#I took the riverboat there

[kastsol]

I went to Algie's stomping grounds,,, magical experience

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

࣪ ˖✧ The Jackpot

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: You join Arthur and the boys for a job on the Grand Korrigan riverboat where you act as Arthur’s lap girl. The man in question is more than excited about this decision. ✦ Warnings: Guns, mention of shooting, swearing, SMUT, oral (reader receiving), edging if you squint, unprotected p in v ✦ Words: 3,8k ✦ a/n: A big heartwarming thank you to @zae-heeyyy!! Who took the time to correct my dumb spelling and give me her thoughts on this before publishing it! Please go check her work, I swear it won't disappoint! Also: pictures are not mine! I usually try to use a pic for Arthur from my own playthrough but I'm fcking stuck on Guarma rn. Found them on Pinterest.

Dim lights are flickering all around you, making the golden ornaments of the luxurious place you're in shine like a thousand stars. You couldn't believe this gigantic reception room, gratified by a bar, a grand piano, and of course, three elegant poker tables, was actually floating on water right now, as you were on the Grand Korrigan boat, the jewel of its kind, den of the richest gentlemen in St. Denis, in search for some amusement and of course, even more money.

Trelawny and Herr Strauss had plotted a well-crafted deal that could earn a lot of money for the gang. Along with Javier disguised as one of the guards, Arthur would act as a new wealthy businessman who had just made a fortune in oil. Strauss would give him signals during his poker game, which guaranteed him to win considering Trelawny had made a friend out of the dealer.

You? You'd play his mistress, sitting on his lap during the game to make the scene look more convincing. On top of that, you had been able to hide a little gun in a hidden pocket in the underside of your dress, guaranteeing some extra protection, which wasn't a bad idea considering the Grand Korrigan was heavily armed and neither Arthur, Trelawny nor Strauss had one.

So here you were, thriving in your role, comfortably sitting on Arthur's lap, hands wrapped around his neck, both legs hanging on his left side. His arms were enveloping you, hands resting on the edge of the table as he was focusing on his cards.

Well, more like trying to focus, actually.

Maybe it was because you two had started a quite passionate relationship a few weeks ago, sneaking in each other's tent, simple kisses and whispers in the night quickly turning into something more, the both of you having cravings to fulfill.

Maybe it was because Trelawny, the damned man, had chosen a particularly suggestive dress for you to wear, comforting your play considering wives weren't allowed at the poker tables, only work girls and such, your cleavage on full display for his immoral eyes.

Maybe it was the way he could feel the round and warm flesh of your ass even through the fabric of your clothes, right where he wanted to, making his brain impossible to function properly, desperately trying to keep the hardness between his legs to stay in line.

Either way, Arthur had to make enormous efforts to focus on the job and was frankly relieved Strauss was telling him what to do; despite being a pretty good poker player, he would never have been able to win the easiest of games in this state.

Strauss told him to go all-in. He did. You smiled, you would have lied saying you weren't enjoying yourself right now. You had known far worse jobs than playing Arthur's lover. Much to your surprise, he had played a really convincing character through the night too, his usual mumbling far gone, replaced by a bright and confident speech and a cheeky grin that was making you want to kiss it even more. In fact, you wanted to take care of him just to see this cocky smirk flatter under your touch, replaced by a pleasured expression on his handsome face.

It was easy to say both of you were acting pretty good, but inside felt like two teenagers in love.

Arthur had won another hand, men were starting to leave the table, angry. It was only you both and the target now, an opulent man known as Desmond Blythe, loaded with money thanks to his hosiery business.

You pulled a cigarette out of Arthur's pocket along with a match, and you felt his breath hitch for an instant when you slipped your hand in it. Rubbing the match against the wood of the table, you lighted the cigarette casually, little flame illuminating a thin grin on your lips. You took a small drag on it to make sure the tobacco had plainly burnt, then you placed the cigarette in front of Arthur's lips, holding it for him between your index and middle finger, so that he could smoke on it while keeping both his hands on his cards.

It was downright one of the hottest things anybody had done to him and he was starting to lose it. Wrapping his lips around your offering and smoking a long drag, he allowed himself to avert his gaze from his opponent for a few seconds, planting his turquoise pupils into yours.

His eyes were half-lidded, long lashes accentuating the languorous gaze he was giving you. Your heart started racing. The power this man had on you was insane, but if only you knew what you were doing to him in return. You had a glimpse of it though, right there in the depths of his two blue diamonds, this so distinctive dark glow of him, direct window on the sinful pit of his urges.

You were sure your own eyes were mirroring it. And it got worse when, after exhaling some smoke, he quickly kissed the palm of your hand, indicating he had smoked enough, the warm sensation of his chapped lips on your skin giving you goosebumps. His eyes went back to Blythe, and you exhaled as if you had been holding your breath during the whole time you had locked eyes.

You retrieved your hand, taking a drag yourself on the cigarette after him, loving the idea of sharing it with him, of putting your lips right where he did a few seconds before, your biased brain telling you you could taste sweet remnants of him there.

Another all-in, another hand won by Arthur who couldn't stop himself from smiling this sly cocky smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Shit, shit!" Blythe shouted, hitting on the table with his fists furiously.

"I guess ma luck held... Is that you done?" Arthur asked him, his tone triumphant while bending over the table to gather his not-so-well-deserved chips. "Or, do you got somethin' else to play with?" He added more lowly, his baritone voice almost making you shiver just hearing it.

"Meaning?" Desmond questioned back, visibly frustrated. Looked like frustration was a popular feeling around this poker table tonight, about the game or other things...

Arthur had gotten up from his chair and you too, now standing by his side, partially glued to his body as he had snaked an arm around your waist while finishing to put in order his chips. He answered using the same taunting, arrogant tone as before.

"Well, I heard there was some big boys on this boat, maybe that's not you, no offense-"

"Sit your and your whore's hillbilly asses down." The rich men cut him off, voice dark and serious.

You felt Arthur's hand grip tighter on your waist. For a faint moment, you thought that his cover would collapse, considering how tense he had gotten hearing him calling you a whore. But the way he was still smiling was almost even more scary, it was a false, threatening one. The kind of smile that hides a cold anger, boiling silently inside.

"Why?" Arthur simply answered, tone brilliantly contained considering the way his muscles were flexing on their own under his fancy suit.

"I got a watch... An expensive one, swiss... a Reutlinger no less. It's in the safe, upstairs. It's worth more than you."

You forced yourself not to cross eyes with Arthur. Your target. He had just confirmed what you were all here for. Perfect, just a bit more of this whole play and Arthur would be able to access the strongbox.

"Okay, I trust ya." Arthur consented while sitting back on his chair, placing you with his two big hands back at your place, on his lap. You were definitely loving this job. You'd have to thank Trelawny for it, someday.

The rest of the game passed just like before, your outlaw ultimately winning once more thanks to your colleague's little trick. Desmond was furious, and you obtained your goal.

Arthur happily got up once again, gently helping you stand, one of his hands naturally resting on your shoulder. Before following the gentleman who was supposed to bring him to the safe, he bent over to you, head brushing against yours, his stubble and hairs tickling your cheeks. He whispered in your ear, voice deep and hoarse, this one voice that was always making your head turn.

"When we're finished here, I'm gonna take care of ya, darlin'."

You sighed, cracking up a sly smirk, your cheeks turning a bit red. These simple words were enough to make the heat between your thighs make itself known; crying out for attention. Being so close like this was allowing you to breathe in his scent, its combination on top of his breath on your ear was a dangerous mix for your sanity. You took the opportunity of having his skin so close to your lips to place a small kiss on his neck, right below his own ear.

Arthur smiled at you, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he took a last look at you before walking off. You sighed softly again, already missing his presence. The wait for some time alone was only making your own needs grow.

You were only hoping the job would end up smoothly.

Of course, it didn't. 

Desmond, sore loser, had accused Arthur of cheating. That and the fact that the guard Javier had knocked off to steal his clothes had appeared out of nowhere yelling to shoot him had set things on fire on the Grand Korrigan, the boat now witness to a heated shooting the Van Der Linde Gang was known for.

You had instantly pulled out your hidden gun and helped Arthur clean up the place thanks to Javier who had thrown him a rifle. The night had ended with your incongruous team jumping straight in the water, swimming back to the shore, a quite odd and armed to the teeth fish shoal. At least, everyone was alive, and you even had obtained a pretty decent amount of money, not even mentioning the watch Strauss had authenticated as a real Reutlinger. Arthur had quickly taken back the precious object from his greedy hands, "well give it back then", which made you laugh to yourself.

True to himself, your cowboy had instructed everyone to separate and get out of the shore, as always after a job. You were all quite a sight, soaked to the bones. As you were greeting everyone a good night, Arthur silently walked to you and grabbed your hand. Even with the water you both had leaking from your clothes to your skin, you could feel how warm his hand was, contrasting yours which was completely freezing cold from having swam in the icy waters. You wondered if this man was even human.

"But you, Miss, are comin' with me." He playfully informed you, not leaving you any choice.

It was not as if you wanted to go anywhere else anyway.

"Really now? What d'ya have in mind, cowboy?" You asked him with an equally mischievous tone on your own, your eye glued to the way his hair looked completely soaked, subtle rivulets sliding all the way from it to his neck.

"Maybe we could pay ourselves a well-deserved night in town..." He proposed, voice turning more and more into a low growl as he was letting his desires take the lead on his reason.

"I would love that." You simply agreed, before getting closer to him, tilting your head up to bring your lips to his. He gladly let you, one hand still holding yours, the other gently landing on the side of your face.

The walk to the La Bastille Saloon was supposed to be a short one, but you both looked like you couldn't wait to be there before teasing each other. You would sometimes stop walking to just attack his neck, lips merciless as you sucked and kissed him there. Your taunting acts were often met with his equally heated answer, one of his palms ending on your ass, or your thighs, your wet clothes transparent and glued to your curves not helping him to keep his touch away from these places of your body. Arthur's breath sharpened as he called you his lil minx, and no, darlin’, we can't just do it on the streets.

Finally, after having shocked the barman by arriving at such late hours in completely soaked clothes, which honestly just made the both of you laugh mischievously, you reached your love nest for the night.

And what a nest! Silk sheets, canopy bed, sumptuous decor glistening with the dim lights of the chandeliers. Even the floor looked comfortable, carpeted with some fancy patterns, matching the couch and bed's color. Red, just like passion, just like lust. Red, like the color of your cheeks right now as Arthur had closed the door and was already on his knees, placing you on the edge of the mattress. Red, just like what Arthur was seeing right now, hungry hands pulling your dress up, positioning himself between your thighs.

You looked down at him, his darkened eyes looking at you. You noticed he had ripped off his fancy tie, needing to breathe properly, the heat between you both already making him suffocate. In those moments, his beautiful pupils were always shining with a more murky color, his usual sky blue turning into a more cobalt one. They were staring intensely into yours, expression questioning. A silent demand. You nodded positively, quietly answering. Dooming yourself.

The moment you did, he buried his head between your legs, left hand resting on your hip, holding you gently. His lips started kissing softly on the fabric of your undergarments. His other hand quickly came, helping him in his task by pulling it to the side, granting him access.

The moment his lips met your folds, you let out a moan, unable to resist the feeling he was giving you. He was loving it, his ears getting redder as he was more and more aroused himself. He was so big between your thighs, his shoulders were spreading them almost completely open.

He licked in a long, slow movement all the way to the top of your pussy, making you sigh in pleasure already, hips jerking against his head, begging for more.

"Easy, girl... I've got ya." He soothed you hoarsely, left hand holding you more firmly to prevent you from crushing him totally. Nevertheless, he took your eagerness into account; he couldn't deny you anything. Not when it came to sex. Not when you were so beautiful in this ostentatious dress. Not when he had grown more and more found of you, even if he was refusing to admit it to himself completely for now.

He brought his lips on the top of your core, tongue gently circling around this so special knot of nerves, his stubble scratching pleasantly against your skin, bringing you even more sensations.

It was already so good, Arthur's mouth showing you no pity, licking, sucking, kissing, as if you were becoming the only food he could ever feast on, the only oxygen he could breathe with. The sight of his broken nose buried beneath your skin, as if he was searching to go even deeper within you was almost too much for you to handle. Your hands that were gripping the sheets had now found the top of his head, spurring him to continue, please please please, Arthur, more, or you could have died right here on the fancy bed of the La Bastille Saloon.

Arthur's tongue answered your begging call, lapping your sensitive spot faster, harder. How the Hell was that man so good at pleasuring a woman? That, sinful, dirty man, just like the sounds you were letting out right now.

Your vision started to blur, the back of your head sinking onto the mattress, your back arching deliciously, and you were going to let him know just how close you were until he stopped all of a sudden.

"A-Arthur!" You protested, head snapping back at him, eyes pleading, tone both offended and needy as his name had sounded more like a whine when it had felt from your mouth.

He smiled cockily at you from where he was, his mouth looking wet with your arousal. He loved it, he loved being responsible for it.

"I'm here, girl... I jus' need ya too much right now. Lemme just..."

