#if tucson ever stops working out for me....

[goodplace-janet]

[Image: a selfie of the blogger in a winter coat and colorful scarf, standing at the end of Elfreth's Alley in Philadelphia, a very narrow cobblestone road with historical brick rowhouses on either side. /end ID]

walked down 'our nation's oldest residential street.' one on the end is for sale, and I don't have the millions of dollars it probably costs and i probably wouldn't enjoy living in a tourist attraction, but i started dreaming anyway lol

[memphisflash]

𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: It's been a year since you've seen Elvis - he hasn't called or reached out to you once, yet you still can't forget about him. Summer rolls around and you find yourself back in Vegas, picking right up where you left things with the singer that brings the heat to the desert every year, and you can't help but fall harder and deeper...

Word count: 6,7K

Warnings: basically a smut fest. reader losing her virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), kissing after oral, somewhat uncomfortable first time for reader (that shit hurts, hello???), they fuck multiple times- woops.

A/N: I tried to keep it short and sweet, but anyone who knows me that's a damn joke, because I always get carried away HA. I kinda hate the ending but oh well, I had to stop somewhere. Hope y'all like it!

← part one | masterlist →

A whole year had passed since that night you shared such an intimate moment with Elvis.

He had asked for your number before the two of you said goodbye but you didn’t expect to hear from him. You didn’t, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

You didn’t want to become just another foolish girl that was completely head over heels for the singer, but you couldn’t help yourself, no matter how hard you tried.

He’d been on your mind every single day for that whole year.

You listened to his records, read everything the magazines printed about him and would even watch some of his movies to hear his voice. Your boss at the local art gallery you worked at in Tucson, your hometown, even caught you daydreaming a couple of times and snapped you out of it which was highly embarrassing.

The whole thing was embarrassing, to be quite honest.

You were in love with a man who was fawned over by thousands of girls across the globe and he most likely didn’t even remember you. After all, you hadn’t been the first girl he brought up to his suite in Vegas.

You hid those feelings well for your parents though, who thought you were just infatuated by the superstar and dealt with the amount of times you played his music through the house. Your father secretly liked it – you’d heard him sing along plenty of times when he thought no one could hear him.

But your best friend Emma knew better. She was the only one who you had told what happened between you and Elvis and like the supportive, and sometimes tad overly excited, best friend she was, she made it her own personal mission to save up for another trip to Vegas the coming summer.

You picked up a few extra shifts at your job and even babysat the children in the neighborhood and before you realised it, summer was there and you and Emma made the six hour drive to sin city.

Las Vegas was as exciting as ever. With Elvis’ residency being promoted like a summer festival, Elvis fans were everywhere – walking the strip to spot him or any of his entourage members, taking up hotel rooms in the numerous accomodations in town and shopping, dining out or seeing afternoon shows by other artists to kill time.

Vegas was thriving off of the tourists and if you could, you would want to stay here for the rest of your life. Despite your innocent nature, the sinful aspect of it all drew you in.

“What if he does recognize you…” Emma retorts to your worries as you lay side by side on a tanning bed by the pool of the International hotel. You two had booked so many months in advance that you were assured a nice room in the crowded hotel. “and asks you up to the room again. This is Vegas, baby, anything can happen!”

Emma grins widely as she looks at you over the rim of her sunglasses, wiggles her eyebrows and then laughs as she pushes them back up the bridge of her nose, reaching for her margarita. You laugh with her and sigh deeply as you watch some people in the pool splash around, chattering and hollering adding a nice atmosphere to the pool area. “Oh please, Em, I bet he won’t even recognize me. He’s been to other places for the past year and God knows what kind of girls he met.”

“You’re hotter,” Emma says matter-of-factly as she puts her drink down and lays back on the sunbed, soaking up the rays of the harsh Vegas sun.

“You haven’t even seen the other girls,” you snort softly, looking at her even though her eyes were closed behind her glasses.

“I don’t need to. I’m your best friend and I’m obligated to tell you, you’re hotter. And even if I wasn’t, I would still tell you the same thing.”

You couldn’t contain the smile on your face and let it spread across your features, playfully slapping Emma’s arm. She always knew just what to say.

Ofcourse you didn’t think you were ugly, but you would always compare yourself to other girls that seemed just a little more prettier. A little skinnier, their skin a little more flawless, their clothes a little more expensive.

Emma often talked you out of it though, because she was right when she’d tell you that wasn’t the way to live your life.

You did have to admit that your confidence had grown in the past year, even if it was just a smidge. Your boss gave you more responsibilities at work which had you come into contact with customers face to face more often, which included handsome business men and rough around the edges cowboys who came in to buy an art work.

They’d flirt with you more often than not and their blatant but sweet compliments even helped you with your blushing. In a way, you’d grown used to the men in Tucson, so hopefully you’d be the same around that one man from Memphis.

If you’d even meet him again.

“Okay, let’s say he knows who I am and he invites me up to his suite again,” you said, sounding a little more light hearted. “I think I wanna have sex with him.”

“You already did, Miss Foreplay.”

“That wasn’t.. sex!” you whisper loud enough for Emma to hear above her own laughter, gasping as you chuckled. You sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the sunbed, leaning in closer to your friend so nobody else was able to hear you. “I’m serious, Em. I want to.. I want him to.. you know.”

Emma pushed her sunglasses into her hair, turning her head to look at you. She laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. “You can say it, Y/N, it ain’t some kinda disease. You want him to pop your cherry,”

The way the word ‘cherry’ rolled off her tongue so sensually it had your cheeks heating up a little, but you quickly forced the heat back down, slapping your friend’s arm once more.

This time with a little more force, which made her pout and rub her arm.

“Don’t say it like that!”

“Fine. You want him to fuck you then.”

“Emma!”

The girl next to you laughed loudly and quickly avoided you before you could assault her poor arm again. You shook your head but laughed along with her – she was impossible at times, but you loved her like a sister.

You and Emma had tickets to several shows Elvis did at the hotel. You were staying for two whole weeks and would attend a few shows during the week, and every show during the weekend.

While getting ready for the dinner show that started at 7, the phone in your hotel room rang. The sound startled you a little, hoping it wasn’t the front desk with a noise complaint because you and Emma had been playing music while getting ready – and Emma was singing along in the shower, sounding like a dying cat.

You put your curling iron down after switching it off and ran into the room from the bathroom, picking up the phone. It was the desk clerk, telling you you had an incoming call from an individual named Jon Burrows.

You didn’t know anyone by that name, but thinking it could’ve been work related, you accepted the call.

But as soon as you heard that deep voice and that Southern drawl, you realised this wasn’t Jon Burrows.

“Hi Cherry,”

Your heartbeat started picking up, resembling something of a group of wild horses gallopping.

“Elvis?” You questioned, sounding breathless and in somewhat of disbelief.

He didn’t confirm, but you knew it was him. Especially when you heard his deep, rich sounding laugh which felt like a comfortable blanket being wrapped around you.

“Now why didn’t ya tell me you’re in Vegas, honey? I called your house and your Daddy told me you were already here, comin’ to see me..”

You looked at Emma as she wandered out of the bathroom, waving your hand like a maniac to the radio that was playing. She frowned but took the hint and switched it off, walking closer to you to silently ask who you were talking to.

“Well, I’m sorry, Elvis,” Emma immediately widened her eyes and sat down next to you, pressing her ear close to the phone. “I didn’t.. I didn’t know how to reach you..”

You mentally cursed yourself for such a lame answer, but it was the truth. You didn’t have his number, and in that whole year, he never called you.

At least, not to your knowledge.

“You comin’ to see the show? How long are ya staying?”

