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lonestarflight · 12 hours

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Cancelled Mission: Skylab Rescue Mission (SL-R)

Mission patch for rescue mission for SL-3

Spacecraft: CSM-119

Launch Vehicle: Saturn IB AS-208, later AS-209

Commander: Vance D. Brand

Command Module Pilot: Don L. Lind

Intended launch date: September 1973, (on standby from August 1973 - February 1974)

Skylab rescue mission crewmen Vance Brand (left) and Don Lind.

"Influenced by the stranded Skylab crew portrayed in the book and movie 'Marooned', NASA provided a crew rescue capability for the only time in its history." Prepared for launch during Skylab 3."

"Skylab rescue vehicle phasing - NAR Space Division drawing illustrates phasing of 5-seater Skylab rescue vehicle for a Skylab mission."

Date: April 5, 1971

"A kit was developed to fit out an Apollo command module with a total of five crew couches. In the event a Skylab crew developed trouble with its Apollo CSM return craft, a rescue CSM would be prepared and launched to rendezvous with the station. It would dock with the spare second side docking port of the Skylab docking module."

- information from Astronautix.com: link

"The Apollo Command Module as modified to rescue stranded crews for the Skylab program. Two crew + three rescuees packed like sardines...."

"Skylab 3 astronauts Alan Bean and Jack Lousma helped design the "field modification kit" to use a standard CSM for rescue, and would have flown the CSM for their mission to rescue Skylab 2 if necessary. The standard Skylab Command Module accommodated a crew of three with storage lockers on the aft bulkhead for resupply of experiment film and other equipment, as well as the return of exposed film, data tapes and experiment samples. To convert the standard CSM to a rescue vehicle, the storage lockers were removed and replaced with two crew couches to seat a total of five crewmen."

Posted on Flickr by Mike Acs. NASA ID: 108-KSC-70P-69

"Soon after Skylab 3's launch the crew's CSM developed a problem with Quad B, one of its four reaction control system thrusters. On August 2, 1973, six days later, a snowstorm-like effect outside the station startled the crew during breakfast. What appeared to be 'a real blizzard' was fuel leaking from Quad D, opposite from Quad B. The malfunctions left two available quads, and while the spacecraft could operate with just one, the leaks posed a possible risk to other systems. The fuel for all quads and the main service propulsion system (SPS) engine were from the same batch; if the SPS fuel was contaminated, the CSM might not be able to deorbit.

source

NASA considered bringing the crew home immediately, but because the astronauts were safe on the station with ample supplies and because plans for a rescue flight existed, the mission continued while the Saturn IB rocket AS-208 with CSM-119 was assembled in the Vehicle Assembly Building at Launch Complex 39 for possible use. It was at one point rolled out to LC-39B.

Illustration of the rescue Apollo spacecraft preparing to dock at Skylab’s lateral port. source

NASA announced on August 4 that Skylab 3 and Skylab 4 backup crewmen Vance Brand and Don Lind would fly any rescue mission; they had immediately begun training for the flight once the second quad had failed on August 2. After engineers found that the leaks would not disable the spacecraft, the two men used simulators to test reentry using two quads. If ground personnel worked 24 hours a day and skipped some tests, the mission could launch on September 10, and would last no more than five days. The astronauts would attempt to prepare Skylab for further use but returning experimental data and diagnosing the cause of the problem were more important, with Lind choosing what would be brought back. Human urine and feces samples and Apollo Telescope Mount and other film were the priorities. Although Skylab had two docking ports the primary one would be used if possible, jettisoning the Skylab crew's CSM if necessary.

Posted on Flickr by Drew Granston: link

While many within NASA believed that the rescue mission would occur, within hours of the failure of the second quad the agency canceled the rescue mission. Beyond NASA's conclusion that the failed quads would not disable the Skylab 3 CSM and the SPS fuel was uncontaminated, Brand and Lind had already shown during their training as backup Skylab crewmen that a reentry with failed quads was safe. They also devised a method to deorbit with the command module's attitude control system. Later joking that they were 'very efficient but perfectly stupid, because we have literally worked ourselves out of the mission', Brand and Lind continued to train for a rescue mission, as well as for their backup roles, but the Skylab 3 crew was able to complete its full 59-day mission on the station and safely return to Earth using the two functional RCS thruster quads, using the SPS engine once instead of twice as precaution."

- Information from Wikipedia: link

Posted on Flickr by Ed Dempsey: link

Saturn IB SA-208 was used for Skylab 4 and SA-209 was assigned to the standby rescue mission. At one point, CSM-119/SA-209 was slated for the Skylab 5 mission but it was cancelled when SL-4 was extended and completed all of it objectives.

Mission patch for rescue mission for SL-4

Later, CSM-119/SA-209 was the backup launch vehicle for Apollo-Soyuz Test Project mission and standby rescue vehicle. After the Apollo program ended, the surplus rocket and spacecraft were displayed at the Kennedy Space Center, Florida.