His voice was now a low rumble, coming from the depth of his chest. You watched as he quickly ripped off his clothes with little care for them. Trelawny would have shouted at how he was treating one of the most expensive suits he had ever brought.

But he didn't care about the suit. And neither do you, as your eyes were devouring every inch of his flesh that was appearing under them. The sight of a completely naked Arthur always had the same effect on you, no matter how many times you already had seen it.

His muscular body looked like it had been carved by Angels. No, more likely by an angry, dark God, who would have sculpted him from a hard and brutal material, his many scars and blurs a remnant of it. You could almost picture his tools molding your lover's broad chest and shoulders with sharp, furious hammer blows. His powerful arms and legs had received the same treatment, as if the deity wanted to pass on all of his brutal force into his creation. And his cock was definitely no exception to it.

And yet, this massive force of nature was blushing under your gaze. He couldn't have resisted the hurtful sensation of emptiness around his shaft, one of his hands now giving himself a few strokes to try and relieve some of it. His eyes closed in a frown for a few seconds, your pussy burned at this unholy scenery he was offering you.

You were in such a state of need it was almost depraved. You quickly got rid of your own clothes, tossing them somewhere on the floor of the room, needing to share this intimacy with him, to feel his skin against yours.

"Oh, please... Arthur, jus' take me..." You asked yourself before he could probe your adequation. You knew him well now, you already knew the next words he was going to speak would be another demand to make sure you truly wanted this.

He seemed to enjoy how you had forecasted it, his eyes opening again to look at you, his cock hardening even more, precum slowly leaking from its top, wasting all the efforts he had done to relieve it a bit.

"If that's what you want darlin'... I'm your man." He answered in a growl, climbing next to you on the bed.

You weren't sure why but his last words had made your heart swell in your chest. You were sure, deep down inside of you, that he meant it in another way. He really had become yours, and you, his. Lost in your thoughts, you let him handle you gently, placing you on your belly against the silk sheets, lying himself on top of you, legs between yours.

You slightly moved your rear up against his erection, earning a grunt of pleasure from him. Saying he had loved it was an understatement; he had been thinking about doing this with you since you had sat on him on the riverboat.

Using his right hand, he placed his cock against your entrance, and finally started pushing, your pussy already ready for him thanks to his ministrations, your mouth mewling at the sensation. Your perfect, hot walls were finally enveloping him, and he tried his best not to come just from that intense feeling alone.

He was so big and tall behind you, his head could reach yours and he buried it onto the crook of your neck, his hair still wet offering you a cold feel, contrasting with his whole hot chest pressed on your back, making you feel as if a literal inferno was burning it. He slowly started to pull back, only to shove himself in you again, starting a slow but intense back and forth.

"God, damn it... 'Feel so good girl..." He mumbled against your skin, his arms encircling you from both sides, caging you under his tall figure.

You sighed at his praise, wanting to answer something to compliment him back, but he snapped his hips just at the same time, making you shut your eyes close, and moan louder than before. Your voice was starting to crack under the amount of pleasure he was bringing to you, hard shaft brushing this deep spot within your core every time his hips moved, hitting just right where you needed him to.

He had noticed, and it was only making him lose his mind even more, unable to keep his pace slow, letting his body unleashed. He had waited this whole night to bury himself in you, listened to this moron calling you names without having the right to punch his goddamn idiotic face. He couldn't hold anything back anymore.

He started thrusting more frantically, pistoning his cock in and out of you so fast and hard he was now fucking you onto the bed. His right hand grabbed a fistful of your ass, the feeling of it colliding with his pelvis with every thrust making him insane, the other one next to your left shoulder, preventing him from crushing you completely.

You could feel it, the familiar feeling, the divine relief, building more and more thanks to him, the pace increasing your pleasure. Feeling how impossibly hard his sex had gotten in your cunt, you knew he was close too. This simple fact was the last push to your deliverance.

"A-Arthur! God, yes!" You screamed, unable to form any coherent thoughts, existing simply for this, for this moment with him, naked on the bed of this saloon. Just you and him.

"Oh, darlin’, shit!" Your orgasm had made your walls clench even more around his dick, exploding his limit. He quickly removed himself from you, and finished at the last second on your back and ass, his burning release painting your skin in flaming spurts. His very own sinful art piece.

The room felt silent again. The air stifling from your lovemaking, the only sounds being heard were your sharp, quickened breaths. Arthur took a few seconds to collect himself, feeling better and so satisfied, almost euphoric. Turning your head to the side, you took a glimpse of your lover's gorgeous state. Hair messy, cheeks and ears crimson, sweat dripping everywhere on his skin, chest rising and falling in big, profound exhales.

He then grabbed a piece of fabric from one of the wardrobes to gently wipe off his seed from you, and tossed it away, wanting nothing more but to rest against you now. A perfect contrast, from an agitated, stormy sea to a quiet, secret cove. As if you were the only one who could see him like this, vulnerable, loving even.

You watched him lay by your side on his back, your head still feeling dizzy, slowly coming back from a world of fantasies. You snuggled against him, resting your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, feeling spent but so, so happy. And you felt the same. Still naked, skin against skin, heart beating together, just the two of you.

Tonight had been quite something, and despite having won a few thousand dollars, it was definitely not money that was making Arthur feel like he had hit the jackpot.

[wizard-on-whales]

A Fine Night For Debauchery (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

NSFW - Minors do NOT interact

Warnings: near drowning, Arthur is a cheeky bastard (Who also gets a raging boner when he sees boobies), lots of teasing...I mean LOTS, filthy shameless smut, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex, pet names

Word Count - 3k

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Trelawny. Goddamn Josiah Trelawny. You blamed him for the impure thoughts that were keeping you up. Not that they were about the man himself but that dress he made you wear. You and Arthur were the main distraction for the Riverboat mission you had been sent on. The two of you were playing a newlywed couple there to win a little extra money for the success of your marriage. And to rub your “riches” in since Arthur had recently hit a score in the oil business. None of that was true, of course. And it wasn't the first time you and Arthur had been paired together for a mission where you had to pretend to be a couple, but tonight seemed more intimate.

You sat on his lap, one arm wrapped around his shoulder while he played the poker game. You could feel Arthur shifting under you now and then, his eyes subtly glancing down at your chest that was practically shoved in his face. The dress that Trelawny had picked out for you was extremely tight and revealing. Your corset pushed your breasts up to the point they were practically spilling out of the top. And although you usually wore low-cut dresses, you never wore corsets. You found them to be too claustrophobic, so you avoided them. You felt uncomfortable in the thing; it was digging into your sides and seemed to be a size too small. The feeling of it cutting into you caused you to squirm often, and every time you moved, Arthur flinched a little, sucking in a breath. At first, you thought he was shifting from your weight; maybe he was just trying to get more comfortable under you and the unnecessarily heavy dress you wore. But once you realized why he was actually shifting, you felt hot. If the makeup you wore wasn't as heavy as the dress, everyone would have been able to see how red your cheeks were burning. 

Once he had won the game and got up to collect his reward, tension seemed to be released from his shoulders. You assumed he was uncomfortable, not wanting to be seen as just another one of those men. He wasn't, you knew that. Things like that weren't controllable, so you washed it off as just the compromised position you had been sitting in for so long. 

All of those thoughts were quickly thrown out of your brain when shots were fired. You ducked behind the bar and pulled your skirt up, pulling your gun out where it had been nestled on your thigh the whole night. Once the coast was clear, everyone made a run for it. You, Arthur, Javier, Trelawny, and Strauss jumped off the side of the boat and started swimming for shore. The only problem was your dress made it impossible to swim. As soon as you hit the water, it quickly weighed you down, getting heavier the more water it absorbed. 

“God damn this dress!” Your arms flailed as you panicked, hardly being able to keep your head above the water. Arthur noticed your distress and swam towards you, helping to keep you up,” Get this thing off of me!”

Arthur tugged at everything he could, trying to untie the corset and undo buttons, but they weren't coming undone quickly enough.  

“How the hell am I supposed to do that!” He started to panic as you continued to struggle in his arms. He was able to unhook the front of your corset, pushing it off before seeing the maze of strings that held your dress up.

“I don't know, figure it out!” Arthur hesitated for a moment before grabbing the seams sitting against your breasts and ripping the fabric. One hard jerk was all it took for the dress to come off. He pulled you flush against him with one arm and pushed the rest of the dress down your legs. 

“That works,” you felt your cheeks flush red. You still had your undergarments on, and despite wearing them around camp often at night, you had never felt more exposed in front of the man. Although you could swim on your own now, Arthur still kept his arm firm around your waist as the two of you swam to shore together. 

Now here you were, lying on your bedroll, staring at the rotting ceiling above you. Your hair was still damp from the water, and although you had changed out of your wet bloomers into a nightgown, your skin was still cold to the bone. Your mind was flooded with impure thoughts you were trying desperately to get rid of. With Dutch being your brother, you had known Arthur the whole time he had been in the gang. He was 14 when Dutch and Hosea found him, and you were 12. Although you had always found him attractive, you would have never admitted to having a crush on him.

The two of you were close, supposed to be like family, but as you continued to lay there, you questioned if your relationship had ever been like that. The constant subtle touches, the occasional flirty banter, the few times the two of you had slept in each other's arms looking for warmth or comfort. Nothing inappropriate had happened those nights you slept next to each other, but now you couldn't help but wish something had... 

The thought of Arthur ripping your dress off so easily made your cheeks burn again. You let out a heavy sigh before getting up from your bed roll and making your way up the creaky, old stairs of Shady Bell. Your heart pounded with each step you took. You stopped in front of Arthur's door, hesitating for a moment before opening it. Arthur was sitting up on his bed, journal in his hand. He looked up before quickly closing it and clearing his throat a little. You noticed his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. 

“You alright?” He asked, standing up and putting the journal on his map table. You still stood in the doorway, your hand sitting on the knob. 

“I uh…,” You looked away from him and out the broken window, trying to form a thought. He stepped closer, which clouded your brain even more,” Never mind.” 

Just as you went to step away, Arthur grabbed you. His hands placed firmly on both of your arms as he kicked the door shut. Your heart rate picked up as you looked up at him. Arthur was looked down at you in a way he had never done before. Like a predator stalking its prey. Your brain finally formed a sentence as you stared at the burning desire behind his eyes. 

“I need you, Arthur,” the words came out quiet.

“Im a bad man, darlin’,” His voice was just as low. You moved your arms slightly, and he immediately let you go. You wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling him down slightly. 

“You know Im worse,” Your eyes were fixed on his lips as yours hovered above them. Arthur dropped his head, his lips hungrily devouring yours. He stepped back, dragging you with him, his lips still on yours. He pulled you with him until the back of his legs hit his bed. He pulled away from you, a strand of saliva following as he did. 

“You sure you wanna do this, girl?” His words seemed genuine as he stared at your eyes and lips. 

“I've never been more sure,” You pushed his shoulders down, making him sit on the edge of his bed. Stepping back a few feet, you grabbed the bottom of your nightgown and pulled it over your head, throwing it onto the floor next to your feet. Arthur's eyes gazed over every inch of your body, drinking in your features like you were a smooth glass of whiskey.

“Come here,” you stepped closer, your legs against his. His rough hands immediately went to the back of your legs; one stayed put with a heavy grip. The other drug up your leg to your stomach until it was grazing dangerously close to your breast, “ Sit.” 

You obeyed. You were a rough woman yourself... hell, probably more ruthless than Arthur. You almost never took orders from anyone, not even your own brother. Anyone who told you what to do would get a gun in their face, and it often ended with their brains on a wall. But here you were doing exactly what Arthur was telling you to. Like a dog eager for a treat. You sat on his lap, straddling him. Arthur smirked, his thumb swiping over your nipple. You wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned down, kissing him feverishly. Your hands grabbed his suspenders and pushed them off of his shoulders. You leaned back and started to unbutton his shirt. While you did, Arthur's eyes never left your face, his hands slightly roamed your body, feeling every curve he could. Once the final button was undone, Arthur took the shirt off and threw it to the side. Your hands immediately went to his chest, feeling him up and down. 

He knew you watched him whenever he would do chores around camp. The way his muscles flexed through his shirt when he carried the hay bales or threw bags over his shoulders. And your eyes would never once leave him if he was chopping wood. His shirt off, suspenders hanging from his hips, just like they were now. His back and arms flexing with every swing. He wouldn't look at you while you stared, but he could feel your eyes burning a hole in him. And oftentimes it would end in Miss Grimshaw yelling at you to get back to work. You were staring at him the same way now, the same hungry look in your eyes burning a hole through him. 

Arthur couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed and shy about it, his cheeks flushing slightly, but you didn't care. You leaned back down to kiss him again, hands still roaming his chest and memorizing every defined muscle on his arms. His own hands still wandered your body as he moved one from her breast and her heat. One finger dragged slowly up her cunt causing you to let out a quiet whine. 

“God,” He groaned into your mouth, “Yer’ soaked, and I've hardly even touched ya. Whatchu’ been thinkin’ about, girl.” He removed his mouth from yours, his finger still barely touching your heat.