“Me and my friend will be here for two weeks, and yes, ofcourse we’re coming to the show. We wouldn’t want to miss it.” You made sure your voice sounded extra sweet and Emma nearly toppled over when Elvis said, “That’s my girl.”

“Don’t make any plans for after the late show tonight, honey. I want you and your friend to come to a little party, okay?”

Emma looks at you and immediately nodded yes. You agreed and after talking to Elvis for a few more minutes, he hung up to get ready for the show. You put the phone down and looked at Emma, who was staring at you with wide eyes before you two squealed like two teenagers.

“Oooh, that man wants you, believe me,” Emma smirks as she gets up and turns the radio on again, dancing happily through the room while getting ready.

As always, Elvis was amazing on stage – his moves making you feel things and his vocals were superb. He recognized you in the crowd and during the moment where he wandered through the crowd and kissed girls, he made sure to press an open mouthed kiss onto your mouth, his tongue playfully flicking against your lips.

You were already on cloud nine, fantasizing about what would happen during the rest of the night when you’d have him alone. You were praying that that party wouldn’t last very long.

It turned out the party was held in the dressing room and you nearly fainted at the sight of Cary Grant greeting Elvis when you stood next to him. They talked for a short while and you couldn’t even keep up with the conversation, so many things around you were happening.

Emma was standing across the room, talking to Charlie Hodge and by the way she was squeezing his arm and throwing her head back as she laughed, you could see they were hitting it off.

Good for her – Emma had horrible taste in men, often falling for the bad boys, but Charlie Hodge seemed like a nice man. And a funny one, because you could hear your best friend’s flirtatious laughter all across the dressing room.

Elvis and you didn’t talk much one on one, as there was always someone who came up to strike a conversation with him. But he kept his arm around your waist, because he liked knowing that you were still there, close to him.

To him, it wasn’t strange at all. He acted like you’d always been there, like you belonged to him and only him.

It sent your mind spinning, or maybe that was because of the two Cosmo’s you’d already had.

The party was nice – everyone was having fun, talking to each other, enjoying each other’s company and sipping drinks. But it was like Elvis could read your mind when he looked at you and leaned in closer.

“Let’s get outta here. I want to be alone with my sweet little cherry,”

The way he whispered in your ear nearly had your knees buckling, but instead you flashed him a smile and quickly nodded. Elvis slipped his hand into yours and as he signed to Red and Sonny he wanted to leave, the four of you moving out of the room. You exchanged one more look with Emma, who grinned widely at you and blew you a kiss, mouthing a “have fun!” to you before she disappeared out of your sight.

After walking through a few long hallways and a short ride on the service elevator, you arrived at the top floor of the International and you disappeared into the suite with Elvis.

“You know, I really missed ya, honey,” Elvis smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close against his chest, making you stand on your tiptoes a little due to the height difference.

Again, you wanted to ask him why he hadn’t called if he missed you so much but you knew better than to ruin the moment.

You hugged him back, telling him you missed him too and in this moment, you felt like he truly cared about you.

Like you weren’t just a fan, or just another girl that would tend to his needs for the evening.

“Why don’t you go take a shower an’ we can relax, hmm?”

It could sound so innocent, but with what you had planned for tonight, you knew it was the beginning of something very sinful.

Elvis led you to the bathroom and handed you one of his silk pyjama button ups, this time in a shade of crimson red. Once again, he didn’t give you the bottom half of the set but you didn’t mind it, nor protest against it. As he left you alone to take a shower in the other bathroom in the suite, you locked the door behind you and turned on the shower. You washed your body, making sure to leave your hair and make-up untouched.

Thank God for Emma who hounded your ass for making sure you were trimmed nicely – your bikini line, legs and pits waxed, only a little bit of pubic hair left on your vulva.

You turned the shower off after a little bit and dried yourself off, making sure to spray some perfume in your neck that you carried in your purse and sneaked into the bathroom. You put on the button up, leaving your panties on top of your folded clothes on the sink. You quickly brushed your teeth with the spare toothbrush in the bathroom and took a deep breath before you walked back into the bedroom, smiling shyly at Elvis who was already sitting in his bed against the headboard.

His hair looked like he’d just dry-blowed it, soft and fluffy. He was wearing his own set of pyjamas in black and the tan skin that was visible due to half of his top being left unbottoned made arousal slowly creep its way to the surface.

Talking turned to cuddling, cuddling turned to kissing, and kissing turned to wandering hands creeping up your top.

You were nervous, God how nervous you were, but this time you didn’t stop him when he cupped your breasts.

A soft gasp left you when he caressed his thumbs across your perked nipples. He looked at your face to see if he was taking things too far, but as he saw the flush on your cheeks and the way you were looking at him with pleading eyes, he figured he could go on.

As long as you did not tell him to stop, he wasn’t going to.

Slowly he got on top of you, wiggling himself in between your legs which you eagerly opened and wrapped around his waist this time. He moved his hands out from underneath your top, fingertips working quick as he flicked the buttons open one by one.

“Cherry,” he spoke softly, his eyes finding yours. “Have you been touched in the past year?”

The question rolled off his tongue so casually as if you were just making conversation, but it caused goosebumps to tingle along your skin. You looked at him and shook your head slowly, unable to control the heat that was crawling up your neck, reddening your skin.

“N-No..” you whispered, feeling exposed as the fabric of your top fell open, your breasts on full display for him. “Only by myself,”

You didn’t know where you’d got the courage from to say such a thing, but it slipped out before you could stop it. Elvis smirked, his hands back to cupping your breasts, squeezing them a little firmer.

“Is that right?” he hummed lowly, keeping his eyes on your face as he leaned in closer to your chest, his soft lips connecting with the supple flesh of your right breast. “Did ya think ‘bout me when touchin’ yourself?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, his tongue poked out to swirl it around your nipple. A gasp and then a moan slipped past your lips and you gripped onto his shoulders, arching your back a little.

“Yes!” you moaned out, perhaps a little more desperate than you intended to. “Y-Yes.. Always.. thinking about.. you..”

Your words came out breathless as he sucked onto your nipple softly and he grinded against you a little. You could feel the outline of his cock pressing against your folds and you were pretty sure you were staining his silk bottoms with your arousal.

Neither he or you cared and you grinded back against him, trying to rub your clit against his length.

Elvis could see the difference between last year and now. With those flushed cheeks, he knew you were still the same girl but there was a flair of eagerness lingering about you now.

You wanted him and he sure as hell was going to enjoy taking you, stripping away your innocence completely.

Just as you were about to reach out to unbutton his shirt completely, he was already moving lower onto the bed. His lips dragged over the curve of your breasts and along your stomach, his hands sliding up the back of your thighs to spread your legs and give him the view he’s been so eager to see all night.

Your perfect exposed pussy… right there in front of his nose. So beautiful, so pink, so untouched.

He looked up at you through his dark lashes as he kissed your inner thighs, grinning against your skin when he felt your legs trembling with anticipation. He could practically smell your arousal and it had him groaning softly as he rubbed himself against the mattress slowly.

You wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth on the most intimate part of his body but he decided to take things slow. He knew you were eager but he wanted you to experience it all, and he wanted to be the one who could make you feel this good.

His fingertips caressed through your folds, spreading your slick all over your lips before he pressed his thumb against your clit, adding a little pressure. You were looking down at him the whole time, not wanting to miss a second of this sight, and he loved hearing you moan softly the way you did.

By the end of the evening, he intended to have you screaming for him.

