

[rayshippouuchiha]

My Roman Empire is my historical minded (read: misogynistic) male classmate saying shit like:

"I'll respect women when it's proven that they contributed to anything in history but child rearing"

and my (female) history teacher listing inventions and famous things/scientific discoveries, ect.; naming the men these things are contributed to and then naming the women these things were stolen from.

And you may wonder why she's not listing the women that got the recognition. My classmate loudly and obnoxiously wondered the same.

And she told him last time that she will start listing the names of the women that weren't almost erased from history because of the hubris and pride of men like him the moment she runs out of names that were.

Also I'm not sending this as an Anon bc anyone who thinks like my classmate is welcome to fight me lol like imagine doing years/decades of research either with a team or by yourself and then everything you worked for is published/gets known as someone else's brainchild. 100% of the time it's a mentor/husband/teammates or just people that should've been trustworthy. (Yes I'm quoting the last part)

So yeah my Roman empire is my history teacher reading my classmate for filth

fuck yes that's glorious and absolutely what he deserved

#RayRambles

[endeline]

We'll Be Alright

Paring: Paige Bueckers x Reader Warnings: Angst with no comfort, closeted Paige, breakups, edited and written at 3 a.m. Words: 1,403 A/n: This is my first fic so feel free to critique the hell out of it! (The woman is making me write, send help.) Summary: "I just can’t be seen with you for a while… I can’t be with you for a while," she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. I watched as her face crumpled under the weight of her confession. She turned away, avoiding my gaze, and in that moment, I felt my world tilt on its axis.

‘I’ve heard her wrong,’ that’s my first reaction, the only rational explanation. ‘I had to have heard her wrong.’ And I almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, because there’s no way this is happening; it’s not possible. Out of everything I’ve learned in this life, only one thing remains steadfast: Paige won’t leave me, not like this. We've been each other's anchors for too long, willingly entwined each other into every facet of our lives—school, family, friends, work; everything leads back to Paige. My life isn’t mine anymore, it’s ours. You can’t just walk away from that; ‘she won’t walk away from that.’

She holds all of me within her grasp. I've given her everything, laid my heart bare at her feet and begged her to take it. I’m not sure I can even remember how to function without her anymore, and I really don’t want to have to re-learn. 

At this, I have to take a breath - ‘she isn’t leaving you’—unclenching my fists, the pain of my nails digging into my palms fades into the background and I try to slow my pounding heart.

‘She isn’t doing this,’ ‘you heard her wrong, just ask her to repeat herself, she isn’t doing this’—I repeat like a mantra. I feel myself begin to open my mouth, but in my panic, I seem to have forgotten what to do next, how to speak, what to say.

I don’t have to though; as I watch her bury her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, I know I've heard her correctly.

Time slows to a stop as I stare at her, the very fabric of our shared existence unraveling before my eyes. She’s trembling, her form completely hunched over, elbows resting heavily on her knees. I strain to hear the faintest sound of her sobs, unsure if it's her or my own heartbeat drowning out the world around me. Everything goes numb, or at least I think I’m going numb; I might be dying. 'I think I’m dying.’ 

One week earlier:

KK has perched her phone precariously above her stove, and she’s behind me. Her latest brainchild? A cooking show live, which is apparently just me awkwardly fumbling through a recipe in front of thousands of people, while KK assumes the role of my enthusiastic (if somewhat reckless) sous chef.  She’s so busy scaring me half to death with her questionable knife skills and insistence upon dancing around the kitchen, requiring me to guard her away from the open flame and from knocking over everything on her chopping board (again), that we both miss Paige getting home.

I’m reaching to taste, and KK is preemptively handing me the salt as a familiar hand snakes it’s way around my waist. Paige leans over me to take my spoon in her mouth. "Tastes good, babe," she murmurs. I’m frozen under her touch, staring at our reflection on the livestream when KK bursts out in fake laughter. "Damn, all you gotta do to get Paige is know how to cook.” I laugh too, now catching on to KK’s cover story, turning to Paige. "For real, Bueckers, if you wanted some all you had to do was ask. Don’t waste your rizz on me," I joke, removing her hands from my waist. Her brow is furrowed, and a confused look passes over her face briefly until she looks up and sees the livestream, which is now blowing up. She steps away from me quickly and forces out a laugh before she slips out of frame and disappears from view. KK wraps the live up soon after this, and I rush after Paige, but the damage is done.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs, wrenching me back into this harsh reality. “P?” I manage to choke out as I reach my arms out for her. I’m pretty sure I can feel my heart fall out of my chest as she pulls away, her head shaking in silent anguish.

But she doesn’t leave yet. Instead, she’s kneeling by my bedside, where I’ve seen her praying so many nights before. But she’s not talking to her god now; she’s looking up at me, speaking to me, clutching my hands in hers. “I love you, I’m so sorry,” she repeats, and yet even with her declaration of love, all I can do is shake my head in mute denial. “I can’t do it,” she gasps, desperation tingeing her words. “I can’t tell everyone yet. I’m not ready, and I can’t put you through this. It’s not fair to you.” I flinch away from her now, curling up into the corner of my bed.

“I’m so sorry.”

Even as I cower away, her outstretched hand reaches for me, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Summoning what little strength remained within me, I unfurl myself from the corner of my bed and reach for her again, ‘maybe for the last time.’ I brushed away the tears that stained her cheeks, my heart aching. “What does me not being seen with you mean?" My voice tinged with a desperation I could scarcely contain. Paige finally looks up at me; her gaze met mine, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I can’t handle the rumors anymore," she cries, her words a plea for understanding. "I'm so sorry" It’s my turn to look away now, unable to bear the weight of her gaze any longer, staring into my lap. And for the first time in my life, I shake my head and lie to Paige Bueckers, gently shushing her I reach for her hand, “everything's going to be okay, we'll be alright.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #kk arnold #womens basketball #angst #paige bueckers fic #paige buckets #wcbb #final four

[major-mads]

Chapter 1: Welcome to Thorpe Abbotts

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: Ruth has been living in my head for months now, and I'm so so so excited to share her with y'all! This series is Jess (footprintsinthesxnd) and I's brainchild. Our ideas just seamlessly fit tegether, and here we are! We actually wrote this first chapter a week before the 26th, so if anything happens to almost exactly match the show, we came up with it before we saw it on there! (we're just good like that 😎)

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 5.3k

The hum of the engine was the only sound in the C-47 as it soared over the English countryside. The patients had finally settled, and the morphine finally took effect and brought them some sense of relief. Hope slumped back into her seat with a sigh, smiling over at Ruth who looked as exhausted as she was. 

“You looked tired,” Hope smiled at her friend who just sighed.

“It’s been a long day. I can’t wait to get back to base,” Ruth pushed her short blonde hair out of her eyes, sighing again. 

“Hey Frank, how much longer have we got,” Hope called to one of the pilots.

“We’ve had to make a detour, doll. We’re heading to Thorpe Abbotts airfield and will evacuate the wounded to Thorpe St. Andrews Hospital. It’s not far now.” 

Hope felt her heart flutter, her throat drying as she slouched back against her seat. 

“Hey Hope, what’s wrong?” Ruth leaned forward, gripping Hope’s hand and squeezing it, her large blue eyes filled with worry. 

“It’s Hugh,” Hope muttered, her eyes a little teary but a smile on her lips nonetheless. “My brother is stationed at Thorpe Abbotts with the 100th Bomb Group. I haven’t seen him in so long.” 

Ruth’s concerned frown turned to a smile, “So I’m finally going to meet this Hugh I’ve heard so much about.” 

Hope laughed, patting her friend on the back gently, “You will, but don’t get any ideas.” 

The aircraft soared towards its destination, and the occasional jolting and shaking on the metal bird brought no fear to the flight nurses anymore. Once, the ratting metal coffin struck the fear of God into them but now this was a peaceful ride.

Hope watched out the window as the lush, green countryside grew closer and closer. 

“Hey, Frank! Stop hugging the hedgerows for crying out loud. Don’t let the girl down before we’ve reached the field,” Hope called, grimacing as the trees seemed to grow ever closer.

“Who’s flying this bird, Armstrong? You or me?” Frank retorted, not looking away from the cockpit.

“Well, maybe you could use some lessons in keeping the old girl airborne then. We’ll beat up the airfield at this rate.” 

Ruth laughed, watching Hope argue with the pilot once more, “You know Hope, maybe you should have gotten your wings. Then you could be flying us instead of Frank.” 

“You’ve got a good point there, Ruth. Ya hear that Frank, Ruth wants me flying instead of you.” 

Frank’s reply was a muffled curse, and both girls found themselves giggling in response. The plane tooled along for a while longer until it finally began to descend, rattling as it lost altitude and shaking its victims vigorously. The wheels touching down on the tarmac filled everyone with great relief. 

“Well that was one ropey landing, Frank. Maybe I could give ya a few lessons?” Hope asked politely, batting her eyelashes at the pilot who just huffed.

“Shove off, Hope. Now get to it, your blood wagons are waiting.” 

Hope cringed at the nickname the ambulances had been given, they were lifesaving vehicles transporting sick men, why make it sound so ominous? 

Hope hopped down from the plane, instructing the stretcher-bearers on which soldiers were in the worst condition. Between them, Hope and Ruth helped carry three wounded men to the ambulances when an obnoxiously loud voice called, “Well, I’ll be damned!” 

Hope spun round, her boots scuffing at the earth. 

“HUGH!” Her brother laughed jovially, jogging over to them. 

“Gosh, I’ve missed you, Little Bird,” Hugh threw his arms around Hope’s shoulders, nestling his head into her neck as he always did. Hope couldn’t comprehend what was happening. She was finally in her brother's arms, finally reunited with him after so long. She gripped tightly onto the back of his uniform, burying her face in his chest. He smelt of smoke and engine oil just like he did back home. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured, just loud enough for Hugh to hear as he tightened his grip on her further. She could feel Ruth hovering awkwardly behind her and she turned to greet her friend, pulling out of her brother's arms.

“Ruth, this is my brother, Hugh. Hugh, this is my friend, Ruth.” 

Ruth smiled sweetly, sticking out her hand to shake Hugh’s but instead, he pulled her into a bear hug.

“Any friend of Hope’s is a friend of mine,” he assured Ruth and she smiled, her cheeks turning a deep red at the embarrassment of the situation.

“Hugh, put her down. Look, you're making the poor girl blush,” Hope laughed, which only caused Ruth to blush harder. 

“My apologies Ruthie, where are my manners,” he bowed, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. 

“Oh, uh- nice to meet you.” Ruth stumbled over her words, quickly using the excuse that she needed her flight jacket as an excuse to return to the plane.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” Hope groaned, shoving her brother playfully in the ribs. 

“I don’t know, I’ve always considered myself rather charming,” Hugh protested, puffing out his chest in pride. 

Hope nodded, spinning around to call Ruth to join them. The blonde soon was walking back toward the group, now wearing her fleece aviation jacket, and to her relief, without a rosy dusting on her cheeks. 

“I still can’t believe out of all the airfields in England, you managed to land at this one,” Hugh laughed, throwing an arm around both girls' shoulders. “You two are in for a real treat.” 

As they walked through the base, Hugh pointed out the various hard stands. 

“See, right there,” he pointed at a few heavies. “That’s “Just-a-Snappin’, Our Baby, and the M’lle Zig Zig.”

“Where do you guys get these names, Hugh?” Hope laughed, her eyes trailing over each one’s elaborate nose art, along with some very proud-looking engineers and artists who had clearly put so much love into the bombers.