“You,” You breathed quietly, “The way you-” he pushed a finger inside of you, cutting off your words as you moaned. 

“What about me,” He smirked, his mouth hovered right above yours, his breath hot against your lips.

“The way you ripped my dress off…so,” he pulled his finger out and pushed two in this time, “God- so easily.” 

“I've been thinkin' bout’ that all night too, darlin’. Can't sleep because of me? Can't sleep because you've been thinkin' about fuckin’ me? Hmm?” He picked up his pace, his two fingers moving quickly, his thumb barely grazing your clit. You dropped your head to his shoulder, mouth open, but nothing came out. You knew you had to be quiet, or someone would hear. There may have been walls, but they were thin and rotting, and the broken window didn't help, “Is that it, Darlin? Gotta answer me, or I'll stop.” 

“God, yes. Please, Arthur,” You let out another quiet moan, biting his shoulder slightly to muffle it. He groaned as you bit down, his hips moving slightly to ease his own throbbing heat.

“Please, what?” His teasing frustrated you, but your brain was too clouded to tell him off. 

“Fuck me, Arthur, please.” That was all it took. He pulled his fingers out and flipped you onto the bed so that he was on top. Your hands quickly went to his pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them down his hips slightly. Your finger traced his hip bones and V-line. He sat back up and pulled them off the rest of the way. 

“So eager…all for me,” He leaned down, whispering in your ear before planting a wet kiss on your collarbone. He placed a heavy hand on the base of his cock, pumping it a few times and letting out a groan before lining it up with your entrance. 

He pushed into you slowly, both of you letting out a sigh. Arthur dropped his head to your chest, kissing one of your breasts as he bottomed you out. The man was large on every term, towered over most men in height, could easily toss anyone over his shoulder, so it was no surprise he was blessed below the belt too. 

“You alright?” He looked you in the eyes, letting you adjust to his size before continuing. You nodded your head and bit your lip slightly, “That ain't gonna work, darlin'. Use your words.” 

“Yes,” He connected his lips to yours once again and slowly moved his hips. You moaned into his mouth as he moved quicker, “Please, Arthur. Faster.” You threw your head back against the hard mattress. 

“You like it rough, don't ya,” Arthur groaned as his hips continued to hit yours, picking up his pace. You couldn't speak, only nod your head and let out another strangled moan, “ I should've known, you dirty girl.” The noises coming from between your legs were filthy, getting messier as Arthur's strokes became more desperate. 

“God, Arthur,” You moaned his name, your hands pulling at his hair. He clamped a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. 

“Yeah, that feel good?” He asks, his tone mocking her slightly, “Gotta be quiet unless you want the whole camp knowin’ how much of a whore you are.” He grunted, pulling one of your legs up further and kissing your neck. He bit down on the soft skin on your collarbone, trying to mask his own noises. The coil in your stomach tightened, your legs wrapping tighter against him. Arthur could tell you were close, so he steadied his pace, wanting you to finish before him. He lifted his head from your shoulder and watched your face as you got closer. You bit your lip to keep yourself quiet, pulling yourself closer to Arthur as your back arched. Your breathing got heavier as you let out a breathless moan, your nails digging into Arthur's scalp. You let go, feeling everything in your body tighten before immediately relaxing. Arthur pulled out, his hand desperately finishing what had been started, wishing his hand was your warm walls. You watched as he finished, groaning to himself as his filth leaking out onto your stomach. 

“Jesus,” He let out quietly, leaning forward to kiss you. You wiped the loose strands of hair that stuck to his forehead out of his face. He pulled back, looking at you. This time instead of being full of lust, he looked at you with the sweetest eyes, a slight smile on his face. The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds, drunk on each other. He sat up slightly, grabbed his shirt off of the floor, and cleaned you up, “Shit, yer shakin’, darlin’.” 

“I'll be okay,” You planted a small kiss on his forehead and wrapped your arms around his shoulders again, pulling him closer as he finished cleaning you up. He layed down next to you, wrapping his heavy arm around your middle. Your back was against his chest, his face buried in your hair. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” Arthur said quietly, placing a small kiss on the back of your head. You smiled slightly to yourself, resting your hand on his arm. 

“You been havin’ dirty thoughts bout me for a while, Cowboy?” You teased him slightly, his arm wrapping tighter around you. 

“The filthiest,” You could hear the smile in his voice as he kissed your neck. 

“Well, I guess you'll just have to tell me all about them, so I make sure they come true.” You turned in his arms so that you were facing him.

“I won't say no to that,” Arthur leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your lips, “But for now, I just wanna hold you and get some sleep.” He gave you a soft smile, and you agreed with him. Both of you closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of each other's arms once again, only this time, the night hadn't been innocent.

-----------------------

[thesimquarter]

hello! sims 2 miniopolis update!

first of all, my current sims 2 urbz sims >:3 outside of the obvious change of a default skin, they don't look that different compared to my old versions of them. But! believe me they are better.as well, this time! there's the DS exclusive characters and a few sims intended to be townies. In order, Lloyd, Red Man, Daschell Swank, Chet R. Chase, Bucki Brock's sister, Joe from the Flea Market (yes, he does have a name), Ava Cadavra, and Gordie Puck. Indeed, they're very red.

And an update to the town in general! I've finished most of the easy lots now, mostly having harder lots to do now. Such as the Mausoleum, Circus, Brownstones + Slice O'Life (which I… attempted. can you believe that the map of this game doesn’t follow the laws of physics?), etc.

New lots include: - Junked Schoolbus (which IS connected to the Chopper Garage visually but they aren't the same lot) - Chopper Garage (which i am not going to put underneath the road/jail! it looks cool in-game, but possibly impossible to do in the sims 2 but it makes no sense spatially!! the other side of the garage would just be underground!!!) - Cemetery (Mostly just empty buildings for aesthetics. No graves… yet. and there probably won’t be until the final version of the hood.) - Miniopolis Chronicle (TINY) - Miniopolis Hospital + University (if this was ts3 i probably would have made them separately) - Club Xizzle (what is it supposed to look like on the outside + should there be two?) - Glasstown Megamall - Cinema d'Urbania (how do you make a cinema in this game? big TV?)

I redid King Tower as well, just to make it fill out a 3x3 lot instead of a 2x2 lot, and Café Multiplaya has a new outdoor seating area (to fill in space). The Coffee Shop, the Market, and Glasstown apartments were in my last post, just kinda in the background. The Market has a lot of creative liberties taken to it, as I just didn't like how it translated into the Sims (as in it's made to represent the real-life French Quarter Market more). The Glasstown Apartment has a few other units in it for some of the Urbz sims (more on that in a bit!)

I removed pretty much, all the elevation from the .s4c terrain. It's easy to put back butttt, the sims 2 just doesn't work in a way that's friendly to sloped lots (and simcity 4 for slopes that take <1 unit of distance, you can't make steep cliffs in these games. so, basically, due to the compactness of the city, there isn’t enough room to add in slopes without making it all janky). They may come back at the end if we can Wizard the slopes to work the lots, but for now...

Ignore the weird road off the Sim Quarter. I was experimenting with what could be done with the riverboat. I was thinking about putting it on a beach lot and making a joke about it being temporarily landlocked (read: i already did) and was trying to find a good, functional place to put it. There may be other ways to do a riverboat though… hmmm

Anyways onto housing for the Sims. So, the Glasstown Apartments has a few more units to fit in a few other characters (Lottie Cash (I did manage to squeeze a bowling alley in there), Lily Gates, and Darius) but other than that? Very little! (I did Ewan’s House. however, it’s just a box; i took modest pretty literally). I might make a post soon where I talk about where each Urb would probably live, just as an excuse to talk to myself for a little while.

[tmgstudios]

Zirk Vervain

NADDPOD // unknown // Sleeplessness - Tomas Denson // NADDPOD // @/smokedsugar // Depression’s Lullaby for the Anxious Insomniac - vojeda96 // The Sorrow Festival - Erin Slaughter // Riverboat Shanty - Emily Axford // NADDPOD // Helping Others... - Catherine Hendry // I Will Rage against the Dying of the Light - Eileen Manassian // unknown // NADDPOD // @/quicklings

thought to hard about eldermourne and now ive made a zirk vervain web weave to go with the henry hogfish one i made a while ago. this took me ages i think zirks illnesses are so specific its hard to find stuff that fits him thats not something literally about him

[elizabethrobertajones]

Ffxivwrite 2024

1. Steer.

“Erenville… Can you teach me how to pilot one of those punutiy boats?”

The former Gleaner narrowed his eyes and looked at the widely eager brown and pink eyes pointed down at him from the huge roegadyn. Frog looked earnest, but the problem was that she always seemed such, and therefore it was impossible to judge how much trouble would follow from such innocent requests.

“Why?” he replied, setting down his book beside his plate of tacos.

Frog immediately lit up with delight and sat opposite him, and, injury to insult, reached over and took a nacho from his plate. Aunt Tii always gave a plentiful heap of them but that wasn’t the point. “Well I was thinking, they must be something like hippos, right?”

He nodded, cautiously, very uncertain about that comparison when it came to anything more than superficial similarities of placid aquatic life for enormous grey beasts.

“And I spent a whole summer working for the Hippo Riders in Thavnair. It must be a similar sort of thing, and who knows what may come – if I spend a summer here working on the river, it could be a really interesting experience. Maybe I could even take back what I learn to Thavnair, because the jungles can flood and if they knew – ”

“Alright, you’ve made your point.” He sighed. Rubbed his forehead. “I don’t see any harm in it.”

“Oh, hooray! Thank you!”

“I should warn you, though. The riverboat punutiys are chosen to be very large – the skills you learned with the hippos will only go so far. And they don’t react well if you approach them armed.”

She was nodding eagerly, absorbing everything he said. Maybe she was a good student – wouldn’t she have to be to have learned as many disciplines as she boasted? Perhaps, and only perhaps, this wasn’t a terrible mistake.

“Anything else I should know?”

He shook his head and sighed. “I’ll make arrangements to get us a boat… Maybe a particularly docile punutiy.”

She nodded, took another nacho, and stood. “I’ll see you back here tomorrow, then!”

And with that the Warrior of Light strode away, and Erenville could already feel tomorrow morning’s headache creeping up on him.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 25 (Unexpected Death Cull but then a Baby, Finally!)

The town of Henford was rocked by a seniors’ river cruise disaster which killed Spencer’s grandparents Dennis and Vivian Lewis-Kim, as well as Ian and Derek Moody-McMillan, who were old friends of the Nesbitts and grandfathers to Nicola, Hazel’s bestie-turned-girlfriend.

The disaster brought Everett and Spencer home to visit her family. The Nesbitts sent condolences, grateful to have been spared greater grief as the town’s fledgling riverboat tourism industry took a nosedive. Spencer met her new niece and infant Greyson got to know his aunts on the Pancakes and Kim-Lewis sides of his family.

The visit made them miss home, and they began to talk about coming home to Henford for good. For now, however, life called them back to Oasis Springs after the funerals.

Daisy was still a PlantSim, which was concerning as the effects of the forbidden fruit had worn off much slower than she expected, and River’s wedding was just around the corner. Despite this, Daisy stayed close to Heather until delivery.

One evening, Heather tried to show her mother how to use accounting software for her floral business, but it wasn't going well and Heather was starting to get bored. She nonchalantly checked her phone. "You wrote a whole cookbook, Mom. You taught me how to do online research, but you can't figure out a few numbers?"

Daisy frowned. "I always let the telescope do my number-crunching for me. I really just loved gardening." She clicked something, and the program disappeared. "Oh, what now?"

"Let me." Heather leaned over her mother's shoulder. "You deleted it? How did you do that?"

Daisy shrugged in frustration. "I really don't know."

Heather opened her Recycle Bin to retrieve the deleted file when she noticed a strange folder. "VetConnect? Is this a clone? What?"

"What does that mean?"

"I...I think someone might have cloned my app files and given them to Petcare Inc."

"Who would do such a thing?"

"Other than you, no one's used my computer since...since Malcolm! I used to let him log in to send work emails. Oh my god! I could kill him!"

Daisy frowned. "Don't say that. Can you sue?"

"Against the Landgraabs? I don't even know if I could prove it was him," she said. "But I think I can fight fire with fire. My vet tech had the idea, and it took years to make the first one, but I'm going to have to work on a new app."

After a family dinner in Henford, Heather finally went into labour. Daisy went with her to the hospital, where her doctor was the on-call intern, Jamar Scott, her childhood neighbour.

(And the eldest son of Henford townies Simon and Sara Scott.)

"How's life in Brindleton Bay?"

"It's really great! I love being by the sea and I really feel like the clinic was my calling."

"I know what you mean. What you do for animals is what I love to do for sims."

"And how's Malia's freelance career?"

"She loves the flexibility, and I can't say I blame her. We're talking about starting a family of our own once my residency's done and I can work better hours."