“My Cherry’s got such a pretty pussy,” he whispered as he grinned at you before looking down at your wetness glistening against your skin. He ran his middlefinger down your folds, slowly pushing it inside of your entrance. “All for me to play with,”

You gasped and gripped onto the sheets, your muscles immediately tensing up around his digit. He let out a soft laugh as he pulled his finger back before sinking it into you completely again. “Relax, baby. It’s jus’ a finger,”

Just a finger that already had you moaning louder, like a damn cat in heat. You moved your hands to your face to cover up your mouth and muffle your moans, and Elvis let you – for now. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, moving his finger in and out of you a little faster.

Then he added another finger and you were clenching around him so viciously, he was thinking you were going to push his fingers out of you at one point by just using your muscles.

The thought of feeling that feeling around his cock had him grinding against the bed a little more.

But Elvis wasn’t a quitter and he pushed the two digits deeper inside of you, fingertips curling inside of you and caressing that special spot. Your hands couldn’t contain your moans anymore and they once more found the sheets as you arched your back, spreading your legs wider.

He repeated the action a few more times, fingering you at a steady pace until he couldn’t take the sight of his fingers coming out so wet anymore. It was too tempting.

“Let’s see how sweet you taste, Cherry,” he smirked as he pulled his fingers out and grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing his fingertips into your skin a little to keep you still.

Without warning, he leaned in closer and dragged his tongue from your entrance to your clit. You gasped as your hips stuttered and he held onto you firmer, looking up at you as his tongue swirled slowly around your clit, before he gently sucked it in between his lips.

The sight was downright sinful.

But even though you couldn’t get enough of it, you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head as his tongue slipped through your folds again.

He put your legs over his shoulders, his hands moving up your sides until they found your breasts again. He fondled them lightly, pinching your nipples in between his fingertips softly as his tongue worked wonders on your eager pussy.

“Mmm, Elvis!” you moaned out freely now, unable to contain yourself. The sounds leaving you, the way you were moaning out his name, made you feel so… slutty.

And yet, you were loving every second of it.

He groaned against your skin, his hands slipping down to your hips as his eyes shot open and stared up at you. He wanted to see your reactions to his actions and make a mental reminder of it – the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip, the way your eyebrows knitted together. And the added roll of your eyes as he sucked on your clit was very much appreciated.

You didn’t know what an orgasm felt like. Sure, you had touched yourself but when that pressure would start building in the pit of your stomach, you stopped.

Because truth be told, you were nervous about it – scared even. And now that Elvis was the one who was causing the muscles in your tummy to tense up like that, you felt as if you were about to crawl out of your own skin.

Tangling your fingers in his now messy hair, you tried to get him to stop, tried to get away from him, but the raven haired devil wouldn’t let you.

He’s been between enough girls’ legs to know that you were close to falling apart. Could feel it by the way your thighs were trembling on his shoulders, hear it in the way your moans turned a little more high pitched, a slight hint of panic hidden on the back of your tongue.

You could practically feel him smirking against your clit as he slipped in a finger, pumping it in and out of you in a steady pace. There was a slight sting, though it was barely noticeable due to the orgasm that had you on the verge of tears.

You clamped your hand over your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut, your other hand still in his hair as he just wouldn’t stop while you were falling over the edge. If it wasn’t for Elvis holding onto your hips to keep you down, you were sure your hips would’ve lifted off of the bed with the way they were bucking upwards and you were writhing in the sheets.

You could barely recognize your own voice as you moaned out, Elvis’ name falling off your tongue like a mantra.

Elvis slowly loosened his grip on your hips and let you spread your legs, raising his head to look at you with a smug grin spread across his face. You pushed some of his hair out of his face and then let out a breathless laugh, running your hands through your own hair.

Elvis loved the way you were looking at him with those half-lidded eyes that held stars in them, cheeks flushed the way he likes.

“Jus’ like I thought, Cherry,” his whisper is low, his voice a little raspy as he kisses your lower abdomen. “Jus’ downright teeth rottin’ sweet,”

Your cheeks heated up even more as he crawled his way back up, kissing you, letting you taste yourself. It made you moan softly in his mouth, allowing him to take the pyjama shirt you were still wearing completely off.

In a matter of seconds, Elvis’ clothing pieces flung across the room as well, thanks to your greedy hands.

Foreheads pressed together, moans exchanged into each others’ mouths, Elvis thrusted his hips forward slowly as your small hand wrapped around his hard cock. You figured if you would do something wrong, you would know by his reaction, but now he seemed to enjoy it with the way his tongue was dipping into your mouth now and then, eyes closed as he grunted and his jaw clenched.

Elvis had planned to take his time tonight, but he couldn’t take one more second of foreplay. He wanted, needed, to be buried inside of you.

“Can I put it in now, honey?” He whispered as his eyes flutter open, looking at you with a small smirk as he remembered how a year ago you were nearly pleading for him not to put it in.

But tonight he could see how much you wanted it, there was no way in hell you’d put a stop to it now.

At least, he prayed you wouldn’t.

A sense of relief washed over him when you bit your lip and nodded, yet he still wanted to hear you say it. “Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes,” you inhaled a shaky breath, squeezing his cock softly in your hand as you loosely wrapped your legs around his waist. “I want you to be my first.”

You felt vulnerable speaking those words and Elvis smiled, fingertips caressing some hair out of your face and gently tugging it behind your ear. He pressed a kiss onto your lips and nodded. “I’ll be real gentle, okay?”

Slowly letting go of his length and having your hand replaced by his own, you put your hands on his upper arms. He didn’t rush it – didn’t push it inside of you at once, instead caressing the tip of his cock through your folds and rubbing it onto your clit for a little bit.

But it was going to have to happen eventually and even though you’d anticipated it, the feeling of his tip finding home at your entrance still made your muscles tense up and your nails digging into his skin a little.

“Relax,” he whispered, looking into your eyes before kissing the corner of your mouth. “Jus’ try an’ relax, or it won’t feel good, cherry,”

Truth was, it wasn’t going to feel good either way. Emma had already warned you about this, even going as far as to say she had bled when she lost her virginity.

God, how embarrassing would that be… although you doubted Elvis would mind it, because he seemed like an understanding man, but you still didn’t want it to happen.

You inhaled a deep breath and nodded, trying as hard as you could to relax, but it was barely working when he pushed himself inside of you at a snail’s pace. Inch by inch his cock disappeared inside of you, stretching you the way his fingers, or your own, never could.

He let out a deep groan that came straight from his gut as he finally bottomed out, having missed someone so incredibly tight engulfing him.

“E-Elvis… It h-hurts..” you looked at him with wide eyes, nails pressed into his arms so firm you were sure small crescent moons were created in his flesh but he didn’t stop you.

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, leaning his elbows on the bed on either side of your head, slipping one arm underneath your head to keep you close to him. “But it’ll feel better in a little while, ‘lright? Jus’ relax..”

You trusted him and you really hoped he was right, because now you were so full you could barely speak. He could see the tears twinkling in your eyes and as he lovingly kissed your cheeks, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, you melted into his arms a little more.

He held still inside of you for quite a while, letting you get used to the feeling of being filled with something the size of his cock – which, for the record, was definitely not small.

Perhaps someone who’d been so blessed wasn’t the right person to lose your virginity to on a physical level, but then again… go big or go home.

Emma would be proud of you.

And all craziness aside, you were happy that you were losing your virginity to Elvis Presley. Not because he was famous, but because he was so gentle and sweet, taking his time with you and being patient. It was good to have someone older, someone with experience who knew how a woman’s body worked instead of taking what he wanted and calling it a day.

This was truly a special and intimate moment and you were losing yourself into it more and more.

As you felt you were relaxed enough, you whispered to Elvis that you were ready and boy, were you wrong. The second he slowly and softly started thrusting into you, those tears that had blurred your vision were starting to roll down your cheeks. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him closer into your embrace which made him hide his face in your neck – you didn’t want him to see your tears, nor did you want him to stop.

