#not that he is old he is only 51 and looking fine

[calisources]

WALTER EMANUEL JONES AS ZACK TAYLOR IN POWER RANGERS: ONCE AND ALWAYS (2023) THE NETFLIX SPECIAL.

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Walter Emanuel Jones ( b. 1970 ) is an African American actor. Walter is known for his role as Zack Taylor in the Original Power Rangers series. He is reprising his role for this special.

Icons only have him unmasked (you can see the suit but no helmet on site).

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there are like 6 icons of a flashback scene of his time in the original show.

ICON COUNT: 351 icons FIND: here.

[sunflowersteves]

come and get your love || j.m.

chapter one of ain’t no sunshine

pairing || joel miller x f!sunshine!reader

summary || someone across the Tipsy Bison had their hand on you all night. how long will Joel Miller take to do something about it?

author's note || first part of the series! all of the chapters can be read as a stand alone, but they do go in order of a time line. hope you all enjoy <3 4.1k words

warnings || jealousy, insecurities, angst, toxic people, possessiveness, fluff, 10 year age gap (joel is 51), SMUT, praise kink, oral sex (f rec), cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, [18+ only]

series masterlist || masterlist

Hail, with it, baby, 'cause you're fine And you're mine, and you look so divine

Joel’s eyes lingered on your form from across the bustling bar. It was in the middle of a Wyoming summer, so you wore a pretty light blue sundress. You could feel the cool breeze brush up against your thighs and the sun beating down on your skin just from the dusty windows. 

You came home one day, telling Joel and Ellie that you traded some old tactical pants for the frilly dress. Joel choked on his morning coffee when he caught a glimpse—Ellie just laughed and laughed. And now, you looked unbelievably perfect, all while you fluttered around the chairs and tables in the Tipsy Bison, talking with friends and newcomers. 

Although, his soft, love-sick eyes started to harden as they continued to follow you. 

The mere sight of someone flirting with you—a shoulder leaning on a support pole with sparkling eyes—was going to send his old bones into a coma. He was sure of it. Joel's chest started to burn from a sizzling rage that crept up to his cheeks. 

You were as friendly as you could be with a beer in your hand and a laugh escaping your lips. He knew you were oblivious to the flirting. You always have been. 

A couple of years ago, along the endless roads of traveling to get Ellie where she needed to go, Joel had been trying to get your attention for weeks, despite his damn self-sabotage that forced himself to avoid you in the previous months before. Ellie saw through it, though. Tommy saw it too. Hell, even Tess saw through it. The one person who had not seen just how much Joel was infatuated and hopelessly in love with you was, well, you. 

He thought that it was because he was rough and unrestrained. Joel was a jagged edge of a rock that cut deep into anyone that came near him. He thought you might not want to be with him and all of his baggage.

You were the exact polar opposite of him. You were a ray of sunshine—a burst of fresh air that knocked the breath out of his lungs. You could handle yourself out there in the depths of survival. He did not doubt that, but you were still warmhearted and sweet. You were what the rest of the world seemed to have forgotten.

Turns out, though, he couldn't have been more wrong. 

Your mind and body were washed over with every essence of Joel. When his hand was on your back to gently guide you through rugged terrain or when you instinctively grabbed onto his upper arm when a lone stranger bumped into your third-person party—your mind becomes blank.

The only thing, you said when you finally confessed, you could think about was Joel. Your body would freeze, and time would slow, your heart the only exception as it beats so rapidly you thought it might burst. So, in the end, Joel finds himself elated with pride and pure adoration that he was able to make you feel so free—so full of love.

“Are you gonna do something? Or are you just going to sit here and be ‘old-man’ sad?” 

Joel snapped out of his daze, turning his head toward Ellie. She had her eyebrow raised, with a hand on a freshly opened beer bottle. 

“Gimme that.” He muttered under his breath and swiped the bottle away from her. She let out a small, “Hey! You dick!” before huffing in frustration. “You ain’t even eighteen yet.” He slid the bottle over to Maria, who nodded back to Joel. “I’m almost eighteen!”

He huffed, ignoring Ellie’s comment. “And no. She’s got it handled.” 

You were probably the friendliest, kindest person that Ellie had ever met—especially in this shitty, fucked up world. Along the dusty gravel roads of travel, you would hold her hand and swing back and forth as Joel trailed not far behind. At night, you would shuffle your sleeping bag closer to hers, so you could laugh and giggle at her pun book until falling into a distant slumber. In the mornings, when you and Joel were keeping watch, and a lone stranger would interrupt your three-person party, you jumped in front of Ellie and pointed your shotgun at the intruder. You turned quickly, if not instantly, into a mother figure for her. 

So, Ellie knows that you have got it far from handled. She knows you are completely unsuspecting of the person that was practically throwing himself on top of you. 

“Yeah, you are so full of shit.”

Now, in your defense of the flirting, everyone in Jackson knew not to make a move on you. It has been established from the very beginning that you and Joel are made for each other. All you could ever see was each other. Always. 

So, at the end of things, when someone walked up to you with a bright smile and a gleam in their eyes that screamed “please fuck me,” you didn’t think anything of it. Your mind was no doubt in a Joel Miller trance—thoughts rolling over one another about the plains of his skin and the gruff feeling of his patchy beard on your fingertips. But when a newcomer comes along in the commune and gets introduced to everybody, that’s when they try to make their mark on you. 

“She’s fine—”

“You sure, Joel?” His eyes flickered back towards you and saw the newcomer squeeze your forearm. You think nothing of it and crack another joke at who you thought was a new friend, causing them to throw their head back in very exaggerated laughter. 

And now, Joel wasn’t sure at all—not with the bubbled-up feeling that wrapped around his chest and sunk down into his stomach. He grunted out in response to Ellie, who rolled her eyes at his demeanor. Yeah, he was far from sure. 

“Go say something, Grandpa—”

He raised his eyebrow, “hey—”

“Ellie’s right, you know.” Joel’s head whipped around at Tommy’s voice. “She doesn’t even know the guy’s flirting. She’s too trustin’ of people.” 

He gave his older brother a little smile—an all too knowing teasing smile. Joel didn’t say anything, just downing the rest of his whiskey. The ice clunked against the glass, and the two next to him just watched with anticipation. 

“Your brooding is scaring the customers away. Go say somethin’, Joel.”

He ponders for just a moment—mind circling around all of the different thoughts in his brain. He knows you are just fine. He knows you wouldn’t ever do anything of the sort.

If you actually knew that the man was flirting with you, you would stop it immediately. You’re just kind. You just wanted to make friends. He wanted you to make friends in this little town you had learned to love.

Before Joel even knows it, though, he's getting up from the stool. His own heart had taken over his body and ran home with it. He could just barely hear Ellie cheer for the old man to do something. 

His boots were heavy as he walked across the bar, his wrinkled eyes hardening with every step. His heart squeezed at the pure sight of you—a smile almost turning his frown up. That is until the squeezing of his other thoughts from the man right in front of you suffocated his chest. 

“Joel!” 

God, you sounded so sweet. Your eyes lit up so bright he thought he might be blinded. Whatever you were talking about with your new friend, it completely went out the window when you heard the stomps of his boots. 

“Hi, darlin’.” 

His hand ghosted the small of your back, and it almost caused you to shiver. You looked up at him with a pretty smile, opening your mouth to let him in on the conversation. “We were just talking about patrols. I was saying how we saw that bear with the three cubs the other day! and—”

“Can we help you?” The man, you knew as Brad, scowled right up at Joel for interrupting the conversation the two of you were having earlier. Oh, Joel did not like Brad. The scrunch of his nose as he tried to challenge Joel—as if you were a possession—was kicking up a deep rage in his chest. 

Joel opened his mouth to respond but was met with a very enthusiastic smile from you. You looked so excited. “This is Joel! He’s my—”

Brad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s great. Could he leave now?”

Joel’s back stretched at the complete disrespect. He could handle people being mean to him just fine. When it comes to you, however, he wouldn’t tolerate anything of the sort. You were the thread that kept Ellie and Joel sane with your homemade gifts and fluttering smile. No one was going to ruin that on his watch. 

Joel watched as your bright, smiling face fell.

“Oh.” 

You felt your heart deflate from being interrupted again. It took a lot for someone to build you down, and Brad had managed to do it in no time. You thought you had made a new friend to hang out with. You thought you were finally getting along with someone in Jackson. 

Watching your face fall made something click in Joel’s head. His burning glare never left Brad’s face as he continued to run his mouth about Joel ‘needing to leave’ or something like that. This is why he hated newcomers. They think they could take advantage of your kind gestures and bring you down with them. 

Brad looked at you and then Joel—as if something finally fits in his head. He clicked his tongue, “I have been trying to get you home all night. Don’t tell me you were with him the whole time?”

“What?”

You looked bewildered at the insinuation of ever getting with Brad—let alone anyone that isn’t Joel. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

If Joel wasn’t preoccupied with watching Bradley’s every move, he would’ve snorted at your change in demeanor. You could be the biggest angel there is, but there is no doubt a fire lit right inside of you.

“I have been here with you all fucking night. You think I’d waste my time talking about shitty flowers with you?” His lips curled into a sniveling smirk.

Your hand clenched by your side but was caught as Brad’s hand went to tighten itself around your wrist. You tried to wriggle your way out of his grip, but it felt too firm. “Why don’t you ditch the old man and come with me, sunshine.”

Joel saw the hand on your wrist—the bruising grip he had on you. He saw the sickly, lust-filled eyes that the man was giving you. He knew you could handle yourself. You could throw this random man over your shoulder like he was nothing. 

But something struck him even deeper.

Sunshine.

That was what Joel called you in the secret comfort of whispered feelings. It was what Joel called you when you were badly injured, and he needed to disinfect the wound. The first time it popped into his head was when you were dancing around with Ellie underneath the morning sun. The cute nickname just stuck, and it was his.

Only his. 

Joel snapped in an instant. The long years of survival worked quickly in his brain. He bunched up Brad’s collar and shoved him hard against the wooden pole—jolting his hand from your wrist. “Get your fucking hands off of her.”

You gasped at the lightning speed of Joel’s hand on Brad’s chest, but you weren’t too phased. Adrenaline shot through your chest and spread down to your toes—eyes locking on Joel’s crinkled brows and hard-set glare. 

“Yeah? The fuck you gonna do?” Brad spat.

The bar went silent at the altercation, eyes darting to watch the scene play out. You didn’t pay any attention, though. Your eyes were on Joel. Just Joel.

Brad squirms a bit underneath Joel’s stare, but he seems to be trying to remain tough. Joel’s grip never wavered and almost shoved him further into the pole. 

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fuckin’ arms.” His accent slurred together with each click of his tongue. 

You could feel the fire pulsating through his lips; you could feel it radiate off of his clenched fist. Joel squeezed even tighter against his neck, almost suffocating some of the air in Brad’s throat. He then let out a wheeze, eyes widening at just how serious Joel Miller can be. 

“You got it?” Brad’s eyes squinted at Joel before looking into the crowd around him. Terrified of all the stares and the overwhelming frown on people’s faces—and quite frankly, Joel—Brad finally backs off. 

“Got it.” He said under his breath with a slight cough. Joel very slowly let go of his collar in caution of the man. Brad just nodded, now refusing to make eye contact with the two of you, before sauntering off out of the bar.

Not far behind, Tommy and Maria were alert and watched Brad’s every movement. They had both of your backs as soon as they saw Joel shove him into the pole. Even Ellie was on high alert, which almost caused her to grab the knife in her pocket. 

Joel turned to you in an instant. His eyes glossed over your entire form, grasping every single detail to make sure you were okay. His eyes stopped at the slight tear in your favorite dress. He pursed his lips in annoyance, but then his eyes locked onto your wrist. 

“C’mon. I need to see your wrist.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

He took you into the back where the aging room was—old barrels full of whiskey and rum stacked high along the walls. He sat you down on a wooden table and went to go find some supplies. 

You sat there, feeling like you were in trouble. Joel hadn’t said a word, and your mind was starting to race at the possibilities of what he was thinking. While it wasn’t abnormal for Joel to act like this, you knew something wasn’t right.

You could see it in his calculating eyes and furrowed eyebrows—the harsh smile lines on his cheeks almost seemed deeper. You could see it in the way that his hand trembled when he moved some papers to the other end of the table.

You felt stupid for not seeing that Brad was flirting with you. God, you felt so dumb. You really thought that you were making a new friend. You felt even dumber that you couldn’t see the hostility in his eyes, either.

What was Joel thinking? Did he hate you? You knew you mistake people’s flirty gestures for friendly acts way too often.

Did it hurt him? Tears started to form on your lash line, and that sunken feeling in your chest only deepened. 

Joel finally came back with a pack of ice and a little box of first aid. He wrapped a rag around the ice so it wouldn’t burn your skin. 

“Here.” He gently placed it onto your skin, and you went to hold it down. You feel your eyebrow twitch in a cringe at the already bruised surface. You hear Joel digging through the kit in haste—no doubt trying to find some kind of ointment.

You closed your eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down at the thought that Joel had to sit here and take care of you, all while you fucked everything up. 

“I’m sorry.”

Joel’s rummaging through the first aid abruptly stopped. He turned to you with confused furrowed brows, but then his eyes widened. He saw your glossy eyes as you tried to avoid his stare. He saw the way your lip slightly wobbled while you tried to hide your emotions.

“It’s all my fault.” 

You said barely under a whisper, but you were on the side of his good ear. He heard you, and damn, his heart couldn’t have been more crushed. You didn’t do a single thing wrong, and yet you blamed yourself.

“It ain’t your fault. None of it was your fault.” He could tell, though, by the look in your eye that you weren’t convinced. He goes to open his mouth, but you beat him to the punch.