NASA ID: 71-H-662, S73-31922

source, source

#Skylab Rescue #SL-R #Apollo CSM Block II #CSM-119 #Saturn IB #SA-208 #SA-209 #Rocket #NASA #Apollo Program #Apollo Applications Program #Cancelled #Cancelled Mission #September #1973 #my post

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landofadonises · 3 months

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The Brawny Bunch - The Youngest Sons

Introducing the youngest of the brothers, Bobby & Cyrus!

The picturesque image of the Brawny family was most at risk when these two stallions entered the arena.

Bobby loved watching his big brothers and dads work out growing up, filling their personally outfitted garage with grunts and exertion, and he made it his mission to be the biggest one out of all of them. He started the bodybuilding club in high school, and took that reputation with him into college as he was always milling around trying to recruit others to follow their musclebound dreams. To make sure his image was that of an enthusiastic bodybuilder that wanted others to embrace the muscle, he rarely opted for shirts, and due to his dads' influence, the board never batted an eye.

Cyrus was just in it for the fun, naturally blessed with comparatively huge quads that he'd often offer as a seat to guys he found cute, talking it up with everyone and being a complete flirt. A complete social butterfly with a libido that'd make a Clydesdale tired, he didn't give two thoughts toward his schooling as much as skating by on comfortable C's. It wasn't uncommon in college for someone to be sitting in his lap as the class went on, both focusing in their own regards. While this irritated Mike, Clyde persuaded him to let Cyrus live his truth and to help him do that in whatever way he can, as they vowed to never suppress the personalities that emerged from their boys.

While they might not have transitioned into college with ribbons and awards like their older brothers, they were talks of the town in their own regards, and eventually were the catalyst for the Brawny family to become more of a town staple when it came to public influence and just how the youth in Braunsburg formed. Obviously, though, it was the Brawny Bunch that were the only ones exceeding much past 6 feet tall, let alone anyone ever being able to meet their average 8-to-9-foot statures.

#supertall #hugemuscle #plausiblesizedifference #brawnybunch #braunsburg

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itsvaleriesucka · 3 months

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the day of your luck - chapter one

pairing: criminal!joel miller x fem!reader chapter one summary: after your release from dade-county prison, you've implemented some changes into your life. you finally meet your new "friendly" neighbor.

chapter one warnings: language, indications of argument

word count: 4k

a/n: the reader does speak spanish by the way. i provided an english translation in case anyone needs it. to those reading, i hope you all enjoy! (: feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes or warnings i missed out on.

spanish to english translation: ⋆ "Quieres algo más?" → "Do you want something else?" ⋆ "El cheque, por favor." → "The check, please." ⋆ "Quiero pedir algo para llevar." → "I want to order something to go."

prelude ⋆ chapter two ⋆ series masterlist

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

It was a typical sunny day here in Miami. The blazing heat shimmered the pavement, the grandeur of art deco buildings shined by sun rays. The refreshing scent of sand and sun tan lotion combined fills the air as you skate along the sidewalks of South Beach. The cool wind, a gentle breeze coming off the waters blows through your luscious hair as well as causing the palm trees to sway.

Your ears were too occupied to listen to the surrounding of people and cars passing by. A perfect mute from the real world. Your Walkman clipped against the side of your hips while your ears filled with Bill Withers’ Lovely Day.

You held two leashes that wrapped against your wrists, one on your right and the other on your left. They kept up with your quick pace from your favorite pair of quads. And by they— the dogs.

Dog walking.

A side gig you managed to hustle to make some extra cash for your pocket.

What better way to spend some time outside and see the real life around you. Literally. You tend to stick at home in your own solitude the majority of the time binge watching old films, eating Chinese take out, reading Vogue magazines of the latest fashion trends, and keeping track of your CD collections.

It’s been six months since your release from Dade-County prison and you barely know anybody. You’ve always been a lone gal just wandering around on a day to day basis. You weren’t the type to win a popularity contest either. You would prefer to keep a low profile anyways.

After what had happened that led you behind bars, you can’t fathom into trusting anyone. You’ve learned from your mistakes and learning from your mistakes will take you far. At least that’s what you remembered your correctional social worker telling you.

Alright fine.

You only know certain locals. Around three or four but that’s about it.

Ever since your release, you've implemented changes in your life that have made you become a better version of yourself. Sure, you still got some kleptomania urgencies but you learned to walk away. If you want it, just save the money and come back for it. If it’s still there, it was meant to be.

Pushing your left foot backwards, the toe stopper from your skate quads scraps along the pavement, slowing you down until you come to a full complete stop. The dogs got the memo and stood beside you. All you can hear them is pant for breath.

There was an empty bench nearby a shaded area for you to sit and rest for a moment. You removed your backpack and placed it upon your lap to dig inside for your water bottle. You took a couple of sips before pouring the rest near the dog's muzzles.

They’re both Golden Retrievers. Mike and Basil. Brother and sister who are always side by side with each other. Hence why you’re walking them both together because the owner said they cannot walk alone, they refuse to.

That’s very cute. You scratched them both behind their ears and boy, did their tail wagged.

“Are you two hungry?”

Ears perked up with slight head tilts.

“Yeah?” You smiled. “Let’s go eat.”