A million of girls have been through this for centuries.

If they could do it, so could you.

“Don’t cry, honey,” he whispered in your ear, kissing your neck. Damnit, why does he seem to know everything? “Jus’ relax… Give all of yourself to me..”

He kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear and they helped you relax and your muscles to lose that tension – must be witchcraft, you were positive of it.

Step by step, slowly but surely, Elvis picked up the pace as he heard your gasps and soft cries turn into soft moans. The sting was still very much present, but the burning sensation had subsided and you were sure that had everything to do with the grunts and deep moans leaving Elvis, and the sight of him on top of you. He had pulled his face out of your neck again, his eyes boring into yours and while you usually hated eye contact this intensely and for so long, now you couldn’t find it in you to look away.

You were lost in those oceanic blue orbs and when he smiled that sweet smile at you, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were sickly in love with Elvis Presley.

It wasn’t just idol infatuation.

You were totally, completely, irrevocably in love.

Sex was a tricky thing to human kind. Some people used it as a meaningless way to get what they want or to meet their needs, and other people view it as something sacred, something meant to be shared with only that person who you love more than anything in the world.

You had no idea it could be this good, never believing Emma when she said that once you’d done it, you would only want more and more. You’d turn greedy, goddamn near feral because it was such a raw and primal instinct… perhaps that was why it was considered a sin.

You’d never think you would turn into one of those girls that would crave sex and felt like they’d just die if they didn’t get it. But Elvis had that kind of effect on you.

The sun had long risen over Las Vegas but the suite was still dark due to Elvis’ dark curtains being drawn. It must’ve been around 6 or 7 in the morning, but neither of you had slept a wink.

When he’d popped your cherry a few hours earlier, it had hurt. The second time you did it, there was still a slight uncomfortable sting. But by the third time, you were a moaning mess as he turned you around and pressed your face in the pillow, the sound of his balls hitting your clit with every thrust filling the room.

If it wasn’t for the sex daze you were in, you’d be embarrassed by the way you were already crawling onto his lap again after the both of you had taken a shower. Your limbs felt weak and Elvis felt the same, but you couldn’t help yourself and Elvis couldn’t deny you.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned as you straddled him and sunk down onto his length, your hands on his chest, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I created a monster.”

You laughed softly at his words as your cheeks flushed crimson, although that could just as well be because you were so worked up. Elvis grabbed onto your hips and pulled you down a little more, gasping as you fept his tip grazing your g-spot.

“O-Oh… Elvis..” you moaned, biting your lower lip harshly. “S-So deep.. like this..”

He smirked, moving his hands to your ass to squeeze your cheeks in his palms before landing a soft slap on the left one. “That’s right, baby. Can’t get enough of bein’ filled, can ya?”

You giggled softly and started thrusting, slow at first but quickly working your way up to a faster and more steady pace. Didn’t take long for you two to become a bunch of moaning messes once more, going at it like damn rabbits.

It had felt like Elvis had taken a piece of your soul from the moment he’d entered you for the first time and you willingly gave it up for him to keep. You had blossomed into a new person tonight – broken out of your cocoon, going from girl to woman.

Elvis bent his knees a little, heels pressed into the mattress as he grabbed onto your hips and kept you from moving. Instead, he took over and thrusted up into you in such a pace that you had to grip onto his arms to keep steady.

“Oh, fuck!”

He was surprised by the profanity coming from you, but definitely not disappointed. He liked his ladies soft spoken in public, but inside these four walls it was a whole different story. Those rules didn’t apply and especially not to you, because he enjoyed this side of you.

Added more fuel to his fire.

“Shit, I fuckin’ love that pussy,” he growled as he clenched his jaw, his fingers most likely leaving marks on your skin. You threw your head back and Elvis took the opportunity to watch the softness of your skin, he could’ve sworn he could see your heartbeat pulsing underneath it, and the way your breasts bounced along with his thrusts.

He wasn’t going to last long and neither were you with the way he was pounding into you, hitting the right spot every time his hips came up. You were moaning so loud that you wouldn’t be surprised if the downstair neighbors could hear the whole thing.

Though before the two of you could reach climax, he wrapped one arm around your waist and switched positions so fast you barely noticed it until you were laying on your back and he was pounding into you like a mad man. The beads of sweat that formed on his forehead, the animalistic growl that left him when he pulled out of you after a few more thrusts to release strings of cum onto your breasts and stomach was a sight to behold. This man was extraordinary.

You’d fallen over the edge right before he’d pulled out and you were clenching pathetically around nothing, wrapping your arms around him to keep him somewhat close, careful not to mess up the masterpiece he’d created on your skin. His lips found yours, kissing you for a little bit until he hid his face in your neck.

“I think I’ll keep you… My personal little Cherry,” he grinned against your skin and you scoffed softly.

“What am I? A puppy?”

He pulled his head back to look at you and raise an eyebrow, playfully nudging your chin. “Oh, she’s been fucked a couple of times and immediately has an attitude, huh?”

You laughed softly at his words, cupping his face to playfully squeeze his cheeks together. He leans into your touch and softly bites down onto your thumb before kissing it.

“You ain’t a puppy,” he said as he smirked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You’re jus’ a little baby.”

“I’m not a baby!” You exclaimed, pretending to be offended as you gasp.

He nodded his head and leaned his face closer to you, pecking your lips while he talked against your mouth. “Uh-huh, you are. A baby with pretty little feet and little red cherry cheeks,”

Instantly, you blushed and pouted against his lips, which made him laugh softly. “As long as I’m your baby, I’ll take it.”

You didn’t mean to say those words. They felt too bold for you to be saying and you half expected him to turn serious and tell you not to get things in your head, but instead he looked into your eyes and smiled.

“Ofcourse,” he said, patting your hair. “You’re my little cherry and I don’t like sharin’..” his fingertip caressed across the black star sapphire diamond engraved into the ring you were still wearing around your neck.

For the whole past year, you had not taken it off once.

“We should clean up and sleep,” you whispered, ignoring how his words had sent your heart aflame.

“I wanna get ya ‘nother present,”

He was already getting up and pulling you off the bed, letting you wander off into the bathroom to clean his cum off of you. This time, you left the door unlocked and seconds later, Elvis came in with his jewelry box.

“Elvis, no.. Put that away. Let’s sleep..”

“Honey,” he said sternly, although you could hear he was playful at the same time. Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you closer to him and grabbed a ring, slipping it into your finger, looking at it and when decided he didn’t like it, he took it off of you and rumbled through the box to find another piece. “We can sleep when we’re dead.”

You let out a laugh and shook your head at his antics. While he was putting jewelry on you, from rings to bracelets, your eyes were on him.

This magical, weird, funny, sweet man that had the world at the tip of his fingers and probably one of the richest people in the country, and yet he had no problem giving away his gold as if they were pieces of candy.

You didn’t care about the jewelry, though. Or about the money, or about any of the luxury. All you cared about was the man next to you, a child like smile of excitement rooted on his face.

You didn’t want to think about it all ending, so you forced yourself not to. Because all that mattered was right here and now, and this night (and morning) of two people’s souls connecting the way they’d done.

They say you never forget your first time and you wholeheartedly believed that statement. How in the world could you ever forget Elvis Presley?

Taglist: @peaceloveelvis @notstefaniepresley @jhoneybees

[ruvviks]

drastic + vincent please :3

DRASTIC [x] characters >> vincent mayer (oc), vitali dobrynin (oc) context >> july 2077; vincent and vitali are in tucson to try and figure out a way to stop vincent from dying after johnny silverhand has been successfully removed from his head total >> 1.6k words warnings >> death mention, hospital, needles, surgery mention

‘Vincent. Can you hear me?’