Shrugging his shoulders, Hugh sighed, shaking his head. “I couldn’t tell ya. What’s your plane named?”

“Just the Angel of Death,” Hope chirped.

Hugh stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “Always with the dark humor, aren’t you, Hope.”

After hearing so much about the man from Hope, Ruth felt as if she’d known Hugh for years when in reality she’d only known him for a few minutes. She knew the stories of how the siblings played in the woods of Columbia, Missouri, exploring the famous rock bridge that brought hikers and tourists into the town. She knew of his love for the St. Louis Cardinals, and how he wore his battered and dirty Dizzy Dean jersey for a week straight after they won the World Series in ‘31 and ‘34. Maybe he’d heard so much about Ruth from Hope that he felt the same way. 

‘It would make sense based on his initial reaction.’ she thought, absentmindedly reaching up and grabbing the small pendant hanging from her neck, running her fingers over its smooth edges.

Before they knew it, the trio reached their destination: his officer nissen hut. They were long semi-circular metal huts, not known for their warmth or comfortability, but they were a soft place to land at the end of the day…which is a lot more than most young men of the time could say. 

“Welcome to my humble abode, ladies,” he announced as they neared the building, holding out his arms in a ‘ta-da’ motion. “She’s not much, but she’s home.”

He began to open the door for them, but a voice in the distance stopped him.

“Charlie! No girls in the huts,” the voice called. “I told you that a few weeks ago.”

Turning toward the voice, Hope did a double take when she saw who its owner. Approaching them was a tall, tan, brunette, who wore a bomber jacket with his hair messily combed to the side. He walked with a swagger that instantly put a bad taste in Hope’s mouth.

She sighed to herself, thinking, ‘Why do all the cute ones have to be cocky?’ 

Hugh groaned, pointing at Hope. “Buck, come on, this is my-” 

The man finally reached them, and Hope stopped herself from being captivated by his blue-green eyes.

“I don’t care who she is. You know the rules,” he interrupted, turning to the girls. “Sorry girls, but I think it’s time for you to go.”

Ruth cringed and side-eyed Hope, already expecting a snarky response to his comment. 

“Well,” she paused, checking her watch for effect. “Seeing as we have patients in the infirmary, it actually isn’t time for us to go.”

It was then that he looked down at her upper arm, taking in the bright red and white medic band that adorned her uniform. Ruth could see the slightest show of remorse in his expression as his eyes rose back up to Hope’s. 

“My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t know-”

Hope didn’t let him finish, cutting him off. “Maybe you should know all the facts before you make an assumption, Buck.”

“Hope!” Ruth hissed, trying to placate her friend, but the woman ignored her.

“See, other than my brother, this is why I can’t stand airmen. They’re cocky-”

Realizing the flaw in Hope’s argument, Ruth ran a hand down her face, secondhand embarrassment filling her. Just when she was about to interject, Buck beat her to it.

“Now hold on. Maybe you should know all the facts before you make an assumption, sweetheart.”

Hope’s mind ran rampant with frustration, and she stared up at him with contempt as he smiled cheekily at her. His eyes were locked on hers as they had a stare-down, neither wanting to be the first to give in. 

“So,” Hugh cleared his throat in an attempt to break their silent battle. “Let me introduce you guys. Ladies, this is my squadron commander, Major Buck Cleven.”

Buck tilted his head slightly, not breaking eye contact with Hope. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she replied dryly.

Ruth shook her head and sighed, amazed at her fellow nurse’s childlike stubbornness.

“And Buck, this is my sister, Hope, and her friend Ruth. They’re flight nurses with the 806th MAETS.”

Ruth raised a hand and waved with a quiet, “Hello,” and Hope felt a little satisfaction when the man’s eyes widened at the word sister. 

Buck’s eys left Hope for a moment to acknowledge Ruth, who stood beside her, with a nod and a smile. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“You, too, Major,” she responded with a small grin. He then turned back to Hope.

“So, you’re the infamous little sister we’ve all heard about?” Buck chuckled, placing his hands on his hips.

The woman glanced over at Hugh, who wore a guilty expression. “All good things, I hope.”

“For the most part,” Buck chimed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know about your little escapade to Kansas City, and how–” 

Hope’s eyes widened in disbelief that her brother had divulged her most embarrassing moment. “Hugh!!” she cried, smacking his chest. “You lying piece of crap! You promised!”

“It’s not like I thought you’d ever meet anyone here, Hope!”

Composing herself, she took a deep breath and sent Buck a tight-lipped smile. “It looks like you know a lot more about me than I do about you, Major.”

“It would seem so, Nurse Armstrong.”

As Ruth amusedly listened to Gale and Hope’s banter, she felt like she was being watched. Glancing around the group, her heart skipped a beat as her eyes met another set of icy blues, ones that were new to the group. 

‘How did I miss him walking up?’ she wondered.

Their gazes locked for a few seconds that seemed to last minutes, and a shudder ran through her. Breaking from his stupor, he quickly looked away with a light pink dusting on his cheeks. Ruth felt her own blush creeping up her neck and wrapped her flight jacket closer to her body, the English chill suddenly getting to her. 

Her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own as they fought to return to the handsome stranger. It took all her willpower to keep them on Hugh, who was talking to the group.

“I can’t imagine going up without weapons on board. We’ve got 12 50-cal brownings and sometimes I feel that’s not enough.”

The battle within herself became too much, and Ruth finally gave in to her temptation. Her eyes flitted over to the man, and she silently sighed in relief when she found his gaze elsewhere. It was then that she discovered her first assumption of the man being ‘handsome’ was an understatement. He had a strong and well-defined jawline, expressive and striking blue-grey eyes, a straight nose, and a slightly curved lip, which held a pencil-thin mustache.

She liked the mustache.

He wore a crooked crusher cap and a white fleece-lined flying jacket that looked somewhat dirty, accompanied by his brown service top poking out at the jacket collar.

Ruth was mesmerized by the man, and she didn’t even know his name. A wide grin broke out on his face as he engaged in the group’s conversation, his upper lip curling up, allowing a few teeth to peek out the top, and Ruth felt her stomach lurch for the second time in a short few minutes. 

Focus, Ruth. Focus.

An elbow to her side broke her stare, and the group’s eyes were suddenly on her as Hope looked at her expectantly. 

“What?” Ruth asked, looking like a deer in headlights.

“I said that we would go insane without each other up there.”

“Oh,” she sighed with a small smile. “You would probably kill Frank if I weren’t there.”

The group broke out in laughter, and Ruth found her eyes absentmindedly moving to the mystery man. As he chuckled, his eyes wrinkled at the edges, and his full smile revealed a dazzlingly straight set of pearly whites. His loud laughter was infectious, and a few giggles escaped her mouth. 

As the group’s chuckles started to die down, Hope looked over at Ruth. She took in her friend’s shy smile and blush, then followed her gaze to the airman across the circle. Realizing what was happening, she nudged Ruth lightly, a teasing eyebrow raised.

“What?” Ruth grumbled under her breath, leaning closer to her friend’s ear as the guys carried on the group’s conversation. 

“You like him.”

The blonde’s smile fell and heat rushed up her neck. “Who?”

Hope tilted her head incredulously, rolling her eyes. “You know who.”

“No, I don’t,” she defended, 

“He’s staring,” Hope grinned, nodding his direction subtly. 

Ruth’s eyes rose to his, and sure enough, his striking eyes were gazing into hers yet again. This time, however, he didn’t look away. The corner of his lips quirked up into a barely noticeable grin, and she felt as if she was shrinking under the intensity of his gaze.

“Uh, I need to go check on the patients,” she sputtered, pointing her fingers in the direction of the infirmary. With a curt nod to Hope, she quickly turned and started toward the infirmary, her blonde curls bouncing with each step. A few seconds later, she spun to face the group and called, “But it was…uh…nice to meet y’all.”

Hugh didn’t miss a beat and hollered back his reply. “You, too, Ruthie!” He then paused until she was out of earshot. “She alright?” 

“She’s fine,” Hope sighed, used to her friend’s more timid personality. She had hoped that over time, her extroversion would rub off on the nurse, but so far, she had no such luck. Ruth was more of a one-on-one person, not one for groups of people unless she knew them pretty well. It seemed the smaller the group got, the more Ruth seemed to come alive. It was like pulling teeth to get Ruth to agree to go out with the other girls of the unit, but when she finally stepped out of her comfort zone, she usually had a good time filled with friends, fellas, and amazing big band music.

Ruth’s admirer joined the conversation, and Hope smirked, watching his eyes follow her friend. “How far away is your base?” 

“We’re in Berkshire, so by car, it’s about three hours, but by plane, probably 45 minutes.”

“So not far,” he chimed, raising his eyebrows and nodding to himself. Before anyone else could comment, he spoke again. 

“See you boys later,” he said absentmindedly as he watched Ruth’s figure go around a corner. Clapping Buck’s shoulder, he set off and followed the nurse’s path around the corner, missing the raised eyebrows and confused expressions sent his way. All eyes followed him as he, too, disappeared around the corner.

Hope pursed her lips at the new development, unsure of the man following Ruth. “Should I be worried?”

“Yep,” Hugh confirmed with a curt nod.

Buck hit him on the chest, chuckling under his breath. “Johnny’s a good man, darlin’.”

Hugh suppressed a snort thinking of the commander’s wild habits and how Buck didn't exactly answer her question.

“Anyways, back wh-”

And just like that, the conversation continued, and Hope had a strange feeling of contentment being on base. Finally being with family again.

As Ruth briskly made her way around the nissen huts to the infirmary, her heart continued to beat rapidly in her chest, and her mind replayed his smile non-stop. 

Get it together, Ruth!

When she finally reached the infirmary, she stopped at the door, taking a deep breath to gain some composure. Within seconds of opening the heavy door, the base’s head surgeon approached her, wiping his hands with a rag.

“Hello,” he greeted. “I’m Captain Emory Kinder, and I’m assuming you’re one of the flight nurses who landed earlier?”

Ruth wore her signature toothy grin and nodded. “Yes, sir. Ruth Morgan. My other half is visiting with her brother as we speak.”

“Brother?”

“Yep, Hugh Armstrong,” she replied, her smile widening as his face lit up.

“Charlie! Oh yeah, I know him. He’s been in here for a few hangovers after a rowdy night in Dickleburgh.”

“Really?” Ruth chuckled, picturing the confident young man drunk as a skunk.

“Oh yeah. We love him though. He’s a good one for sure.”

A patient called out to him, and with a nod, he was off, helping the man. Ruth busied herself however she could, bringing airmen water, re-wrapping their bandages, and pretty much anything that would get her mind off the man from earlier. She was inspecting a man’s arm wound when the creaking of the door opening filled the building. Paying it no mind, she kept working, noting how the tissue was already healing. 

“It looks good, Sergeant. You should be back in the air soon,” she said quietly.

His wide-eyed morphine-induced expression looked pitiful, but he managed to mumble out a, “Thank you, ma’am.”

Ruth gathered her supplies and stood to her feet, throwing away the bloody bandages when Emory's voice rang through the air.

“Speaking of rowdy nights in Dickleburgh...Major, what can I do for ya? Is that shoulder giving you problems again?”

“No, Doc,” the newcomer began, his deep voice breaking the relative quiet. “The shoulder’s fine. I just wanted to, you know, come see the boy-men.”