You began to remove your quads, tying both the shoelaces together into a perfect knot. You reached into your backpack and pulled out your comfortable white chucks and slipped them on. White chucks compliments every single outfit.

You wore nothing but high-waisted blue denim shorts with cute patches that adorned right on your rear. You managed to find the patches during your thrifting adventures. A white cropped tank with your favorite band displayed.

There was a group of male runners heading your way. All of them were shirtless. The lotion smeared on them enhances their robust chests. Their muscular definition was a sight to witness. The moment you got yourself up, you began to tie your shoelaces together. Right foot on the bench while the other foot on the ground. Soon switching.

Your purple plastic hoop earrings swayed against every moment you made. Your skin, sun kissed by the sun itself, radiates with the glow of your sunscreen lotion with a hint of sweat. Each man laid eyes upon you. Upon every exposed skin shown. Upon your thighs down to your legs that goes on forever.

Nothing but flirtatious whistles and sweet nicknames came out from them. Your expression kept stern, you glanced the other way to distract yourself through your Ray-Bans.

Anyone who was anyone could be seen in these iconic pair of sunglasses. You loved them, they were your favorite staple piece you own.

You weren’t going to lie, those men were fine as hell. But it was a major turn off that they only cat called and whistled out to you. If at least one of them came up to tell you how stunning you are, you maybe would’ve given in and tell him your thanks.

Maybe.

Like you’ve remembered, trust issues.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You sat down in a corner Cuban bakery café. One of your favorite places to go and grab a quick bite. Those homemade croquetas and pastelitos were to die for. If this is something you had to eat for the rest of your life, it’s this.

When you were first released from prison, the first thing you had asked your correctional social worker to do was take you to this bakery. Just by being here and eating always brings back a lot of memories from your past.

Mike and Basil drank and ate in their complimentary food and water bowl provided by the lovely staff. You always ate inside but since they aren’t allowed, only outside seating is provided. It’s a gorgeous day so you might as well take advantage and enjoy what’s around you.

While dipping your pastelitos into your coffee, your eyes scanned a couple of advertisements displayed on a newspaper you managed to get on your way over here. Beautiful apartment complexes displayed right before you. You envisioned yourself in a luxury living lifestyle, way up high in those condos, sitting down on your balcony looking out into the seaside view every single morning.

Your mind began to wander off into a setting you aren’t allowed to even think about. Already thinking of ways to obtain easy money to picture yourself amongst the rich. You glanced away and folded the newspaper, sliding it away, releasing a defeated sigh.

Stop. You absolutely cannot go back.

“Quieres algo más?” The kind waitress came by to check up on you.

“El cheque, por favor.”

Growing up as a little girl around the Latin culture and community of Miami, you’ve learned to speak, write, and understand Spanish. I mean, if you’re going to live here, you at least have to understand the basics to get by.

The waitress smiles and picks the empty plates from the table to go get your check.

An idea came across your mind. You suddenly call out to your waitress and she halts before stepping inside.

“Quiero pedir algo para llevar.” You smiled as did your waitress.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You already dropped off the dogs at the time their owner wanted to be back, earning yourself ten bucks. Not bad. Sundays are typically the slowest day since everybody is out having fun on their day off or staying at home to spend some time with family.

Starting tomorrow, things should pick up.

Aside from dog walking, you managed to find a job working for a gentleman who runs the town’s music shop on Lincoln Road. Only Fridays and Saturdays. The pay was surprisingly well.

The apartment complex you lived in wasn’t bad nor one of a kind. It was a place to sleep, eat, and shower. A place where you’re able to destress and listen to your favorite music playing from a small silver boom box you owned. You’re thankful your correctional social worker helped you find a place to stay. Rent was affordable with what you’re able to make weekly so you can’t really complain.

You pulled out a set of keys, one key was to open the main gate of your apartment complex. You can see a few of your neighbors out on their balcony. Some were talking, drinking, or smoking. There was a kid playing ball with another kid on the grass.

Opening the door, you wanted to check your mailbox. You always did on Sunday’s just to see what arrived. The second key was specifically your mailbox door, shared with four others that lived on the same floor as you.

You grabbed each letter and newspaper and searched through each and every one of them to find your name but to no avail.

Although there seems to be a new name that appeared. Looks like there’s a new neighbor. You tossed all the letters and slips back inside the tiny slot and locked the door.

This apartment building only has four floors. The elevator on your right still isn’t working since the same signage has been displayed for over a month now. It depends on your mood, you often take the elevator if you’re out grocery shopping or if you were too lazy to take the stairs to the third floor.

Having the elevator unavailable meant good exercise for you anyways. Your quads hung over your right shoulder, you held them tightly while walking up the steps. You can listen to certain neighbors having a conversation, some in Spanish, some in English. There was a pesky dog on the second floor that always barks whenever he or she seems to hear someone or probably wants to bark just because.

As you reach the third floor you can hear commotion going on, an argument. You hear a familiar voice.

It’s your neighbor, Delaney, who so happens to be caught fighting her boyfriend, as always.