Wakey wakey.

Vincent could barely open his eyes, eyelids and head still heavy with sleep. The air surrounding him was surprisingly cool; as far as he was concerned it was the middle of summer, and he was in Arizona of all places. Wasn’t it supposed to be sweltering?

Someone gently took his wrist. The action itself did not hurt, nor did the feeling that followed– but it caused him instant discomfort that bordered on pain, the sensation cramping up his entire arm and it took him a second to realize it was the work of a needle that was stuck in the top of his hand.

He was in the hospital. He had just gotten out of surgery.

His eyes finally opened, bright light pouring in from the window on his left and momentarily blinding him as he groaned and tried to adjust. The nurse beside him gently placed his hand back on the mattress and hummed a song as she checked something on the screens, gloved fingers rapidly tapping on the keys of the digital keyboard as she typed in some information.

The soft hum of the devices around him was like a lullaby and Vincent slowly exhaled as he closed his eyes again; but a sudden weight on his chest– as well as the sudden realization of what the surgery had been for to begin with– violently ripped him back to reality and he gasped for air, as if all oxygen had suddenly been taken from his lungs.

‘Easy,’ the nurse said, placing a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from sitting up. ‘You’re alright, Vincent. Everything is fine. Try to breathe as normal.’

Easier said than done. He had a fucking cybernetic lung now– and sure, it worked, but the idea alone was more than enough to cause involuntary tears to well up in the corners of his eyes as he could feel his irregular heartbeat in every single inch of his body and his unstable breathing scraped painfully past the dry inside of his throat.

Ever since he had arrived in Tucson it had been one surgery after another. Preventive measures for the most of it– save from the removal of a bullet shard that had still been stuck in his head, the last bit Viktor hadn’t been able to dig out before– replacing damaged organs where possible and removing previously installed implants to minimize risks.

And none of it had helped so far.

Vincent was still very much dying, despite all their efforts. Initially thought to be the damage the Relic had caused in his body, irreparable at that; not so irreparable anymore but with all holes patched and the ship still sinking, he couldn’t help but wonder if Soulkiller was still working its magic.

Sure, the program had been on the Relic itself– but then again, all technology had gotten damaged by that bullet and with Johnny’s engram overwriting his psyche and then his psyche overwriting all of that to separate himself from the biochip, who knows what kind of malware had managed to sneak its way in in the meantime?

‘There’s a visitor waiting for you,’ the nurse said, shooting Vincent a gentle smile after he had managed to settle down again. ‘Would you like me to get him for you?’

‘Yes please, thank you,’ Vincent replied, not needing to ask for a name to know exactly who she meant, and he couldn’t stop his heartbeat from rising in excitement and relief when she left the room to call the man in.

It still managed to catch him off guard, to see Vitali Dobrynin out of his usual work attire. A sight he had gotten to grow more familiar with over the last few months– the whole situation with Johnny had driven Vitali out of the office often enough for Vincent to catch him in simple sweatpants and a hoodie on the regular– yet it still felt a little strange to him. “The man sleeps in a suit,” Jackie had once jokingly told him. Vincent wouldn’t have batted an eye.

‘How do you feel?’ Vitali softly asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, sleeves of his flannel loosely rolled up and only partially covering his forearms. His hands were clasped together on his lap– for once not a single ring adorning his slender fingers– and he nervously ran his thumb over the side of his index finger.

‘Little strange,’ Vincent admitted as he reached out to take Vitali’s hand in his own. ‘The more I think about breathing, the harder it gets. I know it’s just between my ears, but– you know.’

Vitali quickly nodded, a light smile on his face as he shuffled a little closer and leaned in to press a kiss on Vincent’s temple. Which, of course, also caught him off guard; with the complete chaos of the aftermath of the attack on Mikoshi he had continuously forgotten about the fact he was dating the fixer now, and now that they could finally have some time for themselves it still did not feel entirely real to him.

‘Don’t you think all this is– I dunno, maybe a lil’ drastic?’ Vincent quietly asked, allowing the other man to cup his cheek and run his fingers down his face. ‘I mean– I don’t feel much different than before. Just increases risk of cyberpsychosis if anything. Even with all the removed implants.’

‘You might not feel it now but something is still happening in your body,’ Vitali simply replied, the pre-programmed answer he had been giving Vincent for weeks now. ‘Sooner or later you will start feeling it. And then you’ll be glad we had precautions done before it got too bad.’

‘Costs a shit-fuckton of money.’

‘Which I have.’

‘Well, I don’t.’

‘You don’t need to.’

Vincent clenched his jaw and exhaled sharply, the action causing his chest to tighten a little and he winced, brief panic overtaking him; but nothing else happened, the cybernetic lung doing its job perfectly fine, and he allowed himself to relax again.

It did not feel right to let Vitali pay for his surgeries. He had done so from the fucking beginning, no less– when Vincent had gotten a correction surgery on his chest and Vitali had told Viktor to put it on his tab, despite Vincent continuously telling him he’d get the eddies himself after his recovery.

But Vitali was a stubborn man– painfully so, insisting on helping Vincent wherever and whenever he could. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course; but definitely so out of guilt as well, having to live with the knowledge he had not been able to save T-Bug and Jackie and because of that so desperately trying to save Vincent while he still could.

If he even could.

Vincent lowered his gaze, softly biting the inside of his lip as Alt’s words echoed through his head again. He was dying; there was no denying it, even if he didn’t feel it just yet, and if they wouldn’t figure out what exactly was going on with him he wouldn’t make it to the end of the year.

If he had done the calculations right, he’d be on his deathbed on Vitali’s birthday of all days. He couldn’t do that to him.

But perhaps Vitali was right. Perhaps the surgeries did help and would at least give him a little longer than what Alt had predicted. Perhaps Alt had not even told him the truth; perhaps whatever was going on with him in that moment was only temporary and the effects would wear off the more time would pass.

But with more and more of his body turning into a machine, Vincent could not help but wonder if it wouldn’t just have been easier to transfer his psyche onto a fucking biochip too.

Would’a been a copy, V, you know that. At least you’re still you, now.

But for how much longer?

Even Johnny– or, well the voice in Vincent’s head pretending to be Johnny– couldn’t answer that.

Vitali suddenly turned, pulling his legs onto the bed and moving closer until he was sat directly next to Vincent, leaning back against the raised mattress. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders– and Vincent in return moved closer without hesitation, burying his face in his boyfriend’s chest, grateful the painkillers were numbing most of the pain in his upper body.

‘We will figure this out, my love,’ Vitali softly mumbled and planted a kiss on the top of Vincent’s head. ‘I promise. I’m not giving up on you.’

He had paused all his business and tossed aside all his responsibilities to help Vincent find a cure. Had left Night City behind– had left his business in the hands of Mikhail– and even now weeks later he was still there by his side, paying for his surgeries and keeping him company through it all. Of course Vitali was not giving up on him– and Vincent had never received such devotion before, to the point he had no idea what to do now that it had fallen right into his lap.

‘I love you,’ he simply whispered in return, on the verge of choking back tears when he felt Vitali momentarily tense up. ‘I love you so much.’

He didn’t know how much time he had left. He didn’t know if Alt was right, he didn’t know if any of what they were doing there was helping him at all–

But at least he wasn’t alone.

At least he had Vitali.

[crazylilad]

Red- Chapter 18

AN: Just an Fyi, this is a TWD fanfiction, meaning there are a lot of TWs, including loads of violence (of all kinds)

No smut!