When she turned toward them and saw the white jacket, the roll of bandages fell from her grasp and hit the floor with a thud, rolling a few feet away to the man’s feet. The heat returned to her cheeks in a rush, and her eyes froze on the bandages for a moment, silently cursing the little white bundle. She watched in horror as the man slowly bent down and picked it up, walking toward her as he threw it up in the air and caught it.

“I think this yours,” he said, one side of his lips quirking up into a smirk as he held it out to her.

Raising her eyes from the bandage to his eyes, she prayed her voice would stay steady. “Thank you, sir.”

She took the bandage and tried to remain calm, her free hand raising to run her fingers over the cool metal of her locket.

“John. Major John Egan,” he introduced himself, extending his hand to her. “But you can call me Bucky.”

Ruth’s brows furrowed in confusion as she took his much larger hand and shook it gently. It was surprisingly soft compared to the men she’d treated from the lines.  “Bucky? It’s there another-”

“Yeah,” John chuckled and slowly released her hand, shoving his in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “We call Cleven Buck, too. He hates it, but he deals with it.”

Grimacing playfully, she decided to go out on a limb despite her pounding heart. “Well, I, um, don’t know if I’ll be able to remember who’s who.”

“Oh no,” John tutted, his eyebrows raised and a wide-mouthed smile painting his lips. “We can’t have that. You can call me John, Johnny, whatever you want, doll, but I don’t think you’re going to have a hard time remembering my name.”

“And why would that be, Johnny?”

“Because you’ll see it at the bottom of each letter you’ll get from me.”

The blonde froze, dropping her necklace in disbelief as she swallowed thickly.

‘There is no way he just said that,’ her mind repeated. ‘There is no way he just said that.”

Pushing through her reserved personality and the tingling sensation swirling in her stomach, she decided to take a page from Hope’s book.

“What makes you think I’d let you write me, hotshot?”

Her mind went haywire. ‘‘Why did I just say that? I’m never taking Hope’s advice again. This is too stressful.’

For the first time in their interaction, his confident bravado seemed to fade and he didn’t quite know what to say. Perhaps he was always used to women giving in to his advances easily, but Ruth was not just another woman begging to be wooed. Johnny stood before her with furrowed brows, his upper lip sticking out slightly. He pushed back his jacket and placed his hands on his hips, his head ducking to the floor.

“Because I’d like to get to know you,” he replied earnestly, taking off his cap. “You’re gorgeous, and I would like to write you, Ruth.“

That was the last thing she expected.

In that moment, Ruth Morgan had a decision to make. Was she going to reject the airman or give him a chance? She knew she was attracted to him and there was chemistry there, but was she willing to put herself out there? The timid parts of her personality screamed at her to tell him no, but the parts that Hope had influenced were urging her to accept his offer. In the end, Ruth already liked Johnny, and she saw the sincerity in his statement as a deciding factor in the matter.

“Alright, you can write to me,” she answered quietly, pushing her hair behind her ear.

John watched as she walked to the infirmary desk and got a sheet of paper, scribbling down what he expected to be her address. He took in her features, just like he had earlier. Starting at her light blonde hair, his gaze traveled down her face to her familiar blue eyes, down her adorable nose, to her lips, which were pursed slightly as she concentrated on writing down her information. She was stunning, and Johnny knew that he wanted to see her again just from their short conversation.

Approaching him again, she held up a slip of paper, a toothy grin on her lips. “This is sensitive information, Major. It better not end up in enemy hands, and that includes your fellow airmen.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded once before fake saluting her, unable to keep his excitement inside. “Mission understood.”

“But just to be safe, I’m going to hold onto it for a little bit.” she leaned a little closer to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Just in case I, you know, change my mind.”

John grinned down at her and yet again raised his eyebrows as he nodded. Ruth noticed he did that a lot. “I’ll be on my best behavior, scout’s honor.”

Sliding the slip into her pocket, she started her nursing tasks once again, looking at him over her shoulder. “So, you were in the Boy Scouts?”

“No,” he chuckled, putting back on his cap as he moved next to Ruth to help. “I wasn’t, but Buck was. He ended up being an Eagle Scout before he aged out. One of the best in Wyoming, he says, but I don't buy it.”

He stood a good 5 or so inches above her, so his chin was at her eye level. In the small area at the nursing station, his shoulder was just barely pressed against hers as they both worked to roll bandages, and Ruth could feel the warmth radiating from his touch.

“It seems like you know each other pretty well,” she stated, looking up at him briefly.

His concentration remained on the bandage in his hands as he spoke. “Yeah. He’s my best friend.”

“How long have you known each other?” She asked, reaching up to mess with her necklace.

“We both joined up in ‘40 and were roommates in basic. Been together ever since.”

“That reminds me of Hope and I, although we haven’t known each other for nearly that long.”

John placed the finished bandage in the basket and turned to face her, leaning a hip against the counter as his earnest expression returned. “War makes people closer. Makes ‘em realize who’s important. What’s important.”

The blonde mirrored his stance, taking in his words. He was right. War did have a way of bringing people together. She gazed up at him with a shared understanding of how something as terrible as the war had brought out the best and worst in people, as well as brought people into their lives for the better. The pair’s eyes remained locked for a few moments, both realizing that perhaps there was something deeper than the flirting between them. His warm eyes seemed to search hers, and to her surprise, she didn’t feel nervous in that moment. Johnny’s gaze was like a warm blanket enveloping all of her senses to the point that all she could see was him.

“I feel the same way,” Ruth finally answered, fixing a stray curl that had fallen into her eyes.

Half of his lips curled up in a grin and he took a step toward her. “Ruth, I-”

The loud opening of the door jolted them from the moment, sending both their heads in the direction of the entrance. There stood an out-of-breath Frank, whose face was bright red and shimmering with sweat.

“Ruth! Do you know how long I’ve been looking for ya?” He cried, approaching them quickly.

Unsure of the man’s intentions, Johnny straightened and moved just barely in front of her, holding out a hand towards Frank. “Woah, buddy.”

Although it was an endearing effort, she couldn’t hold in a loud giggle at Frank’s offended expression that followed. “No, Johnny,” she laughed, gently lowering his hand.  “This is our pilot, Frank. Frank, this is Major John Egan. What is it?”

The pilot’s eyes flicked between Ruth and Johnny for a few seconds before he sighed. “I’ve filled the Angel up and it’s time to go. Find Hope and meet me back at the plane.”

Just like that, he was out the door again, probably to get ready for takeoff. Ruth’s heart sank at the realization that she was having to leave. It seemed he also came to the same conclusion as he turned toward her and sighed. 

“Looks like you’ve gotta go,” he said softly, slightly tilting his head to the side as he peered down at her. 

The nurse looked at the door, then lowered her gaze to her feet. “It sure does.”

She almost gasped in surprise when something warm grasped her hand gently. Her eyes shot up to John’s hand that held delicately held hers. The contact sent a tingle up her arm and seemingly straight to her mind, muddying her thoughts. 

“I'd like to see you again,” he murmured where only she could hear.

This quieter, softer version of him was unknown to Ruth, but she knew instantly that she liked the duality of Johnny. 

The blush she’d resisted finally won and dusted her cheeks as she looked up at him. “I’d like that, too.”

John softly tugged her hand closer and bridged the distance between them slowly, his entrancing eyes flicking between her eyes and lips. Ruth could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she stood on her toes to meet him. She felt his warm breath on her face, and her eyes fluttered closed, anticipating the kiss. But before their lips could meet, the door opened again, and Frank called out to her.

“Ruth, come on! You can neck the Major later!”

The door quickly creaked closed.

Heat rushed to Ruth’s face, and she reluctantly pulled back from Johnny, setting her heels back on the ground. Johnny awkwardly stood to his full height, glaring at the door where Frank stood moments before.

“I’ll see you next time, Johnny,” Ruth smiled bashfully, gently squeezing his hand once before dropping it. She walked backward to the door, praying she wouldn’t trip. 

Johnny let out a huff of air as the biggest smile grew on his face. “So there will be a next time?” 

She simply grinned at him, shrugging her shoulders when she turned to open the door. With one last look over her shoulder, she closed the door behind her. 

The infirmary was silent for a few seconds, and then the patients erupted in hollers, cheers, and whistles. 

“Way to go, Bucky!”

“Leave some for the rest of us, Major!”

Amid their uproar, John remembered a crucial detail: She hadn’t given him her address! He took off toward the door, reaching for the handle when it creaked open, revealing a laughing Ruth on the other side. She held out the slip to him.

“I think you behaved well enough, Major.”

“Told you,” he chimed, his eyebrows raising. “Scout’s honor.”

John took the paper from her outstretched hand and watched as she left once again. When the door had slammed shut behind her, he read the note to himself with a wide smile.

Hotshot, 

You can write me at the Grove, Berkshire, Hut 4. I like you, so try not to get shot down before I can return your letter, and I’ll do the same.

Safe Flying,

Ruth Morgan

Johnny shot his hand with the paper into the air, and the men cheered once again. Ruth, on the other hand, was in disbelief of what had just transpired. She had almost kissed him! She wanted to kiss him! Running her hands through her hair, she tried to focus on the task at hand: finding Hope.

Ruth ran around the base like a chicken with her head cut off looking for the woman, and was about to give up when she saw her sitting in a jeep with Buck in the distance.

“HOPE! There you are, I've been looking everywhere. Frank fueled up the plane. We have to go,” Ruth huffed, clearly out of breath from running, but her flushed cheeks, Hope thought, told a different story. 

“Okay, I'll be over in five minutes,” Hope promised, but Ruth didn't look convinced.

“Your five minutes or an actual five minutes?” She asked, and the glare Hope sent her way had Ruth turning around and heading back in the direction she’d come. 

“Okay, but I'll be timing you,” she yelled over her shoulder.

When Ruth looked back to see Hope kissing Buck on the cheek, it occurred to her that maybe there were more trips to Thorpe Abbotts in the cards for both of them.

Tag List: @xxluckystrike @precious-little-scoundrel @bcofl0ve @violetdaze25 @docroesmorphine

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list!! <3

#masters of the air #hbo war #john egan #gale cleven #callum turner #austin butler #major buck cleven #gale buck cleven #major john egan #major john egan x oc #major buck cleven x oc #mota #mota x oc #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fanfic #hbowar #hbo war x oc #hbowar x oc #masters of the air x oc #ruth morgan #hope armstrong #hugh armstrong #on a wing and a prayer #a pair of silver wings #mota edit #mota fanfic

[runwayrunway]

Miss Conenginality: Short SC.7 Skyvan

When researching for my post about the ancestors of British Airways I learned a lot I hadn't known before. Most of this was about logos and liveries, but some of it involved British European Airways' varied and eclectic fleet. One of the planes I hadn't known they operated is a plane that I adore for being, simply put, shaped.

image: Hugh W. Cowin Aviation Collection

The website I took this image of an SC.7 in BEA's 'Speedjack' livery from described it as having a 'sleek design and powerful engines'. While its turboprop engines are indeed pretty powerful for a plane of this size, 'sleek' is surely not a word I would use to describe a plane colloquially known as the 'flying shoebox'.

This...creature, which consistently gets an emphatic 'no way that's a real airplane' when I show it to people, flew for BEA's Scottish division. Red wings and all...I guess this is the shoebox they kept the Louboutins in.

The Skyvan, which with a height of 4.6 meters and length of 12.21 meters is one third as tall as it is long, is the brainchild of Shorts Brothers, best known for their pre-1950s flying boat designs. This may explain why the bottom half looks a bit like a DUKW.