“I didn’t fuckin’ had the dinner ready on time because I was out workin’ all night!” Yep. That’s her alright. Her typical Jersey accent all spiced up. Where she’s from, it’s obvious. She wanted to get away from the cold weather. She was sick and tired of snowy days and having to shovel away ice from her driveway so she moved all the way from New Jersey and landed here in Miami. Nothing but hot and sunny weather all day, everyday.

She worked late nights at a place called Club Pink Pussycat, Miami’s first and finest strip club that offered nudity since day one.

“When I get back, that goddamn casserole better be done! I work my ass off all day and I come home and there’s nothing?!” Her boyfriend stormed out through the door and slammed it shut behind him. He slips a cigarette in between his lips to have a smoke. Your eyes met with his.

“Fuck outta my way.” He grumbled and walked down the stairs past you. He’s lucky to have been gone before you said anything. God. You despised that man.

Delaney opened the door, she’s covered in nothing but her fancy satin pink robe. Her hair was voluminous and styled. Teased and permed to perfection. Her large golden hoops shined with the rest of her jewelry worn. Red lips stained the tipping paper of her cigarette that’s being held in between her index and middle finger. Her pink press on flicks at her cigarette tip, allowing the ashes to fall onto the ground.

Her expression softens from the familiarity of your face the moment her eyes laid upon you.

“Oh, hi sweetie. I’m sorry ‘bout that...” Her voice is soft.

“Why do you let that asshole treat you the way he does?”

It’s true. You always wondered why and there has to be a reason. No man should ever downgrade a woman the way he does, ever. If it were you, he would’ve left a long time ago. In the end, it is not your relationship to get yourself involved like that.

“Oh ya know…he’s the baby daddy of my little boy. It’s hard sometimes.” Delaney pinches the end of her cigarette in between her plump lips to inhale some smoke. Hands gesturing towards you to come inside before she exhaled.

“Come in, come! I’ve baked some sugar cookies. I saved some for you since I thought you might want a bite.”

You stepped inside her place as she shut the door behind you. The layout of her place was the complete opposite of yours. Especially her decor. This woman sure loves the color pink since everything displayed, from her kitchen to her living room, was decorated in pink. She’s like the modern day Barbie.

“Sorry ‘bout the place bein’ a mess. Had to work one of those late nights. My regular surprised me and it was a whole party in there. You should come and visit sometime!” She rubs the tip of her cigarette against an ashtray.

“Sure.” You nodded but only because you were being polite. Those places weren’t your forte anyways. There’s absolutely nothing for you to find in there. It’s a place where sugar daddies come and spend their endless cash by just a shake of your ass. Drugs were the main hot spot. It was a safe haven to do anything illegal, really.

Her baby was in his crib playing with toys. He happily squealed the moment he saw you. Oh, he definitely recognized you. You believed that babies can sense your aura within you. At least that’s what your mother has told you.

Walking over to the crib, you leaned over to tickle the side of his neck and he giggled. Your smile was foolishly wide at his playful gesture. Delaney was busy grabbing her cookie jar and noticed you playing with her son. She smiled.

“He’s such an angel. I love him to pieces!” She waves at her son and made funny faces. He giggles again.

“He is adorable.” You mentioned and leaned away as you walked over to sit in a chair Delaney pulls for you at the kitchen counter.

“You want somethin’ to drink? I got water, Cherry Coke, juice, milk, you name it all.”

“A Cherry Coke sounds perfect, please.”

Milk and cookies are actually the perfect combination. But a Cherry Coke? You can’t refuse an offer like that. You aren’t much of a soda type of gal, but when it comes to Cherry Coke, you simply cannot resist.

“The casserole is almost done if you wanna take some with you.” Delaney hands you a plate of her homemade sugar cookies and a cold can of Cherry Coke.

“That’s real kind of you. I appreciate it.” The click of the can opening surrounds the place. The moment the metal pops, that’s where the sizzling sounds of the bubbles begin to fizz. You didn’t hesitate to take a drink, tilting your head back. The carbonation from the sweet drink coats and burns your throat. Your eyes watered when taking your last sip. A small gasp escaping from you.

So refreshing. So satisfying.

“Have you met the new neighbor yet?” Delaney asks. She’s definitely talking about the name you have seen from a letter when you opened the mailbox not too long ago.

“You know I don’t talk to anyone besides you and the landlord.” You swapped a smile into a smirk, chewing on a cookie.

It’s crazy how you know so much about Delaney yet, she knows very little about you. I mean, she can practically tell her entire life story to strangers. She just loves engaging in conversations to the nicest folks she’d meet. But you? You’re insanely private. She doesn’t even know you’ve been released from prison. She doesn’t know about your past indulgence of robberies.

Thankfully, she has her limits.

“He’s such a handsome fella. Very quiet too. He lives just down at the end of the hallway.”

Such emphasis on the word handsome. That explains much. It’s no wonder you haven’t seen any movement, he’s quiet. You weren’t as phased or excited to learn more about him. You rarely try to meet new people, specifically neighbors. Delaney was the only exception since she’s been the first to actually introduce herself unlike the others.

Ding! “Oh!” Delaney squeals with such excitement. “The casserole is finished. Lemme put that in a paper plate for you before this moron gets here.”