Just before four in the morning, an exhausted Heather gave birth to a healthy baby boy she named Ash Neal Nesbitt. She debated the last name for months, but Malcolm hadn’t checked on her except when he needed a paternity test. And he stole her mobile app's code!

Since then he’d been no better than a ghost. If he wanted to miss out on his son's life, Heather was fine with it. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: To prevent them from randomly marrying other sims I made Dennis Kim and Vivian Lewis fall in love and marry years after their kids, Eric and Alice, married and started a family (they had three girls - Olivia, Spencer, and Lydia Kim-Lewis).

NOTE 2: I made OG grocer Kim Goldbloom the adopted daughter of Ian Moody and Derek McMillan because I wanted to make all the Henford NPCs playable at the start of the game. (I also paired up Michael Bell and Cecilia Kang despite their canon bad first date, married off Agnes and Agatha and moved them in with the Pancakes after making Agatha the mother of Bob, and put Lavina and Rahul in a home in the Bramblewood. She married Paolo Rocca and had two more kids, Rahul married Rashidah Watson after graduation and they moved to Brindleton Bay to start a family.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

You’ve definitely become one of my favorite Elvis writers on here, Marina.

And I wanted to ask you, are you planning to do more Elvis series? Like a series of Hollywood!Elvis, where he fights to be a serious actor and falls in love with one his co-stars. Or more Elvis AU, since we already have Pirate!Elvis. For example Cowboy!Elvis. Spy!Elvis like a James Bond or Agent Elvis. Mafia!Elvis. Even a Superhero!Elvis.

I think you’d do such a good job bringing all those concepts to life 🤭

My sweet anon, thank you so much, what a kind thing to say, I’m so glad my writing has brought you joy. 💋🌸💋 As for AU’s I did start a series about Hollywood E, yet never finished it. And for now I’ve got riverboat Captain E and father figure E to chew and that’s a lot on its own…but never say never. I think this would be something I’d have to have pitched to me and see if it resonates? So far I’ve not fully cooked up anything else original that hasn’t been done better by others. I’m always happy to dish out recs, fyi.

BUT THAT SAID…I’m messing around with little snippets, a filthy fairytale in collaboration with @elvisabutler and this demented Regency Elvis headcanon below that “my sexy secretary” @ab4eva took down from a chat. Enjoy…

I Bet on Losing Dogs -🥀 A Regency Elvis Blurb

18+ blurb, warning sexual content ahead, arranged marriage, romance novella style stuff

Imagine this: Regency Elvis whose wife has recently left him for a foreigner, taking with her his only child -a daughter who cannot inherit. He needs an heir.

Zero promises of love or fidelity or even bare respect for his new wife but…there’ll be position and status and jewels so long as you perform your wifely duties without complaint.

Jaded and lonely, I need freshly betrayed Elvis buying off a nobleman for his daughter, a Baron who’s mortgaged his estate for debts, Mr. Presley gets the association with your family’s nobility and you get the much needed wealth that new money brings.

And so your new husband comes in nightly in an embroidered robe and a solitary lit candle to consummate your union. He’s got all that chest hair displayed and a lil ponch of a belly showing out his robe as he slowly undoes the tie every night, never rushed, and you can feel the jitters down to your toes every time as you hug the sheet to your chin.

*Let go, Darlin,* he’s always murmuring as he pulls the sheet from your grip, *must do what needs done*

He fucks you hard and fast for such a delicate woman and then tosses you spending money to make up for it.

Reminds you after each visit to yoru chambers that you have a job to do. One single job.

*Gimme that son and maybe you’ll get that sea bathin’ ya been hankerin’ for*

(Elvis is from Yorkshire if he was ever transported to an English Setting AU, ok? No question, unless the question is Irish versus Yorkish)

Each time, when he finishes and pants into the humid crook of your neck, his hand blindly strokes away your tears and he whispers in gravelly apology, *I’ll leave ya alone, moment ya start to swell, I swear it, I’ll leave ya alone lil girl*

But that’s not why you’re crying, you wish he’d stay, he doesn’t know how cold you get when he leaves you and his sweat and spend cools on your skin and leaves you shivering.

You could curse the woman who laid here before you, who broke his heart and still haunts this place, like the wall opposite the bed with its outline of a portrait missing on the sun-bleached wall.

You wonder what she looked like, this missing wife.

You wonder if she secretly craved the burning stretch of him like you do, possibly not if she left for someone more…continental. Was he too voracious for her? Or was it the loneliness that finally ate her through like the moths who try the same with the bed canopy.

One night, Mr. Presley’s hand slips from your shoulder down to your breast, very rarely does he maul you there except in his direst paroxysms of pleasure, but tonight he slips and grabs and it’s so sore you nearly cry aloud from the ache.

*I swear I’ll leave ya be* he had said and you bite your lip savagely, cinch your corsets cruelly and wonder how to make him love you, tolerate you even. Anything so that you’re not left alone like he promises.

Are your breasts sore from being with child? You worry so.

So the next night you scheme, and when he shakes atop you and catches his breath and makes to roll away, you grab hold of him and keep him close.

*Six months* you murmur, and he seems confused by your meaning, *six month’s you’ve visited me nightly save for menses and Lent, and no child to show for it. Won’t you stay? Nurse says if the man remains…after…the chances are greater.*

Ensuing cockwarming between two people who’ve barely spoken outside of bed…little chats…because neither can sleep and in fact, he doesn’t really sleep that much at all, he admits.

*what do you do then? At nights?* you ask.

He reads a lot, he tells you and he’s got a telescope, and you tentatively ask if he’ll read to you.

He agrees with a shy *i-if ya want that, I will*

About the books. You asks if he will tonight instead of leaving and he says yes.

Then he hesitates and asks lowly, *can we…once more?…before?*

He asks if he can do it again, before he grabs the books, because he firmed up again while acting as a stopper in your warm cunt.

You’re already a wet mess down there and perhaps he moves you around, spoons you.

Puts himself back in and you’re so wet from what he gave you before and your excitement at the intimacy you feel in this movement.

And due to the difference in angle, for the first time, you actually come from the feeling of your husband inside you. His flaming hot body behind you, his thick arms wrapped around your body, the delicious rub of him in your womb.

And you’re quite sure you’ve already made a child but he doesn’t need to know. Not yet.

Anything to keep him coming back.

[still-not-over-transformers]

@kitgirl91 Request

I lost the original request message but I had a screeenshot :3

Ain’t I Good to You?

(TFA Blitzwing x Female Human Reader)

Warnings: None other than intense simping :3

Word Count: ... 2400+ (I got a tad carried away)

Lingo: “Cher” (pronounced ‘sha’) = Cajun term of affection/endearment 

To those unfamiliar, Blitzwing’s 3 personalities are known as Icy, Hothead, & Random

Art courtesy of my beloved requester: @kitgirl91 BEHOLD THE TALENT

Inspiration for this request: The Mask Soundtrack - Susan Boyd - Gee Baby, Ain't I Good To You

The Decepticons had been promptly defeated at the hands of the Autobots, and brought back to Cybertron. Blitzwing was one of said Decepticons to be humiliated by being paraded through the streets of Cybertron as prisoners. But the Triple-changer would shortly make his escape and give the guard the slip, stealing a small ship and setting course for the only planet he knew had no Autobot activity anymore: Earth. 

After entering stasis, a few months later Blitzwing would awaken after crash landing on Earth. This time however, Blitzwing would find himself not in New Detroit, but in good old New Orleans, Louisiana. The Decepticon didn’t want to attract too much attention to himself, and immediately searched for a place to hide, and or blend in with. As he still retained his Earth-based alt-modes as a jet or tank, he chose to sneak into a nearby river-side Air Force base. He transformed into his jet-mode as he tried to brainstorm a plan. He would remain there for a few months, having little idea on how to proceed further, and he went into a deep stasis nap. Blitzwing would be slowly awakened one Saturday night to music and an upbeat yet hauntingly beautiful voice. Blitzwing transformed to see a riverboat slowly cruising down the bayou, warm lights illuminating the water as upbeat music echoed across the river, and a sensual and hypnotic voice filled the night. It was a new experience for the Decepticon, and for the first time Blitzwing was silent and listened until the music and that voice faded into the distance. 

The following week was uneventful as usual, Blitzwing growing evermore displeased that he lacked a plan. As the afternoon sun sailed across the sky, Blitzwing took note of a female human making their way through the airbase. This human caught his eye, as she was not dressed in the usual military uniforms of the soldiers or mechanics. Being in the back area of the base, and being utterly bored out of his mind, Blitzwing decided to have a bit of fun. 

You made your way through an array of various military vehicles and aircrafts, all stunning and huge, dwarfing you easily. The air was growing cooler as an Autumn breeze blew through, making you clutch tighter at your coat. A loud clang rang out to the side and you struggled to see anyone through a lineup of various fighter jets and helicopters. Curiosity got the better of you and you stepped to the side to investigate, “Hello?” A rather large fighter jet was before you, but something was off about it as its coloring did not match any of the other similar models. 

Suddenly the jet moved swiftly, lifting upright before transforming completely into a massive winged tan robot. Its face spun around rapidly, settling on a cool bluish face with a red optic and one monocle-like optic, staring down at you expectantly. Despite the shock, you just stood there calmly looking at him. 

Blitzwing’s gaze was fixed upon you, raising an optic ridge in curiosity, “You are not afraid, human? How curious you’ve no concern for your own life.” Again, his faceplate spins violently, revealing the black faceplate and scarlet red crazed jack-o-lantern optics and mouth of Random. He cackles in an excited and mildly psychotic tone, “This human is crazy! I like crazy…” Round and round Blitzwing’s faceplate spins, now revealing Hothead, his bright red faceplate and optics glaring down at you. He aggressively moves towards you, his optics obscured by a visor, but the angry expression on his face was easily readable, “Are you working with ze Autobots, human?! That’s why you aren’t cowering in fear, isn’t it!?” 

You raise your hands up in a gesture of innocence, hoping to convince the massive robot before you you weren’t any threat, “I have no idea what an ‘Autobot’ is. I’m not really sure what you are to be honest.”

“Why then are you not frightened of me? Do I look like I’d want to be friends with ze likes of you?” Icy said calmly, although in his mind he was genuinely intrigued by the fearless organic before him. Blitzwing’s face spun again, “OOOOOH Maybe we can make friendship bracelets!” Hothead took over and again, he spoke aggressively towards you, “What is a puny human like you even doing walking around in a military airbase?!”

You paused before explaining yourself, “Oh, well I was finishing up details regarding an upcoming job. Going to perform next month here to boost morale for the troops. Had to sign a bit of paperwork regarding my pay.”

The calm Icy took over and raised an optic ridge curiously, “Vat kind of performance?”

“I’m a Jazz singer. Not sure if you’d know what Jazz is, or music… but it’s my profession and most importantly my passion. I’m finally booking more gigs, last weekend was my first time performing on a riverboat. It was magical if I’m honest,” you spoke candidly, finding Blitzwing’s accent to be slightly adorable. 

“Vait…” Icy glances over at the nearby river on the other side of the river-side airbase, “Zat was your voice I heard?”

You were taken aback, “You heard me? How long have you been hiding in this airbase?”

“...Long enough. Ze music was… acceptable. And your voice… wasn’t displeasing” Icy said slowly, perhaps giving you a hesitant compliment. 

You smiled slightly, finding this strange giant robot to be rather endearing. “You know I will be performing this evening at “The Cat’s Meow” Jazz Club. It’s an outdoor venue, so you’re welcome to come if you’d like.” You extend your hand towards Blitzwing, a silver ticket stub in your grasp. 

Icy took a pause, considering whether or not to accept the ticket, before Random took over and eagerly snatched the ticket from your hands. “How could ve refuse such an offer!” he chuckled excitedly. 

You stepped back briefly as the ticket was taken from your hands, but you couldn’t help but smile, “I can see you aren’t one to pass a good time up. I should probably be on my way and get ready for the show. You know, I didn’t catch your name, cher?” 

The Decepticon was shocked at how calm and comfortable you were around him, after all he was a battle-hardened warrior, killer and a giant robot, yet you showed him such courtesy as if he were just another human. “Oh… Blitzwing…” he replied hesitantly, feeling almost compelled to tell you. 

“Well Blitzwing, if anyone gives you trouble at the door, cher, just tell them you’re a guest of (Y/N)” you flashed a sincere but slightly coy smile at the Decepticon before giving him a friendly wave of your hand and making your way off of the military base. 

Blitzwing stood there in silent shock as you left, leaving him burning with multiple questions. “Cher? This word is strange” Icy pondered, a servo on his chin. His faceplate spun and Random took over, “Perhaps it’s a human word for cute!” Icy presented himself once more, staring at the ticket in his servo, your invitation still standing. He could just crush the ticket and be done withy it, but there was something about you…

Night fell on New Orleans, and the city came alive with lights, and hundreds of people flocking to the streets to enjoy various events and libations. High in the sky, Blitzwing hovered in jet-mode above the outdoor venue of “The Cat’s Meow.” After a bit of convincing himself, Blitzwing found the courage to land and enter the Jazz club. The bouncer at the door was definitely not expecting a Decepticon to attempt entry to the club, but he stood his ground and sweatily asked to see a ticket. 