This is the same thing. Unfortunately there was an accident involving a failed ditching of a Shorts 360, a stretched derivative of the Skyvan, suggesting they are not particularly seaworthy, but to be fair DUKWs aren't either.

149 of these delightfully pointy-nosed voxel-based planes were built between 1963 and 1986, seeing both civil and military use carrying cargo or up to 19 passengers. These days they're mostly used for skydiving, with around 35 still in service.

I have seen nothing at all to suggest that these aren't good planes. If you want a sturdy cargo or skydiving plane to use from short, poorly paved runways this may be a good choice for you. She's doing hard work, and I respect that. But...like, this is genuinely among the goofiest planes out there.

Shorts did make two stretched versions, the 330 and 360 (plus military derivatives of these), which were meant as regional airliners. These planes are also immensely goofy but just don't compare to the flying shoebox. They have actual elongated noses rather than a little flat nubbin with a cone stuck on the end, and they are far curvier, almost resembling an actual airplane. The 360 even has a relatively normal-looking empennage instead of the twin fins. These are still very silly but far easier to take seriously.

This is a square with rectangles attached, and it flies somehow. This is very silly, and I love her.

#miss conenginality

[earth616variant]

the send-off | s.r; 1

summary | Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.

pairing/s | steve rogers x reader, avengers x reader

word count | 4.6k+

genres | angst, fluff, crack, time travel au, unrequited love au

warnings | mentions of death, maybe a little self deprecation

note | The first chapter is here! This is my first time writing here so I already apologize for any errors. I hope you enjoy reading it! Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. Thank you! :)

series masterlist | next chapter

"You cannot sacrifice a stray cat but you are willing to sacrifice me to your brainchild?"

For the last two days, Howard has been following you around like a tail. You tried to focus on your other projects. But your best friend has been pretty consistent with getting on your nerves and asking you to help with his new invention. This is nothing new as you are his assistant and you always lend a hand with his every creation. But this one is no easy task.

"I'm not sacrificing you–"

"Stark, you are asking me to be the first living being to try your time machine,” you told him, crossing your arms. “Do you even know how risky that is?"

Howard sighed and you can see how another idea got into his head, "I'll pay you higher clams. Higher than every man in this lab–"

"Wow, Howard. Money can surely make up for my possible death," you spoke deadpanned.

"You are not going to die! I am not going to screw up. I assure you...” He paused, making you finally look at him. “Y/N, you are the smartest person I know other than myself.”

You rolled your eyes as you tried not to smile at his slightly arrogant statement. Meanwhile, Howard smirked when he saw you biting your lower lip, an indication of you almost smiling. He continued,

“And you are the only one I trust in doing this project. You’re my best friend! I know that you know how important this project is for me. I am sure that you know the reason why I began working for this time machine.”

Setting your papers aside,  you paused and stared at him. You can easily read through his eyes and so he is. You two can even communicate through silent stares and nods. So even though he will not specify his top reason for constructing this time machine, you knew damn well why. He wanted to make some things right.

It took you a minute to speak once again, “Let me think about it more.”

Fortunately, Howard granted you your request to have more time to think. He said that you can leave the laboratory earlier than usual, even adding that you can have a few days off to fully think about it. Typically, you stay with him late since you really enjoy what you do and you don’t have any more things to do back at your spacious apartment. But here you are now, walking your way home, all alone as always.

It’s not like you were never alone before. Growing up, you were an only child. Your father died in the war when you were barely one while you lost your mom to some viral, infectious disease when you reached twelve. Your rich uncle, who was your only left family member, took you under his care until he died six years later. He left all of his inheritance to you and you only. You finished your studies with that, determined to find a career in the future instead of confining yourself to gender norms.

So, you did. You accepted an offer you received from Howard, whom you met and became friends with during college. He asked you to work with him as his assistant for every work he is planning to make in his new Stark Industries. He believed in your potential, unlike other geezers who underestimated you just because of your gender. Because of that, people often mistake the two of you as lovers but you two would always just laugh it off. Howard never seemed to commit while you never found yourself attracted to anyone.

Not until years ago. But that did not work out good too. Especially when you never really had a chance to express your feelings to that person. You think that it was too dramatic to say that the causes of having zero chances are timings and his death two years ago. But that was the truth.

“Good evening, Ms. Y/N!”

You were just opening your apartment with your keys when you heard that familiar, little voice behind you. You looked back and smiled as you spotted Donny with his mom, Susan.

“Oh, good evening, Donny!” you greeted with the same enthusiasm as him. You also smiled at his mother,  “Hi, Susan.”

“Papa rode the train today.” Donny randomly shared.

The six-year-old boy often tells a lot of stories whenever you see each other so you thought it was just one of those. You just responded, “Oh, really? Is he going somewhere?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll be back before I knew it.” he slowly frowned.

That’s when you noticed his tear-stained chubby cheeks and little puffed brown eyes. But Susan chuckled before explaining more, “Robert just got sent out of the city for the subject he’s writing for. This little cookie right here did not take it well.”

“Oh, that’s why…” you nodded your head.

“May I ask? Have you had your dinner already?” Susan asked.

You shook your head, “Ah, no. I just came from work. I don’t really plan on–”

“Mama is going to make Jell-O!” Donny interrupted with a smile back on his face.

“Yes. I’m actually making some meatloaf for tonight. I figured you would like to join us since you got home early and Robert is not coming home.”

It did not take you long to answer as you easily accept her offer, “Oh, that sounds good.”

“Yay!” The little boy squealed, even clapping his small hands.

“Great. Dinner will be prepared at six thirty. Please, don’t hesitate to knock.” she quipped before entering their apartment.

You went straight to your kitchen as soon as you got in your unit. Not wanting to go emptyhanded to Susan and Donny’s, you dug in your refrigerator to see what you can bring. Luckily, your eyes landed on the Tupperware of cookie dough you just made two days ago. You were bored then and decided to bake cookies. But just when you were done making the dough, Howard called for you in the lab. Now, you will finally have the chance to bake it. So you set it on the sheet pan in the oven for a good ten minutes. You were excited as it was your uncle’s recipe you decided to follow. Just before the clock strikes six thirty, you were already knocking at your neighbors with a glass container of chocolate chip cookies in your hands.

Susan welcomed you into their household. This is your first time going for dinner in their place even though you have known their small family ever since they moved in a year and a half ago. You are friends with the couple but you never had the time to accept their dinner invite before. She thanked you for the cookies and called her son as you two sat at the prepared dinner table. For the first time in years, you enjoyed dinner in a family-like setting. Donny filled the whole time with his wonderful stories, leaving no silence on the table as he munched on his meatloaf.

“Ms. Y/N, when I grow up, I’m going to be a teacher like you.” he babbles. 

You chuckled, “But Donny, I’m not a teacher.”

“What? But you are smart!” he frowned, shoulders slumped. “Papa said you work with one of the smartest men. What’s his name again– Oh, Howie Stank!”

He grinned like he was proud that he recalled the man’s name. While you and Susan laughed at his innocence.

“Baby, it’s Howard Stark.” his mom corrected him and Donny repeated it slower. Susan continued, “By the way, Ms. Y/N brought us something tonight.”

“What is it? What is it?” Donny asked while shifting excitedly on his chair.

You watched as Susan stood up and reached for the jar of cookies from the kitchen counter. Donny’s eyes were filled with delight as he saw it. He jumps from his seat.

“Cookies!”

But before she hands him a piece of your baked dessert, she uttered,  “Now, what are we going to say to Ms. Y/N?”

The kid ran to you and gave you the most adorable hug you’ve ever received, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Donny.” you smiled.

The night went on. Donny enjoyed the cookies while both you and Susan cleaned up. You insisted on washing the dishes but Susan told you that you can just help her with drying them off with a towel.

“You know, Donny is a real sunshine,” you told her.

Susan smiled at the compliment, “He is everyone’s sunshine. But I guess, you are his favorite. He cannot stop talking when you are around.”

“Oh, please!” you giggled. “Kids are always chatty.”

“And you are the only one who has the patience to sit through Donny’s tales. There was a time his dad even fell asleep while listening to him.” You two laughed.

“Where’s Robert off to anyway?” you asked as you wiped another plate.

“Oh, there’s this event in Manhattan that he was asked to write for. He told me it was an opening of a new business by a socialite there. I forgot the name. But I recalled he told me, it was one of Howard’s old flings.”

You chortled with that, “Oh, I won’t be able to name that socialite. Howard’s list of flings is already above my paygrade.”

“Well, maybe you can change–”

“Please, Susan. If this is another attempt to push my friendship with him further, I am taking back the cookies!” you joked. “We’re just friends and I am his assistant. I do like working with him but that’s it.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. It’s just that you two really work closely with each other. It’s hard not to make news about it. My apologies again.”

After finishing the chore, she offered you coffee before she prepare Donny to sleep. After that, you two continued chatting in their living room.

“But don’t you want to do more?” you asked her out of curiosity since you two went to topics about careers.

“I’m a fuddy-duddy, Y/N. Before I even married Robert, I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be a wife at home: cooking different foods, cleaning every corner of the house, and being with my baby for every hour of the day. I am happy I get to do it.” she shared, sipping on her cup. “But we wanted different things, right? I also feel happy seeing women who are in the workplace. Especially seeing career women who are also single.”

Your eyebrow raised, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” She giggled. “I love everything I have and where I am now. But sometimes, I felt like I did it too early.”

You and Susan are both of the same age: twenty-nine, just one step forward to your thirties. Obviously, you two are on different life paths and goals. But you understand what she means.

“This may sound crazy. But if there’s this machine that would take me back to my younger days, I would definitely have to go dancing more in every place I was invited to, Maybe I would fool around more. I was too conscious before to enjoy everything that has been happening. It was my only regret.”

…if there’s this machine that would take me back to my younger days…

That one stuck in you, remembering Howard’s time machine and its purpose. You laid on your bed that night thinking of everything. You asked your best friend for free days to be really alone and have some peace as you went through the pros and cons of this project and you being the first person to try it. You fear what may happen as you will be the test trial. But at the same time, you cannot help but think that you don’t really have much to lose. Yeah, you have money and enough material things. But you are alone in life and you don’t have people to leave anymore unlike Susan with Donny and Robert.

After giving yourself exactly a week, you arrived at work with a clearer mind and decision. Howard was obviously jumpy when you walked into the laboratory mouth shut, wearing your usual work clothes. He tried to be patient as he waited for you to say a word or just a simple greeting. Instead, you turned around and directly locked eyes with him.

“You’re such a pain in the neck, Howard. You know that, right?”

His eyes slowly widened after a few seconds. “Is that your way of saying yes, Y/N?”

You sarcastically let out an exasperated sigh, “Yes. Let’s do this.”

Howard embraced you tightly while whispering endless gratitude. The machine was ninety-five percent done at that point. And instead of asking you to help him, he even gifted you more time on your own. But since it’s you, you still worked with him throughout the remaining process. The only change is you tried to bond more with the only people you bond with other than Howard. For a week, you had dinner with the Smiths, including Robert this time. You also had a picnic with Susan and Donny, where you shared with Susan what you had been planning to do. At first, she told you how equally scary and amazing that is. But in the end, she expressed her support. With Howard’s authorization, you invited the family to the day of the event. You even asked Robert to document everything.

“Okay, what do I need to do again?”

You stood on the platform of the device. You and Howard already went through the plan countless times. But It was unbearable to show unsureness with everything but there is still a big part of you who is confident with this test.