Delaney. She’s such a handful and honestly, you appreciate how real she can be.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You and Delaney exchanged hugs and farewells. You walked down from her door, stopping right in front of yours, using your third key to open the lock and turning the knob to open and enter your own place. Shutting the door behind you, you tossed your keys into a ceramic bowl that’s on a table next to you.

You untied your shoelaces and kicked your white chucks off, setting them right besides the door along with your quads. You removed your backpack and tossed it right on the couch as you walked towards your kitchen holding your plastic plate.

As mentioned, the place is the total opposite of Delaney’s. You tend to stick with a chic yet quaint style. Cool tones were your favorite choice of color palettes, especially purple. Any shade of purple draws your attention.

You placed the casserole and the plastic bag with pastelitos inside your fridge. You wanted to keep it there for later since right now, you needed to take a shower and attend some chores. It’s only half past five so you have plenty of time before the sun disappears completely.

You entered your room, your safe haven. Everything was just the perfect mix of purple. Just the way you like it.

You have a massive CD collection you adored. Some you have stolen and others were given to you by the owner of the music shop you worked for. Hell, you even purchased some from time to time since he gives you a good discount. It’s a win-win for all.

At the corner of your room, besides your dresser, were dirty clothes piled up in the corner of your room, inside a plastic ivory basket.

It’s definitely laundry day and you needed everything to be washed and cleaned for the new week tomorrow.

But first, shower time. It’s what you absolutely need.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Having your comfortable loungewear is possibly the best feeling in the entire world. Your hair was picked up with a vibrant scrunchie. You wore your favorite pair of fuzzy slippers that matched your outfit.

Locking the door behind you, you carried the basket with one hand while the other hand tucked inside your pocket, holding onto your keys and a couple of quarters.

It’s already nine and the night came out and played. If it wasn’t for your dog walking gig, you would’ve just stayed home all day playing your Atari. Just a typical lazy Sunday for you.

The fourth and final key was the door to open the laundry room that was located on the first floor. You take a peek through the window on the door and to your disadvantage, there was already someone inside.

Shit.

He already noticed so you couldn’t turn around and disappear like you wanted to so it’s too late. He paid you no attention as you walked inside.

You gathered your dirty clothes on top of an empty washer machine. You wished there was music playing or something because the awkward silence between you and the man was mad. At least there’s the sound of his dryer starting.

Thank god. He’s just beginning to dry his clothes because that means he was leaving. And he did. He left you all alone.

You usually come around this time to wash and dry your clothes because everybody’s inside their homes all locked up and in bed. Oh, you know the tactics.

You inserted three quarters into the slot tray of the washer machine to then proceed and dump all of your dirty clothes inside. You poured some of the liquid detergent into another slot where it’s supposed to be poured into.

Once you had everything settled, you closed the lid and pushed the tray to dump the quarters into a metal box. There was a green light, ready to be used. You pushed the button and heard the click of the lid and the water starting to pour.

It’s going to be around thirty minutes before everything finishes so you can dry. In the meantime, you start heading back to eat Delaney’s casserole.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Boy, you were stuffed with that casserole. You aren’t one to ever eat casserole but you hoped there’s nothing better than the one you just devoured.

Thirty minutes already passed and it's time for you to head downstairs again to place your damp clothes into the dryer.

As you opened the door to your apartment and shut it right behind you while locking it, you heard footsteps approaching. Your immediate reaction was to turn and look at the source of the sound. You swore if it was Delaney’s boyfriend you were going to have a word with him but no. It wasn’t.

It was the same man from the laundry room. Your eyes instantly looked away from his stare and towards the laundry basket he held his clean clothes in.

Your eyes bounced back and he was still staring at you. Why does he look good in this lighting? It’s just the hallway lights illuminating the passageway. That well put stoic expression deemed his appearance unapproachable.

That unkempt tousled salt and pepper hair definitely gives away his age group. Along with white patches that run down his jawline. You’re probably guessing early fifties. Definitely old enough to be your uncle.

Those denim jeans compliments his physique along with his baby blue polo t-shirt neatly tucked inside all pressed against his chest, holding everything together with a black belt.

You perhaps needed to check your vitals because there’s no way you’re now just thinking about all sorts of compliments to this complete random stranger you’ve never—

Wait a minute. It clicks inside of you.

It’s him.

Your new neighbor.

Standing in front of your door, being a quiet weirdo, isn’t going to make him disappear. You slip your keys inside your pocket with your empty laundry basket in the other hand. You stared down to the ground as you walked. Nothing but sounds of footsteps, keys, and quarters jangle altogether.

Stop.

Be confident.

Your eyes adverts from the ground as you look forward, paying no attention to the stranger. Another thought came rushing in your mind. You softly inhaled and exhaled at the idea.

You can’t always hide and be a grouch all the time. Quoting on what your correctional social worker had explained to you, the past doesn’t define who you are. We are all bound to make mistakes and those mistakes can lead us to the right path.

The moment you passed your new neighbor, you decided to open your mouth.

“Have a goodnight!” You smiled at the stranger.

Biggest fucking mistake you could have possibly made. Your smile flipped itself completely upside, transforming into a frown from the way he ignored you.