“But I should have known!” You flexed out your hand to emphasize the situation. “I should have said something or got the fucking hint!”

You let out a fast breath, eyes darting across the wood floor. His eyes flickered to the ice pack you set back on the table. “I should—I shouldn’t have been so nice! Maybe I could be less—”

Joel snapped back at the realization of what you were going to say. “Don’t you dare.” His hand instinctively lays on top of your thigh. “Don’t you ever change for people like him.”

“But I–” His hand rested so soft on your cheek, and whatever you were going to say died on your tongue. He was inches away from you now, your chests almost touching together. 

“I know my words are shit, but you are everything, darlin’. You are the kindest and brightest person that I’ve ever known.” He finally rested his forehead against yours. “Don’t you even change for me, darlin’.”

You nodded against his forehead with a small smile on your face. You knew he was right. Of course, he was right. Brad was the shithole, not you. 

He leaned in to brush his lips against yours—feverish and light as you felt the scruff of his beard against your cheeks. He licks into your mouth, and you find yourself pulling him in closer from his flannel collar. 

His tongue swirled through your mouth from desperation starting to lock inside his chest. You have made him feel all kinds of things over the years, but pure love was something he still couldn’t get used to. He needed to feel you—needed to touch you. After the searing memory of Brad’s hand on your wrist, he needed to be inside of you.

“Sweet girl,” he almost purred into your mouth, “need you.” 

You nodded into his lips. A whine escaping them seemed to be the only thing that your brain could come up with. In a mere matter of seconds, Joel was able to turn you into a puddle. 

“Need to hear it, darlin’.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Need you, Joel. Please—”

He bunches up the silky dress, and his eyes shine bright as he sees your pretty laced panties. They were dark—a black onyx—that made Joel want to drool. They rested so well on your hips—so tight. He knew there was a wet patch near your core, too.

His nimble fingers shoved your panties aside to dig—just a little—into your dripping folds. He groaned, rough and bold against the plains of your ear. “J-Joel—”

You knew by the slow, agonizing pace that his hands seemed to feel you in, Joel was going to fuck you stupid. He always got slow and steady when he knew he was going to take his sweet, sweet time. 

“Oh! Oh fuck,” the pads of his fingers move to the nub of your clit. They swirled in small circles, and your hands gripped his shoulders so tightly. Your jaw hangs slack as you feel the pleasure blossom through your stomach to your chest.

“That’s it. Yeah. Does that feel good, pretty girl?”

He was smirking, just a little. You could tell by the sound of his voice, but you see the way his lips slightly curled when your eyes flickered up to his.

“Feels so good, Joel—so—so good.” His other hand spread your legs a little wider for him, relishing in the soft pillows of your skin and curves. He gave your thigh a small squeeze before sinking onto his knees.

Your eyes were about to pop out of your head. “Joel—” You warned, honestly concerned about his knees, but the thought quickly left when his other hand shuffled your underwear down to your ankles. He dragged your hips forward so that your ass was hanging just barely off of the wobbly table. 

“Fuck. Look at you drippin’ for me.”

His eyes shined underneath the yellow-hazed lights. His head goes to dip into your folds, and he moans—sending a rough vibration to your folds. You tasted just the same—earthy and sour and so so sweet.

His hand dug into your thigh—the pad of his thumb was pressing deep into your skin. His tongue flicked and swirled to gather up that slick that dripped from your folds. He felt addicted to you—you tasted, felt, looked, and sounded so ethereal. 

“Oh, Joel—” He could have you on his tongue for the rest of his fucking life. The way you call out his name—hands desperately grabbing at his salt and peppered hair and whimpers leaving your lips. “F-Fuck, I–”

Your brain became even mushier with each flick and whirl of his tongue around your folds. “Can’t get enough of this pussy.” He gruffed.

His mouth moved to your swollen clit, and your hips involuntarily jumped—slightly closing around his head. He pried your thighs open with his rough, used hands before shoving them over his shoulders. 

You didn’t have time to react, though. Not when he was moving a finger to tease your folds. “Joel! Oh my god—” You could only whimper and shout his name. You moan, you gasp, and you whimpered even more. 

It’s all you could think about. Joel Joel Joel. He was all you ever seem to think about. 

His finger slid easily into your sopping cunt, and you moaned into the air. His tongue lapped and sucked against your swollen nub—finger simultaneously curling into you.

“Oh, Joel, I-I can’t—”

His mouth left you, only for a moment, but a whine escaped your lips.

“Gonna cum already, darlin’? Hmm?” He inserted another finger without warning, giving that even longer stretch of your walls. 

You gasped, nonsense mumbling from your tongue. He was sure you said his name in there somewhere. He felt his cock twitch at the sparkle in your eyes and the essence of ecstasy that stretched across your glistening, sweaty skin. His long, thick fingers fucked into over and over—tongue swirling across your pretty little clit.

“C’mon, cum for me. That’s it. You’re such a good girl—my good girl.” You hiccuped, head slung back as your walls continued to clench around his fingers. “You can do it, hmm? Cum on my mouth, sunshine.”

You gasped loudly—body short-circuiting and spasming as the orgasm washed over your entire body. Joel’s name was like a mantra stuck on your tongue. Your body felt white-hot and sticky as your juices flushed against Joel’s chin and your inner thighs. 

Sunshine. Sunshine. You heard that over and over again. He watched with those thick eyes as you came undone. And wow, you looked so pretty. Your gasps and moans, your body shuddering from the shattering pleasure that spreads up and down your body. He wants to remember moments like this instead of the dark ones. 

As you came down from your high, you looked down at Joel. Your strong legs pulled him in a bit closer, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his nose. He just looked up at you—no doubt he had the biggest heart eyes on you that anyone had ever seen. 

You started to laugh from the enormous high—cum running down your legs and the fact that not even fifteen minutes ago, you were hassled by another man. The whole situation seemed funny to you now. 

Joel cracked his own smile, just for you. He caressed your cheek and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “Let’s go home, sunshine.” 

You weren’t even sure he caught himself the second time when he called you that. It just flowed off of his tongue so easily.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile as wide as you could. You knew what that meant—what he was insinuating. A fire lit inside of your chest. Damn, you could never get used to the way Joel would make you feel.

He grumbled under his breath. “Shut up. I got it.”

Yeah, he definitely didn’t. He needed your help not two seconds later, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were Joel’s. Joel was yours.

[therealcocoshady]

Coco!! Just wanted to say THANK YOU for indulging another one of my requests and so QUICKLY too. I know you’re busy, busy and I really appreciate it! This was everything I ASKED for and more! Love me some sweet and sexy Marsh 🤍💪🏼🧘🏻‍♀️💦💋🌶️🥵🧸

Hope you enjoy a ☕️ or 2 on me! 😉

A/N : Hi bestie 🌟. Thank YOU for supporting me and being my first ever commission ❤️.

For those of you who didn’t know, you can support my writing by giving tips on my Ko-Fi account and I am now open for commissions as well 😏.

@shady-577 kindly allowed me to post the commission on this blog, too, to I hope y’all enjoy 🌟

Sweat Session

Marshall was a very healthy person and it showed. On your very first date, he’d told you about him trying to lead a healthy lifestyle by maintaining his sobriety, eating well and exercising and, two years into your relationship, he was more than consistent. You had recently moved in together and you got to see just how seriously he took it. And as he was getting ready to drop a new album, perform regularly again and do some promo, he started exercising even more. Not only it kept him fit, but it also helped him deal with his stress. He got up even earlier in the morning to hit the gym and, even though you enjoy the fruits of his labor (what with him being even more buff than before), you were a little grumpy not to have your man in bed with you when you woke up. And since he spent even more time at work, polishing the album and working on the promo, you didn’t see him as much as you liked, which made you a little frustrated.

- You know, you could hit the gym with me, he suggested with a smile when you told him about your annoyance. Might do some good.

- Is this a sneaky way of telling me I’ve gained weight ? You asked as you side-eyed him.

- What ? No ! He immediately said. I’m just saying it’s healthy to exercise. You could wake up a little earlier and join me in the gym.

- Or you could skip a day and stay in bed with me tomorrow morning, you suggested with a charming grin.

- Not happening, doll, he said with a smile. Need to be consistent.

- Fine, you groaned.

With the public appearances and photo shoots he had planned, as well as music videos to shoot, he wanted to look buff. At 51 years old, he didn’t want to be seen as some « aging rapper who let himself go ». And sure enough, the results were there. His chest was chesting and he had Twitter go feral over the outline of his pecs, clearly visible on the latest pics of him at Dre’s Walk of Fame ceremony.

The next day, you woke up to the sound of his alarm going off and let out a groan. He whispered an apology and kissed your forehead before going to the home gym in the basement. You tried to fall back to sleep but without your man by your side, the bed felt cold and empty. That’s when you decided enough was enough. You got up and put on a cute working out outfit, which looked more like underwear than clothes you could actually work out in, consisting of a bra and the tiniest shorts ever. Just enough fabric to highlight your figure and make your ass and breast pop out. When you got downstairs, you saw him working out on an incline bench, absorbed on what he was doing. He was wearing simple sweatpants and sneakers, not even bothering with a teeshirt. The view reminded you of how lucky you were. You looked at him from afar for a good while, him so focused that he didn’t even notice you standing there, practically drooling.

- Hi handsome, you said seductively. Mind if I join you ?

- You decided to get up after- he began. Jesus Christ…

- Yes ? You said innocently.

- You’re gonna work out in these ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You don’t like it ? You asked.

- I don’t think that’s enough fabric for me to critique, he hummed.

- Far be it from me to distract you, you said with a smile. Unless…

- I have to work out, babe, he said with a frown. But you’re welcome to join.

You shrugged. You’d been dating for a while but, clearly, he should know better than to assume you didn’t have more tricks up your sleeve. You kicked off your sneakers and grabbed a yoga mat, strategically placing it so that he’d have a good view. You started stretching, going from pose to pose. He kept on working out next to you, though you could see his gaze.

- Like what you see ? You hummed.

- Making sure you’re doing it right, he said with a grin.

- Sure, you giggled.

He got up while you were in downward facing dog and put a hand on your hip, helping you stretch your back a little.

- You know, these tiny shorts don’t hide much, he whispered in your ear. Especially not in this pose.

- Oh yeah ? You asked as you switched to a three-legged down dog that gave him an even better view.

- Fuck, he muttered under his breath.

You kept your flow going under his watchful eye, looking at you as if you were a snack.

- I think my flexibility is not too bad, you remarked.

- It’s really good, he mumbled. Really good.

- Thank you for correcting my posture, my love, you said innocently. Let me repay the favor and spot you.

He hummed and laid back on the inclined bench, grabbing some halters, working on his arms. You gently ran your hand on his biceps, feeling how much bigger they had gotten in the past weeks.

- So muscular, you said seductively. You are so strong…

- Am I ? He mused.

- And that chest, you continued. It’s all for the « Stan » shirt lift for your upcoming tour, isn’t it ?

He looked at you with a grin, knowing this particular move drove you absolutely crazy. You watched him exercise. He clearly didn’t need you to spot him, and you knew it, but this allowed you to stare. He sat back up and grabbed his water bottle, taking a big gulp. You were staring at each other with « fuck me eyes » and you could tell he was trying hard not to give in to the temptation.

- You’re awfully distracting, woman, he said.

- Maybe you need to take a little break, you suggested. I think it’s time you were shown some appreciation for all this hard work…

He smiled and playfully shook his head before taking another gulp of water. Some of it missed his mouth and trailed down his neck and chest. You stepped closer and ran your tongue on his neck, catching the iced liquid. He let out a groan, letting you know how pleasurable it was.

- Let’s not be wasteful with water, now, you said seductively. Oh, I think I missed some…

You proceeded to kiss his chest, catching the water with your mouth. You took advantage of the moment and placed a kiss on one of his pecs. He chuckled and pulled you to him so that you’d sit in his lap before kissing you passionately.

- You’re impossible, he hummed between kissed. I can’t focus.

- And you’re a fucking tease, you retorted as you kissed him back. I’m only human, you know ?

- I’ll give you teasing, he grinned.

With one movement of his knee, he had you spread your legs for him, before running his fingers on the inside of your thigh. You hummed in pleasure as his hand got dangerously close to your pussy, eventually cupping it over the thin fabric of your shorts, making you sigh in pleasure.

- Is this what you wanted ? He asked playfully.

- Yes, you whined.

There was nothing more you loved than to sit in his lap, his arms around you, free to run his hands across your body. He knew it and he happily obliged, keeping on teasing you over your clothes, cupping your breasts and grazing your nipples with his fingers. He freed one of your boobs from your sports bra and pinched the nipple, making you moan in pleasure. You automatically started grinding against his thigh, your body desperate for some release.

- Look at this, he chuckled. You don’t need me to take care of you. Looks like you’re doing it on your own.

- Please, you asked breathily. Marshall.

- Patience, love, he whispered in your ear before letting his hand go back to your pussy.

He played with you over the fabric, no doubt feeling how wet you were. His head was buried in your neck and you could feel his smile against your skin. You kept on moaning, desperate for more. Eventually, you took matters in your own hands and knelt between his legs. You decided to put him through the same misery and stroked his high through his sweatpants, going higher and higher with each motion. Even through the fabric, you could see his growing bulge. You looked up to him and saw that he was looking in the mirror across the room, admiring the view of you, kneeling for him.

- You’re so beautiful in this position,he said as he ran a hand through your hair.

- Keep enjoying the view, then, you suggested with a smirk.

You tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips to allow you to lower them, eventually kicking his sneakers so that you’d remove the whole thing, along with his boxers. There was something about him, naked on the bench, his massive erection showing you how excited he was. You stroked his cock and gave it a few pumps before approaching your face.

- I could leave you like this, you mused. Like you’ve left me alone in our bed…

- Babe, no, he pleaded. Please.

You thoroughly enjoyed reversing the power dynamic. By the look he was giving you, you could tell that he was wrapped around your finger, eating in the palm of your hand. You gave him a mischievous grin and started licking the tip of his cock, earning sighs of pleasure in the process. You kept on stroking the length while kitten licking the head, knowing it drove him crazy, that he wanted nothing more than for you to take all of him in your mouth. Eventually, you did and he moaned loudly, still holding on to your hair. You kept on sucking him, hollowing your cheeks to pleasure him even more. You took as much as you could, making you drool all over his cock. You stared at him from below and saw he was bemused by the reflection of you sucking him in the mirror. You could feel him twitch inside of your mouth, a sign that he was about to come.

- Stop, he warned.

- You can come, you said as you kept on stroking him.

- Don’t want to, he said. Not yet.

He helped you get up and kissed you hungrily before undressing you. He sat back and pulled you so that you’d straddle his lap, giving him an opportunity to suck on your tits while grabbing a handful of your ass. He lined himself at your entrance and inserted himself, making you whimper. There it was. What you’d been craving. The sole sensation of him inside you was heavenly. His mouth traveled between your nipple and your neck, proving that he knew your sweet spots all too well.

- is this what you wanted ? He asked breathily.

- Yes, you whispered.

He started thrusting his hips slowly, making sure to bottom into you and hit your sweet spot. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sloppily, dying to be close to him as ever. The making out was hotter than ever and you always wanted more, desperate for some release, knowing this man could make you come like no one else before him.

- Faster, you begged. Harder. Please.

He gave you a smirk and carried you to another bench that was slightly higher. He had you on your knees, ass up and face down and penetrated you roughly, making you scream before thrusting violently. He was going so fast that you had trouble catching your breath. But at the same time, it was so good, so hot to have him use you. His thrusts became slower again and he put your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look in a mirror in front of you. You could see your faces twisting in pleasure. His gaze met yours and he gave you a smirk before quickening his pace. He closed his eyes and all hell broke loose. His hips moved faster than ever, hitting you deep. There was no doubt that you’d be sore for the following days but, in the instant, neither of you cared, lost in the pleasure. You moved your hips in sync, trying to keep up with him. You didn’t want it to end and, yet, you could feel you were both so close to climax. The coup de grâce came when he looped a hand around you to reach and rub your swollen clit, making you cry in ecstasy. You could feel your juices flowing, forming a puddle underneath you, in which you inevitably collapsed, Marshall on top of you.

The both of you stayed still and silent for a minute, taking the time to catch your breath. Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss there that made you shiver.

- Are you alright, love ? He asked as he got up.

- Y-yes, you replied as you were still struggling to breathe properly.

He chuckled and got up with a grunt, grabbing a towel to clean you and a water bottle to help you hydrate. You let him clean you and sat up on the bench, taking a good look at his naked form. In spite of rocking a buzz cut, he still looked disheveled and insanely sexy.

- You’re so hot, you said lovingly.

- Is that why you jumped on me ? He asked with a smirk.

- Maybe, you giggled. Been missing you, lately.

He gave you a smile and wrapped you in his strong arms before kissing you.

- Missed you too, he said. But you do realize you’re the main reason I’m doing all of this for, don’t you ?

- Am I ? You mused.

- Of course, he hummed. When I’m making music, I think of how much I want you to be proud. And when I’m here… my main motivation is you. I want to look good for you. You’re always on my mind.

You cooed and kissed him tenderly. He was too adorable.

- Well, I am proud of you. And I do think you look incredible me you complimented. I’m proud to be yours.

- I love you, he said. How about a shower before you need to go to work ?

- Ok, you said with a pout.

You got up and he grabbed you by the waist before leading you out of the home gym.

- I like fucking you in here, he hummed. I can’t believe we waited so long for this, though.

- We’ll have to do it again, you said with a smile. I can think of a few creative ways to use that gym equipment.

- Oh believe me, next time I’m putting those resistance bands to good use, he chuckled. I guess it completes the tour of the house. We’ve officially done it in every room of the house.

- Does that make me a permanent resident ? You grinned.

- It does, he chortled.

- Oh no, there’s one room missing, though, you said.

He looked at you with a frown, knowing exactly where you were going with this. He sternly shook his head as he led you to the stairs.

- Nope, he said. Don’t even thing about it. We’re not doing it in the hope studio. I have rules.

- We’ll see, you grinned.

- I’m not going to cave in, he warned.

- You know I like a challenge, you said innocently. Besides… you love me. You wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He chuckled, failing to keep the annoyed look on his face. You knew he loved you being all needy, and that there was only so much charm offensive he could resist.

- We’ll see, he hummed before bringing your hand to his lips and then placing a loving kiss on your ring finger.

[elliehase-blog]

We're simply meant to be

I just had to write something about them. ❤️💜 This time it's longer than usual, and not proofread (sorry) but if you enjoy this little piece, you can read the rest on AO3.

~*~

In the afternoon, Roman is still quite relaxed. He polishes the blade of his sword, humming verses of Sally’s song. Hey, why not? He is only 51% sure that this is a kind of date tonight. It’s not as if Virgil was in any way clear with his all-but-nothing sentence.

»You're right, Roman. We can live like Jack and Sally if we want to.«

There. The word 'date' has not been used in any form.

Virgil had laughed at this point, to Roman’s utter bewilderment. A delightful little laugh that took up all of his attention and everything else outside had ceased to exist. And of course Roman had not known how to help himself other than to take the whole thing to the next level.

»And sit together, now and forever,« he had said, and had taken Virgil’s hands carefully in his. In this moment, Roman had only felt his heart pounding against his ribs in a whirling drum solo.

After that, Virgil had turned away in embarrassment and mumbled something that sounded like, »See you later.«

So maybe it is a date after all.

Perhaps.

(It’s certainly not.)

For seconds Roman bites his fingernails helplessly. He had seen so many cheesy romance movies in his life that he liked to consider himself an expert in the field. There was nothing to surprise him, as he knew all the signs and all the rules. And if you can no longer rely on cheesy romantic movies, then what?

But somehow all these rules never apply to Virgil.

How did they get here in the first place? Aren't they supposed to argue and fight like in the good old days? Sometimes, Roman likes to picture the deep, passionate rivalry he and Virgil have for each other. He imagines them having endless discussions about Disney characters, staring at each other in a fiery way. And when no one is around, Roman sighs deeply and longingly at this point and buries his heated face in velvety soft red silk pillows.

In the evening, Roman takes a look at his imaginary wardrobe and starts hyperventilating. He’s never had a no-date before. With nobody.

He has no idea what to wear and if he has any piece of clothing that says, 'When you look at me, I can’t breathe, and whenever you’re around me, I talk a lot more nonsense than usual, but if this is a date, I’d be totally fine with it.'

Lately, Virgil had just been too nice and peaceful around him. He means, nice… within the scope of his limited possibilities. Roman can’t say that this is terribly unpleasant, it’s just very… irritating. He has to do something. Or rather, he has to delegate this problem very quickly so that someone else does it for him.

Roman was great at delegating. This talent was practically innate. That's why he calls Logan.

»We have a… situation,« Roman explains dramatically. »I don't know what to wear!«

Logan throws a 'What do you want from me?' look at him. He raises his eyebrows wordlessly and completely unimpressed and makes absolutely no attempt to move even a millimetre from the spot.

»C’mon, Teach, I need your advice here!«

Usually, Logan would not have been his first choice in terms of clothing and taste, but he also has that unclouded and focused sight that Roman needed right now.

»Pleeeaaase!«

Logan sighs and Roman strongly assumes that this is supposed to mean agreement. Probably, Roman had convinced him with his astute argumentation and natural authority. That, or Logan, for once just doesn’t think a discussion is worth the trouble.

»What's the occasion?« he asks without further ado, pushing his glasses up in an unconscious gesture.

»Something… important,« Roman says vaguely.

[cas-kingdom]

I think

“I didn’t know they were weed brownies!” And “I swear, it’s the truth!”

Would be really funny with Chicago Fire if you’d be so kind 🥰🥰🥰

Matt Casey liked to think that every return he made back to Chicago was a breath of fresh air. Not that looking after the boys was difficult and he didn't enjoy it, but a reminder of his old life was often exactly what he needed in his new one. Of course, seeing you was the primary reason he came home, but his 51 family was more than a bonus.

Matt had decided to make for the station before the hotel. There were only a couple hours left of shift and he was ready for the placid atmosphere typical after twenty-two hours already on the job.

“I didn’t know they were weed brownies!"

The bounce in his step waned slightly as he let the door shut behind him. He could tell his sister's voice from a mile away, but the tone of it was one he wasn't used to.

"I swear, it’s the truth. These little kids were selling them, I thought they were sweet kids—they seriously looked like sweet kids."

“I, yeah—" There was a snort of laughter. Sylvie. "We believe you, Y/N.”

"Don’t doubt it, girl!" Stella sounded as enthusiastic as possible, but that same hint of amusement was evident in her voice.

Matt couldn't help his concern, quickening his pace and rounding the engine truck. The ambulance back doors were open, and you were sat at the edge, terror written all over your face. Stella was sat on her haunches in front of you, hands on your knees. Sylvie was on one side, a blood pressure monitor in her hands, and Violet was rummaging through a bag on the other.

Your wide eyes—wide, groggy eyes—met his the moment he made himself visible.

“Matty!” You made to jump up, but the girls stopped you before you could, blurting all kinds about slowing down and blood and heart.

Matt could tell you were on the verge of tears, could see the quivering of your lips and the watering of your already watering eyes. Quickly, he dropped his bag on the floor and rushed across to envelop you in a hug, cupping the back of your head to his chest. "Hey, there," he said. He met Stella's eyes, the captain having stood up, and mouthed a "what happened?" over your head.

Stella mouthed a simple "brownies" back, as though that answered the question perfectly. Luckily, you helped out.

“Matt, I took drugs," you spoke quietly. Matt's frown deepened.

The girls jumped to attention. "Not on purpose!" Sylvie said.

"Not on purpose," Stella confirmed. "Some douche was giving his kids weed brownies to sell outside his garage. Either that or someone got their recipes seriously mixed up. Boden’s sent CPD down there.”

You twirled a lock of your brother's hair around a finger, still clinging to him. “CPD’s gonna beat someone's ass," you said pointedly, "I paid eight dollars for those brownies.”

Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey, Y/N, how many did you eat again?”

“Four.” Your voice was muffled, yiur face buried in Matt's chest, but everyone heard it.

Sylvie. "Rough."

"They were so good," you said.

There was a general silence, something concern probably should have filled, but after a moment the amusement of the situation set in, and smiles broke out.

"Can I assume she's gonna be fine?" Matt asked. He gently pulled away from you and guided you to sit back down on the truck.

Sylvie nodded, crossing her arms. "She's got an elevated heart rate and she'll be loopy for a bit longer but yeah, she'll be okay."

"What if the kids come after me?" You let your head drop against Matt's shoulder.

"What's that, sweetheart?" Matt asked.

"What if the brownie kids come back because I sent the cops on them?"

Sylvie put a fist to her mouth

"That's not gonna happen," Matt assured you, "don't worry."

Stella clapped her hands together after Kylie's voice asking for her echoed throughout the station. "Okay, crazy, I'm gonna take you off duty for the rest of shift, okay?"

You face fell. "Oh, but—can I still stay at the firehouse?"

"Probably best," Stella agreed.

Matt stood up. "Hey, Lieutenant, you need someone to fill in?"

Stella grinned, pointing a finger towards him as she backed out of the room. "Luckily for you, ex-Lieutenant, a spot just opened up. Go get a drink, Y/N, and stay where we can keep an eye on you. Hey, hey, Hermann, can you escort her into the common room? Don't leave her."

Hermann, who'd been passing by with an apple in hand, didn't have much of a choice as Matt passed his sister onto him with a kiss to your hot forehead before running off to change. Hermann took your arm in his when you went to fall.

"The hell's up with you? You sick?"

"I took drugs."

"What?"

Chicago Fire Masterpost

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #51 — Ten Has Done So Much for All of You, and for What? You Don't Deserve Him.

So, obviously, last issue ended rather poorly for Team Rodimus and Pals. It doesn’t look like the start of this one going much better, as a mass of baddies bombard the late Necrobot’s “Fortress”. Whirl, being Whirl, wants to go out and face his certain death head-on. Everyone else is more than fine to wait for death to come to them.

Rewind, showing off the skills he’s picked up as a videographer over the last several thousand years, gets the security cameras up. I’m assuming that Censere had these installed to keep an eye out for bored space teens who might have wanted to graffiti his millions of plinths. Too bad it didn’t save him, or his property, as outside, Tarn is shooting the ground with his twin fusion cannons. He’s having to hold his arm in place with his other hand, as I’m sure the kickback of firing two lasers at once must be something fierce. He finishes and commands his troops to cease firing, everyone withdrawing.

The Lost Lost Lighters are super jazzed about this, Brainstorm stating that they must have heard about Tailgate’s Power Punch, an attack with a name so banal, it surely must kill anyone who faces it, if only so they don’t talk shit about it after the fact.

Megatron, however, knows what Tarn’s pulling, as he’s a theatre kid, and everyone knows that the really intense theatre kids follow their scripts to a T, and will murder you for trying to ad lib like some filthy fucking improv performer.

By doing this, he’s honoring Shakespeare.