“Just take a shot. But don’t interact with anyone.” Howard handed you the latest model of the polaroid camera.

“Even to one person?”

“Even to one person.” He repeated as an answer.

“How long am I going to stay there?”

“Approximately ten seconds. So, just capture anything you see in front of you.”

“Where am I going again?”

“Same place as now. But seven days ago,” he replied. “Small steps. If that works, we’ll try going on further times and dates.”

You gulped, “Okay.”

Unconsciously, your response sounded like a stressed exhale. You have this weird feeling in your stomach and suddenly, your heart beats louder than anything else. Your hands were both sweaty and a little shaky as you try to compose yourself on the platform. Too distracted with your thoughts, you did not notice Howard walking up to you.

“Y/N, sweetheart…”

His warm hands moved up and down on the side of your arms in an attempt to calm your nerves. He can see that you are nervous even though you won’t say it.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine…” you stuttered, shaking your head. “Let’s just do this. It will do great. It will. It will, right?”

You asked your best friend, looking straight into his eyes. You were hoping for confirmation, an assurance rather. You are aware of how dangerous this is. There is no guarantee on what would be the result of this brand new time machine. You just want to help Howard with this by being the first living being to try this prototype. You are giving your full trust to him but hearing a positive answer from the main inventor himself might help you feel a little more relieved in doing this. Even though that answer can be a mix of lies.

“Of course. This one will be a big success, Y/N.” 

“Okay.” you sighed again. You and Howard shared a long, tight hug and you whispered something in his ear, “You better take me back. I have plans on Sunday.”

“For real?” he chuckled, whispering back.

“Some anchor clacker invited to a dance before he leaves on Monday.” you quipped since you tow both know that you don’t really go out on dates with anyone.

“Well, This fella must be an eager beaver. He managed to make you say yes to him.”

“Shut up.” 

You pushed him away as you laughed. Seeing you crack up even a little somehow gave assurance to both of you two. Before going back to the controls, you shared a simple smile and you nods at him. Looking around, you see Robert nodding at you. Susan and Donny waved at you from the viewing glass.

“Okay, on the count of three, you’ll go to another time. I will give you ten seconds to look around. Then, I will get you back. Understood?”

You nodded.

“Good luck, Y/N. 1… 2… 3…”

“Come on, people. Get up.” Tony clapped his hands as he stood up from the table. “Peter can do the dishes later.”

“But Mr. Stark, it’s not my schedule today–” Peter tried to save himself from the said chore but the older man shushed him off.

“Shh! Everyone in the hangar.”

Other avengers left the room like they were ordered to. Sam and Bucky were teasing the hell out of their youngest member, Peter. Wanda and Vision were having their own little world as they walked side by side. Bruce is already in the hangar as he also helped Tony with his new project. Leaving Clint, Natasha, and Steve at the dining table.

“What’s happening?” Steve asked. He was busy for the last four weeks due to solo missions that he did not get ahold of what others were doing.

Natasha answered, “Remember the blueprints he found months ago?”

Steve nods, picturing the time he saw Tony around the compound with a cardboard box, which has Howard’s name on it,  in his hands. He remembered smiling to himself that time because Tony looked like a little kid who found new toys to play with.  It was probably four months ago.

“He figured he will try to recreate one of his father’s works,”  Clint replied this time. “I think he chose to remake his dad’s time machine this time.”

“The time machine?” 

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together as he repeated that. One of the biggest news he heard of ever since he went back from ice was Howard’s attempt at building a time machine back in 1947. Only a few people knew about it as it was kept almost a secret because of its unfortunate result. Although a little number of people only knew it, there are still rumors or theories about what happened. 

Natasha stood up, picked up her plate, and went straight to the sink. She continued talking, “Yeah, Bruce helped on improving some parts of it to avoid what happened a long time ago.”

“You know, to avoid what happened to…” Clint paused.

Steve cannot tell if Barton forgot the name of the last victim of the time machine or if he just doesn’t want to mention it around him. So, Steve decided to end his sentence.

“Y/N.”

He said it at the same second that Natasha just turned off the faucet, making the silence so loud between them three. What made Steve a little mad and confused about this whole time machine thing is how everyone who knows the result agreed to act like it didn’t happen. Like someone like you didn’t go missing. No one knows where you went and no one wants to talk about it. 

Steve tried to make a search by himself in his first few years back from the ice, hoping that one of the rumors was right. A rumor where it was said that you simply changed your name, not wanting to do anything with SSR or Howard Stark anymore, and moved somewhere else to live a simpler life. But that one failed too. He tried and tried. But it always ends up to one thing: nothing. You simply became the world’s biggest hidden mystery.

“Why don’t we go see what happens there?” Natasha broke the silence.

Clint nods and moved from his chair, “Yeah.”

But Steve remained seated in his seat, he was staring at the table. This was not the first time Natasha saw him like this after your name was mentioned. He often turned into a silent, staring-into-nothingness thinking machine when someone tagged your name into the conversation. It happened only a couple of times. Natasha tried to make him open up about it one time but God knows how long Steve takes before trusting someone with his thoughts.

“Steve?”

Steve finally blinked and meet their gaze, “You should go. I’ll just head straight to bed.”

He didn’t wait for their replies and simply left the kitchen shortly after washing his plate. Natasha followed him with her eyes as Steve walked to his room. Clint, on the other hand, shrugged it off and pulled her to the compound’s ample hangar.

Tony, being the most extra person that he is, even prepared decorations and chairs with safe feet away from the time machine he newly built. There’s even a handmade banner– probably made by Peter– that hung behind the machine. 

“Where’s the capsicle?” Tony asked them as they sat on the remaining vacant seats next to Pepper.

“Went to bed early,” Clint answered.

“What? Gosh, that old man–”

Natasha cuts him off before he starts his unnecessary rant, “Just show us your new project.”

“Okay, okay.” Tony rolled his eyes as he walks in front of his own version of a time machine based on his dad’s blueprint. “I’m going to skip any more introductions because I am so excited to show you guys this time machine. Sure, it had issues before. But Dr. Banner right here helped me to modify it. Hopefully, it will work well and this can be the first-ever working time machine ever!”

His enthusiasm was evident on his face. He continued, “So, here's how it will work. The time machine will be powered on and to avoid any living being disappearances like before, I’m going to place this camera on the platform. I’ll set it into timer mode. Bruce will quickly click the controls to send it out. When it gets to another timeline, it will just take a snap of whatever it sees. Then, we will immediately bring it back here.”

“How long will it stay to another time?” Sam asked in the background.

“Roughly five seconds only.” Bruce, who stood near the machine’s controls, replied. “This is literally our first test trial.”

“Any more questions?” Tony asked and everyone in the room just shook their heads. He smiled and stood next to the lever for power on. “By the way, there might be bright flashing light– Please accept the glasses that are being handed out by Ms. Potts.”

Pepper distributed dark shades from the prepared box to everyone. She later sat back down, wearing the same eyewear. The two scientists also wore them. Tony placed both his hands on the big lever next to the controls.

“Okay, let’s start. Switching on the time machine in 3… 2… 1…”

After pulling the heavy lever, a blinding, white light engulfed the whole room.

It was just a blink of an eye.

As you felt a different, cool blow of wind on your face, you slowly opened your eyes, immediately seeing a group of foreign people sitting in front of you. It worked. It worked! Your eyes widened as you realized it. But before you can even click the button on your camera. You realized another thing: everyone is looking at you. You are in a distant timeline and you can tell just based on their fashion. 

Dang nabbit, Y/N. You only have a few seconds. Just take a polaroid.

You clicked the shutter. Its small sound made everything more awkward against the quiet and seemingly shocked crowd. Then, you mentally count down to ten as you wanted to get back to Howard to show him the image.

Five.

“Hello?”

You cocked your head to the man who spoke on the side. He was in the controls with another guy who strangely looks like Howard. Were you in another universe? Was multiverse real? Although shocked, you didn’t react since your best friend advised you to don’t interact with anyone.

Four.

“Miss, can you hear us? Where were you from?”

This time, the Howard-looking guy with the weird goatee asked you the question. You remained quiet.

Three.

“I don’t think she can understand us.”

Two.

But then, someone stood up from the seated group of people. A bearded man with shoulder-length brown hair from the back. He removed his sunglasses and you squinted your eyes to identify him. His piercing steel blue eyes as wide as he spoke,

“Dr. Y/N?”

No. No. No! This cannot be real!

One.

“Sergeant Barnes?!”

You immediately covered your mouth as you unintentionally called his name at loud. Gasps and inaudible whispers followed.  You held the polaroid camera in your chest tighter when you see some of them standing. 

Why is he here? He fell from a train during a mission with the Howling Commandos a couple of years ago. Steve saw it himself.

“Wait, you are Dr. Y/N, Howard Stark’s assistant?!” A teenage boy asked and everyone turned to you, waiting for you to say something again.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you took a step back when you noticed the time on your gold wristwatch. Suddenly, there is a drop in your stomach. You watch as the smaller hand ticks, indicating that a minute had passed.

Damn it. 

As if on cue, your camera spews a polaroid picture you took not long ago. Your heartbeats went faster and it was like you were drowning underwater. Sweats formed on your forehead. Your fingers shake. What is happening?

“I’m calling Cap.” you heard someone say and ran out of the room.

“C-Cap?” you stuttered, voice shaking. You prayed that they were talking about someone else as the only person you called Cap was already dead too. Out of desperation and fear, you looked at the two guys standing near what seems to be the controls. “Bring me back!”

You see them panicking as they click on the various buttons. The other one pulled down the large lever and everyone screamed as there were booming sounds and sparks everywhere. Your knees were on the ground as you smelled the smoke. You were starting to feel lightheaded. Your vision was slightly blurry but you can still see people leave the room.

“Oh my god. Let’s go.” A woman with long auburn hair walked to you. 

“But I–” you were pointing at the smoking time machine before another spark happened. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. They’ll fix it. For now, we should go.” she replied and you accepted her hand.

Your knees were weak as you stood up, almost falling again. But another woman stood next to you holding you up by the waist. They assist you, walking you out.

“A-Am I dead?” 

Your feeble voice whispered. But they didn’t seem to hear you. Incoming heavy footsteps were heard.

“Where is she?”

That voice was like a snap in your brain. Like memories played in your head the moment you heard that deep voice. You know that voice. God, you missed that voice. You felt like crying with all the overwhelming emotions mixing in your system. But instead, you gulped and collected all the remaining sanity in you to look up to the guy coming. 

“S-Steve?!” 

You called his name so frail but it didn’t hide the fact that you were surprised to see him. You see his lips move but you cannot hear anything anymore as everything turned dark.