Usually, it would be Blitzwing’s instinct to blast the human into smithereens, but that would undoubtedly sour the mood for the evening. Instead he presented his silver ticket and spoke, “I am here upon ze request of (Y/N).” The doorman accepted the ticket hesitantly, before allowing the Decepticon entry into the club, but directing him to enter around to the outdoor section to spare the roof. 

After making his way around, Blitzwing entered the outdoor space, which was an array of various tables covered in rich red linens. The area was illuminated by various lights wrapped around trellises and trees, a wooden stage centered at the back, the musicians settling into their positions. Blitzwing looked down at the table below him, awkwardly lowering himself into a sitting position behind the table, his massive frame still towering above it. Blitzwing couldn’t help but feel foolish being here to see a human perform, and it took hours of self-convincing earlier in order to get his aft here. 

“I have no idea how I talked myself into this…” Icy grumbled, his arms crossed. “PLEASE! This is not ze craziest thing we’ve done by far!” Random cackled before going silent as the lights dimmed, leaving one blinding spotlight on center stage. 

There you were, standing in the blinding glow of the spotlight. Your hair was down, but a delicate headpiece of beaded pearls adorned your forehead. Your dress was an ebony color, with a sensual sweetheart neckline and a short hem lined with glittering beads that cascaded from the hem. The ebony color was accentuated by the sparkle of thousands of tiny sequins, which reflected the spotlight and made you shimmer. You turned towards the band members behind you and gave them a nod, cueing them to begin playing a smooth yet upbeat Jazz number, the mood set by the sound of trumpets and a piano. You slowly took hold of the microphone and began singing, your voice sultry and alluring. 

Blitzwing’s optics widened to a point where they nearly burst out of his skull, and his jaw unhinged and was wide open as he struggled to process how stunning you were. This was the same human he met at the airbase? Your voice, your lips, your legs, that dress were all enough to nearly fry his processor circuitry and drive him wild. His faceplate was spinning between all three personalities, each one absolutely shaken by everything about you. 

“She’s like nothing I’ve ever seen…” Icy gawked, short of words. 

“IT IS LIKE BEING GRACED WITH ZE PRESENCE OF AN ANGEL!” Hothead exclaimed, looking like he wanted to break something. 

Random’s glossa was hanging out of his mouth, completely drunk off of your beautiful body and hypnotic voice. 

The song continued, and you began to move around the stage, your hips moving in time with the beat. You dipped down to the ground, before slowly standing up, swishing your hips and waist as you ascended. 

This sent Blitzwing over the edge, and Random loudly whistled at you, having quickly become a complete simp. Hearing the cat call, you turned your attention to see the Decepticon at his table. Continuing your set, you smiled in his direction before pointing to him and blowing a kiss. 

 Random took over and stood up, whistling even louder in adoration and worship of you, “Keep it UP BABY!” 

The song slowly came to its final portion, albeit to Blitzwing’s dismay as he wanted this to go on forever. With a final breath, the last lyrics left your painted lips and the song concluded. The resounding sound of applause filled the club, the loudest clapping being from Blitzwing’s massive metal servos. As the rest of the club patrons applauded your performance, Blitzwing’s sharp optics spotted one human patron who wasn’t participating. 

Hothead’s face spun around, steam visibly leaving his nostrils as he stomped over to the unsuspecting patron, startling the man, “YOU’D BETTER START CLAPPING BEFORE I MAKE YOUR INSIDES YOUR OUTSIDES!” The unsuspecting critic nearly jumped out of his skin and began clapping for his life. 

As the cheers continued, audience members began tossing flowers onto the stage. Icy took note of this and began formulating a plan. 

After you had made your way back to your dressing room, there was a firm knock at the door. Out of curiosity, you opened it to see who it was, only to be pleasantly surprised to see a certain Decepticon gazing back at you. 

Blitzwing was blushing madly, especially being so close to you when you looked so beautiful. He cleared his throat, his faceplate spinning to Icy, trying to get the courage to speak to you. “Your show was… more than words than express. You are ze most talented and beautiful thing I have laid optics on. I got something for you” his voice was oddly shaky. He knelt down and revealed a massive bundle of roses and vines from behind his back, the flowers taking up a quarter of your dressing room. “I saw flowers are a sign of worship, so I brought you all ze flowers from the garden.” 

You were stunned by the gift, it being obvious that Blitzwing had removed the roses from the nearby trellises. You tried to stifle a laugh and flashed the biggest grin, “That is mighty sweet of you, cher. To think you actually came to see me and shower me with so much praise.” 

“You are a GORGEOUS LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS. I WILL BREAK DOWN MOUNTAINS FOR YOU!” Hothead expressed passionately. 

“Oh my…” you giggled, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” You stepped closer to the massive Decepticon before you, closing the distance. “For being so sweet, I think you deserve a little something as well,” your voice was charismatic and smooth. You leaned in closer to his faceplate, and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

His faceplate spun around and around and around… for what seemed like an eternity. An excited and loud laugh escaped from Blitzwing’s mouth, Random’s optics wide and his spark beating rapidly. So many thoughts and feelings flashed through his processor that he felt he might explode, “I FEEL LIKE I’VE FLOWN TO ZE MOON AND BACK!” His optics turn back towards you and he suddenly calms himself, maybe a little worried he might frighten you. His faceplate reverts back to Icy and he clears his throat, “...ahem.. My apologies, sometimes I get carried away.” 

Your smile widened, finding his antics to be endearing. “Don’t sweat it, cher. You’re more than welcome to come to any of my shows in the future,” you spoke softly. “Now why don’t you and I get out of here. Maybe let me show you around town?”

Blitzwing was in absolute awe. You, this tiny human female stealing every one of Blitzwing’s sparks. 

Of course he took you up on your offer. 

*END*

I had WAY too much fun with this request. :3 I pray it was worth the wait!

[carpehistoryandthepens]

Union! Geno is saving up for one night with Sid. Escort! Sid wishes for one night with someone who truly could love him.

yall want a not!fic based on @yabagofmilfs's prompt from like several months ago?

Prompt: Enough billionaire or CEO AUs; let's start romanticizing blue-collar workers. Give me a union man who has earned every cent he's ever made with his body, and tonight he's spending money that actually means something to him on a guy who's gonna treat him right.

Union! Geno is saving up for one night with Sid. Escort! Sid wishes for one night with someone who truly could love him.

Amorphous 1910’s – 1920’sish time frame. Don’t come at me with the historical correctness – this is not what I am here for, and it will not happen. Vibes ONLY. (My history degree is being used elsewhere at the moment.)

words: 1915

They met on the same riverboat that took them to Pittsburgh. Both teenagers, young and scared, were heading to a place for work that was far from the lives they knew. They meet on the deck of the riverboat. It's two to a room – they end up sharing; neither of them has money. Not yet. Geno clearly says that he is coming to Pittsburgh to work in the steel industry. Sid is very clear right back that he's going to one of the high-priced brothels in the city for work.

Geno is still Zhenya at the time. Sid only kind of had an idea of what he was getting into, but both knew they would be using their bodies for work and had more or less made their peace with that. Both are very taken with each other. They never go far on that trip—not even sharing a kiss before they have to separate at the docks. They both want it.

The kiss that never happened is their biggest regret for years.

But their thoughts stay with each other for YEARS. Just before they part, they exchange where they will be working. Geno makes a joke about buying a night. Sid laughs it off, knowing the average pay of that steel factory is far below where he was going. Both know it can be only one night, but it's not that night. Neither expects to see each other again.

What they didn't know then is that over the years, their lives will intertwine.

They could never stop running into each other. But it was always so causal.

Sometimes, it's at a bookstore – where Geno gets some Russian books sent to him or at parks where Sid likes to take people from the brothel for some fresh air. Sometimes, it's them running into each other as Sid goes to or from a party on the street. Once, memorably for both of them, it was at a party the Steel Union hosts happened to be in the same hotel that Sid was at a dinner.

Eventually (sometime in their mid-twenties), Geno puts two and two together and realizes what he wants.

They had just run into each other at a fancy bar that Geno would have never been in normally, but he got directly invited by the head of the Union. Sid looked so Radiant and Happy, and their conversation flowed so easily – it was so wonderful. Sid stopped looking so stressed as the night went on.

Until Sid’s date for the evening came by to pick him up so they could ‘go home.’ Then it was as if a mask came over Sid’s face, and all of the open happiness went away.

All Geno could feel was the frustrated rage that had nowhere to go, and he knew what that meant. One night with Sid would matter more than every night Geno had spent trying to get over him. It was worth more than every night Geno had spent lying to himself that he could be fine, never knowing how Sid felt or if he still laughed the same.

Because now he did. Sid still could laugh the same way he did on the boat trip to Pittsburgh.

Geno starts saving that night. Geno keeps tabs on the place Sid goes to and has a fair idea of what a night with Sid costs. It's more than six months of solid pay and can, and probably will, go higher. Geno figures saving at least a year's worth of pay will cover him if Sid gets even more expensive. And if not, Geno could get a good suit for the night. He doesn't hold much hope that he will get a second night.

While Geno gets teased by his coworkers and friends for always being willing to talk to the girls (and guys) of the night, it's always in good nature. They never judge him after Sid comes by as arm candy of one of the steel mill bigwigs on a tour of the mill and sees Geno's longing following the well-built escort. They would actually tease him if not for the fact that when Sid saw Geno - it's like Geno's longing is reflected in Sid's eyes. (because it is).

So Geno works and works and works and saves up for a little at a time.

Meanwhile, Sid never forgot Geno.

Even as he took high-paying clients and learned from the best at the brothel. While he enjoyed his work, none of the people he took to his bed ever loved him. Never gave him hope the same way that Geno did for the one night they had on the riverboat to Pittsburgh. Never treated him with the same kindness Geno did when he confessed he was going into this business so his sister would never have to. While his coworkers and friends knew his past, it was a common story enough – so it garnered little sympathy.

Sid was popular and well-liked. He was excellent at his job—because in what AU would Sidney Crosby not be the best at his chosen profession? He got bigger and more famous clients. He gained a foothold in Pittsburgh politics and culture by accident.

Sid, wielding his influence, has been trying to improve the working conditions and lives of the steel mill workers (in hopes that Geno—whom he remembers as Zhenya—would get the better life he wished for). Seeing Geno sporadically in the years since arriving in Pittsburgh, seeing how hard labor had changed Geno from a gangly teen to a strong man but had also put weary lines on his face only pushed Sid further.

Sid might have a career in politics nearly ready once he's no longer useful to the brothel, which is starting to get uncomfortably close as he ages.

But he doesn’t know for sure what his future holds—at all. All he’s known since he was eighteen is this life, taken by so many different people but no one who really cared for him as a person. Sid thought a few times that maybe this client would be different, but no. It was never meant to be; they always cared more for the status and the pride that came with being able to see Sid himself.

But something in Geno's eyes says he has to know at least once before he dies. What would it be to be with someone who would take care of him? Who could truly love him?

Then Geno saves up enough. He's in his mid-thirties. He's risen up in the ranks in the steel mill. He's not quite a manager, but he's one of the most trusted there. Most of his friends and coworkers have started families.

The night Geno walks into Sid’s rooms, as the man of the night, is one that Sid didn’t know he needed or truly wanted. He’s determined to make it the best night of Geno’s life. (he tries not to think how it’s the best night of his life either.)

The morning comes, and both of them know deep down that they won’t be able to go on with one night alone.

Then, the hard part begins.

Geno would be convinced that one night would be all he could get because he couldn't give Sid the life he's used to living. Meanwhile, Sid is like, "I can't rip away Zhenya’s independence!" (Sid has more than enough money – not a millionaire, but comfortable). Geno had been very clear when they first meant that he was proud he could make his own way in life – even if it meant working with his body differently than Sid would. Sid respected that and didn’t want to take that away.

They keep in touch with letters at first and the occasional phone call. (Geno works on making enough to have a phone in his apartment like Sid does. It takes time.) But they move on from being each other's teenage obsessions and then to each other's dreams to being actual friends.

They don’t sleep together again (Sid’s job keeps him very busy), but they do manage to spend a lot of time together.

Geno gets a promotion to work directly with the union to ensure proper pay and rights, which comes with a pay raise and new responsibilities that he has no idea what to do with. But the rights he can get for the workers matter to him, so he tries his best and makes some enemies. Geno’s Steel Mill owner hates him. (I've just decided this is Madden from that one radio network – he hates Geno for some reason and fuck that guy.)

Sid, meanwhile, finds his talent with people and accidental cultural pull starting to show as some of his clients start directly asking for opinions. When Geno’s Steel mill’s owner (the one who has always paid the most to have Sid come with them on dates, parties, and basically to show off) comes to Sid for advice on how to ‘deal with the annoying Russian that works for the union,’ Sid nearly throws the guy out of the window.