Swerve has begun to bawl like a baby over how bad the situation has gotten, likely recalling all the awful shit he witnessed the last time he crossed paths with the DJD. Magnus, who still has his arm off, because Velocity is all about uplifting her fellow women, demands that they try to call for assistance, then apologizes for swearing, even though he’s absolutely at the very least said “damn” in the past. Maybe he’s confusing the total inability to curse with the IDW publication law that you’re not allowed to say “bitch” until your series has been truncated by 50%. Or maybe he only allows himself to swear in the presence of poor snack management. Anyway, it’s not like it matters— Megatron’s just informed everyone that Tarn also likes to cut the phone lines in situations like this.

All of this, because you wanted middle management for your faction.

Because Megatron never baked any sort of loophole into the DJD’s way of handling shit, because how the fuck could he have possibly known he’d one day have to denounce his entire reason for existing to satisfy the commercial whims of Hasbro, the gang is going to have to figure out some way to defend themselves or escape in the next eight hours. Rodimus orders everyone to split up and look for clues, blowing off Ten in the process.

Velocity calls Swerve, the closest thing to a doctor besides her, to come look at the Necrobot’s corpse, which appears to have turned into a pile of ash. Swerve informs her that this is what happens when someone who’s old as balls kicks it. Now, it may concern you that Velocity, who was the only doctor for a ship of over 200 until this morning, doesn’t know what a dead old man looks like. However, we must recall that age-related spark burnout hasn’t been a thing until very recently for Cybertronians, and Caminus, the colony Velocity is from, is marginally younger as a society. It probably just hasn’t happened in her circles yet.

Velocity and Swerve play around in the pile of old man dust, until she pulls a key out, with “1/001” written on it. Her search party will be focusing on finding what this key goes to, as it was surely important, given that it was on Censere’s person at the time of his death.

Over on the DJD’s ship, The Peaceful Tyranny, Deathsaurus stares at the corpses Tarn’s nailed to the wall of his room. The nails have Decepticon insignias on the heads, because of course they do. These are the same corpses Tarn had on the wall of his office in Grindcore. Tarn asks if Deathsaurus is impressed with his first editions, and when Deathsaurus is understandably bewildered by this question, Tarn explains that these are corpses that were sent home after dying in the mines of Messatine, who had Megatron’s writing etched into their organs by Terminus, so that said writing would reach the outside world. Tarn thinks it’s pretty fucking cool, but Deathsaurus is, again, bewildered by this interior design choice. In general, Deathsaurus is bewildered by a vast majority of the ways Tarn chooses to live his life.

Tarn, opening the mouth section of his mask to drink a shot’s worth of energon, likely totally unable to see as he does so, since the eye holes don’t line up anymore, says that if Deathsaurus was a true intellectual like Tarn was, he’d understand that trying to chase down a ship with quantum jump capabilities is really difficult when you no longer have a sneaky little double agent to give you exact coordinates, so grounding their targets was the best option. No word on how Tarn feels about the ship he super-nightmare-death-murdered being perfectly fine now.

Deathsaurus really just wants to know why they backed off after having their targets cornered, because he hates Tarn and his stupid little games, having been working with him for at least a couple months by this point. Tarn, however, has the audacity to be smug about how all the Autobots are probably tearing each other apart out of fear, as the sun makes its way across the sky.

Back with Velocity’s search party, Nautica’s joined the one-and-a-half doctors in the Key Quest. Velocity asks Swerve about why Ten came down with the rest of the group, and in Swerve’s defense, it’s not like anyone knew this was a murder trip until after they’d arrived. When the brain attack happened last issue, Swerve hadn’t disclosed what exactly he’d heard— now, however, he admits that he’d gotten an earful from Ten about the Ambus Test, and how just because he’s made up of the corpses of multiple religious hermits doesn’t mean he isn’t a person too, and also once that union gets going, he’s gonna sic lawyer-mode Magnus on him.

Anyway, they found the door that key went to.

Back with Rodimus in the main room, he’s collecting the notes of all the other search teams. Rung’s face has been shaded to look like he got lip fillers. Rodimus isn’t pleased, but it isn’t because of Rung’s gotten work done.

Nightbeat, however, DOES have good news to pair off with the bad. News so good he starts using metaphors, which confuses and frightens Magnus. Nightbeat has found the quantum travel device the Necrobot used to travel to the deaths he recorded, and what do you know? It’s got just enough juice to get everyone out of dodge and into the loving embrace of safety. Hooray! Time to form an orderly queue, going from most to least obnoxious paint job.

Then Team Killjoy shows up, Velocity and Nautica letting everyone know what’s behind door #1: it’s a bunch of organics in stasis.

I will say, the inverse of Transformers fans collecting robot toys mint in package is decidedly more disturbing.

Whirl isn’t horribly keen to die over a bunch of squishy nobodies. Nautica states that the organics are vulnerable and need protection. Skids, really wanting to be in that straight-passing relationship, agrees that the DJD will totally kill these guys, because they learned their technoism from SOMEONE MEGATRON. Chromedome, who has had his husband back for maybe six months at this point, really doesn’t want to stick around for the sun to set. Cyclonus asks just why the fuck there’s a bunch of dudes in the basement. Tailgate wonders if it really matters, considering the situation at hand. Magnus, needing direction in his life, makes sure that Rodimus hasn’t decided to take a nap standing up like a horse. Brainstorm, who has been oh-so-subtly trying to edge the door to the quantum tube shut, makes the point that they could do a lot of good after the fact, if they left now and then vowed to protect a slew of organics afterwards, which would eventually even out their sins, probably.

Rodimus feels pretty good about this proposal, but he loves looking like the most appealing, middle-of-the-road choice, and says that they have some time to talk this out. However, we’ve forgotten that we’re riding with Mr. Ex-Peace Through Tyranny, who does nothing in half-measures and loves to be contrarian to Rodimus at every given opportunity.

This turn of events is such a shock to Rodimus, he shouts at Ten for trying to show him something. Poor Ten.

Rodimus reminds Megatron just what exactly they’re up against and what he’s signing himself up for and for what variety of living creature, but Megatron is aware of all of these things. Looks like the talking to Skids gave him on the duplicate Lost Light finally sank through his thick skull, and he’s ready to be a big boy about this whole Autobot thing. He then informs everyone that he’s not doing this to make a point, and that anyone who wants to dip is welcome to do so, as long as they’re doing it for themselves.

Of course, it’ll be a cold day in hell before any Autobot lets Megatron out-Autobot them, and it’ll be an even colder day before Cyclonus leaves his not-boyfriend alone on Murder Planet. Oh, and the fact that organic life is just as valuable as mechanical. Totally. Everyone defaults to stay, Rodimus closing the door to the quantum tube.

Swerve then offers a real heel-clicker of an alternate escape plan: what if… we just stole the DJD’s ship, stuffed it full of the organics, and flew away before anyone noticed? Now, this is, of course, an immaculate plan, which no man could ever find fault in, but Whirl is not a man, but rather a machine, and does question where exactly they’d be getting the keys to such a ship. Cyclonus is trying to be a bit more of a supportive friend to Swerve, since the last time the guy felt left out, they all had to project their consciousnesses 400 miles out and pay NYC rent, asks if there is more to this perfect, perfect plan, crafted in one of the finest minds of any generation.

There is not.

So, we’re gonna steal a ship.

Ravage offers to track the smell of unwashed bachelors and Megatron body pillows to see where the DJD parked. Rodimus gives him his blessing, marveling at the skillset at his disposal, as Magnus makes a fucking wild face of incredulousness and Ten sulks in the corner.

Before he runs off, Ravage brings Megatron a phone and asks that he talk to Tarn, because surely if anyone can get him off the warpath, it would be his old boss.

Back at the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn, Deathsaurus, Nickel, Tesarus, and Vos are going over the plan for the day. Sure hope Deathsaurus can parse Primal Vernacular. Tesarus reminds Tarn of the time they went after Heretech and he turned a storm shield into a forcefield that held them off for days, but this band of Autobot nerds aren’t Heretech, now are they? Even if they do have an ex-Wrecker, a Skids, and the power of love on their side.

Then Tarn tells everyone to shut the fuck up, because he’s getting a call on his electric razor.

Back at the “Fortress”, Megatron stands astride the space scooter, looking horribly depressed, as he prepares to have a little chat with his most murderous fanboy. Rodimus questions this decision, having clocked that even on his best day, Megatron wouldn’t just whole-heartedly decide to effectively kill himself for the sake of 50-60 organics he doesn’t even know.

Of course, we’ve seen that at least one planet in the Magisterian system still has life, as the Scavengers had to use holomatter avatars at some point, as seen in issue #45. Perhaps if Megatron knew about this, he wouldn’t be so keen to go on a suicide mission.

Over with Ravage, he passes by Skids’s plinth, which I’m sure isn’t an omen of any kind, and discovers that the smell of B.O. and hot pockets he was following wasn’t attached to the Peaceful Tyranny, but rather a base the DJD and Deathsaurus’s boys threw together. Also, Ten’s been crawling after him in an attempt to keep hidden this whole time, over what was likely multiple miles. He didn’t do a good job in the slightest, but points for tenacity, buddy. Ravage understands that Ten’s just trying to help in some form or fashion, so Ravage gives him a special job: bullet sponge.

Deathsaurus’s men, Helex, Kaon, and the Pet all see Ten up on the hill. Kaon in particular looks very excited at the promise of a plaything, so much so that he lets his rabid little chihuahua off-leash.

Meanwhile, Megatron races across his personal field of spark flowers, on his way to rendezvous at his plinth with Tarn. I wonder who suggested this meeting spot? When Megatron arrives, he demands that Tarn at least face him with his, well, face, but Tarn says that his mask IS his face, even though we know it isn’t, because Tarn couldn’t commit to the bit hard enough on this particular front for some reason.

Megatron offers himself up for surrender. But enough about his crisis of morality, let’s get back to Ten.

Ten, former Legislator that he is, fights valiantly, throwing four guys in the air at once, even as the Pet scratches his collar bone and Helex punches him in the head, his face telling me that he’s gonna do horny mouth shit with Ten’s brain if he manages to get ahold of it. Kaon’s in the background, shooting electricity into the sky. I think he’s just happy to be here. This nonsense up on the hill allows Ravage to sneak over to the base to check for a ship that DOESN’T smell like wine, jockstraps, and viscera.

Back with the Autobots, someone finally remembers that Ten’s a person, and asks where the hell he’s gotten to. Magnus isn’t sure, though he knows where he HAD been. I expect better from you, Magnus. Ten is your little buddy! Your brother in artistic arms! He even left something for your enjoyment, while he went out to help Ravage!

After having solved the issue of their defense system, Ten went out and got his ass shredded for multiple pages, where he was repeatedly shot and set on fire and torn limb from limb and electrocuted (I guess someone finally pointed Kaon in the right direction). It seems like the end for Ten, but his assailants are suddenly shot and dealt with, blanketing the hill in silence.

Silent enough to hear the equivalent of twenty USD in Australian dollaridoos, having been converted into English pounds, rustling around in a British guy’s wallet.

[nerdycanible1]

Am back! :D

Omg guys! Almost forgot I had this ((joking)) but nah seriously! It had been years since I've posted anything here! 💀

Anyways imma go back to my roots!! Y'all remember the days of Legend of Korra where I've only simped for Lin Beifong? 👀 But I've found a new lady, well not really but I've got a new love!!

So y'all remember (if not don't worry about it) the whole genderbent au thing I've created and it was female Tenzin and male Lin and stuff like that? Well I've got some stuff for y'all!

So first and foremost, this is Tenna. She is genderbent Tenzin (female Tenzin). She is literally so hot and I cannot stop drawing her! Currently working on the backstory and this will be nothing like tLoK, actually it will in some places but yes! A lot will be changed!

But look at her! She's gorgeous! 🥺 Also I just wanted to show y'all my improvement of art over the years! QwQ it has improved so much and I'm so proud! Anyways I'll stop rambling and let ya get to the photo!

Tenna: 55 years old

Tenna in swimsuit enjoy 🗿

Side note: Tell me this isn't the most Tenzin expression ever xD

Anyways, my thoughts are simple. Make hot women. :D I am smooth brained and frankly I've been a simp for my genderbent Tenzin for years.

I wanted to update her concept instead of the one I've created years ago (plz forget that 💀) and frankly I love this version better. She looks kind, soft, hot, and first and foremost Tenzin-ish.

What I have for her so far:

She is 51-50 just like Tenzin in tLoK

She has one confirmed boy that I've come up with and one confirmed girl.

Their names are Jin (Jinora) and Ming (Meelo). I haven't come up with anything else for the kids as of yet.

She is pansexual. No discussion on this xD

She is currently in a relationship with Peng (Pema). But ma'am is known to wander around.

Tenna is also more in tune with her nomadic life style instead of the whole business stuff.

Tenna left RC at the ripe age of 16, leaving Ling (Lin) in the process but no hate. It was a mutual break up. Ling wanted to keep RC safe and promised Tenna that everything would still be up and running whenever she wanted to settle down.

Tenna fell in love with an air acolyte (whom I haven't decided to name as of yet) and stayed there for a year before the world called for her once more. It was a short but painful romance, one that Tenna often thinks about.

Once she was back on the road she fell in love with a non bender (Not Peng yet), got pregnant and went to RC for Air Temple Island. She stayed on the island for a few years raising her newborn son Jin.

Ling helped with all he could, being there for Tenna, taking care of her and feeding her and dealing with her grumpiness. He took care of her and once the baby was born, Ling knew he would protect the child as if he were the one to help make the baby.

Tenna couldn't have thanked Ling enough and felt horrible she was "holding him back" from finding his true love. Ling wanted to confess right then and there that he loved her but knew it wasn't the right time.