THE SEND-OFF TAGLIST [open. please make sure your account can be mentioned :)]

@supraveng @yourallihave @et-homephone @sunflower-golden-vol6 @curi0usc4t @caitlyn-who @bitchy-bi-trash @therealwritersblog @stilltoomuchafangirl @emievns @sshina555 @blinkszamsstuff @tokaixi @saviorcomplexrry @matisse556 @ragingsammie @gitasor

#steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers au #steve rogers series #steve rogers enemies to lovers au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers time travel au #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff #the send off steve rogers

[jovenshires]

endless au edits: smosh theatre's seasonal lineup (3/4)

no matter what else you have to say about it, one thing is certain. smosh's summer show is a fascinating choice: a production of godspell directed by zoe moacanin. smosh fans may know moacanin from directing last year's infamous performance of les miserables, which was the first show in almost a decade to star both smosh founders, ian hecox and anthony padilla. in a P.I.T. interview with hecox, he revealed that les miserables was moacanin's "brainchild." from the beautiful, minimalistic set to the haunting, romantic stage direction, hecox credited it all as her idea. "the show would not have gone on without her," hecox said. "she's one of the greatest directors i've ever worked with." moacanin's understanding of tragedy and theatre itself truly make her a force to be reckoned with. with a standout crew to support her, including arguably smosh's most talented stage head alex tran, i think we can all preemptively agree that this religious comedy-drama will lean far into the latter and leave not a dry eye in the house. it will surprise almost no one that shayne topp is staying atop the heap of most leading roles in smosh productions as he takes on the intimidating role of jesus christ himself. jesus is a high-energy, charismatic, strong leader that others instinctively follow - all words that accurately describe topp. when i reached out to him to set up a potential interview (coming soon), he had this to say: "it's truly such an honor to be working with zoe [moacanin]. she's extremely talented, and this cast has really captured my heart. i'm so excited to put on this show." i'll have the pleasure of sitting down with topp next week to dive further into his character and his relationship with the cast. speaking of, his fellow lead actor is none other than chanse mccrary, who will be playing john the baptist/judas. mccrary is known for speaking out about how his sexuality and race affect his career, both in how he's perceived by others and how it informs his art. to see him play such a double-edged character will be fascinating, as he will act as jesus's confidante as well as his downfall. smosh theatre is often highly praised for giving their actors room for interpretation. mccrary has taken that and run with it in the past, and i have no doubt that he'll do that again. mccrary shared on his instagram that he's "excited" for the upcoming performance. "i've had so much fun working on this show; this is truly one of my dream roles. come see me and @ shaynetopp sing all for the best and maybe kiss, who's to say". well, he certainly has me sold. godspell is a unique show in that theatre companies often name all of the characters after their actors. smosh is following that unwritten rule, releasing the rest of the cast solely as the songs they sing rather than the characters' names. the incredibly talented arasha lalani will be singing "turn back o' man," performed by the mary magdalene-esque character. lalani has played mostly high-strung, comedic roles with smosh thus far, and she's damn good at it. but as she showcased as cosette in the aforementioned production of les miserables, she absolutely has the range. backing her up in the ensemble of apostles are relatively up-and-coming actors marcus munguia (singing "light of the world" as the comedic, up-beat, class clown apostle) and peter ditzler (singing "all good gifts", a character notably sweet and innocent yet slightly slow on the uptake) among others. the stark mix of both classic smosh members and newer actors makes for a perfectly balanced cast, one that will make this old show feel brand new.

#smosh #smosh au #shayne topp #chanse mccrary #arasha lalani #rpf #fic #edit #mine* #aued* #au #shayne #chanse #arasha #peter #marcus #alex t #zoe #theatre au #my video edit that i had for today wont post so! have a lil treat a lil early! #bet you didnt see this one coming did you. keeping you on your TOES. #nah but this is cast of all time. to me. sh/aynse all for the best save me.... save me sh/aynse all for the best............

[langdhon]

These times are hard for many of us for a variety of reasons. And while I'm not at all a christmasy person, I think it can't hurt to spread a little gingerbread sweetness in shape of appreciation. They seem to be just words typed on a pixel background, but I mean them. As a thank you, let me get all mushy and give shoutouts to you people:

Under the cut because it got really fucking long.

||| First of all, my closest/longest roleplay partners:

@ravenskeeper: Andy, the light of my experience. The FUCL to my ATTACL, one of the most creative people on here and longest writing partner. I can't imagine my guy without Alice in his life anymore. We've created such a profound dynamic out of literally nothing but a random starter 1 1/2 years ago. And despite some jealous assbutt trying to kick you, you stayed, kept slaying and I hope you know how fucking strong that makes you! I also love for us how we rapid-fire our shit back and forth most of the time because we infect each other with the inspiration from our muses harmonizing so damn well. Sure, I adore everything you do, also on your multi and Dream, but your OG brainchild Alice always has a special place in my heart.

@eyeless-smiles: Why don't I know what to call you after such a long time of our sickos murdering and diddling their way through existence together? Wanna preserve a mysterious vibe, huh? Jk. Such laid back and easy-going writers like you seem to be a rarity nowadays, and you're super kind whenever we have our little chats. While I enjoyed every second of seeing your writing evolve, your muse grow, I appreciate most how you can fit Corinth into so many situations and still have him be him. It's easy to tell you have fun. That is contagious tbh. Interacting with you is always a joy and I hope we'll keep that going for the next 100 years!

@viiolencia: Lune, you funky moonthey! We've already written on my old muse loooong ago and I immediately fell in love with Sira. I'm so happy we have our hellish little shits interact too, and what a blast that just is I have no words!! Besties with benefits, a dynamic I'll always cherish. They're chaos, sitting in the same boat while also not. It's so special. Your writing as such? Chef's kiss. You're one of those partners whose replies to me I read multiple times because your prose flows so beautifully while never straying from depicting the ugly details. You paint literal pictures in my head with your words and I'm so living for it. I'd eat your writing if I could.

@hiveruled: Kai is a dick. But you, Bo the bro, ain't; you're super chill and I love seeing you drag Kai through the dirt, as I occasionally drag Michael too. You understand that there's a difference between exploring the mind of a bad guy and the person you really are; it's almost like psychologists being fascinated with the most unhinged minds, to comprehend how they work. Writing our two idiots provoke each other is so so much fun. You're also, I'll never forget, the first AHS roleplayer who welcomed me and Michael. I appreciate you always.

@malka-lisitsa: I remember when we became mutuals. We immediately were on the same wavelength when it came to how we both are most interested in diving into our characters' psyche. That this is what it's about for us. And I see you dig into Katherine's heart and soul every day, you never fail at filling in the gaps canon left to render her the one-dimensional villain. You showed me, us, that she's not the cutout bad bitch. What should be obvious, you made us see in detail. Michael and Katherine together? Priceless! Anyway, you're such a force on my dash that when someone says November, I don't think of the month first but of you.

@colorsdevoid: Yes, Genesis, you have many muses Zach would be proud of you portraying because you do it amazingly. Still, Thomas is the one I got to know best by now and with who Michael interacted most, so I'm sort of biased. Sue me, ha! I instantly loved him because he's somebody you can easily have compassion for, all the while not excusing the path he took. And I'm so thrilled to see him bloom when brought back among the living, in a world that'll treat him better than the one he was born into. A world still needing improvement, but better nonetheless. I look forward to seeing where all this takes him!

@multi-royalty: Maddie, the gal who juggles a bunch of super different characters every single day, and all of them are amazing on their own. I don't know how you do it, especially since you've got a fair amount of high-maintenance divas in the mix, so I imagine sometimes your head must go BOOM. I've only ever seen you as the sweet presence on my dash, which is always a bright spark in my daily experience here. I know you struggle, but I also see you fight this bitch trying to paint your thoughts all black. I'm proud of you and I hope you are proud of yourself for creating such a lot every day, too

@asteritm: We haven't written in a while, but you were one of my very first writing partners on this blog, this muse. They immediately kicked off with an equally chaotic vibe and it's been such a blast all along! Whenever they didn't try to 1-up each other in sass-battles, they could get super soft with one another; this duality is super interesting to play out. Also because Lilly is one among very few able to overpower my brat. It's something I dig so hard because it forces him to tone his shit down sometimes. The way you write is so alive too. Fresh, never monotonous, it really conveys Lilly's entire chaotic energy!

@zealctry: A, your Malcolm went through more than a handful headaches with my guy here, while with Hidan? I suppose our dudes either give each other the same headache or none, because they are both murderous chaotic fucks who don't beat around the bush. Writing with you was always a pure pleasure and still is! You put up with Mikey's bs even when I sat here hoping he'd just... shut up and think for a second. You have such a colorful mind and the way you write is a mirror of your creativity; it's so real, so vivid. Every reply from you is a treat, like a warm chocolate pudding during a winter evening.

||| More partners that I adore and send my love to:

@anthrcpophagi and the beautifully written Maren Yearly, a sweet yet dangerous character who absolutely deserves more recognition. @butscrewmefirst and the flawless take of Elizabeth, who's been around for over half a decade by now, can you even believe? @bunnyblooded and the Stefan I didn't know I needed to see until I did. @bratprinced, if you want the actual Lestat to throw his dramatic antics onto your dash? That's the go-to. @griefknown and a lovely Elena, who's just as troubled as she's the town's sweetheart. @hybrid-royalty-main who always provides fun times with all those funky little dudes. I hear their voices in their replies, no shit. @hecatespower the only Mallory I've seen around in a while and given so much more depth it's simply beautiful. @havvkinsqueen Victoria is one of the absolute sweetest persons on this whole site, an inspiration for us all, and her Chrissy is the only one for me. @monstriiss and their giant monster milf who can eat your man and probably will, literally btw. Not just an original but original original concept. @munsontm with their funky little Eddie, who gives no shit about gender norms while being metal af. @pumpkinstabs, the person who made me get actually interested in Myers, who gives him such intriguing nuances. Love it. @ruinedmyself and the lovely babygirl Sammy who needs snuggles but receives struggles; pls go and hug him. @spynorth and the Spooks spy Michael likes to slam into walls. Lucas shakes his head at his own muse a lot and that's what I'm here for. @stanfordprepped and the fanged cutie Sam that you can corrupt today! For only $0,00 and a cup of demon blood. @sarcasticsnackpack with that guy with an aversion to his birthname. Super fun to write and chat with. @snowreignd who's brave and comes around with the worst fictional president to ever president. I love that rounded take! @thcmcnstcr and a super cute but equally as dangerous half-angel, also found on @scldiersmercy and @blccdwar. All intertwined. @untilthcyrot with a variety of great muses, most of all the little big sister to my idiot son here. Super fun to talk to as well.

||| Last but not least: those I yet have to get into writing with more:

@fallenregent you're amazing and so is your Davina! @fangsforhire you give off fun-vibes, which I love to see! @pohlepen you give us a messy woman who kicks ass and you just.. rock! @pumpcursed you unapologetically enjoy yourself, as we all should! @traumapyre you're a sweet bean and deserve only good things. @zmogedra you sure have that cannibal down to a T. And pls get well soon!

I didn't @ multiple blogs of the same writer, just know I love every blog I follow! Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't follow, duh ♥

#positivity

[froggi1337]

Gonna vent about Gundam Wing here because FUCK

I know people like this show, and I can see the appeal in the angst between the pilots and the cool robot fights (when they actually happen and aren't just one-sided ass-beatings) and all that jazz. And i just want to say, I'm not gonna stop you from enjoying Gundam Wing. Hell, maybe someone can spell this show out for me and help me get it.

In the meantime, with that out of the way, I want to talk about my feelings regarding Gundam Wing as somebody actively watching through it.

I'm writing this review of Mobile Suit Gundam Wing in the middle of episode 34 (almost 10 episodes away from the end of the show), and I'm left questioning what the point of all this even was. Gundam Wing's upfront pitch was simple & sweet: Heero Yuy & other Gundam pilots go down to Earth and it's pretty straightforward: smash shit up for the larger United Earth Sphere Alliance folks, and is OZ & Zechs were there and sometimes Trieze would show up and say some shit and feel like a solid fit for a complex main villain. Then the Gundam pilots have to go back to Earth and now everyone is kind of meandering about. God, and then a few of them reunite under the female lead Relena's flag. But that kind of fizzles out when lo'-and-behold Heero Yuy runs off in a Gundam yet again while Quatre stands by? Who even is the main villain anymore? Because Trezie said his fight was "over" like his ass gets to say that when his soldiers are out there still clawing for relevancy now that a faceless main villain has invaded the story. It is impossible to feel any sort of way about anyone, nobody important ever actually dies and, again, the role of the antagonist has shifted between two or three different old guys. They really only did one pilot's backstory adequetly. I don't care about any of these people and at this point I'm just watching this to figure if the Gundam Wing Zero & Epyon doing weird mental stuff is going to go anywhere. But if that element is anything like the conflict, it's fizzle out right before it does anything worth discussing.