Sid runs to see Geno in the middle of the night because this makes him fear for Geno’s life. And it's all dramatic and takes place in Geno’s dingy apartment in a not-so-good area of Pittsburgh. For Geno, seeing Sid in this element – away from the glitz and the glam of his escort life – really takes it home that Geno is in love and…. It might be reciprocated.

Sid stays the night. And for the first time since he was eighteen, no money was exchanged.

This causes a lot of problems for Sid because Geno is not well-liked among his clientele, but he's Sid and kind of beloved in Pittsburgh. So, they choose to get rid of Geno rather than punish Sid. But that doesn’t go too well because it turns out Geno is well-liked as well. A few dates in public and the newspapers are on their sides (listen, Sid and Geno going anywhere in Pittsburgh is good for selling newspapers) (and Whoops! Tanger owns the newspaper, EK is a reporter, POJ is the lead photographer, and Rusty is the editor. They always have been on Sid’s side.)

The steel mill guy doesn’t do too well after that. EK goes to town on him. Jarry, Ned, and a few others take over the business and are much more willing to work with the union. Geno secures all sorts of rights with the steel mills (all of them) and doesn’t have to strike.  Sid ends up in politics, but more like being engaged with the city, and pulling sports teams to the city. Things like that.

He and Sid never marry officially, but they know their vows were said the night Sid stayed.

[clove-pinks]

I was in Nashville for a business trip and took this picture of Captain Tom Ryman near the Ryman Auditorium (the original Grand Ole Opry).

My Business Colleagues included an East Tennessee native and several country music fans, I think they got a lot more out of this trip than I did. We accomplished more sight-seeing than I expected—it's not like I came here for fun. Of course I'm more interested in a riverboat captain statue than barhopping! I also enjoyed seeing the Cumberland River on the few times we drove over it, still a working waterfront.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

The prisoner looked up as fWhip entered, scrambling to his feet and clutching his hat in his hands in an effort to appear contrite. Well, 'prisoner' was a loose term. There was no established law in Gobville, seeing how it was still more mining camp than town. Officially, there wasn't much fWhip could do. But he was the owner and boss of several productive mines in the area, and he'd be damned if he'd let his men turn the camp into just another lawless free-for-all.

"Gambling isn't tolerated here," he said, folding his arms and fixing the sheepish-looking man with a stern look. "Go to the riverboats next time you're looking for that sort of thing. And even if it were legal, you still swindled five different men out of - "

"Six," the man corrected, grimacing the moment the word left his lips. fWhip raised an eyebrow, but the man dropped to his knees before he could resume his lecture.

"I'll change my ways, honest to god!" the man pleaded. "It was wrong of me, I know that! But take pity on me, good sir, and hear my tale."

fWhip sighed. "Look, I don't need - "

"Many a great woe has haunted me!" The man threw out one hand dramatically, the other clutching his hat against his chest. "You, sir, you look like a kind man! A gentle, caring heart beats in your chest, I can see it! Surely you wouldn't condemn me for this tiny little mistake. The local sheriff needn't get involved."

"I wasn't going to - "

"My actions came not from a greedy heart, but indeed a selfless one!" If the man were standing anywhere but inside the makeshift holding cell in his rickety office, fWhip might have thought he was witnessing a theater performance. He was fast losing patience, but it was difficult to get a word in as the man continued.

"I needed the money, you see, for my family is destitute. Alas, I am a failure of a caregiver, and have been driven by desperation. My wife is but a frail gentlewoman, a delicate little thing, but she tries her hardest to be a devoted spouse and mother! We have three little children, also frail - "

"No you don't."

Finally, his words seemed to have some effect, and the man's confidence wavered. "Excuse me? You don't know me, good sir, nor the status of my family situation! How dare you presume - "

fWhip pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fend off the dull pressure warning him of an approaching headache. "Miss Nox has already negotiated your release."

"Oh," said the man in a quiet voice. fWhip was surprised he was even capable of such a low volume. "El is here?"

"She's waiting for you outside." fWhip unlocked the door and held it open. "You're free to go."

The guilt on the man's face was genuine this time as he put his hat on, straightened his clothes, and took a deep breath. "...Actually, you know, I did commit a criminal act. So I understand perfectly if you've changed your mind and want to write to the local authorities - "

"Mr. Sound. Please, get the fuck out of my town."

}{ more from this au }{

[sea-owl]

So I got a new book and from the summary alone I got an new au idea. I have not read one page of this book yet.

The book is called The Fairy Bargains of Prospect Hill.

Here's the summary:

There is no magic on Prospect Hill—or anywhere else, for that matter. But just on the other side of the veil is the world of the Fae. Generations ago, the first farmers on Prospect Hill learned to bargain small trades to make their lives a little easier—a bit of glass to find something lost, a cup of milk for better layers in the chicken coop.

Much of that old wisdom was lost as the riverboats gave way to the rail lines and the farmers took work at mills and factories. Alaine Fairborn’s family, however, was always superstitious, and she still hums the rhymes to find a lost shoe and to ensure dry weather on her sister’s wedding day.

When Delphine confides her new husband is not the man she thought he was, Alaine will stop at nothing to help her sister escape him. Small bargains buy them time, but a major one is needed. Yet, the price for true freedom may be more than they’re willing to pay.

So here's the au idea.

The aristocratic families held onto a secret only their families know. Many of their ancestral seats hide the gateways between the human world and the world of the fae. Deals can be made with the fae but everything has a price. Can you pay it?

Kathony

Mary was not surprised when she got a letter saying her parents back in England pissed off the fae, and that's how they were killed. What did surprise her was the deal they made that ultimately led to their deaths. They promised Mary's child to the king of the fae?! Knowing Edwina's dream of a love match, Kate looks for a loophole. Well, Mary did always say Kate came into her life as a daughter. So she should count, right? Anthony raised an eyebrow when Kate presented herself as the bride. Oh, he's gonna have fun with her.

Benophie

In exchange for keeping privileges from the new Earl of Penwood, Araminta sold Posy off as his bride. Or rather his broodmare. Sophie refused to see the closest person she had to a sister be miserable for the rest of her life. It's what pushes her through Penwood to make a deal for Posy's freedom. Now how is she convincing this fae man to make a deal that DOESN'T include her becoming his mistress?

Polin

The Featheringtons are probably one of the more superstitious families. Portia, who was from an area way more familiar with the fae, made sure her daughters knew the tricks of dealing with the fae. So knowing all these tricks and with a mother who had no fear of the fae, is it any wonder that Penelope regularly made deals with them? Nothing ever major, small things that cost a piece of glass or a poem. Of course, whispers of a human who isn't afraid to trade with the fae will travel. Such whispers reach the most chaotic fae prince who wonders how far this little human will trade. Colin siezes his chance for a trade when Penelope comes to make a deal that will allow her favorite sister Felicity freedom from their father's debts.

[cloveroctobers]

bloodwar — JOEL MILLER

A/N: Y’all voted and so shall you receive! Im nervous writing for such a loved character but here goes nothing! If you’re not familiar with my work…I always provide the angst. You’ve been warned.

GIF BELONGS TO: @pedrohub

WARNINGS: I’m always writing my characters with black or POC in mind yet you’re somewhat welcome to imagine whomever as the character/reader is not fully described, fem! Reader, language, lightly paraphrased sexual themes, trauma/lost, & hints of a toxic!relationship the deeper I went into writing this thing. I do believe Joel can find some healthy love romantically but there’s things within himself that needs to be worked through. I am no therapist, I’m simply a girl who likes to make people feel some things with writing so I’ll stfu! Again this is my first time ever writing for this man so I was trying to get into the mind of his character as I wrote so don’t slander me too much if you feel this isn’t right. Lastly this focuses more on uncertainties? That’s it!

˗ˏˋ╰┈➤ ´ˎ˗ ˗ˏˋ╰┈➤ ´ˎ˗ ˗ˏˋ╰┈➤ ´ˎ˗ ˗ˏˋ╰┈➤ ´ˎ˗

The bruises and Lambrusco weren’t enough for her to forget or to catch her off guard. She noticed him way off, through the fence and across what once would have been pretty pale blue water, turned murky and brown. Getting around that lake would take some time and that time was granted as she left the watch tower with her bow and arrow. The only reason she came down from the watch spot was to retrieve the mischievous lamb that loved to escape the barn.

“Got you, you little shit.” She scolded as the animal kept up the banter; while she scooped it up from underneath the belly.

Her senses then allowed her to hear footsteps before he spoke, “Do you?”

Tension filled her shoulders as she took a sharp inhale before she spun on her heels, revealing the lamb and her new weapon of choice.

“Joel Miller,” the name pushed through her lips, “can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you.”

The man scoffed, “that’s no way to treat the man of your dreams.”

A roll of her eyes was immediate, “you and I both know you weren’t serious.”

This much was true and if it were any other time and circumstance, the words probably would have stung as they left her mouth.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Joel muttered as he began to stare, which always irritated the woman.

“Can I help you with something or are you just gonna stand there being a creep with your beady owl-like eyes?”

Joel laughed to himself, almost liking that his presence was getting underneath her skin but also at the fact that she wanted to get right to the point.

“What? I can’t enjoy the view and the luxurious secluded home you’ve got for yourself here?” Joel attempted to tease but the woman didn’t appear to be in a joking mood.

Which the man didn’t bother to take offense to—even if he wanted to, he received the emotionless expression that remained on her oval face and assumed his own features showcased the same, although the little twinkle in inky eyes felt like he attempted to make the mood lighter.

It was her turn to trail her eyes over him and she could tell how much life passed him by. It had been years since she last saw Joel. Their history was shifty and rough from the beginning, since everyone was trying to get adjusted to the downfall of society—being thrown towards a new virus and death filled life it was safe to say, they got into some shit together to survive. They both were not as alone at the start since Joel had his brother Tommy, where they ventured from Austin to the east coast and on their way, they met a woman with no filter and her kind but no nonsense having father in Memphis. It was war from the very moment the Millers stepped onto the Lemelle’s riverboat but a truce between the families brought an unlikely path in their relationship. Eventually she, her father, Joel, and Tommy made it to Boston.

After the death of Kendy’s father, the realization that the QZ was not all it cracked up to be, she made the decision to leave first back in the year of 2010; in search of a place with no restrictions. Yet sharing that news with Joel that summer the sun burned down in almost a red hue and instead of just simply disappearing into the night without a word…was something she wished she would have done instead.

“Tommy or Maria sent you?” Her chin lifted in curiosity.

Joel exhaled, “I’m sure you know the answer to that already. I get the sense Maria and I are not gonna be the best of friends.”

“Whaaat? Don’t tell me you never wanted a sister?”

Joel just blinked at her, “fuck off, Kendy.”

“Hey you came to me,” her face held mock innocence, “what you see is what you damn get. Also mind you, I’m the one with the weapon.”

“Yet I’d probably get to that thing before you can even aim to shoot. Lamb chops sounds pretty darn good to me.” Joel warned but Kendy looked more offended than horrified.

The lamb seemed to tilt its head at Joel’s statement as well, floppy ears almost appearing alert.

Which was weird to witness…

“you sure about that grandpa?” Kendy cooed as she pulled her knee up to balance the weapon before adding, “what’s the matter, they’re not feeding you well out in Jackson?”

Joel scoffed and folded his arms as he peered out into the distance of Driggs, pretending to think about it. Of course the food was good, real good considering back in Boston the lbs for food were mostly scraps and back out into the destructive world with Ellie was way worse. Sure he stuffed his belly until it became bloated and uncomfortable but he didn’t want to get used to it, regardless of settling—staying—stationing? in Jackson.

There was no use in complaining about the way things are.

Joel was always about action.

“Why here?” Joel steered the conversation elsewhere, “You’re a great distance away from Wyoming.”

Kendy hummed, “forty-four minutes by car. Longer by foot, which is just fine by me.” Before carrying on, “Did you really expect me to be there too, waitin’ around?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel exasperated, “it’s a sense of community, belonging or whatever they’re trying to go for. Something that would have been good for you and—

Kendy almost stopped breathing, the gears turning in her head, thinking Joel was first hinting at some sort of relationship that wasn’t platonic with his brother, taking into consideration that the pair got along well, however the way he rubbed at his mouth in frustration told her his words were aiming at another topic.

“Ah, now I see why you felt obligated to be here. Trust me, I don’t need this.” Kendy hissed, turning back around to head to the barn.

Joel hesitated because part of him didn’t want to do this either…yet it’s been a long time coming. Thirteen years to be exact. He’s in a whole other state and he didn’t travel all this way, by himself (persuading Ellie to stay back with Tommy for at least a couple of days, was hard work and he expected the freckled face girl to find a way to keep close. However Joel didn’t miss how Ellie was starting to spend some time with a certain girl named, Dina.) to not get the answers he deserved.

“Trust?” Joel stomped after her, “I dunno how you want me to do that darlin’ when you’re the one who ran from me, knowing you were carrying a child. My child.”

She whipped back around, making Joel almost bump into her but she shoved him back with a fist pressed to his chest. Her eyes were heated as she met his stare, “it didn’t matter! I wasn’t your problem anymore, ‘good riddance,’ remember? You really think a child would have fixed what we were? We couldn’t get along if we weren’t on top of each other.”