His brows furrowed as he took one last look at you and your silly little gesture without saying anything in return. His eyes scan your figure completely unamused. He walked towards the end of the hallway to the door on his left and disappeared.

The moment he disappeared you can hear him slam his door shut. You turned around with brows still trying to pierce together. Oh you were livid. You were livid because you were trying to actually be kind when someone just decides to ignore your entire existence.

You were ashamed of yourself because you’ve always been quiet and for once you decided to open your pretty mouth to actually say something nice.

“Fuck you too then.” You scoffed and looked away, still shocked trying to process exactly what happened. You knew damn well he heard you. If he dared return to the laundry room, you’re more than happy to slam your empty basket right across his stupid face.

What was his stupid name on that letter again?

Joel Miller.

A name that was going to stick with you for the remainder of your night.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller au #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfic #joel miller #the last of us

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scienceninjaturtle · 7 months

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BATMAN: THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD #8

Written by GUILLEM MARCH, KYLE STARKS, GABRIEL HARDMAN, JOHN HIGGINS

Art by GUILLEM MARCH, FERNANDO PASARIN, GABRIEL HARDMAN, JOHN HIGGINS

Cover by SIMONE DI MEO

Variant covers by GUILLEM MARCH and GABRIEL HARDMAN

1:25 variant cover by MIKE DEODATO JR. and JÃO CANOLA

$7.99 US | 64 pages | Prestige | (all covers are card stock)

ON SALE 12/26/23

Guillem March’s gripping, white-knuckled “Back to Year One” Batman adventure concludes! In part two of Kyle Starks and Fernando Pasarin’s “Wild Dog: Here Comes Trouble!”, Wild Dog comes face to face with the new gang taking over the Quad Cities! Aquaman’s bare-knuckle mission takes him to…Gorilla City?! Gabriel Hardman’s undersea adventure continues!

#dc comics #batman #batman brave and the bold

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fruitcoops · 1 year

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Indecent

What do you do with several smut prompts, an upcoming break, a promise made three weeks ago regarding No nut November, and far too much enabling from your lovely friends? Obviously you write shameless smut.

Welcome to the Nine Days of Nutmas, beloveds. All character credit belongs to @lumosinlove (sorry Hazel).

TW for smut, momentary restraint (hands), and admiration of hockey butt.

“Now that’s just obscene.”

Remus turned sideways and watched himself go red in the mirror. So many side effects of hockey, yet nobody had warned him that a five-year-old pair of khakis would make him look like—like—

“Jesus, I look like Magic Mike,” he muttered, tugging at the too-tight inseam where it had ridden up from the simple act of turning half a degree. The light fabric clung to his legs like it had been spray-painted on, stitches holding on by a literal thread where his thighs touched in the middle. He could see the outline of his quad when he flexed alongside every dip of his knee. And god forbid he turn again, because that was just indecent. Even the slightest bend of his waist felt like a risk.

Remus examined himself for a few seconds longer, then sighed. Another one for the donation pile. At this rate, he wouldn’t have any clothes left by the end of the day.

“Oh.”

His heart leapt and he spun, instinctively grabbing at the front when the inseam gave a threatening pop. “Fuck—yeah, no, I know, it’s terrible.”

Sirius stared from the doorway, hand on the knob, jaw slack, eyes wide. “Um.”

“I figured I’d go through everything before I end up looking like…this…in public.” Remus ran a distressed hand through his hair and turned back to the mirror with a groan. “My ass looks ridiculous in these—do you know how much I liked these pants? This is awful.”

“Um,” Sirius agreed.

“I barely even wore some of these,” he continued miserably. The khakis had been a little treat for his two-year anniversary with the team, something that would be comfortable but still professional. He had kept them in perfect condition for years, and now…Remus frowned at his reflection. He had hoped the change in his physique wouldn’t be quite so severe.

He jumped a little when Sirius’ hands wrapped around his hips and slid down, to the side, then back up until his fingertips brushed the curve of Remus’ ass. “They look good to me,” Sirius murmured just below his ear. His lips brushed the lobe before catching it in a gentle tug; Remus suppressed a shiver.

“You might be biased.”

“Mmm, definitely.”

Goosebumps rose on his arms when Sirius resumed stroking along his outer thighs in long, slow pulls, apparently oblivious to Remus’ pounding heart. He let his head rest on Sirius’ shoulder and sighed when a soft mouth found his throat, nibbling and sucking in all the best spots. “I still have—hmm—a lot to go through.”

“By all means, keep putting smaller clothes on.” He could feel Sirius’ grin on his neck. “You’ll hear no protest from me.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that,” he muttered. Sirius met him in a kiss before he had finished turning his head and he smiled into it; the hands caressing his waist wandered lower, lower, lower until they were fully gripping Remus’ inner thighs. One moved up. Remus’ knees went weak under him and he gasped into the kiss; Sirius pushed into it greedily. “Bed, loup.”

“Please,” he breathed.

Sirius turned him by the waist and hoisted him up in one smooth motion, eyeing Remus in a way that made his stomach feel shivery and his pants even tighter than before. He tipped him back carefully until the mattress dipped beneath them, Remus’ ankles still locked around Sirius’ lower back, the entire world darkening as Sirius lowered himself onto his elbows and let their hips press together.