I don't understand any of it, none of these little bastard Gundam pilots can stick together and it totally underminds the squad dynamic set up from the start. Half of them don't even do anything for most of the series. It leads me back around to my first question, what was the point of this show? Was ALL of this really slapped together to sell toys? (I mean, it was then it worked. I want a model kit of the Mobile Dolls and I own kits the 5 Gundams + Deathscythe Hell) Who is even the brainchild behind Gundam Wing? Who is to blame for this whole thing to begin with? Give me a name, if there even is one.

#gundam wing #Gundam #Gundam vent #Mobile Suit Gundam

[lululawrence]

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation 2023

Thank you for tagging me @allwaswell16! I am so happy every year that this (I believe) brainchild of @juliusschmidt's from 2016 still exists in various forms! hehe I apparently missed doing this in 2021 and 2022, and I was determined not to miss it again so here we go!

List of works published this year: My Other Half Was You Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) Quite the Pickle Livin' In A Daydream (Gimme a Solution and) Watch Me Run With It You Are A Song Did You Know I Fit In A Dryer? Were You There On That Christmas Night? Team Gaelic FTW No Constraints Odds Are That We Will Probably Be... Damsel in Christmas Distress Snow In Love

Work you are most proud of (and why): Oof. This is always such a hard question to answer. Almost as hard as the next one, and the next one and the next one....... hah honestly though, I think... I'm honestly sincerely proud of most of my fics from this year simply because I got them written. I'll go more into that later, I'm sure, but maybe... I think maybe My Other Half Was You or Odds Are That We Will Probably Be... and for very different reasons. My Other Half Was You was written based on artwork by @moon-sun-thyme for @1dreversebang and the moment I saw her artwork I had these vague ideas coming to mind and I am quite proud with how I was able to bring them to life so closely resembling what I originally thought of when I saw the art. And for Odds Are, I wrote that for @1dtrickortreatfest so it had to be exactly 666 words and that's always a trick (heh), but in this case I had to completely world build and set up the situation and lead everyone to the conclusion within that word count while making it somewhat compelling... and I think I was able to manage it. I hope I was, anyway haha

Work you are least proud of (and why): lmaooooo usually this answer is really hard for me to answer, but this year it's not haha i have a few fics that I literally wrote to just remind myself that I could. That not everything has to be thought out and polished and pretty, sometimes it's just a matter of getting words on paper and putting them out into the world immediately, hoping for the best, and they absolutely served their purpose! I'm fond of them still, but that doesn't mean I'm proud of them necessarily haha So I would have to say Damsel in Christmas Distress (which I still love dearly, simply for how self indulgent that silly thing is for me haha) and Quite the Pickle. Again, my darling Stylinshaw fics getting the brunt of it here, but they did as they needed to for me. I'll maybe try to write them a longer, more polished fic with some thought behind it this year, as they clearly deserve.

A favorite excerpt of your writing: GAHHHH I hate this question every damn time! Okay, I don't know if this is my absolute favorite thing I wrote this year, BUT it immediately came to mind, and I do very much like it so, here's an excerpt from Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me). I just adore Harry being a fumbling idiot around a pretty boy hahaha Ever since he had dug up his garden, he preferred to start in the back where the job was a lot more complicated to work around and then move to the front, which was far easier.  Now, though, Harry was wondering if this was the right decision because Louis was also mowing his lawn. That wasn’t a problem, of course, except he was shirtless and that only defined for Harry the fact he really had grown up. Louis used to try to show off for the neighborhood by mowing any number of lawns shirtless in middle school and high school, but he had been a scrawny kid with little to no meat on his bones and Harry had thought it adorable back then. Now, on a sweltering day like it was, he was probably shirtless just to be as cool as possible as the sun beat down on him, and Harry’s vision wasn’t as good as it used to be, but he could still tell that Louis had filled out since going to college. He was still a thin man, but as he pushed the mower through the tall grass, Harry could see the muscles he clearly put effort into. Add to it the chest hair that was only growing darker as he continued to sweat and the smattering of tattoos he’d gotten since he turned eighteen and it was clear he had grown up. Harry couldn’t help it when the glint of the sun off Louis’ sweaty skin made him lick his lips without even thinking. Clearing his throat and thankful it was obvious Louis was too focused to notice Harry ogling him from his own yard, Harry pulled the starter and began to work on his own yard.

Share or describe a favorite review you received: I've got three that immediately came to mind, so excuse me while I mention all three as quickly as I can manage lol First was from @allwaswell16 for Gemma's Dad. I'd had a lot of difficulty with a someone reading motivations and meaning in the characters and story that I took a lot of care in ensuring were actually avoided as I wrote it. There were a lot of pitfalls I could have fallen into when writing the fic, but one person just kept asking over and over again for things I thought I had already done and my beta assured me I had sufficiently covered etc, but I still worried so when Anitra gave the review she did of it on her podcast, it literally made me cry a little bit lol Second was @londonfoginacup in response to (Gimme a Solution and) Watch Me Run With It when she commented "Ah so you really just tore your chest open and picked out your beating heart and handed it to me here, didn’t you" because... well I hadn't really considered it when I'd been writing the fic, but I guess I kind of did exactly that, yeah. haha And then lastly I want to thank @tommokat for their lovely comments on Snow In Love regarding the Michigan geography and freak lake effect snow that can be experienced there because I tried my very best to describe the absolute chaos that is that region in the wintertime and they basically affirmed that I had accurately captured it. Genuinely, the best gift I could have gotten haha

A time when writing was really, really hard: Excuse me while I laugh a bit hysterically until I cry alksdhglskfja The last year or two have been incredibly difficult for a whole host of reasons, but the ones that most affected my writing were my lingering (and seemingly unending) burnout combined with an absolute lack of time/energy available to write. There were so many times this year that I thought I wouldn't be able to do it or thought I'd have to pull out of various fests and just... cut down on things, but I kept pushing and kept trying and I did it. I'm so fucking proud of myself, honestly.

A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: Jordan North in Did You Know I Fit In A Dryer? Well, honestly, Louis in that fic too. And the entire premise of the fic. Really all of it surprised me lololol I never expected to write Jordan in a fic. Ever. hahahaa And as I've barely dabbled in a couple of weed candies is all, I certainly did not anticipate ever writing someone as THAT HIGH. sooooo...yeah just all of it hahaha

How did you grow as a writer this year: Psh. Bold of you to assume I've grown as a writer this year when I was merely doing what I could to survive haha if anything I kind of wonder if I went backwards in my writing abilities but who the fuck knows, really haha

How do you hope to grow next year: I just... I dunno man. I just kinda hope I'm in a better place this time next year so I'm just not so fucking tired all the time and so I have actual time to write, you know? lol continued good vibes are always welcome here, folks haha

Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): Like... everyone. hah I'm getting a little emotional thinking of everyone who helped me keep going this year. but the greatest? probably @londonfoginacup again. She was the biggest influence in actually getting my Big Bang finished because I didn't want to disappoint her (even though?? I know I won't??? like.. anyway) haha and then I wrote like three fics for her/dedicated them to her just because... like. she keeps me going some days honestly so yeah. Emmu. You're the bestest always babes. Love you.

Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: Listen, all I'm saying is in one of my fics it hits a little too close to home. Like I kind of wrote Harry's starting place... and kinda where he is for a lot of the fic... pretty much exactly how I was feeling, and still pretty much am, though for very different reasons. So it's maybe a little too much of my real life emotionally speaking in there yeah

Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: New? Not so much hahaha just don't give up!

Any new projects you're looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: YES. I was just talking with @moon-sun-thyme this morning that I started the year by posting a fic based on her art, and I'm going out of this year focusing on the fic we will be collaborating on together for the @onedirectionbigbang hehe so I'm very very excited to get started on that one. It's a fic I've been wanting to write almost ever since I first heard the song Satellite, so I am READY to delve in and lose myself to it, honestly. In the whole... one night every week or two I have to write. hahaha Here's hoping I make the deadline haaaaa

Tag three writers whose answers you'd like to read: MAN I have no idea who has and hasn't done this yet! So maybeeeee @justanothershadeofblue, @hellolovers13, anddddd @quotefromthatshow and @louandhazaf if you haven't done it already and want to! And shh I know it’s four but who cares lolol

*All answers should be about fics posted in 2023

Past Years: 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 and 2020 | 2022(ish)

#annual writing self evaluation #writing stuff #about me #2023 in writing #i'm trying to tag it using all the things i tried searching as i went looking for my old ones #the fact i can't find a 2021 one when i swear i did one is frustrating but whatever lol #hope this works and i can find it next year hahaha #i also can't believe i've done these going back to 2016 that is WILD lol #okay enjoy y'all love you bye

[arkhammaid]

Let me just scream about chapter 2, cause I am so in love right now... I AM GONNA REREAD THAT STORY LIKE MY LIFE DEPENDS ON ITT it does

Charles doesn’t change her clothes, her special polo for Monza having her number in the colors of the Italian Flag, something that will only add to what she will do now. She leaves her cap on, her long hair in waves from the braid she wore during the race, her cheeks still flushed— she almost looks a bit rumpled. It’s perfect. 

But she thought over each word carefully, mapped everything out in her head, her words, when she smiles, when she’s teary eyed. 

The way she had this planned out, THE WAY SHE MOVES, THR WAY SHE SPEAKS, SHE EVEN PLANNED OUT HOW THE PEOPLE WOULD REACT I LOVE A WOMAN WHO KNOW WHAT SHE WANTS AND HOW TO TAKE ITTT, I AM IN LOVE WITH HER MIND!!

And then… then it comes down to Las Vegas. If she wins here again and Carlos and Max place beneath her, which they will, she will win the World Championship. It’s glorious, it leaves her breathless, pumped with adrenaline

which they will, the confidence, the security she has in her skills, in everything she had done to get her WHERE SHE WANTS! IT IS JUST CHARLIE'S WORLD AND WE JUST LIVE IN IT

When Max congratulates her with a big smile on his face, no frustration evident. He lifts her, his massive hands circling around her waist. The people around them cheer and laugh, she still feels their patting hands on her back and shoulders— and yet she can’t lift her eyes off him. 

MAX CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF THE CHAIST, HE FUCKING LIFTS HER UP, SEDATE ME, KILL ME, JUST STRANGLE ME WITH THEIR LOVE AND THEM TOUCHING EACH OTHER!!

also, max grapping her neck in the club 😩😩 GOD, I AM NOT YOUR STRONGEST SOLDIER

me when you guys leave comments and asks like these: (got me blushing and giggling and kicking my feet fr)

monza is the italian temple of insanity, of course charles would only enable them to be even more insane. no one will stop her from doing insane things, fully knowing that she would do it anyway if someone forbid it

IT IS IN FACT just charles world and us living in it. some just act it isn't like this (charlie will prove them wrong in this fic)

max can't have enough of charles, of the chaist (and one day of the chussy-) he's so totally normal about her!!!