During the time of the whole pregnancy and the raising of Jin, Ling and Tenna fell into a romance. Stealing kisses, sharing deep secrets, touches that crossed the very thin line of friendship.

It wasn't until Jin started talking and walking that Tenna thought it would be a great time to start exploring the world. Jin barely being the age of 3 or 4. Ling confessed to her that he loves her and that she wished she'd stay for him but told her it was a selfish request. He instead kissed her goodbye and told her to look at the Northern Lights for her on one of her trips. Tenna never felt such sadness and sorrow but she promised to keep in touch. She watched as Ling got smaller and smaller as the boat began to leave the harbor and leave behind her very best friend and lover.

Sorry friends but this is where imma stop it before I bore you! Let me know if you want more Headcanons or if you want more art of this fine wine of a milf!

Send me asks, or ask simply in the comments or Dms about any of this au. I'm happy to reply and I'm excited to say that I'll be posting here regularly soon! And you know of course that there's gonna be more Lin Beifong art so prepare yourselves!

As usual, all art belongs to me. If reposted please credit. Thank you!

[justins-1-justan]

Doing spooky activities with total drama characters!

It's spooky season! ^=^

Dj!

Horror movies?

Hahahahah. No ♡

You both stay in and cuddle while watching the Simpsons Halloween specials while eating candy.

You also wear matching halloween pajamas!

The moon has long been in the sky this Halloween, younger trick or treaters had already gone home and the older ones which stayed were met by the cold autumn breeze. But bundled up in soft throw blankets, wrapped in each other's arms as the fire roars, is you and Dj. An old episode plays, you feel your eyelids grow heavy, you rest your head against DJ's shoulder as you slowly drift off to sleep.

Geoff.

You can probably already guess,

Of course you're both going to a Halloween party, if not throwing one yourselves!

Matching costumes!! This year you're the grim reaper and a ghost! Geoff is the ghost & you're the reaper ofc!

Laughter, music, and a cheerful energy paints the party. The flashing lights reflect in his blue eyes, he twirls you as the monster mash booms on the speakers. The two of you party all night, for a holiday that's supposed to be scary, it made such joyful memories.

Izzy!

You both scare the daylights out of trick or treaters.

Your job was to stand on the porch with the candy bowl, candy bowl which is filled with fun sized candy bars disguised as full sized ones.

Izzy's idea of course.

Meanwhile Izzy would hide in the bushes in her 'franken-izzy' costume waiting to jump out at trick or treaters.

You successfully made six kids, three teenagers, and one adult man cry. Congrats?

From your peripheral vision you can see a child in the horizon approaching, you stand in position on the porch. The child, dressed like a minion, steps onto the porch. Per Izzy's instructions you hand them the 'full sized' candy bar. They smile happily and thank you and then.... "BOOOO!!" Izzy yells out at the child. After causing the child to subsequently drop their candy, earning a glare from the child's parents, Izzy practically dies of laughter while holding onto your shoulder.

Scott.

Hehehahaha, he took you a grave yard.

Yep.

A grave yard.

The scheme is that you'll get so scared you'll fall into his arms.

.. Let's just say that doesn't go as planned.

The moon shines brightly down upon you and Scott walking hand in hand in this abandoned graveyard. Boredom creeping over you, an idea dawns. Holding back giggles, you loudly let out a piercing howl like scream, causing Scott to quickly jump and whip his head back towards you. He glares at you and let's go of your hand when he realizes you're fine, he continues the pace of walking you were formerly at, you quickly chase after him and grab his hand, giggling with murmurs of apologies.

Area fifty~one alien Cody~Clone from S3 EP15 & briefly S5 EP7!

Breaking him out of area 51 for the holiday wasn't as difficult as you would think!

After convincing the guards you were a trick or treater, they left to go grab something to give you, then you simply walked to where he was being held and busted him out.

Since he had been in a government facility for years, he's never seen a scary movie before! Oh no!

So you decided to take him to the local AMC and see the latest horror movie.

You bought him popcorn and a slushie.

The two of you sat in your seats, interlocking your hands as their movie starts. The first jump scare happens and instinctively, you grip his hand tighter. Only to hear him let out a whaling scream. You turn towards him and your face pales as your boyfriend's arm turn completely into green goop.

Bridgette!

You both go pumpkin carving!

She carves a sailboat meanwhile you carve a classic jack o' lantern.

More matching costumes!! She dresses as a mermaid meanwhile you're a prince/princess!

The smell of pumpkin surrounds the kitchen you are both sat on the floor of, you look up from carving your pumpkin to see Bridgette dead focus on carving the perfect pumpkin, to the point she doesn't notice the pumpkin guts on her cheek. Giggling to yourself you wait for the next time she's turning her pumpkin around to scoot closer to her. You wipe the pumpkin guts off of her cheek, she turns her attention towards you for a brief second and you take the opportunity to sweetly kiss her cheek. Successfully catching her off gaurd.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Finally we’ve got the new beginnings! Just met and just married! So much potential ahead of them!

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ (they be honeymooning! Bring on that newlywed bliss! I mean they’re basically always like that for each other but now they’ve got an excuse and by god are they gonna use it!)

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖 (buck so would be a librarian in another live. Him being all nerdy and helpful and amazing with kids - especially christopher - watch out eddie! You’re gonna fall in love before you know it!)

I’m obsessed with your work and eternally grateful that you share it - but you already knew this :p hope you have fun writing these!

- PCA <3

Oh love this theme!!!!! You are so kind, PCA. I always look forward to your asks.

63 for ⚡️ (Yesssss more honeymoon phase!)

---

Eddie finishes saying goodbye to Adriana and Ravi, says a final goodbye to Christopher, and then puts Buck out of his misery at last by joining him in the truck. 

“We are four minutes behind schedule,” Buck chides as Eddie buckles his seatbelt. 

“Tragic,” Eddie smirks. 

“It will be when we don’t stop for coffee,” Buck warns.

Starting off their honeymoon with a very serious threat. Interesting tactic. Height of romance, really.

“Buck,” Eddie complains. “It’s only an hour and twenty minutes of driving. Surely we can spare a coffee run.”

Buck smirks. “Fine. But I’ll find a way to get my four minutes back at some point.”

Oh, Eddie is sure. He knows who he married.

“Just don’t take it out on the coffee.”

🗲🗲🗲

The rental in San Clemente is literally perfect. 

They’d discussed going further away. Mexico, maybe. But between the wedding, the house, and planning for another kid, they decided not to spend more than necessary. Plus, they already live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. They didn’t need to go very far. 

The moment they walk into the little condo, Buck knows they made the right choice. It’s a tidy one bedroom with a full kitchen, a king sized bed, a big shower, a private ocean-view balcony, and a walk down to the beach. 

“This is incredible,” Eddie grins, walking out onto the balcony. 

“We are going to enjoy this balcony,” Buck agrees. 

Eddie shoots him a look. “Buck…”

“Honeymoon rules apply here, Eddie,” Buck tells him.

“Honeymoon rules?” Eddie asks skeptically. “What are those?”

“Making them up as I go along,” Buck informs him.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

Yeah. They’re definitely going to enjoy the balcony. 

☆☆☆

Neither of them has had a honeymoon before. Neither of them is particularly accustomed to vacations, either. Though, perhaps Buck has some of the old Peruvian resort lifestyle living in him somewhere. Needless to say, it takes them both a minute to figure out what to do with literally nothing they need to do. Buck unpacks the groceries. Eddie searches the cupboards for glassware and pours them wine in nice, big blue-tinted glasses. They manage to relax on the balcony for, like, an hour, before they both get a bit twitchy.

“We aren’t sit and stare at the sea people, are we?” Eddie asks.  

“No, I don’t think we are.” Buck agrees. 

“What do honeymoon rules say about swimming while slightly intoxicated?” Eddie posits. 

A little ill-advised. But it’s not like they’re shit faced. And, well, Eddie doesn’t have a lot of ill-advised fun stories. 

“Oh, let me review with the board,” Buck teases. “Hmm. Apparently it’s fine if we conveniently forget we’re first responders.”

“And parents?” Eddie suggests.

“Oh, yeah. Good call.”

“Then maybe we can have some fun?” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows.

“I like the sound of that.”

---

51 for 📖 (YEAH EDDIE WILL):

---

No one is home. 

As he drives away, he just hopes the gesture will be appreciated and not seen as totally creepy. 

viii. 

It’s a long time before Buck hears back about the gift. Which is good in that, he doesn’t get in trouble for abusing the library cardholder database. He spends two weeks nervous he’s going to hear about that every shift.

When he does hear back about it, it’s the fall. School starts up again, and Christopher is enrolled in the aftercare programs. Buck is relieved when he sees his name on the lists.  Like it’s a sign that perhaps things are okay.

He sees Christopher again before he sees Eddie. Right away during the first week of school. 

“Chris!” Buck exclaims happily when he sees him come through the library doors. “How are you, pal? It’s been a while.”

“I’m good,” Christopher answers happily. Then, he walks over, and gives Buck a quick hug. “Thank you for my books, Buck. They made me smile.”

Buck ends the hug quickly. It’s kind of a discouraged behavior. Though a gray area when the kid initiates. But he’s touched. Happy the gift had an impact, and that Chris remembers. Even after a few months. 

“You’re welcome,” Buck replies. “I’m really glad to see you back, kiddo.”

Chris smiles. “Thanks, Buck.”

It’s a few more days until he sees Eddie. When he does, he’s sort of concerned. It’s not exactly the Eddie he remembers. His hair is shorn. His eyes are tired. There’s a strange pattern of bruises on his forearms. He looks rough. If they were actually friends, Buck would ask him about it. But all he can do is quietly observe.

“It’s good to see you again,” Buck smiles as Eddie approaches the front desk before picking Chris up. “We missed Chris around here.”

Eddie nods. “I, uh… I wanted to thank you. Your gift was really appreciated. Sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“Hey, that’s not why I sent it. Just wanted you both to know… Well, that I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says. “That’s kind.”

There’s a hollowness in his voice. Like he’s accepted a lot of condolences lately. 

[skykashi]

You call yourself kakashi lover and you can't even accept that he is aging? shame, I thought you love kakashi

First of all, who the heck are you to decide if I love Kakashi or not?!! second, I was avoiding talking about this again because I don't wanna argue with anyone, I don't want the one thing that I'm using as a stress reliever to give me more stress! and not that I owe you any explanation at all but I'm gonna explain this once and for all to get this over with.

As I said before, there's absolutely nothing wrong with aging, it's natural and beautiful because it's a sign of being alive BUT!! when 51 years old Jiraiya looks like this

Then 46 Kakashi shouldn't look like 61 years old Hiashi or 73 years old Danzo!!

Because I love Kakashi, I want him to be old and healthy not look 20 years older than he actually is!!

Kishimoto's Kakashi has the wrinkles that a healthy 46 year old should have, not those huge eyebags that that one frame from Sasuke Retsuden has, that doesn't even look the same as the other Kakashi panels from the same manga and YES!! those giant eyebags would still be visible in a side view panel.

This is how Kishimoto drew Kakashi in Konoha Shinden which it's events happened awhile after Naruto chapter 700

This is how Kishimoto drew Kakashi for Boruto the movie which it's timeline is only one year prior to the current events in Boruto and looks a lot similar to how he drew him in chapter 700 with just 2 lines at the sides of his eyes

And this is how Kishimoto drew Kakashi for the Retsuden series

No giant eyebags on sight 🙄 and again yes it would still be visible in a side view if it was there, like this

And you know what anon? In that one panel from Sasuke Retsuden that started all of that, Zansūru was the one who was talking at the time and that was how Zansūru who I don't think has ever even met Kakashi before was picturing Kakashi in his head, but when Sasuke who saw Kakashi just few days before the mission was the one talking, Kakashi looked like this

And yes those giant eyebags would have still been visible in a side view panel 🙂 so yeah, I want Kakashi to age and look his actual age, 46 in the Retsuden's timeline and 47 in the current Boruto timeline. NOT FRIGGIN' 60!!

Finally, anon, even if you still disagree with me, that's fine, I don't really care, I didn't ask anyone to agree with me, it's absolutely normal for different ppl to have different opinions, we don't have to fight or be rude to each other just because we have different pov.. seriously!

[survivalist-anon]

Log 12: Long Road to the Stars.

It has been roughly 12 hours since they were departed from Lorey and Fjord. Sten and Toke now embark on a mission to retrieve a Raven Guard by the name Wick. Just two hours away from the city of Las Vegas, the Imperial Fist's transport bus had to make a necessary stop at what deceptively looks like an abandoned gas pump, likely built as a result of the expectations of the nuclear age of the 1950's. Parking right next to an old, derelict fiberglass statue of a clown holding a gas pump.

The driver, Moors, lowers the driver side window. Sticks his head out, hanging his turgid arm out like a trucker.

The eyes of the clown begin to glow green, clearly indicating there is a camera behind the big, happy wide eyed time pieces. A little slip opens on the clown's bowtie, revealing a mic.

~Ckkssshhh

"Hehehehey Hello Welcome to Gassy Gus's Gas Pump! HOooow may I be of service?"

A scraggly, cigarette scarred voice eruptes from the mic.

Moors never ceases to be amused by this. "Yeah, give me the usual Gus."

Sten, Toke, Bilhard and Cahrilo watch from the bus's camera system. While this isn't new for Cahrilo and Bilhard, Toke and Sten watch in discomfort at the creepy talking clown.

"It's like someone took a Harlequin's head, stretched it and inflated it. Never would I be so unfortunate to see something so depraved.", Toke whispered as quietly as he could to Sten.

Sten stood there less in horror but more in underwhelmed bewilderment. "Yes...'tis.... unnerving."