Please make sure to reblog, like, or whatever you wanna do! That helps me want to continue writing these kinds of stories and to figure out what people want

SUMMARY

I ran through the woods, Matthew right behind me. 

My breaths came in harsh and my legs were screaming in protest. Just a bit farther. I promised myself. 

Matthew stumbled out of the underbrush and doubled over, his cheeks red and mouth open as he huffed for a breath. I moved his arm around my shoulder and kept going. 

I flinched as a bullet ricocheted off a tree to my left. It was too close. They were too close. 

But this was only the start 

Taglist

If you'd like to be tagged or removed, please let me know!

@fromsamsdiningtable @thefemininemystiquee @infectedbydaryl  @ellablossom-blog @azanoni @shadylilac @fuseburner @sunloli @littlelou22 @stitchintimefan

Chapter 18

Rossary

Matthew bumped my shoulder, wincing as he tried to smile at me. I frowned as I looked at the damage Merle had left. Despite Matthew’s constant reassurance that he was okay, Merle had definitely done a number on him. 

It was a shock to see Matthew so beat up. The only other time I could remember Matthew even having a black eye was when we were still with William, hell even when on the run from that asshole Matthew was never someone I worried about. Now, as he lugged the group’s stuff to a car, I worried his concussion would cause him to keel over on the floor.

I walked over to the tucson and placed our packs in the back. I hugged my best friend. “If anything happens-”

“I should be saying this to you, bunny.” Matthew said. I scowled.

Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Michonne, and I were staying behind to defend the prison against The Governor. There was no way of knowing how today was going to go, but I knew no matter what happened I would be okay. Still, even though Matthew could protect himself, it felt like it was my job to make sure he was okay. 

I swallowed down my worry and offered Matthew a small smile.

Carl walked past us, ignoring everyone with an angry look on his face. 

I frowned.  “We’ll be okay.”  

“Always are.” he tsked. Matthew pat my shoulder and walked away.

“Hey,” I turned around to find Rick. He stopped when he was in front of me. “I know what I did was wrong, and you can hate me-”

“I don’t…I get it, really. I am glad Michonne is okay though, what you were going to do…” I trailed off, not wanting to finish my sentence. Rick shifted on his feet, looking more guilty by the second. “People fuck up, some just fuck up a whole lot.” 

He looked away and smirked. “Are we good?” 

I nodded, “Yeah, we’re good.” I pat his shoulder as I walk off.

Daryl sat in front of his bike, tweaking a few things. I waved at him, giving him a tight-lipped smile. We didn’t have a lot of time to talk this morning before we were put to work by the group. I couldn’t get the night before out of my head, from the hug to eating next to Daryl late at night- We had done those things before, but this felt more intimate than ever before. I shook off the thought. I needed to stop thinking about it.

Daryl nodded, understanding I was trying to comfort him. I pulled him up off the ground, keeping his hand in mine.

“We should start drinking after all this.” I said, nodding my head.

Daryl snorted. “We’re gonna need a lot more than alcohol.”

…

I held the AK in my hand and stayed next to Maggie. She gripped my hand tightly. I smiled, squeezing her hand before letting go and getting in position. It felt nice to be fighting a large group again; I couldn’t explain the rush of adrenaline that bought me enjoying a fight every once in a while.

One of the Governor’s trucks drove into the spikes, the tires popping. The sound of gunshots made my ears ring as I watched the large group of men and women shoot up the prison. 

They rammed through the gate, breaking one of our defenses. There were about twenty of them and each had a gun and enough ammo to wipe us out tenfold.

The group scattered across the courtyard. I watched as they took in the barren area. It looked like a ghost-town, like no one had been here in a long time. I chewed on my lip and kept an eye on Maggie and Glenn.

The cell block door opened with a loud creak. I tensed. Rick, Daryl, and Michonne were hiding in the prison.

I nodded once when I knew they were both okay. Maggie squeezed my hand once more before I moved away, quietly walking through a part of the prison and toward my spot. Glenn was across from Maggie, me across from them so we covered every area. My spot was more open, with less cover, but it would do.

I smiled, a bittersweet feeling falling over me as I thought about all the blind spots in the prison.

If all went south, I was meant to stay alive long enough to provide cover fire for the rest of the group. I was the best choice considering the amount of experience I had with fighting alone, besides if anything happened, I could leave the prison and lead the Governor away then meet up with everyone else.

An alarm started going off, the loud blaring deafening me. I kept my eyes focused on the cell block door and adjusted my grip on my gun.

The Governor’s group ran out and hid behind filing cabinets for cover. 

I shot a few times at their feet, herding them toward Glenn and Maggie. The two shot at them as well, managing to keep the group going toward the gate. I smiled as I watched the group scurry away like rats.

I shot at one of the men who was aiming for my people and watched as he fell to the ground, his fellow comrades helping him up. 

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. 

The truck started and I looked up just in time to see them driving away. I sat up higher, a smile appearing on my face. Even though it was over, it didn’t feel like it should be this easy. 

“We did it?” I heard Maggie scream.

“We did it.” Glenn responded. “Come on down.” 

I didn’t move from my spot as I looked at our group as they all began to make their way into the courtyard, smirking. Maggie stepped in front of me and put her hand out. “We’re alive.” she laughed, a joyous smile on her face which I returned.. She pulled me into a tight hug. 

“We did it. We drove them out.” Rick said once we joined them. 

I bumped Daryl’s elbow with my own. The gruff redneck smiled down at me, a soft look in his eyes that was quickly shielded away. 

“We should go after them.” Michonne said. Daryl agreed. 

“It’s finished. Didn’t you see them hightail it out of here?” Maggie argued. 

They continued to argue about what to do, everyone looking at Rick to decide. The cop looked over the field that was now filled with dead bodies. He was still greiving over Lori and it seemed like he wasn’t in the right mindset to make decisions right now.

I shook my head and took charge. “No, they’re right. We can’t live like this.”

Maggie turned to me. “So we take the fight to Woodbury. We barely made it back this time.” 

Daryl scoffed. “I don’t care.” 

I nodded along with Daryl. “We go and we finish this off, then we don’t ever have to worry about them again. That’s a better decision than sitting here while they get stronger.” Maggie and Glenn shared a look that showed their disagreement. I shook my head and said, “We’ll leave when everyone else is ready.”

I followed Daryl as he began to walk back torward the prison. The prison door slammed behind us.

 Daryl watched me, a question in his eyes as I paced the prison cafeteria. I couldn’t stop moving, not right now. Not until it was done. 

Matthew walked toward me quickly, wrapping me in his arms. I pulled away after a moment. 

“I’m going to Woodbury.” I said quietly. 

Matthew shook his head. “I can go instead.” But I was already shaking my head. 

“No, your leg is still healing…” I looked down at my hands. “This is something I need to do…” It wasn’t just because of my own selfish reasons, but I wanted to get back at the Governor for the pain he had caused this group -the pain that Daryl had to go through.

Matthew nodded slowly. “Carl killed someone.” My eyes widened in shock. Matthew’s voice was so low no one else could hear, but it felt like I was just hit with a boulder. Carl was a kid. He continued, “He didn’t have to, but… Yeah, I’m gonna stay here, teach the kid how to play soccer or something.”

I swallowed away my shock and smiled at him, promising to join him when I got back. He walked into the cellblock with Carl behind him.

Daryl watched me with a look I couldn’t decipher. I waved awkwardly at him, a small smile on my face.

He looked away and I could have sworn his cheeks were pink.

…

Daryl put his feet on the road as he slowed down. I tightened my grip until the kickstand was down. It had taken an awful lot of convincing for me to ride on this death machine.