“You still should have had the decency to tell me something. It’s not right how you did it. How I have to find this shit out from my baby brother but even still…he didn’t tell much. So you better start talking.” Joel glared, pointing a finger in Kendy’s face.

Kendy slapped his finger away, “I don’t know who you think you are, Joel Miller but you don’t get to show up here and make demands. This time, I won’t hesitate to put one right in your chest if you keep pushin’ me.”

“Will you put the damn lamb and arrow down, Robin Hood, so we can have a decent conversation?” Joel snorted, finding this image almost humorous, if his blood wasn’t simmering, “I can’t take you seriously.”

Kenny scoffed, “well you better! Seeing you again and talking to me crazy is making me want to go back to old Kendy.”

Joel deeply inhaled and pinched at the bridge of his straight but hooked nose. He was aware what that means, the whole shoot and ask questions later was what life was like at the start of the outbreak and it only increased once they crossed paths.

He still had a bald spot, that no form of nioxin would cure! thanks to the woman throwing an axe at the top of his head (it happened sometime in January of 2004, Joel remembered Tommy slipping on the ice on the boat floor, surprised the younger man didn’t catch that in their stealth—although it seemed he didn’t get much sleep before their arrival to the water. Which caused quite the commotion before the real physical events transpired) , temporarily trapping him against the door the minute he got close to where she was located on the boat. Joel recalled the burning sensation of his hair being ripped from his scalp as he yanked himself from the wall, axe still having a hold on his thick hair, as he struggled to pull the axe from the wooden door.

“And here I thought Jackson was all for redemption, guess Maria isn’t as convincing as she seems.” Joel mumbled.

Kendy gave him a blank stare for a moment before she replied, “not too much on Maria now. Yes she’s opinionated and we don’t always see eye to eye either but shes a great asset to that community and she makes your brother happy. So accept that or talk that shit out when you get back because I won’t continue to listen to anymore jabs you want to toss out while you’re here.”

Joel raised his brows, “you’re gonna let me stay?”

“It’s getting dark out and I’m guessing you left your car across the lake so…you can stay in the barn or the tower. Your choice.” Kendy decided while she entered the said barn.

Joel shook his head, “I’m not sleeping with the damn farm animals.”

“We’ve all slept in much worse places, don’t get uppity on me now, Miller.”

Joel crossed his arms, “You get a one star for hospitality, Ken’.”

“Which is exactly why I put my two weeks in after three days of working at this hotel during my college years so thanks, sugar.” Kendy clapped back, making Joel shake his head in disapproval but not surprised.

Joel watched as Kendy showed almost this nurturing demeanor with the lamb and sheep, silently wondering what she was like with their own child…that was still bizarre to process and Joel was unsure if he even processed this although he was standing face to face with the woman he created another being with! It had been days since he found out this piece of information and now he was trying to do something about it. When they were intimate with each other, Joel foolishly never thought of the possibility of Kendy becoming a mother. He never brought it up because he obviously had no intentions on being that ever again, or spoke much of their past lives once their bodies fell into each other’s hands. It was a after thought when she sat down on him, so warm and sturdy. He was cold, this he knew but falling in love was never in the cards for him, especially with the world crumbling with the little pieces it had left.

What he had left.

He’s seen Kendy and how she was tender to her father once he got sick, he knew Kendy still had soft parts inside of her despite the jagged scar that trailed from the corner of her left eye and down the apple of her cheek, the delicate was still there—just don’t tell her that.

Part of her found something to care for to keep going, even if it were deemed as little things or “nothing” at all in her eyes. Did that also include a child?

Which is why Joel battled with himself on seeking answers. He didn’t speak to Tommy for days after the curly haired man blurted out the secret Kendy withheld from the older Miller. Joel was the one who brought Kendy up, at the saloon one late night, after everything failed at the hospital with Ellie. It was hypocritical of him—sure—but this secret was way before Ellie had been a thought of being the cure.

Joel still wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting to get out of Kendy. The idea of becoming a father again, scared him shitless but he wouldn’t show it. Kendy didn’t create this child all by herself and they had to be grown now, however fatherhood was never a easy task and life after the outbreak was just as stressful; throw a fourteen year old into the mix and it was constant worry from there. He initially wanted to warn Tommy about this and actually deemed him a, “dummy,” for bringing a kid into this fucked up time, until tommy let the news slip from his lips when it really wasn’t his place.

Drops of rain were cool against the Idahoan spring before they started to pelt. Joel shielded the top of his head, standing at the entrance of the shelter as Kendy made her way through the barn, locking and boarding it up just in case she got any other visitors tonight.

“Come on,” Kendy waved the man to follow her to the back entrance of the craftsmanship home, just as the wind began to pick up.

Yanking the blinds down over the glass door, she made sure to lock it and set her bow down by the rest of the archery kit. Joel took the invitation as he scanned the home, straight ahead held an ajar door, he then walked through the small entry way on his left, noticing a set of stairs to the right and headed into the next area which held the kitchen and living room with two other window-framed doors that lead outside, suddenly peaking around for any other source of life.

“Where’s—

“Joel,” Kendy clipped, “take off your damp shoes, you’re tracking mud. Do you want some wine or coffee first before we tackle this, since you’re so adamant to talk?”

Joel peeled off his jacket and bag, before using the couch arm to kick off his shoes with his feet. He then held them up silently asking where he should put them and Kendy pointed at the front entrance door.

He then replied, “Coffee.”

“Black, no sugar and no cream.” Kendy whispered to herself as she went to the kitchen, fighting with her intrusive thoughts to tell him to make it his damn self.

Joel silently watched her for a moment before he headed over to the wood stove which seemed to be going already. His eyes still searched the walls for any pictures or sculptures just like Tommy and Maria had in their own home but the walls were empty besides it’s horrible aqua color.

His attention was brought back to Kendy, walking by him, reaching for the handle on the stove, opening it to reveal the fire behind. She squatted down, mitten reaching for the tray to place the mug right on top, before shoving it back over the center of the fire. She counted sixty seconds before pulling back out, closing the stove and moving back to the side table to place the black coffee down.

“Give it a few minutes,” Kendy told the man who dipped his head as he moved back to the spot he claimed on the sofa.

Kendy soon made her way around, taking a seat on the opposite couch, bottle of Lambrusco and wrapped herself in some fur blanket that probably belonged to one of her many sheep.

Sorry animal lovers, desperate times call for desperate measures and you’re supposed to help the sheep shed their fur from time to time!

Taking a swing from the bottle, Kendy deeply inhaled after swallowing before her eyes set back on Joel, “okay. Ask away but don’t ask to respond. Listen, or else we won’t get far tonight.”

Joel rubbed at his pants legs, hearing Kendy and decided to not pick that response apart.

“…when did you know?”

“Not long after you and Tess.”

Which happened once after they both had too much to drink and Kendy wasn’t in the mood.

Believe me, Joel’s knows how shitty that was, he was the one who lived it.

“There was no Tess and I.” Joel uttered, not getting the chance to further explain that relationship but they were friends who spent time together as smugglers.

There was chemistry there regardless.

“So just like us, got it.” Kendy snapped her fingers, breezing over that as she ordered, “Next question.”

Joel scratched at his salt and pepper beard, “was the…baby also the reason why you wanted to leave? Did you think I’d ever find out?”

“A small part of it yes. We already know what the main reason was: Boston’s QZ was becoming dangerous and suffocating just staying there, I needed to get out whether you knew i was carrying or not.” Kendy answered, taking another sip from the bottle.

Joel could understand that but he figured it wasn’t any easier being out there on your own especially with a life growing inside of you, her elderly father was deceased and Tommy was debating on another trip out (with the damn fireflies and Joel wasn’t sure which pissed him off more!) ; although they shared hushed conversations about their exit…part of Joel still didn’t understand why she put herself through that on her own.

“Well how did that work out for you?”

Kendy let out a humorless laugh at the sarcasm that radiated off Joel, pulling one leg up onto the couch, “just dandy. I’m living the dream with my sheep and this eye-blinding house.”

Alone.

He breathed out a laugh through his nose, mind fuzzy, heart not feeling as steady as it should as he fidgeted with his hands. Before he got the next question out, he turned to grip the mug by the handle and brought it to his lips. The steam mists his nostrils as he took a sip of the coffee, the heat not bothering him in the slightest while the dark liquid slid straight to his stomach, igniting the impulse to see some action.

“Was Idaho the place you envisioned to raise the kid?”

Kendy closed her eyes briefly as she said, “No. I didn’t see myself as a mother because I didn’t have much of one in my life. It wasn’t really a goal of mine. I stayed in Pennsylvania for awhile, three months maybe? made a friend that was once in the medical field and thankfully she helped me through it all.”

“She helped you deliver and then what?” He pried.

Joel rested his elbows on his knees, eyes set on the woman not so far from him this time. He felt the shift in the room rising as he continued to ask whatever popped into his head. He noticed the woman rack her nails against the black bottle, plump bottom lip with a beauty mark on it moving to the right as she bit down on it out of habit.

This was something she commonly did, Joel remembered that.

“Joel…it’s been thirteen years.” Kendy averred, “I couldn’t do it.”

Joel tried to keep his breathing steady, “meaning what? You got rid of it? Let this friend take care of them…what Kendy?”

He was never a man with patience.

And Kendy had time to cope with this.

So instead she got to her feet, holding the neck of the bottle to place on the coffee table before she set her eyes back on Joel. He leg began to bounce as it seemed Kendy was almost playing a game with his mind right now. A frown of his brows appeared in between them while she began to unbutton her jeans, pulling them down some and yanking up her shirt to reveal a scar underneath her navel.

“It was a ectopic pregnancy. I needed surgery, I was bleeding out and Kristi did what she had to do. I almost died and I kinda wished I did, along with that baby. And finally away from all this shit.” Kendy vented.

Joel felt a smidge of bile rising in this throat but taking another swing of coffee pushed it back down. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel, or if there was a right way to feel.

“So…this was for nothing then.”

Kendy blinked, “what?”

“Coming out here, seeing you, and almost having wishful thinking when you killed the baby that you originally didn’t want and I wasn’t sure I even wanted.” Joel told, placing the mug back on the table.

Kendy couldn’t help the cackle that escaped her lips. She had to press her fingertips to her lips as she pointed her pointer finger up and down at the man.

“Nothing’s really changed with you and this is the exact reason why I should have put an arrow right through your chest where your heart is supposed to be,” Kendy seethed, “you’re a very broken person with no ounce of mercy. I saw it in your eyes the day I met you and I should have believed that then.”

“If that was true then you’d already be dead, back in Memphis, on that boat. So don’t stand there and try and tell me who you think I am.” Joel lowly stated.

Kendy huffed, pulling her jeans back up her wide hips and buttoning them before raising her hands, “why not when you’ve already shown me exactly that? You’ve never given a damn about me and certainly wouldn’t give a damn if the baby lived! Nobody compares to—

“Shut up! You don’t get to speak her name!” Joel was also on his feet now, absolutely aware what wanted to leave her lips.

The room was quiet for a mere second, besides the crackle of fire in the wood stove and the dash of rain outside.

Kendy tilted her head to the side, framed piece of hair sliding to cling to her eyelash, “Sarah.”

And that set Joel off, a forearm going to Kendy’s throat and his hand slapping against her mouth. He harshly breathed into Kendy’s face as he glared down at her. The rings of bags underneath her eyes showed just how tired he felt. He’s never spoken to Kendy about Sarah but it didn’t take her long to figure it out with his nightmares when they slept in the same space, going city to city.

Tommy only implied that he and Joel lost someone prior to their role of survival and Joel’s said her name a few times in his sleep.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Joel gritted, “you think I haven’t changed when it’s you who hasn’t. You’re a know it all without actually knowing anything. You run any chance you get, always thinking about what’s best solely for you and nobody else. What a lonely life, don’t you think?”

A fist went to the side of his neck first, catching the man off guard, followed by a knee going up into his abdomen, leaving Joel fighting to catch his breath. He let go of Kendy who circled around and crouched to get into Joel’s face.

“Why would I stay? Imagine me having a normal pregnancy in my forties and having a child with a screwed up man that can’t love? Or doesn’t even like me enough? I’d say I dodged a bullet here and I thank god.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, using her other to bring the cross around her neck to kiss with a wicked smile.

Once Joel got his breath back, with the quickness, he swooped his arm underneath Kendy’s, locking her in his hold as he yanked her side to his chest by the shoulder. Kendy winced as she tried to spin her body out of his hold and when he wouldn’t let go, she tried to ram her shoulder into him but with his grip, he merely stumbled.

“Get off me!” Kendy yelled, ready to jam her foot right into Joel’s.

He kept hold of her shoulder, knowing it wasn’t at its strongest, even after all these years, hearing it click from scar tissue as he freed one hand to grip the side of her head, bringing her ear to his lips.