Cahrilo and Bilhard look at each other, rolling their eyes at their reactions.

Outside of the bus, an old crusty, funky little man, still dressed in the Woodstock 60's outfit with some odds and ends of spaceage memorabilia, comes out from the gas station woman's restroom door. Looking like a human, maximalist's wall of colorful alien Americana, with big iridescent googles, long dreads with plastic and metal charms intertwined within the tight knots.

The boys where shooketh, Cahrilo and Bilhard however literally were use to this horrendously whimsical spaceman.

"Hehehe, well now long time no see boys! How's them yuppies up north treatin y'all?!", he gives the haul of the bus a hardy slap. He goes up to the clown and takes out an industrial hose, hooking the giant nozzle into the gas tank. He jambles to the driver side. "Well Moors, HA, yah still don't look a day over 50!".

"And you have aged like fine cheese Gus! How are those fools back at Area 51? They haven't questioned why some of their fine equipments' been missing have they?", Moors and Gus go way back since the 50's. Moors, much like any of the other Astartes, had come involuntarily to Earth. Moors had been wharp sent to Ohio in Gus's family corn farm. Since then, Moors has been Gus's guardian Astartes since he was five years old. Occasionally visiting him in his later years since he joined Aldercon's facility.

"Oh those narcs hadn't even opened them danggone garages since Roswell! So what brings you down here in the fine bosom of the Newe land?", he says with a big old, carefree smile on his face.

A good chortle from Moors was a sign that he's happy because his mortal was happy. "Ah, it's Wick again. You've seen him around?", he inquires.

Gus pouts, putting his old noggin to work. "Hmmm, let me ask Keith!", takes out a sock puppet, his puppet silent, whispers into his ear, "hmmm...oh really?! Again? Great moogly that's incredible! Hmmhmm, oh....oh Keith stop it now.", he casually puts his sock puppet. "According to Keith, Wick raced the airbase again yesterday! He almost bit the dust this time. Buuuuut it seems he's in Vegas, only other place. Don't know why he keeps going there for. ", Gus over the years has developed Dementia and age related mental health issues, Moors has tried and tried again to convince to move to Fort Dorn, but sadly Gus seems to be extremely resistant to the whole plan.

"Is that so......well. Looks like I'll heading to Heresy town then. Gus. Why don't you stick with us for awhile. You do understand that you don't have to be here.", although Moors doesn't show it on his face, it breaks both his hearts to see Gus hasn't gotten any better. "We can bring your Unidentified Flying Objects too."

The crunchy desert man knew what the discussion was leading to, his smile turned into a sad frown. "Oh Moors, I can't. The desert stars need me! The great road to Milky Way Galaxy has yet to be defended, the Long Road to the Stars! I have to defend them from the forces of darkness, welcome them those can BE welcomed with open arms, and who's going to give them MIBs the good ol' runaround!? Them boys in black gotta give up one day ya know! I'd love to Moors, but I'm...needed here.", he looks to the blue void of the noon sky. "My time ain't done yet.", he whispers to himself.

A tired sigh flies from Moors. He knows Gus doesn't have much time in this world. The longer he waits for Gus to consent to coming with him, the higher the chances he will have to retrieve Gus from his bunker. "All right Gus, but listen...if you need anything. Remember I'm always here kid.", as Moors was telling him this, Gus had already unlocked the gas hose, closed everything up for next time.

Gus skitters back to the driver side window, "I'll be fine Moors, you go on ahead a win against the house big fella, take care now", again that big smile from cheek to cheek gleamed in the sunshine of the Nevada heat, waving goodbye as the bus goes on.

Moors waving his goodbyes as well.

As the buss drove a long the stretch of highway towards Los Vegas, Bilhard had gone to the driver seat slot and opened it to see if Moors was ok.

"Moors. How are you feeling?", Bilhard asking.

Moors was silent for a short moment, "....he's getting worse.", he whispers to himself, his usually calm demeanor has become somber.

"Hey, Moors, are you going to be ok?", he asked again, dryly yet concerned.

"Oh, yeah, I'm going to be fine.....for those who live such short lives...why must they be so stubborn.", Moors pondered loudly.

"It's because they live such short lives they make these decisions for themselves Moors, remember where you came from.", Bilhard had to remind Moors the occasional truth of Astartes.

For every angle of the Emperor, was once mortal.

Moors had to accept Gus's decision. Wether he wanted to or not. "Yeah...I guess....", he turns on the radio to distract himself from his own thoughts.

As country music blasts on the radio, the bus heads out to Los Vegas, the city sin, sex and as of recently..... something sinister.

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

My dreams were once nothing but dark voids of screaming voices and sounds of bolters going off ....now .....they speak to me through visions of tormentful pleasures of desire and uncertainty.

It would have gone forever, if it hadn't been for the blaring sounds of traffic outside the penthouse suite. The smell of last night's passionate rutting had been dancing with opened bottles of sweeted acholic beverages, perfume and more.

Surrounded by the majority of the female cast and a few brave fools for the casino's seasonal....I hazard to say performance....more like an avant-garde bastardization of some cultural myths from thousands of years ago.

One could consider me a king, surrounded by his well-satisfyed harem......I was merely a willing whore to these lonely souls.

For my heart belonged to one who was not laying upon my bare body in this room. One who is pure as her heart was kind.

These mortals can have my body....for everything else was hers....and hers alone.

I lay there pondering, how have I been so lucky as to not fully corrupt myself and give in to the chaos of deviancy and lust, does Slenessh not see the usefulness for their Chaos in me? Has the emperor blessed me with immunity, turning a blind eye to my activities? Is there nothing in this reality that could be even considered some divinity to hinder or help me, and I have just reverted to the comforting, familiar embrace of animalistic instinct....to endlessly spread my seed and be stirred by true unfiltered sexual high?

....than again....I could be just being....as chaplain Aldercon would so graciously say, 'being over dramatic '.... considering my role in this burlesque garbage.......he could be once again correct.

I turn my head to the hotel door, I could hear the heavy, lumbering footsteps our....our show director.... William Sleen.....

He unlocks the door, already smelling of his filthy cigars and tasteless cheap cologne.

"WAKE UP LADIES! oh I see there's a few gentleman here, hehe, come on folks! Next show starts at 5 o'clock this afternoon! Come on wakey wakey!", a quarter of a mortal man in sense of the word....his vision is just a sick, perverse fantasy of the exploitations of beauty, he was no cultured man either....his show from my understanding doesn't reflect the reality of the stories he had vicariously stole for profit. I could see him glinting at me through those glasses of his.

"Ah there's my Atlas! And my Hercules, and well hehe my big bronze robot.", he could barely even remember the correct name of his own characters.

"Do you mean, Talos? The bronze creation of the god of fire?", I could oml growl, everyone was in blissful peace this morning.

"Yeah yeah whatever! The guy who kidnaps Madea! Hmf, you college going types are so nitpicky, anyways Lady Luck for some damn reasons out to get a taste of your staff too. The hydrologic and pyrotechnics have broken down so looks like you won't sweatin all over the place for act 2. Sheesh.", he practically ravages the curtains open.

The collective groans spoke volumes of the protest of the early morning routine of waking up, eating their fill at the buffet downstairs for the day, and rehearsals until the show begins. It was clear the continued labor of the previous production's work load had exhausted them to the soul.

I gently coerced the actresses wrapped around my arms. "Ladies, good morning.", greeted by kisses to my chest and jaw are at this point a highlight of the morning. In spite of my guilt, I do not object to experiencing such pleasantries....the highest luxury back home on Deliverance.

"oooh good morning Wicky, last night was absolutely crazy.", Angelina cooed. Her twin, Magan, was busy getting up, caressing me. "Good morning handsome."

Adjust myself, clearing my throat, "Good morning every one.", my one command was enough to get the cast mobilized. "See ....a good morning is all you need.", ever since I've come into the scene.... Sleen has been having a bit of trouble even persuading anyone to even fallowing his suggestions.

His sneered grimace said it best on how he felt about me, "well I ain't paying you overtime to be a volunteer director here WICK. Anyways, I'm not in the mood for your Edger Allen Poe bullcrap either, I already have my brother coming in from Hollywood just POACHING my best and brightest.", his brother a movie producer named Carl Sleen, is his older sibling who's been known to make even the least known plebian into celebrities. His talent is to get hidden potential, and elevate them to fame and fortune.

From what I hear, it's a shame he is an exception and not an example.

"Well...hehe, he ain't getting my Selene. She's off limits. Can't have him taken my star performer.", he looks to me, knowing very well that he has also forbid me from interacting with her. The mortal equivalent of a squig hobbles to me, audaciously before I have even gotten out of the bed.

"Listen here big, oversized, cock. You know your role in the act, and it's to stay BENEATH the earth...yah got that? It means both on and OFF stage....", his reeking breath had nearly triggered my deepest fight response.... reminding me of the foul smelling Orks I was accustom to crushing under my boots.

"But of course.......it would be....greedy of me to ask for anything more.", I wasn't going to let this 'nurgling' get in my way.....I needed the money, but I also had to fane my loyalty to him if he were to pay me.

Selene was an immigrant from Mayotte, her family had to leave the country due to political tensions and later planned on escaping to Paris few years ago. Unfortunately, Selene had become caught in an international trafficking ring. Ending up here in this bright neon hell scape.

She was the best acrobatics performer in Los Vegas. She had worked her way through multiple shows, but now she was in Sleen's wardenship.

The crew head down stairs for our morning meal, I contemplate on how was I going to convince the battle brothers back at Fort Dorn not to put me under house arrest.

What has once started as a meaningless drive to challenge even the fastest of aircraft...now has metamorphosised into a mission to help Selene.

"So Wick, I heard yous almost died yesterday. Haha, what happened the Air Force narcs nearly beat at chicken or something?", one of our cast members, 'Tulio', was one of the back stage hands who had helped me get to my position since I had arrived in the outskirts of this city a few years ago.

"Yes. I crashed into one of the mountain sides. I lost control of the air stream and lost focus.", I responded.

"Man, you gotta be more careful, those guys at the air station literally go SPLAT if they crash. Lucky that fancy Ironman suit of yours actually works. Not like the cheap prop stuff.", he takes a quick look at the pantry chef at the dessert table. "Hey homes, I reckon you got 20... maybe 30 seconds. Mr. Wan is working.", the second I saw one of the chefs, I spared no second heading to him.

Covertly slipping him a piece of paper. "For Madame Moon, please.", I grab a plate not to see conspicuous.

He gives me a nod.

For my time here, I have befriended much of the casino staff, all of which willing to assist me with Selene.

"Smooth homes, by the way thanks I like cheesecake for breakfast.", Tulio takes the plate. "So what now, you and I don't got nothing to do for like ....8 hours?", he happy takes a sizable bite.

"hmmm....I'm in the mood for a rematch. Meet me at the truck in an hour.", as I get up from the table to pay the bill, I pass Selene.

She had passed by without a glance. As per Sleen's request....I couldn't tell what she was doing...but I'm certain she will answer the message.

End of log 12

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @walking-natural-disaster

@starfrost740 @squishyowl

[useless19]

I was kinda hoping for a junior birthday edition of days, i loved junior in this series? I thought you were hinting twards it to. Did you have ideas or was it just a way to reasure bowser that luigi would be back?

So was I! I made a space for it in my drafts doc and everything, but I couldn't figure out enough of a plot to hang it together. It might've been because by that point I was starting to wind down my writing in Days with an aim to finish the series off, or it could have been because it would've required a fairly heavy narrative switch and I was already struggling with Bowser's pov for Day 16.

Or it could've been that I didn't want to have to figure out what a spoilt 8-year-old Koopa prince's birthday presents were going to be!

It's Junior's birthday, so it's going to be the most coolest awesomest day of the entire year! -the planned summary

Like King Boo, I left myself the option of writing Junior's birthday just in case. I've honestly found this to be pretty useful for constructing the series as a whole. Things happen that the narrative doesn't show (Luigi thinks about taking Junior Lava Bubble fishing one time, but we never see that), and allowing myself the freedom of not having to write it meant that I managed to finish more other parts than I ever thought I would when starting.

Still, I know roughly where the characters are at on Day 51 (aka Junior's birthday), so let's have a look at them, shall we?

Luigi extends his visit so he leaves the day after Junior's birthday. It's much easier for him to agree to stay longer than it is for him to commit to a longer stay before he arrives. He gets comfortable where he is. He spent the previous day making sure Junior knew he was going to leave after his birthday so that he wouldn't have to keep reminding Junior on his birthday and bring the mood down. Luigi likes a good party and he doesn't have to be the centre of attention, so he has a great time.

Bowser likes a party even more than Luigi and his son is growing up so well. He's way more tolerant of destructive antics than most parents too (he's got minions to deal with mess and rebuilding). He also starts to realise some of Luigi's problems when it comes to visiting; ie that he's very suggestible. It's not an entirely conscious observation, but he's less worried when Luigi leaves and spends more than a week away, despite saying that he was only going for a week. There's always going to be some lag. Email updates help (even if the first one is from a long-suffering Mario).

(If anyone other than me did the maths and figured out that Luigi wouldn't actually be at Bowser's castle for Day 69, assuming a consistent week-in-the-Mushroom-Kingdom/week-in-Bowser's-castle, this is why. It's always a bit more than a week-long visit).

And, of course, Junior. He's more resilient than Bowser in the being abandoned department, though he's still a bratty kid who's used to having his own way. He's very determined to show Luigi every single last one of his presents so Luigi will know what he's missing out on if he goes ahead with his stupid leaving plan. Similarly, the Koopalings also get the full range, but they have to leave in dribs and drabs over the next week too.