My nose scrunched as the smell of rotten bodies hit me. I took out my hunting knife and killed a walker. Michonne killed the other with her katana and Daryl shot another. I walked behind them, staring at the people.

Daryl flinched away when something banged on the door behind him. My gun was out in a flash and pointed at a girl in the truck. 

I nodded once to Daryl and he opened the door.

Rick pat her down. When he was done I helped her up. 

“He killed them all.” she said, her voice trembling in shock. It was obvious, but she was in shock and obviously didn’t know what else to say. I looked down at my hand the girl was still squeezing tightly. Slowly, I let go of her hand and rubbed my hand on my pants.

“He kept you alive?” Michonne asked. 

The girl’s eyes widened. “I hid under one of their bodies until he left. He didn’t even know I was there.” I bit my lip. She wasn’t lying. Daryl met my gaze and nodded slightly. 

“What’s your name?” I asked, my voice soft as I took in the girl. She definitely wasn’t a fighter.

“Karen,” she said.

…

I walked behind the group, keeping my eyes out for any surprises. There was no sign that the Governor had been here. I turned around when a glass pot shattered.

I shot at Woodbury’s walls before ducking behind a car next to Michonne and Rick.

“Tyreese!” Karen yelled. I scowled and moved to grab her but I was too late. She stood up. “It’s me! Don’t-” 

Rick pulled her down. “Stay down!” 

I really wasn’t enjoying this new girl.

There was a moment of silence before a man yelled. “Karen! Karen, are you okay?”

I glanced at Daryl, who had a gun pointed at the wall. I followed suit. Karen shoved away from Rick and stood up. “I’m fine!” 

“Where’s The Governor?” the man asked. 

“He fired on everyone. He killed them all!”

No one spoke, a tense silence suffocating us all. I could understand the feeling of being betrayed by someone who was supposed to protect you and your family all too well and found myself sympathizing with those on the wall. 

“Why are you with them?” the man finally asked.

“They saved me.” Karen said. She looked over to me, a look of gratefulness on her face. I gave her a slight nod. 

Rick looked at Karen then the rest of us. “We’re coming out.” he said. My eyes widened.  

I clenched my teeth but stood up when Rick did. Daryl and Michonne hesitated. I looked at the two and nodded. Despite making bad choices sometimes, Rick knew what he was doing. 

For the most part. 

“We’re coming out.” Rick said again. 

Daryl held his gun up. He looked over at me before scoffing and holding it up. Although, even I noticed how he stood in front of the rest of us, as if making himself the target.

Woodbury’s gate opened and a black man and woman stepped out. I eyed the two of them, immediately realizing they were siblings, maybe even twins. “What are you doing here?” the man asked. He was a lot bigger than any of us and if all went south he was who I would need to keep an eye on.

“We were coming here to finish this, until we saw what The Governor did.”

The man’s eyes widened. Maybe it was the girl who was more dangerous instead. “He- he killed them?” 

Rick nodded solemnly. “Karen told us Andrea hopped the wall, going for the prison. She never made it…” The sibling’s eyes widened. “She might be here,” Rick continued.  

Apparently that was enough to convince them. The siblings stepped out of the way and let us in.

…

“This is where he had Glenn and Maggie.” Rick told Tyreese and Sasha. 

“The Governor held people here?” Tyreese asked, shocked.

Daryl nodded. “He did more than hold ‘em.”

I stared at the back of his head briefly before pointing my AK toward a door. Daryl glanced at me as a thumping continued. Rick and Michonne stood next to the door, sharing a look.

Michonne pulled out her katana. “Will you open it?” she asked Rick.

Daryl took a small step back so our shoulders were touching. I kept my eyes open and looked around, not wanting to be ambushed.

When the door opened, I could see The Governor's advisor, Milton, lying dead on the floor. I frowned. 

“Andrea!” Michonne yelled.

I looked down to see the blonde on the floor. “I tried to stop them.” she said, her voice broken. 

“You’re burning up.” Michonne said in a hoarse voice.

Andrea looked down. She looked broken. Andrea pulled at her shirt weakly, showing us the bite on her shoulder. I took a sharp breath in. “Judith, Carl, the rest of them-”

“Us,” Rick said. “The rest of us.” Andrea’s voice broke. “Are they alive?” 

Rick looked over to Daryl and I. “Yeah, they’re alive.” 

“It’s good you found them,” Andrea said as she looked at Michonne. She turned toward me, a sad smile on her face. “And I’m glad you made your way back to them.”

I gave her a short nod. I didn’t know her, hell I had only had one conversation with her, but damn she didn’t deserve this.

 “No one can make it alone now.” Andrea said to me softly.

Daryl’s hand brushed mine gently. “I never could.”

I looked away, not able to look at Andrea’s face. She looked so broken, so… lost. “I just didn’t want anyone else to die,”  I thought of Merle, of everyone who had been hurt because of this. I bit my lip. “I can do it myself.” Andrea said.

“No.” Michonne was quick to respond, her eyes wide as she looked at her friend.

“I have to,” Andrea said.”While I still can.” she turned toward Rick, tears in her eyes. “I know how the safety works.” 

As Rick handed Andrea his gun, Daryl and I walked out the room. I hadn’t known Andrea that well, but she didn’t deserve this.

I stood next to Daryl, my arms limp at my sides. “I tried,” I heard Andrea whisper. 

Rick came out, closing the door behind him. I closed my eyes and swallowed before taking hold of Daryl’s hand. It wasn’t hard to realize it could have been any one else in that room, that Andrea sacrificed her life so we could survive even if she didn’t know. 

 He squeezed it once and I leaned my head against his shoulder.

I clenched my teeth when the gun went off. 

…

Daryl

Rossary didn’t drop my hand. When we got Woodbury people on the buses, she stood by my side. When the people seemed scared or the kids didn’t know what happened to their parents Rossary was right there to give out hugs and reassuring smiles. She didn’t think she was good at comforting people, but the girl knew how to make people feel like they were welcome.

I knew she was rich before all this, that her parents were political figures. Hell, when she ran from home it was all the news spoke about for two weeks. The name Rossary Evans was all over, even the people Merle sold drugs to spoke about her.

I looked over at the girl that I had become so infatuated with and wondered what had caused her to cut her family off and make herself look like the bad guy, if only to leave fame behind.

She was good at taking care of others, making sure everyone was okay. She was a leader through and through.

When the people were settled and Rossary got on my bike I could feel her shaking. 

I squeezed her hands before starting the bike and heading back to the prison.

Rossary leaned her cheek on my back. We would survive this. We could live. I focused on Rossary and driving. She would survive this a lot longer than anyone else. The more I thought of it, the more I knew I was right. She would be the last man standing.

Rossary

I helped the newcomers get situated, promising them clean rooms in a few days. There were some untrustworthy stares, there were some men that stayed with the elderly and children that looked like they were ready to protect them all. 

My hand touched my knife, the black leather touching my rough skin.

“Hey,” Daryl touched my forearm lightly. “Come ‘ere for a second.” He led me away and back to our cell block and up to his room. It was right next to mine now, instead of on the balcony. 

He walked into his room and began digging through a bag. I leaned against the wall and smiled as I watched him, my cheeks hot.

Daryl turned and scowled at me. “Stop.” he grumbled.

I let out a soft laugh as I tried to lose my smile. It only grew when he showed me a bracelet made out of leather. On the top, an angel wing sat, wrapped to the leather by a few intricate knots. 

It was handmade.

“It ain’t nothing special, just somethin’ I found on a run and thought you might like it.” he said.

I snorted. It was very obvious he made it. 

“Thank you, Daryl.” I pulled him into a hug, ignoring his tense muscles. He relaxed slightly and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me gently.

He gave good hugs.