“If I didn’t like you…I wouldn’t have followed you that night to make sure you made it to Connecticut’s state line back then, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have accidentally called Tess your name once while looking at her but not really seeing her, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t picture you when I touch myself, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have numbed myself out of missing you since you left, I wouldn’t have asked Tommy about you, and I damn sure wouldn’t have thought about you and I with Ellie, the kid, and Sar—on the ride here. like I said, you don’t know.” He then shoved Kendy away from him.

Kendy felt a lump in her throat at Joel saying this. Sure these were his words and it sounded nice, although she didn’t know who this Ellie person was but that didn’t mean he never hurt her and with his back to her now, she tugged on his belt loops, getting him to face her again. She wasted no time, moving her hands to grip the collar of his long-sleeve shirt to bring his lips right to her’s.

Joel hesitated feeling Kendy’s lips against his after all this time. It wasn’t unfamiliar so he was only shook for a second before the desperation settled in. His hands rested on her cheek, then down to her backside, then back up to her cheek, the pad of his thumb touching where her jagged scar ended and the other on the back of her coarse hair.

He tasted the Lambrusco, she tasted his precariousness, his left ear rung as the tip of her tongue traces his bottom lip, and he lets out a groan as a form of a unsaid apology. Until Kendy nipped his bottom lip—hard to the point she drew blood and Joel had to pull back to test his theory.

“Did you just—

Kendy deeply inhaled and exhaled with her lips raw and puffed from the pressure, “I want you gone by the fucking morning, Joel.”

He wiped the blood with his thumb as he watched the woman move around him, snatching up the wine before she made her exit.

Snorting he shook his head at her retreating form and moved to take a seat back on the couch with a exhale. This is what it used to feel like with Kendy leaving his sight after whatever interaction they had but this time felt a little different. There was no way in hell he could say this was a new beginning. He stared up at the ceiling in thought, quite conscious how this all played out and that this was a trial and error—when wasn’t it with the two? However this battle was not something he wanted to entirely give up on just yet.

Not anymore.

He had the time to get it right and part of him wanted to with Kendy.

And if they couldn’t…it’ll be a fair one this time.

No it didn’t make any sense and no this probably wasn’t the healthiest of relationships but Joel was never perfect, the flaws: scars, the bruises that were black, blue and sore, and the blood were okay with him as long as he was doing it with Kendy, he never wanted perfect.

Perhaps fighting, getting it all out into the open field was the answer and you can ask anybody: when has Joel Miller ever been afraid of getting his hands dirty?

And so he sat in the quiet with Kendy upstairs in her bedroom lost in her own thoughts, her back against the door when a crooked grin appeared on his own lips.

Here’s to additionally another round with Kendy Lemelle!

But…Who’s counting?

˗ˏˋ╰┈➤ ´ˎ˗ ˗ˏˋ╰┈➤ ´ˎ˗ ˗ˏˋ╰┈➤ ´ˎ˗ ˗ˏˋ╰┈➤ ´ˎ˗

Continue along with my spring anthology series here.

[handeaux]

Overwhelmed By Advertising? The Battle For Cincinnati Consumers Has Raged For More Than A Century

Depending on the source, it is estimated that each American is confronted by 6,000 to 10,000 advertising messages every single day. That immersive media onslaught swelled as we started carrying little video screens around wherever we go, but invasive and obnoxious marketing has bothered Cincinnatians for much more than a century.

For example, on 20 July 1871, a correspondent for the Cincinnati Times related an enjoyable voyage he had undertaken down the Ohio River. After praising the service of his riverboat��s staff, the remarkable scenery along the river, the picturesque little town he floated by, the writer registered one complaint, about a cliff near the town of Hanging Rock:

“High up on the face of this wall of white sandstone, hundreds of feet beyond the reach of a scaling ladder, I noticed a patent medicine advertisement. It was penciled there by a man let down with ropes from above, and the letters are large enough to be read from the deck of a steamer two miles distant. I was sorry to see this defacement. It is bad enough that all the fences throughout the land should be made to lie for patent medicines without debasing the hill-sides with such marking. I suppose that when the ‘chemical affinity necessary to be the motor of some immense flying machine’ shall be discovered, some enterprising patent medicine man will be plastering the face of the moon with some of his ‘wonderful remedies.’”

If only the poor man knew what lay ahead! Even in the 1870s, almost every vertical surface in Cincinnati was slathered with posters, placards and bills advertising shows at the local theaters, patent medicines and political candidates. Cincinnati was the center of the bill-posting world. For one thing, Cincinnati was among the top printing cities of the United States, with the mighty Strobridge Lithographing Company dominating the poster industry.

Also, Billboard magazine was headquartered here in Cincinnati. What we now think of as a music magazine, Billboard was founded in Cincinnati as a trade publication for men who posted “bills” on walls. From its first issue in 1894, Billboard covered the entertainment industry, such as circuses, fairs and burlesque shows, and also created a mail service for travelling entertainers. Initially it covered the advertising and bill-posting trade and was known as Billboard Advertising.

Far from inspiring civic pride, advertising rankled Cincinnati residents as they witnessed visual pollution encrusting the region’s hillsides. Leading the opposition was the Municipal Art Society – a sort of ad-hoc predecessor to today’s Urban Design Review Board. The opening shot was fired 24 August 1896 when the Enquirer reported:

“A matter that will undoubtedly be of interest to the business men is the fact that war has been declared by the Cincinnati Municipal Art Society against advertising signs on fences along the car routes and drives of the city. The art society maintains that these signs mar the beauty of the city, especially in the case of landscape scenes on the hills and in the suburbs, and that they are offensive to the public taste.”

The Society was persistent. It took five years but the Cincinnati Post reported [24 November 1901] that the Baldwin Piano Company had demolished 200 feet of billboards erected on company property along Gilbert Avenue. The Post described this as the “first result” of the Society’s campaign.

The Municipal Art Society was soon joined by some strange bedfellows. The Cincinnati Business Men’s Club, among whose members were certainly a number of advertisers who employed billboards to disseminate their messages, created its own Municipal Art Committee to lobby for restrictions on outdoor advertising. On 1 June 1907, the committee circulated a postcard illustrated with a photo of signage clogging the view from the Grand Central Depot, with the sarcastic caption, “A Nice Welcome To Cincinnati.”

As early as 1895, the city chased the Fountain saloon’s advertising off Fountain Square, but appears not to have drafted a comprehensive law about outdoor advertising until 1909 when, as part of a broader safety ordinance, the city adopted limitations on the size of billboards, their placement near thoroughfares and the materials to be used in their construction.

While the city pondered how to encourage commerce while maintaining attractive views, the entire billboard industry was gaining momentum through a Cincinnati entrepreneur named Philip Morton. Before Morton, “bill boards” were basically fences on which bill posters slapped printed advertisements glued up with a flour-water paste. Morton took outdoor advertising to a new level, according to Jay Gilbert, who has researched his influence on marketing [Cincinnati Magazine September 2016]:

“By 1898 he’d become the Steve Jobs of roadside blight. Doing business as Ph. Morton, Phil was an early pioneer of putting ads into free-standing frames called ‘bill-boards’ and plunking them down everywhere. Eventually every railroad route and motorway in America had its view ruined by a Ph. Morton billboard.”

Even the powerhouse Morton found himself in the city’s crosshairs. Parks Superintendent John W. Rodgers, according to the Enquirer [20 September 1907], exasperated by Morton’s billboards blocking the view of Inwood Park, erupted.

“Park Superintendent Rodgers yesterday tore down over 12,000 feet of big billboards that stretched along for a distance south of Hollister street, facing Vine street, in front of Inwood Park. The billboards were 12 feet high, about 1,000 feet long and contained the advertisements of leading firms of the city, and were illuminated at night with electric lights. They had been at that place for years.”

All of those billboards were leased by Philip Morton who, as coincidence would have it, dropped off a check to pay the lease while workmen were busily engaged demolishing his thousand feet of signage. This was the Boss Cox era in Cincinnati where the right hand was very often ignorant of the left hand’s activity. And so it was, while the Park Superintendent was demolishing billboards on Vine Street, the Board of Public Service pondered a lease for billboards along Gilbert Avenue. That’s right – the same Gilbert Avenue divested of billboards just six years earlier.

A common theme of cartoon artists at that time was the eventual coverage of all available exterior surfaces with advertising signs and slogans. In response, Cincinnati Post cartoonist Elmer Andrews Bushnell sketched City Hall wrapped from sidewalk to parapet in advertising while George Barnsdale Cox and his minion, August “Garry” Herrmann, happily apply more posters and Mayor Julius Fleischmann hides behind a billboard.

The battle raged for decades. Photographs from 1927 show dozens of billboards crowding the hillside over the Brighton overpass to Central Parkway and the Enquirer [24 March 1929] begged for relief because billboards and other unsightly structures had a negative effect on property values:

“What of the gaudy billboard that intrudes itself into a residential district, the sign which girds the tree or telephone pole, the roadside ‘shack’ which is made more ugly with bizarre advertisements? Do they affect values?”

A century later, we hardly notice billboards anymore. We’re too busy texting while we drive.

[brinkofdiscovery]

can you write hypothermic andrew trying to goof around and get up to do things but he cannot stop shoving and nuzzling against whoever's trying to warm him up??? or maybe delirious and shivery with a fever and being teased by whoever is helping him?

I surprisingly got this out in one sitting at work!! I never do that. Here you go hone here's your cold Andrew. Contains: hypothermia, discussion of kidnapping? (through jokes) __

“Am I being kidnapped?” Andrew trembled, he could barely manage to speak with the way his teeth were chattering.

“No, you’re not.” Snow answered. They draped another blanket over Andrew’s shoulders. Andrew felt like a little kid, wrapped up in three giant coats for a snow day. Except, he was freezing. And wearing a stranger’s dry clothes underneath. And he had almost died… Really he felt more like someone who’d almost died in a snow storm, but ‘kid on a snow day’ felt better to say.

“Why not?” He stammered, still smiling. He leaned in to meet Snow halfway as they raised a mug of hot tea to his lips. He started talking again as soon as he swallowed. “I’d let that big guy kidnap me. If he wanted.”

Snow paused, there was a twitch to their brow that looked like confusion. They opened their mouth for a moment and closed it again, before leaning down to press their hand to Andrew’s forehead.

Andrew sniffed, pulling back to itch his nose on the topmost layer of the mountain of blankets he was buried in.

“You’d let him kidnap you?” Snow asked.

“Yeah, I’d… I’d let him uh.” Andrew paused, his thoughts leaving him for a moment as another tremor wracked through his body. He’d never been this cold before. He tried to focus on what he was saying… What was he saying?

“…You should lay down.” Snow offered, they placed one hand at the back of Andrew’s neck and tried to ease him down with their other hand against his chest.

Andrew gripped the back of the couch and suddenly pulled himself back into a sitting position. “I’d let him–uh! Kidnap me. At eight o' clock. On a Friday. But he has to clean his car first.”

Snow’s hand hovered in place for a second, but they promptly placed a pillow down and tried to lower Andrew down again. Andrew didn’t fight this time, but he didn’t stop talking either.

“He can take me to TJ’s on the Lake. Or that restaurant on the riverboat if he’s feeling fancy. Do you guys have the money for that?”

Snow didn’t answer. They made sure Andrew’s feet were covered by the mountain of blankets.

“He also… also has to carry me inside. Like how he carried me to the van today.”

“Hm. I’ll let him know.” Snow answered. They brought the mug up to Andrew’s lips again. “How do you feel?”

“I feel optimistic.” Andrew said when they took the mug away. “Like, there’s some potential. It depends on if we have anything in common, or if he’s got any red flags I don’t know about. I don’t normally go for blondes either, but–”

“I mean physically.” Snow interrupted. “How do you feel physically?”

“Oh, bad.”

Snow nodded. “Stay awake. I’m going to see where our electric blanket is.”

Andrew nodded, looking up to the ceiling. “Are you sure I’m not kidnapped?”

Snow looked over their shoulder, “I think I would know.”

Andrew played with the fleece of the blanket. He was grateful to be able to feel his fingers again. “You wouldn’t tell me though. You’d just do something like… Throw me in a van and drive me to a warehouse. And give me poison tea.”

Snow paused, turning to lean against the door for a moment. “And dry clothes?”

“Yeah.” Andrew nodded.

“And lots of blankets?” They asked.

“Yeah, you wanna keep me alive.”

Snow thought for a moment, taking a deep breath before they answered. “Well, I’m sure you have lots of vital information behind all your fantasies about my teammate. But this isn’t a kidnapping.

“You’ll die out there.” Snow motioned toward the window. “We’ll let you leave as soon as the storm passes.”

Andrew looked out the window, sniffing again as he watched the storm outside. He looked back to Snow, feeling every bit as pitiful as he must have looked.

Snow crossed in front of him. They lifted his head to place another pillow gently beneath him. “In the meantime, you’re safe. The tea’s not poisoned. I’m going to get a regular, safe, non-lethal electric blanket for you.”

Andrew nodded. He moved one hand to blindly feel for the back of the couch again. Snow took his wrist and eased him back down into the pillows.

“And don’t get up.”