“Fuck.”

“Okay,” Sirius said agreeably. He gave a cheeky thrust and Remus choked on a groan, pushing his head back into the pillows. His cock throbbed; he was getting uncomfortable now, halfway to hard, and maybe if he squeezed Sirius’ waist a little harder that would—

RRRIP.

“Oh fuck,” Remus said faintly.

“Oh, fuck," Sirius moaned, sliding down his body without hesitation.

Remus only had a moment to gape at the brand-new hole exposing his left thigh before Sirius grabbed either side of the tear and pulled.

Well. He needed a new pair of shorts anyway.

“Wait, I was gonna—Sirius!”

Sirius bit at the pale, sensitive space that had opened up and Remus squirmed. “You can’t donate things with holes anyway. Take them off.”

“I’m getting there, but I could have repaired it—”

“Take them off or I’m ripping the other side, too.”

I should be embarrassed. I should be intimidated. I should be--I should not be this horny. Remus watched Sirius’ throat bob on a hard swallow. Wide-blown pupils eclipsed most of the silver in his eyes and his breaths came summer-hot and heavy. He wasn’t the captain right now; he was desperate.

Remus met his gaze. “Do it.”

Like a puppy given permission to destroy its favorite toy, Sirius was on him in an instant. Remus laughed at the excitement reddening his pale cheeks and pulled Sirius up by the front of his shirt for a harsh kiss once the other side had been similarly shredded, shoving their hips together as thick cotton rubbed against his newly-bare thighs. Sirius made a needy noise into his mouth and he caught his lower lip between his teeth, then pulled back with a grin.

“Missed a spot.”

The button came free and Sirius yanked the front open with unbridled glee; Remus laughed into his mouth at the pop of the zipper coming apart, lifting his hips like a helpful boyfriend until his knees were free and he could tackle Sirius onto his back. “You’re so fucking hot in your old uniforms,” Sirius panted.

“Not the intention, but I’ll take it.”

“Lube, where’s the lube—”

Remus caught his wrists and pinned them above his head, bringing him to a standstill. God damn, it felt good to be strong. “You wanna fuck me?”

Sirius nodded hurriedly.

“Want me to ride you?”

“Fuck, please, Re, anything—”

“I bet you do, baby,” he teased, grinding back into Sirius’ lap. It drew a frantic, frustrated noise from him, music to Remus’ ears as he tilted his head toward the ceiling and closed his eyes. Every inch of Sirius pressed into the curve of his thigh, hot even through a layer of fabric and almost certainly wet. The relief of being out of those khakis was beyond words. The rush that spiked in him when Sirius’ wrists flexed in his hold was even better. He let one loose and watched Sirius track his tongue when he wetted his lips. “Get the lube if you want me so bad.”

The look Sirius gave him at that promised it would be the last order he gave tonight. I should be worried about that. He wasn’t.

Their clothes came off in a mess of hands and openmouthed kisses, calming only when a slick finger circled Remus’ entrance and made him bury a noise he just couldn’t swallow into the side of Sirius’ neck. He rocked back into it and Sirius gave him what he wanted, one knuckle then two, his free hand scratching lightly over the curve of Remus’ back. A second finger pressed in alongside the first and a punched-out sound escaped him—his brows pitched and he scrabbled for a hold on Sirius’ torso, wheezing a little when a third finger teased his rim before vanishing with the others.

The heel of Sirius’ hand pressed down the back of his thigh and Remus’ eyes nearly rolled at the release of tension. “Sit up,” Sirius murmured with a squeeze to the thick part of his hamstring. His accent was already thicker than honey and just as sweet. “Up, Re.”

A life spent in the dark, warm haven of Sirius’ shoulder didn’t sound too bad, actually. He was smooth and pleasantly soft with relaxation under Remus’ palms, plenty there to knead while he rocked against Sirius’ lower belly to take the edge off. The coarse hair leading along Remus’ favorite path rubbed against his hip and he nuzzled into Sirius’ jaw with a contented hum.

The faint sunlight outside made him grimace when Sirius pulled him up with a firm hand tangled in the back of his hair. "Up," he repeated.

Remus grinned. “Never knew you had a khaki fetish.”

Sirius released his hair and planted Remus firmly in his lap instead. He couldn’t lie—knowing Sirius could lift and maneuver him by his hips alone was kind of hot. “Up. Sit. Please.”

“Woof.”

“Come o--huhn," Sirius gritted his teeth as Remus settled Sirius’ cock rested in his cleft, perfectly placed for a few slow rolls. "Remus."

“I want you so bad,” he muttered. He snatched the lube off the sheets with a trembling hand and reached back blindly to pour some over Sirius’ cock despite the urge to just get up and sit. But he had experience on his side and in the space of one breath and the next, he was sinking down to their tandem exhales. The stretch made his neck heat. The pleasure made him ache. “God, Sirius, just like that.”

Callused hands fumbled at his wrists for a moment. “Give.”

“Huh?”