I guess part of why I couldn't figure out a plot was because Junior is going to be getting more and more intense and overexcited as his birthday party goes on and that would narrow the focus too much to be interesting.

(Maybe the lesson here is that putting it in Junior's pov was a bad call and I should've been trying to see Luigi's thoughts on the whole thing).

I don't know what Luigi would get Junior. He'd probably play it safe and do some art supplies (which are fine, but nothing super exciting and he gets a bit miffed when Junior moves on fairly quickly). He also delivers a letter from Peach (which Junior initially dismisses as boring), with an invitation to a brand new tournament she's organising (I'd have just picked a random sport that's not a main Mario tie-in game, or maybe one of the less represented sports like one of the Olympic ones). Luigi can't remember speaking with her about that, but he must've said enough for her to do this. Junior's quite excited over this - it's his own invitation, not just his dad's!

I also imagine that Mario sends something, maybe food? Possibly a bunch of hot sauce bottles from the various places he's helped out (they won't stop sending them and, while he likes spicy food, he can't eat this much!)? He puts the same amount of effort into it as he would a nephew. Luigi's also surprised at this and has to deal with the (actually super obvious in hindsight) realisation that he's sort of on his way to becoming Junior's step-dad, not just a regular old babysitter.

(Yeah, this would've been a challenge to properly depict in Junior's pov. Possibly an interesting one though.)

It was definitely set up more as potential day for writing, but it was useful to help reassure Bowser once I'd added it.

[batmanschmatman]

8, 25, 51 for an OTP of your choice from the OTP ask game?

tsym for the ask! gonna do winnix bc I always have them on the brain.

eight: what happens if one of them gets sick?

I feel like Nix is usually a little bit of a baby about being sick, just like being grumpy and reluctant to do anything beyond being burrowed in blankets and trying to sleep it off. Not full on whiny, impossible to be around, but tired and grouchy about being sick and happy to be looked after. Dick keeps him well hydrated and lets him curl up on him and doze while Dick reads and pets his hair. It's very much Dick doesn't mind looking after him and does it without being asked, and Nix is happy to soak up all the tlc and take it easy until he feels better.

Dick is one of those guys who pretends he's fine until he feels like absolute shit and has a hard time submitting to people taking care of him. This is sometimes tough bc Nix likes to take care of him and Dick doesn't want to be a huge bitch to him, so there are times when he might want to be like go away >:C but then remembers he's being stupid and immature and Nix loves him so much and it's okay to let someone bring him soup and painkillers.

Nix is a patient good sport about it bc he's used to Dick being reluctant to be looked after and he knows he's really just grouchy to be feeling lousy and not mad at him.

(side note: wrote a fic about this exact situation as a pinch hit for heavy artillery's exchange last december for my wife which you can find here, although it's locked to registered users only.)

twenty five: Do they have any hobbies they share?

At first glance, not really besides basic stuff like they enjoy reading or watching a movie and both were very smart good students (or you know, Nix would've been a better student if he hadn't been capable of coasting vs. working super hard at it), but I think especially post war they definitely get some hobbies in common. Namely I think Nix gets Dick on the travel train because Dick is adventurous and curious about other places, but didn't have a lot of opportunity to explore that before the war, and then they both take care of the gardens at both their place in NJ and the house in PA. Historical!Nix apparently got very into fancy French cooking post war so Jess and I have adopted that for our post-war headcanon for BOB!Nix, so he'd start getting opinions about an herb garden and fresh vegetables and help Dick out or do stuff himself. Dick also is Nix's sous chef/prep cook/clean up crew, or will just keep him company in the kitchen and catch each other up on their days while Nix makes some fancy dinner.

But honestly in general I think they both love the other person so much that even hobbies they're not as into kind of become their hobbies anyway bc they like keeping each other company, lol.

fifty one: what’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

So obviously they excel at this. I think the biggest thing is always like, just how much they're in tune to the other's emotional state and physical/emotional needs. Nix in particular is very good at finding little gifts to offer Dick to help cheer him up or look after him, and I very much think it's a thing of like post war at home he'll bring him a cup of coffee when he gets home from work or picks up a new pair of his favorite slippers when the old ones are getting ratty but Dick would insist they don't need to replace them yet.

Also Dick's just like, steady constant presence in Nix's life, which I think is a huge deal for Sad Little Rich Boy. Dick's seen him at his worst but is still here and won't abandon him, and again especially post-war it's very we're in this together so we face it together, how can I help? And Nix is still a little shocked that Dick hasn't decided to hell with this, bye, every time it happens but obviously he's not going anywhere because he loves him. c:

[starset21]

New House, New Start

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under the name @.itswildflower

Looking for more? Chicago Fire Collection Masterlist 

Word count: 2703

Warnings: cannon typical depictions of fires/accidents

A new house, a new start. That’s what Dani told herself as she climbed out of her truck and grabbed her duffle bag. She was a little early for her first shift but she’d rather be early than late.  “I’m looking for the Chief’s office,” she started as she walked into the common room. “Down the hallway,” someone tells her. “Thanks.” She makes her way past the bunk room and into the main office. “I’m here to meet with Chief Boden,” Dani tells the lady at the computer. “Through there,” the woman points. “Thanks.” Taking a deep breath she knocks on the door to the office and hears a clear “come in.” She opens the door and the Chief stands from his chair. “Welcome to 51, I’ve heard such great things about you,” he greets her, offering a hand to shake. “Thank you sir, glad to be here,” she tells him when the phone rings. “Sorry, about cutting this short but everything’s pretty straight forward, if you have any questions let me know, there’s new gear for you in the turn out room and lockers are just through the bunk room, find an open one and put your name on it,” he added. “No problem, thank you sir, I’m sure I’ll find everything just fine.” The Chief nodded before dismissing her. 

She walked back down the hallway to the bunk room and found an open locker, placing her things in it before placing her lock on it and finding the roll of tape. She ties back her hair and goes to leave the bunkroom when she runs into several of the other firefighters, most of them giving her a strange look. “Dani, what the hell are you doing here?” a familiar voice rings out, pushing through the others. “Oh I don’t know, my job?” she laughs. Matt Casey opened his arms and she stepped into them, embracing her long time friend. “It’s so good to see you, its been what 4 years? Did you really transfer in?” he asks and Dani nodded as she stepped back, allowing them to actually come into the bunk room. “Just had a meeting with Chief,” she tells him. “Casey, who’s this?” someone asks. “Our newest member of Truck 81 and an old friend of mine,” he tells them. “Danielle Halstead, pleasure to meet you guys,” she told them. A few of them raised their brow and looked at the 5’4” woman. “Look, I get it guys, I’m a woman and a smaller one at that, but I assure you that I’m capable. I did a few years in northern California after completing my candidacy here in Chicago,” she tells them and they nod slowly. “Ok, now that that’s over, we’ve got Herrmann, Mouch, Otis, and Cruz on truck,” Matt introduces. They all head into the locker room and Matt starts with a small tour. “We have a new canidate coming in today, another female,” he tells her. “Awesome, we always need more women firefighters,” Dani tells him as they walk into the common room. “Severide, Capp, Tony, Clarke, and Mills will be here in a few minutes, they’re squad. And we have Shay and Dawson as our paramedics,” Matt finishes with the two of them out on the app floor. Dani pulls him in for another hug. “It really is so good to see you again Matt, I missed you.” Matt smiled, and patted her on the back. “I’ve got to go finish some things but feel free to wander and settle in.” 

~

“Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Person trapped,” the alarm rang out. “Shake a leg, guys,” Jones, the candidate, teases from inside the truck. “You're in my seat,” Herrmann grumbles to her and she moves. “That's my seat,” Mouch tells her when she moved. “Out of my seat,” Otis huffed and Jones scooted to the middle seat as Dani climbed in and shut the door. “Hey, does main know 61 isn't here?” Jones asks. “They'll catch the call over the radio, probably beat us to the scene,” Casey tells her. They pull up to the scene quickly and climb out. “Where's Dawson?” Casey asks. “I'm in here! Start warming up that IV just in case,” Dawson calls out. “This was all her idea. I had nothing to do with it,” Shay tells him. “Guys, we've got to get this girl outta here,” Dawson yells. “We got this. Herrmann. Let's get the saw,” Casey ordered. Jones turns and runs over to the truck. “Where's she going?” Herrmann asks. Jones pulls out the saw from the compartment and everyone watches as she practically drops it, cringing at the sound the blade on the pavement made. “Whoa. It's a lot heavier than the ones we trained on,” Jones tells Herrmann who grabs the saw from her. “Candidate, is your name Herrmann?” Casey yells. “I was just trying to help, sir,” Jones tries to explain. “Blade's all jacked up,” Herrmann yells, after looking the saw over. “Clarke, grab our saw,” Severide yells. Clarke moves quickly heading for the squad truck. “Jones! Stand over here and don't touch a damn thing!” Casey yells. Jones walks back over and Otis claps sarcastically for her. “It's gonna be another minute, Dawson. Sorry,” Severide tells her. “Shay, where's that IV?” Dawson calls out and Shay moves to hand it to her. Clarke hands Severide the saw and Casey pulls the lock with a strap so that they can make a clean cut. “Okay?” Severide asks and Casey nods. The lock is cut and Casey pulls open the door to the clothes donation bin. “I need blankets and a backboard right now. Let's move!” Dawson yells. 

On the way back from the call Herrmann watches Dani like he’s trying to figure something out. “Can I help you with something Herrmann?” she asks with a brow raised. “Say, you don’t happen to be related to a certain detective at 21, with the same last name as you?” he asks. “One of my older brothers, the other’s a doctor in New York,” she tells him before looking out of the window. She didn’t exactly have the best relationship with her brothers, she hadn’t even told Jay she was back in town. The trucks pull back into the garage and everyone climbs out, heading for the common room. “Oh, hey, Connie,” Mouch calls from the couch as she walks by. “The union is sending over some paperwork for me. I'm gonna need you to sign for that. Thanks.” Connie glared in Mouch’s direction before walking back to the offices. “You're poking the bear, Mouch. We've warned you about that,” Herrmann tells him, sitting down in one of the armchairs. “Get outta here. Connie loves me,” Mouch waved him off before turning and looking at the candidate in the kitchen. “Oh, hey, Jonesie. Just a heads up. If lunch isn't on the table at 12:00 sharp, the natives start to get restless,” he told her and Dani raised a brow, taking a seat at the round table beside Otis with a worn sketchbook. “And by natives, he means himself,” Herrmann tells her. “Duly noted. In the meantime, Lieutenant Casey said I'd be running drills today. I'd love to get started on that.” Jones looked around at her fellow firefighters, who made no moves. “Don't all jump at once. Otis? Halstead?” she asks. “Got a lot on my mind right now,” Otis tells her and Dani simply holds up her book. “Okay, so who's gonna drill me?” 

Cruz snickers to himself. “I'm not touching that with a 10-foot pole.” Jones turned to him. “10? I heard it was more like 4 ½.” Herrmann lets out a huff of laughter before shaking his head. “Hey. That is inappropriate.” Jones rolled her eyes. “Seriously, guys, I thought this was supposed to be a busy house,” Jones tried. “It's called downtime,” Dani called out, opening her sketchbook to a blank page. “Well, I don't feel like sitting on my ass. Could someone at least show me where the weight room is?” Jones asks. “You got energy to burn? Right this way,” Herrmann tells her smugly, leading Jones back towards the bunk room. Dani sketches for a little bit before deciding that she was going to go sketch the outside of the firehouse. She grabs her CFD jacket and beanie and walks past the squad table, earning her a few confused looks as she makes her way outside to sit criss-crossed in the driveway. “What the hell is the new girl doing?” Tony asks. Severide watched her for a moment somewhat intrigued, as she pulled out a pen from her pocket. He stood and followed her outside, coming to a stop in front of her. “What are you doing?” he asks. Dani raises a brow and looks up at the squad lieutenant. “I’m drawing the firehouse,” she tells him simply. “Ok but why?” he asks. “Because I have the time to, why not?” she asks in return. “That’s fair, I suppose,” he chuckles, sticking a hand out to her. “Kelly Severide.” Dani takes it, shaking his hand firmly. “I figured, Danielle Halstead, but my friends call me Dani,” she tells him. It was like a lightbulb went off in his head. “You’re the Dani that Matt has talked about! The one who fought wildfires.” Dani laughed. “All good things I hope,” she asked and Kelly nodded. “It’s nice to put a face to the name, welcome to 51,” he tells her. “Glad to be here,” she smiled up at him. “Kelly,” an older man begins walking up the driveway. “Right, well, I guess I’ll leave you to your drawing,” he tells her before heading inside with the man.