(there is a small snippet of the fic where max compares charles to a feisty kitten why do you think he's grabbing her neck like that 👀)

so so happy you people like my little brainchild born of the literal fact that jos verstappen is following charles leclerc on insta.... insane brainchild but i love it 🫶

#anne talks: with visitors #you're always welcome to scream abt future chapters in my askbox hehe #i really think it's interesting what catches the eyes of readers since i have a totally different perspective on it #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ match made in hell

[foolishfoolsgold]

Immune system go brr

A few designs I’ve done since I had this mutated brainchild back in October. I have others like eosinophil and dendritic but I wanna redraw them. I was still learning the way of the cell creature back then lol. Image IDs under the cut

[Start ID: The first image shows the AU design for U-1146. The background is white with a gray triangle pattern. He’s wearing his usual uniform, but he has a rounded, noseless snout, long ears without holes, and his one eye that is showing has black sclera and a round silver iris. His skin, turned cell membrane, is pure white with faint gray striped that resemble the markings of a raccoon. He has a tail with the same colors, it’s long, skinny, and has multiple lobes on it. Who on the very end, and a few dorsal lobes along its length. Again, like a raccoon, the tail has those faint stripes on it. He’s standing and staring at the viewer with his one visible eye, with his left hand in a fist, and the other gripping a silver knife. There’s some text next to his head that reads: “Only has one eye, and it can’t un-dilate so he always has that big sauger pupil we see in the media.” Another text box reads “Some raccoon inspiration because the official art makes it look like he has an eye mask.” There’s a piece of this official art in the top left corner of the image for comparison, and in the bottom right, there’s my watermark.

The second image shows Killer T Cell’s design. The background has an orange-yellow triangle design. He’s standing with his usual uniform, head turned and arms crossed. He doesn’t have bones, though, so his arms look more like they’re tied in a knot. He keeps his canon skin tone and hair style, but his membrane has dark blue markings that make him resemble a peregrine falcon. He shares the basic physical features with U-1146, except his tail is thinner and only has two small lobes on the end. His tail is yellow, like his hair, and has an arrow pointing from it to a picture of a banana flavored Snack Pack pudding package, noting that his tail looks a lot like banana pudding by humorously noting “Is it worth it?” Unlike 46, T’s hazel eyes are made up of multiple pupils that coalesce like a lava lamp, and this is true for all future entries as well. Again, there’s my watermark and an actual picture of killer t for reference.

The third image shows Macrophage’s design, and a cream-colored triangle background. Macrophage has large, frilled ears, and a darker cell membrane that looks almost like light coffee. She’s wearing her normal ruffled dress, but instead of legs, she has long tentacles without suckers, built almost like Ursula. She’s covered in white patterns with ripple-like stripes and spots, resembling a cuttlefish. With her right arm and one of her tentacles, she’s holding her signature cleaver, dripping with red blood, which also stained another tentacle and parts of her dress, and the other arm is held up to her face in an “I didn’t do that!” pose. She’s accompanied by a picture of anime Macrophage and a microscope photo of a real macrophage, reaching out with its “arms” to some bacteria. There’s a text box under it that reads: “like come on I HAD to make her a sea monster, have you seen real macrophages? Look at this bitch.” Another box reads: “lots of cephalopod inspiration, octopus-like build with cuttlefish markings and frills.” A final humorous box says “it’s ok she just had to refill the ketchup at McDonald’s,” referring to the blood.

The fourth image featured NK’s design with a green patterned background, as are the following images. She keeps her skin tone and clothes for the most part, but she has a centaur-like build. Her black tank top is extended to cover her chest and has short sleeves for her first set of legs, and ends with a belt around her midsection to her green shorts. She has green boots on all four of her feet, and her tail is black with green splotches, and has lots of lobes, almost like that of a leafy sea dragon. She has army-green spots resembling a cheetah, and she’s smiling and looking confident, with her left hand in a fist. She has her saber in a sheath on her back, and a brown bag secured to her belt like a saddlebag. There’s an arrow pointing to the photo of anime NK from a text box that says “there is something about this SPECIFIC png of NK that cracks me up sm and I don’t fucking know what it is.”

The fifth image shows Helper T, who shares many basic traits with Killer T such as bipedalism and a two-loved tail. While he still has the creature features like the big ears and rounded snout, he’s race-swapped as a black man, and has dark stripes along his arms and face like a peacock. His eyes are blue, and he’s holding a cup of green tea, dropping a cookie in it. There’s a small figure showing that his hair (flagella) are each coiled rather than straight.

The final image shows B cell’s design, which has a lot of bird inspiration. He has a longer snout, plumed tail and ears, and big flat lobes along his arms that look like wings. His eyes are silver md his stripes are brown and green, patterned like that of a blue jay. He’s also holding his antibody gun. A text box reads: “Bird boy! B cells were first discovered in birds and are named after the bursa of fabrics, a thymus-like organ for B cells that only birds have.” There’s also a note that says “face shape inspired by the Hilda bird because look at him,” accompanied by a screenshot of the raven from the Netflix series Hilda. He has a simple, completely black design with a rounded face, stick-figure legs and small wings. End ID.]

#hataraku saibou #cells at work #my art #spec evo #speculative biology #speculative evolution #tw trypophobia #kinda. like with the eyes. idk just to be safe #tw cartoon blood #u1146 #killer t cell #macrophage #nk cell #helper t cell #b cell #au #character design #they don’t have bones so I just tied his arms in a knot lmao #it looks better with night shift on #idk if that’s common practice for digital artists but I’d like to keep my eyes please #I just turned it off and I feel like I got flashbanged #damnit macrophage still has my old Reddit on it #I’m starting to think this isn’t what tags are for

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 21/02/2024

As Miku Collides

Season 1 Featured on: GilvaSunner's Highest Quality Video Game Rips: Volume 3 & Knigra Also on: Hatsilva Miku: Ripping DIVA

Ripped by Chaze the Chat, Eziam One, Can of Nothing

There's a certain...important date coming up tomorrow, one that I've been planning toward for almost a month now, and one I'm shocked I wasn't made aware of until just that recently. To those reading who are unaware, rest easy, it will all be revealed in due time tomorrow, and to those who are: consider this post a sort of prelude of what's to come. I was unsure of which rips to feature for this date, or if I should just cover all my options in one big post, yet I decided it best to split things up for distribution's sake. None of that really matters for today though - what matters today, is As Miku Collides, SiIvaGunner, and the oft-forgotten band of Kara's Flowers.

The SiIvaGunner channel, for as much of a collaborative effort as it truly is, still owes so much of its identity to original channel owner Chaze the Chat. SiIvaGunner was never wholly the brainchild of one sole contributor in particular, yet so much of what drove it from the early days can be traced back to just this one dorky guy and his passions, his sense of humor, his friendships - and most importantly, his interests. Chaze the Chat's affection for Maroon 5 is common knowledge to anyone who's followed SiIvaGunner for as long as I have, and it resulted in much of their music being featured prominently on SiIvaGunner even during its infancy, with rips such as Moves Like K.K. and Everyday Goodbyes (SiIvaGunner Band Cover). Yet for as fun and frequent as mashups of the former kind consistently are and were, it was the latter rip in particular that stuck with me since its release for just how...strange it was in comparison to everything else. In a year filled with cynicism, on a channel themed primarily around the silliness of the bait-and-switch, where even its emotional highs were tied to memes and mischief, Everyday Goodbyes (SiIvaGunner Band Cover) is so...sincere, in its intentions and execution. It's a release Chaze the Chat was evidently very proud of too, given its repeated album releases, yet the tribute was entirely lost on me back in the day. It was good music, a stellar performance by everyone involved, but...why?

A few years later, I'd find myself listening through all of the SiIvaGunner channel's albums as a way to refresh myself on its history and best rips - and practically stumbled upon As Miku Collides in the process. Even back then, I could feel that particular Season 1 roughness to it - the joke and edit isn't all too complex, the vocaloid tuning on Miku herself leaves something to be desired, and the album itself contained several other excellent Vocaloid rips such as Rolling Start on it to divert my attention. Yet there was something in As Miku Collides that just...enamored me, wrapped around me like a digital blanket. A cover of this mysterious song that I'd never before heard, one where the emotion behind the vocals are unmissable even filtered through Vocaloid, with a hypnotically beautiful main melody, an endlessly beckoning call for help from the skies above. A song that Chaze the Chat himself felt was important enough to comment the full lyrics to on the YouTube upload, a YouTube upload that still sits below 10K views despite being close to eight years old now. There's Sixty-five comments there, yet only a scarce few seem to have even known what they were even commenting on.

You may already have put the pieces together by now. As Miku Collides, released five months before Everyday Goodbyes (SiIvaGunner Band Cover), was one of the channel's first-ever tributes to the band Kara's Flowers, the band that after failing to find success would eventually morph into the far more successful - and oft derided - Maroon 5 in the 2000s. And though the band's discography under the Maroon 5 name was inevitably more recognizable to the average SiIvaGunner viewer through sheer presence on the radio, with hits like Harder To Breathe 64, Siiva Lining and Sunday Morning, that didn't seem to deter Chaze nor anyone else on the team more intimately familiar with the band's origins. Kara's Flower's discography, be it Soap Disco, Everyday Goodbyes, or of course As Things Collide kept receiving tributes on the channel throughout Season 1, despite how few subscribers seemed to truly be picking up on what was actually happening. Just like I asked back when with Everyday Goodbyes (SiIvaGunner Band Cover), the question remains...

Why?

The answer, you'll find, is simple:

Because Chaze the Chat loves Kara's Flowers.

Because, beyond what I earlier inferred about his influence on the channel - Season 1 of SiIvaGunner, at its core, was a melting pot of nerds sharing whatever things they loved, not just with one another but with us as the viewers, mixed into the channel's high rate of uploads. Amidst all the Flintstones, Nutshacks and other relevant memes, you had ShonicTH's love for Kingdom Hearts shining through in all that he did, including Trial of the Heart; you had dante's love for Hiroyuki Sawano in rips like 9​来​4s; you had Uncle Fill's love for Hotel Dusk, expressed in any way possible through Violet Snow Memories; you had Jass' love for Sega Genesis music and Sonic CD in projects like CD Grand Beta and Collision Chaos Good Future JP [CD Beta Mix]. And, in the center of it all, you had Chaze the Chat, Maroon 5, Kara's Flowers, and As Miku Collides.

Really, what we were taught by the Reboot, by the first storyline of the entire SiIvaGunner channel, was nothing more than the channel's purest essence of: one that was at its strongest in its first year, yet remains as the channel's beating heart eight Seasons in. None of us, in the audience as fans, have any right to demand what SiIvaGunner creates, no right to assume that SiIvaGunner's creators and contributors ought to bend to our whims. As Miku Collides, and all the rips like it, by all the rippers on the team and out, were made with the pure intent of spreading love for one's own little world of interests - and in this case in particular, it grabbed me in a way I never thought possible. Flawed as it may be, I'm eternally happy to have been given the chance by Chaze the Chat, by Eziam One, by Mellorine, to experience the seldom-remembered soul of Kara's Flowers.

'Cause I've spoken with all the other angels They don't know what to do...

#todays siivagunner #season 1 #siivagunner #siiva #chaze the chat #eziam one #can of nothing #mellorine #maroon 5 #adam levine #kara's flowers #stagg street recordings #hatsune miku #vocaloid #project sekai #project mirai #miku #vocaloid miku #Youtube #Bandcamp