“Give, wanna hold you up,” Sirius said as he laced their fingers together with a tight squeeze. His cheeks were flushed with desire when Remus looked down again. “Wanna see you work for it.”

Remus rose up on his knees and felt the leverage from Sirius’ hands give him a boost—the next rock down carried more force and they both moaned, raven-black hair spilling over the pillow in messy curls as Sirius tossed his head. He was so fucking gorgeous Remus couldn’t even handle it.

“Want to watch—merde," Sirius hissed, meeting Remus’ faster pace thrust for thrust. “Want to watch you work for it, your legs kill me at practice.”

“Now you know how I felt,” Remus laughed breathlessly. The slap of their skin and Sirius’ choked noises sent lust through every nerve. He was the one making Sirius feel that good and he was the one who would be sore for it later and he got to see that pretty face screw up in pleasure so clear it belonged in a magazine centerfold.

No, came the sudden thought. No, no, that's mine, you don't get to have it. Remus was selfish with so little but that was one thing he would hoard like treasure. He slammed his hips down harder and stayed there in steady grinds, savoring the shout that echoed in his ears next to the fizz of pure pleasure as the head of Sirius’ cock brushed his prostate. Stuffed full and happy, the center of attention under Sirius’ dark gaze—Remus bit his lip and repeated the motion until his vision went fuzzy. When he swayed forward, Sirius pushed him back with the grip on his hands.

“Keep going.”

“Gotta give me one back so I can come—”

“You’ll come like this.”

Remus exhaled but didn’t break pace, even though his muscles had started to burn and his head was getting foggier with the constant pressure of Sirius’ cock inside him. “Tired—”

“No, you’re not, I know how hard you work.”

His whine of protest would have made him blush in another world, a world where he wasn’t close but not there because his bossy boyfriend wouldn’t give him his hands back. Not that he was 100% positive he could hold himself up without the help, but it would have been nice of Sirius to let him try.

“Don’t slow down,” Sirius warned.

“I told you, I’m tired!” Remus could feel his thighs trembling on every push up, like he had done a full round of squats instead of bouncing in his captain’s lap.

Sirius let out a harsh breath through his nose and finally—thank fuck—let Remus free, only to wrap his hands around his hips and pull him down the last few inches. Remus’ gasp caught in his throat and became a garbled mess halfway out. He grabbed Sirius’ wrists, not for restraint anymore, just for something to hold as Sirius brought him back to the rapid pace they had set at the start.

“Don’t try to touch yourself.”

Remus shook his head vehemently. As if he would risk losing the riot rushing through his entire body. “Won’t, I won’t, oh god.”

“You’re so fucking strong now,” Sirius groaned, his thumbs digging in as he yanked Remus closer and snapped his hips up to meet him. Remus watched, openmouthed, as precome dripped onto Sirius’ belly and smudged over the tense muscles there.

“This is not what I thought would happen in those khakis,” he mumbled.

“You underestimate—” A sharp thrust made Remus cry out. “—how much I like your muscles.”

“Jesus, Sirius, please let me come—”

“I’m not stopping you.”

Remus whimpered as the feeling built and gave up on trying to match Sirius’ movements, giving over the reins. Sweat dripped down his temple and cooled on his chest above his racing heart. Every muscle below his waist shook with exhaustion and pleasure, leaving him with only his arms to brace against the sheets on either side while Sirius put him just where he wanted him. There was relief in that. No decisions. No expectations. He could wash his hands of the power and let Sirius get him where they needed to go.

Never in a million years had he hoped for someone who would share like that, yet here he was, so full he could hardly handle it and loving every second. Remus twisted the wrinkled cotton topsheet until his knuckles hurt and folded like a cheap card table, watching come stripe Sirius’ chest from a thousand lightyears away.

Sirius made a sweet, broken sound and tensed; his hands flexed, then relaxed, leaving him to shudder through the aftershocks while Remus rocked gently back and forth to eke out every last drop of the dopamine flooding his system.

When he tipped forward this time, there was nobody to catch him—they collided with a dull oof and a tired laugh, shuffling around in a mess of limbs. Sirius pushed into his hand when he combed it through sweaty curls, smiling softly. “So pretty,” Remus said, stretching until his ankles popped. “Hmm. So bossy.”

“You love when I’m bossy,” Sirius said through a smile as he rolled him onto his back for a deep kiss.

“Sure do, babycakes.”

“Fuck’s a babycake?”

“You. You’re my baby,” Remus explained, nudging their noses together as he snuck around to grab a handful of Sirius’ ass. “And you’ve got cake.”

Sirius snorted, then turned into the pillow to hide his laughter while he wrangled Remus into a crushing hug that left him in ideal range for lazy kisses to the edge of Sirius’ blush. Two drawers of clothing remained in the closet; Remus gave them just enough thought to remember they existed, but then Sirius was nosing along his cheek to capture his lips and he really didn’t care about pants, actually. He cared about the stretch of warm muscles and the hand cradling his face, the faint tremor in his legs and the man who gave him all of it. That was where his thoughts began and ended. Remus was quite alright with that.

Indecent, indeed.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #smut #nutmas 2022 #hot for pt #khakis

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