“Truck 81, Ambulance 61. Person stabbed. California and West 26th.” Dani stood up and ran inside, setting her sketchbook down with her regular boots and pulling up her turnout pants. “Sounds like we're here for crowd control, so all hands on deck. Protect the medics,” Casey starts as he climbs out of the truck. “Jones, where are you gonna be?” he asks. “Glued to your hip, Lieutenant,” Jones replies. “That's right. Let's go,” Casey gestures for everyone to follow him. “Crowd control. Great,” Herrmann mumbles as they push through the crowd. “This way, courtroom number four.” An officer meets up with them. “We're in the middle of a murder trial. Victim's father snuck a knife through security and stabbed the defendant. He's bleeding out,” the officer informs them. “I told you. Cut me loose,” the accused groans. “Cruz, get a hold of him,” Casey orders. The guy groans and screams as Shay and Dawson begin assessing him. “All right, his lung's hit. Could develop into a pneumothorax,” Shay tells them. “Get me an occlusive dressing. We've got to get him out now,” Dawson tells the other officer, who moves to uncuff the accused. “Oh, man,” the officer mutters. “What?” Casey asks. “The key. It broke off in the lock.” Casey narrows his eyes on the officer. “There's cops all over the place. Somebody's got to have a key.” The officer who had met them at the door shook her head. “These are maximum-security cuffs. A standard key won't fit. I'll call over to the jail. They'll have a key.” Dawson shook her head. “No time. He's losing too much blood,” she told them. “Otis, get the bolt cutters from the truck. Hurry.” Casey ordered. “On it,” Otis yells, heading for the truck. “Shay, get me an IV and oxygen,” Dawson ordered. “Herrmann, give me the halligan, Mouch. Hold him,” Casey calls out. The accused groans. “Guys, we're losing him,” Dawson shouts. “If he dies on our watch…” the officer starts. “Halstead, Jones, search the halls for a co2 extinguisher. Fast as you can,” Casey orders. “I'll go this way. You go that way,” Jones yells as the two women run down the hallway. “Yeah, aye, aye,” Dani mutters as Jones runs off. Finding an extinguisher Dani runs back towards the courtroom, spotting Jones darting through the door ahead of her. “Hit the eyebolt,” Casey tells Jones. He watches it for a moment before telling her to stop. Taking the halligan and breaking the chain off, Dawson and a few of the others jump into action, getting the accused onto a backboard to carry out. 

The next few hours were pretty slow, and Dani had finished her drawing of the firestation and was currently sitting on her bunk and scrolling through her phone. “Engine 51. Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. High-rise fire. Michigan and Huron,” the alarm rang out. The firehouse jumped into action, everyone rushing to their rigs to get rolling. “So they rolled out Squad right away. Does that mean this is a working fire?” Jones asks and the experienced members in the back of the truck glanced at each other. “Don't know yet. But any call in a high-rise, we have to take it seriously. If it is a fire and it gets out of hand, that's bad,” Casey told her. “Must be your first high rise in a while Halstead, not quite the same as the woods is it?” Herrmann asks. “It’s definitely a different beast but this is why I took a few extra training courses before I transferred in, as a refresher,” she told him. Herrmann seemed to look at her with a little more respect after her words. Dani knew that she had been quiet and just went through the motions of the day earlier so she understood that some in the firehouse may have been skeptical of her abilities, given there weren’t many female firefighters out there, especially in Chicago. They pulled up on the scene and got out. “Wow. This is a real party,” Jones murmured. 

“People are reporting smoke on 18. That's a law firm,” the building manager met them at the door and told them. “Anyone workin' late?” Boden asks. “I don't know, but I got bad news for you. Elevators have been acting up. I put in a work order on Monday,” the building manager told them. “Otis, recall these elevators. Lock 'em off. We're takin' the stairs. North stairwell, fire attack. South, evacuation. Engine 51, Truck 81, Squad, fire attack and search on 18. Engine 67, lobby control. Truck 63, rapid ascent team and evac,” Chief calls into the radio. “Jones, get a spare bottle for yourself,” Casey calls out. “I'm coming up?” she asks. “You and I are gonna help engine. Grab a high-rise pack,” Casey tells her. The candidate jumps into action, grabbing what she was told and lugging them up onto her shoulder, grunting a little at the extra weight. “You wanted to be a firefighter…” Herrmann trailed off as they headed for the stairwell. 

“Jones. Hose pack and air bottles,” Casey called and the candidate moved forward, handing them to the waiting Engine member. A Dull roaring was heard from the fire. “Jones! Mask up,” Casey orders. “Come on, move! Come on!” Severide yells. “Ready?” he asks and when he gets nods of confirmation from everyone he opens the door. A blast of heat washed over them as they proceeded in. “You're gonna be fine, Jones! Just stick with me! Go where I go, okay?” Casey tells the candidate, who nods. “Mouch! Herrmann! You take the left! Casey, you go right, I'll go deep!” Severide called out. “Halstead! With Severide!” Casey ordered and Dani crouched a little and moved further into the engulfed floor, sticking to Severide’s back. “Fire department! Call out!” they shout. They worked in tandem, going back and forth to the stairwell, helping people up and passing them off to the others and when the last person was accounted for they both headed down the stairs and out into the cool night air, allowing Engine to finish putting out the blaze. One of the other medics passed them both water bottles and they took them gratefully. “Good work, Halstead, you ever want to try for squad I’d be glad to have you,” Severide tells her after they had both downed half the water bottles they’d been given. “Thanks lieutenant,” she offered him a small smile as he patted her on the shoulder and walked away. 

[lya-dustin]

All is Bliss

Chapter 51

Cw: mentions of blood sacrifices, bullying, and murder

Gif by @beyondtheciouds

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @ewanmitchellcrumbs @darylandbethfanforever9 @watercolorskyy @alexandria-millie @sweethoneyblossom1

Aegon remembers all the times he teased Aemond over his egg not hatching.

Its had been a smoky gray with red flecks given to him by Laenor and clutchmate to Jace's Vermax and Aemma’s annoying little dwarf dragon, Elēnar.

It had a name, some name that was meant to inspire fear, but made Aegon want to bully him some more.

Once mama caught him offering his blood to it after Aegon told him to, father had shouted at Aegon, taken Aemond aside and given him Barth's book on dragons while mother shouted at father for shouting at him only to slap him when she turned to yell at him, and he pointed it out.

Now as the king tries to make a second Sunfyre for himself, he finds himself looking for the dragonglass dagger Aemma keeps under her pillow for her protection.

They haven’t slept in the same bed since he was poisoned, mainly because he finds it gross as she told him she is to bleed for the forty days after the birth. Aemma had about a week or so to go and appreciated having the bed to herself.

She keeps busy, restless in her cage like the dragon she is and much like Silverwing, she does a good job of pretending she is fine as she is.

This morning he finds her reading her correspondence and having a late breakfast. She wears lilac today, brings out the purple of her eyes and matched the tie at the end of her long braid.

“What are you up to this morning, dear wife?” he asks completely forgetting what he came here for.

Aemma was always lovely, sure she was not the most beautiful, but she was kind and good company and had the old blood of Valyria running through her veins just like him. It would be nice to see her fly again, to see her throw her head back and laugh as Silver’s wingtips skim the ocean.

Once Baratheon wins this war for them, he will give her the freedom to fly again.

Of course, not often because it would look wrong when the king had no dragon of his own.

“Just some letters, Aunt Elenda wants me to take my cousins into our household, apologizes for the whole trying to drug me and almost killing your brother the night before his wedding, oh, and wants to confirm if Uncle Borros is still the man you want as Aenys’ godsfather.” She said showing him the letter as if he would doubt her word.

Aegon trusts her, a stupid thing to do, but he knows Aemma would never hurt him nor try to kill him. He quite likes her, finds himself missing waking up to her in the mornings.

“Tyland suggested him, I guess he had sent the letters already. I know you wanted Aemond to be Aenys’ godsfather, but we can keep Baratheon loyal to us without promising him a royal groom.” Aegon admits knowing why she wants Aemond to be made the babe’s godsfather. If either were to die, Aemond would be the man to raise Aenys as one would a son, if he was close to the boy no one would be suspicious of it and his overly familiar way with his wife not be too obvious.

The reason Aegon readily agreed to make Borros his godsfather.

Besides, Aemond fled Crossed Elms like a coward claimed to have dragon dreams knowing those tree worshiping cunts would believe him. Had he fought they would have won the battle, his brother just won’t admit it. Claims that the fucking riverlords had archers and the commanders too experienced for them to do more than to wave a peace banner and hope for the best.

If he had been there and had Sunfyre, the Riverlands would have burned, and he’d be a fucking warrior king like the conqueror.

Instead, he is here, stuck in this castle because he has been unmanned by his wife’s own fucking grandmother and humiliated by his own little brothers. Even Daeron went down as Daeron the Daring as he died like a man should.

When Borros comes, Aegon intends to lead the battle. He did it once and his sword arm is strong enough to fight, how hard could it be? And what better way to announce it than by entering the tourney.

“I suppose you are right, husband, especially because it will remind people that both your mother and my great-grandfather were brown of hair and eye. A shame Borros refused Cousin Joffrey, we could have had the Vale and Aunt Jeyne would be here to show she also has brown hair.” Aemma pretends it doesn’t bother her. Does a great deal of that since they married, Aegon wondered if one day she will like him and trust him like he trusts her.

He envies Aemond for getting to see the true Aemma, not the poised lady hiding her dragon’s blood underneath silks and brocade.

Aegon would’ve preferred Daeron had been the one to return and not Aemond. Daeron didn’t steal his wife’s heart from under his nose.

“If anyone dares to insinuate you cuckolded me, I will have their heads, dear Aemma. I plan on making sure they get the message at Aenys’ anointing next week.”

“Harwin used to have the worst nightmares as a boy, always dreaming he and father were burning to death and Larys’ laughing as he stood outside the door.” Alys speaks softly as she nursed Aenys.

The babe had been small and frail when he was born and yet the moment Alys became his nurse that night, he awoke as healthy as if he had not been born early. Her witch’s blood refused to let her create new life but made her able to nourish life that already existed.

“I had nothing to do with their deaths.” The queen mother says even though she remembers asking Larys to do what he must to bring her father back to court. Larys had been using her, like all men have done, and yet this time she had the power to say no.

But she hadn’t said no.

Instead, she prayed for forgiveness and put it out of her mind when word of their deaths came just as the raven from Daemon did.

“Just because you say it outloud does not make it true, your grace.” The witch chides her like a mother does to lying child. “I know you agreed to it for your cause.”

“Then why join me? Why kill Harwin’s lover and his sons?” the queen asked hoping that was the answer as to why everything had gone wrong.

“To get to Larys, to have the Blacks kill all those who stand between me and Harrenhal. I work the corridors of self-interest just as anyone here. Now with the war lost and my dear little brother getting his comeuppance, you are of no use to me ,your grace.” The witch said as if it were just something trivial that had failed and not a system of governance.

As if it was always meant to fall.

“You said it was Aegon’s destiny to be king!” the queen cannot comprehend why Alicent would make her do such things if it had not been meant to happen.

“And it was, I never said for how long. Two years is more than Aegon the Uncrowned got.” Alys put the babe in his basket without burping him first and went to stand by the window.

Why did no one else seem to care about this more? Why did no one see that for her family to be safe, Aegon needs to be king and her as his right hand?

Aemma had poisoned her sons against her an now her most trusted ally is led astray by her.

“Oh, no, the little queen did not seduce me from your side, your grace. Our paths are no longer aligned. You stand at the end of your road while I still have so far to go.” the witch answered as if she had spoken aloud.

“You tricked me! You had me sell my soul to the Stranger and damn myself to the Seventh Hell!” Alicent begins to see her with horror.

And yet the witch just stands there by the open window as if nothing was happening.

It would be so easy to kill her. She could lie and say she was going to hurt the little bastard, that she cast a spell on him and she as his grandmother only meant to save him.

Alys would die instantly on the spikes in the dry moat, no one would know.

What is one more kill?

“You said you would do anything to make Aegon king, you agreed to the price, your grace.” Alys coos at her making the queen mother snap and barrel towards her like an angry bull.

Just over the window.

That is all she needs.

And yet when they stand over the edge, Alys overpowers her and instead, Alicent is forced to look down at her grave.

“Now be a good girl for mummy and pay it.” The witch whispers in her ear like a lover and tosses her over the edge as if she weighed as much as little Aenys.

[timaeusterrored]

Johnny coming back was not only an adjustment, but reminder of everything Kerry was afraid of. Being in his shadow, arguments he was too old for, Johnny and V running away together- Ignore that last one. Everything was fine. V was alive, V was happy. What else mattered?

The air between the old friends was thick, and Johnny had been relearning to talk ever since that day he called for Kerry. Mostly V helping him through it, but Kerry would watch. It was painful to say the least, watching someone he cared about struggling. Kerry never stopped wanting Johnny, but he wouldn’t bend so easily anymore. He had V now as well, he was happy.

“Muse.” Kerry stopped, seeing Johnny sprawled out on the couch, his old guitar in his lap as he tried to force his fingers to work with him. Johnny hadn’t called him by his actual name since he came back either, Kerry couldn’t help it when his heartstrings tugged at the old nickname.

He tossed the towel down, having just got out of the shower and sat at his feet. V was out, and this was their first time alone in almost 51 years. “Need somethin’, Johnny?” Kerry asked, not meeting his eyes. He knew if he did, his wall would crumble and he’d fall into Johnny’s lap just like he had back then. That’s what he thought anyway.

“Needed you.” Johnny’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle when he spoke to Kerry nowadays. Kerry hoped he knew that Kerry wasn’t the same love struck idiot he was back in the day, that a soft tone and a kiss of his ring finger would have him crumbing.

Kerry swallowed a bit, gnawing on his lip as he began to think. He hated how much those words made his heart flutter, how he still wanted Johnny to want him even after all these years. He didn’t believe V when he had said Johnny called him beautiful, like hell Johnny would have ever called him that sober. And now when he was older, not wiser, but older.

“‘M here, Johnny.” Kerry would always be there. And he hated it, but looking at Johnny, seeing his eyes without those damn sunglasses. Johnny was looking at Kerry the same way V did.

“Gotta talk.” Johnny croaked out, resting his head on the back of the couch.

“Yeah. When you can form more words.” Kerry said, making his old friend grin sleepily, then offer him the guitar.

“Play.” He said, giving Kerry a look he couldn’t refuse. “V’s song.”

V’s song would probably be the yacht song if Kerry had to guess. Of course Johnny would have heard it, from that day and the amount of times he sang it to V when he was sick or couldn’t sleep.

“V’s song it is.”