[yeehanfrf]

Week 15 Recs: Loud & Proud

For Week 15, we celebrated the start of Pride Month with the theme "Loud and Proud," for fics about queerness, transness, and Pride events!

Behind the cut, you'll find the fics gathered from the Yeehan community, organized by rating and then alphabetically by title.

General Audiences

Embrace Your Colors by elisabomb (kurama3173) [2,459 words] Reccer comment: "Cole 'bi panic' Cassidy and ow at pride parade. Very warm fic that never fails to make me happy"

Jesse McCree did not have a crush on Hanzo Shimada, because Jesse McCree did not like men. Jesse repeated the thought like a mantra as he smoked his third cigar of the day. He was nearly forty. He knew his preferences. Some people liked the same gender, and he loved a lot of those people, but he just wasn’t one of them. So why, all of a sudden, was his brain stuck on the image of his teammate, fresh out of the shower and in nothing but a small white towel slung around his hips?

Enough by b_ofdale (beesinspades) [1,242 words]

A quiet evening at Gibraltar and a bet sprout an old memory.

Weekend Getaway by Mish_chan [1,495 words]

Cole and Hanzo stop at a bed and breakfast for a weekend of relaxation and Pride. Much Fluff.

Teen and Up

A Distant Promise by SadakoTetsuwan [1,374 words]

The strangest thoughts drift through Jesse McCree's head when he's lying in bed with his greatest love and greatest rival--a distant memory of a promise which is finally coming due.

Shimada Dreams of Sushi by delicaterosebud [24,344 words]

As the owner of a mediocre taco shack with tanking reviews and multiple health violations, the last thing that Jesse McCree needs is competition - competition, specifically, from a sushi bar so popular that it drove every other restaurant in the neighborhood out of business. From the very day that Shimada sushi opened its doors, Jesse had hated that restaurant with a burning passion. ...So how does he end up working for the man who runs it?

Mature

Arrival by midgetnazgul [6,757 words] Reccer comment: "'Arrival' by midgetnazgul (rated Mature) is a WIP, but I love what's there"

Jesse has had a tough life and a long road to really growing up, even into his thirties. Today marks the most profound step he's ever taken, and the hardest: attending Tucson's Pride Festival and being out as completely as he ever has been. His time has come to truly arrive, and he's...not ready, but the closest he'll ever be with Hanzo by his side. And Hanzo could stand to do a bit of growing of his own.

Explicit

Hanzo, Denial is Not a River in Egypt by Eunicorne [2,375 words]

Jesse likes Hanzo. He's glad that Hanzo likes him back. There's only one problem. Hanzo doesn't think he's gay.

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That's it for Week 15! Thank you so much to everyone who submitted a recommendation.

If you happen to find a fic you love using this rec list, be sure to leave the author kudos and a comment! Even "I found this fic because someone recced it" is a lovely thing to say.

Coming up for Week 16: "You Don't Want Sand There," or fics with summer vibes.

In the meantime, you can also check out the Week 14 recs here, or check the full list of past and future themes here.

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Curious about the icon and some of the fic titles? This rec blog supports #EndOTWRacism, a fan campaign asking the AO3 to make good on its 2020 promises to address racist harassment on the site. Fans of color deserve to feel safe and welcome in fan spaces. To learn more, please visit @end-otw-racism and read their Call to Action.

[wordpimp]

We live in a world of calm and speculation.

Rainstorm gesthemane, hialeah watertown.

Be good to me daddy, he says.

I will baby, she says.

They argued a little earlier abt what to call things. They stepped into a mud hole, she carried him across a mud puddle. A turtle floated them across its back. It was flat. Lounge lizards in tucson, in tulsa, in poughkeepsie.

It was hot in july in the trailer. White broadside yellow cream trim, it was pretty in a way. Petticoat, baby wore mary janes to match, white socks farmer tan. Yellow wig. Ginger blossom. He had a few tattoos, but really only liked one of them. It was a bird, a kanji, the owl.

梟

Baby went to japan once, mt fuji, and asked for sake like a tourist. For a long time they thought abt him, there, in the wind.

Around evening, baby would want ice cream from the ice cream truck. Parlor junction. Mi casa es su casa, the driver used to say. But baby misinterpreted the one time he went down there: mikasa.

It was a brand of dinnerware but they already had some. Casa with a K. They did that a lot. Sign of puberty. The world was young, then. Flags were rectangular, money was printed on clothes. Put a dollar in me, the walls whined at night. Labor of love.

*

Signs in the chimney. When they were able to, they would have a fire again. Saturday maybe. The days were gone, mixed up since daddy had begun to work again. Out in the yard, in the cinder, baby could hear the pitchfork shovel of machinery. He smiled at his typewriter. It was fitting. 

A bug flew in from somewhere, green-yellow, yellow-green, there must have been a window left open. It looked like a crayon. Stick of wax, eyes, cardboardy paper, birch bark. O the skin of my love. 

Baby lit a cigarette on the stove, waiting to flick the ash, started boiling some water for mac n cheese. Mac in cheese. Macaroni and cheese. It was italian. Starving, he noticed. Ice cream for dessert, maybe tonight.

He wondered abt daddy, what she would do when she came in, what would she say, what new saying, what did she see out there. Or maybe a souvenir today, taking her time to dig up the bottles and ingots she got paid to hand over. Sometimes she would bring one of those back. A small gem, it might go into a scepter or a walnut, it might make a tree in the country, a beautiful place from a story.

Tire swing. That sounded too beautiful to baby. He hardly noticed the light swelling on his arm, where the crayon had landed, and the kettle boiling, or the white hot flowers. Bloom of midday he needed a nap.

*

Baby had the most extended childhood of anyone. He was born in a manger, he died on the cross. He was wet he was hard. He couldn't cum, then he couldn't stop. 

That he wasn't a cult leader, that he wasn't a shepherd, with a flock to watch over or admonish, that he didn't abandon them all to go sit in judgment of everyone he ever met or heard of, that was a minor miracle. It made sense if you heard of easter, running out in bare feet with diapers, eating all that candy. Chocolate bunny marshmallow bird, give me the stomach to jesus. Baby jesus, jesu of man's desiring. If you ate all that candy, you would never want that responsibility. 

Instead baby was a loud quiet person. Chaotic quiet, perturbed by everything. Lately he had been frustrated by the wallpaper, by the color of time, orange like the sun blue like the water green like the pears or unripe apples. Ripe pears unripe apples. Confusing. Some of the wallpaper was peeling but it was almost peaceful that way. Maybe it wouldn't burn all at once, if that was its destiny. It was a taste of freedom, for baby. Like coming out of a cupboard, a box cutter to skin. Letting the hunger abate.

Baby liked to sleep in a small bed. I think it's closest to the true meaning of his character.

*

Daddy shut and locked the front door behind her when she went to work outside. The back door stayed locked. It wasn't to keep baby in, it was to keep the lunatics out. She was going to ride her tractor for a little bit, and dig a little bit. Who knows. Metals in the earth. She had heard that there was a meteorite under the sand. It had brought up ghosts. It was actually what people had come to see. Why they lived there. 

Daddy never saw the ghosts anymore, but jehovahs and mormons, scientologists, they would sometimes come by and that was bad for baby. He would talk to anyone, he just couldn't help it.

Daddy was more circumspect. She talked to strangers and people that she knew casually but said very little. Hi dolores hi bill, hi stephen. Their house was at the end of the street. A few neighbors, the creek. Mulberry tree, sideyard with a big hole from digging. They had been thoughtful and made the quarry wide enough to corkscrew down a few more turns. She hoped they wouldn't have to move for another year or two, it was a nice setup. 

*

Daddy's schedule to get the ice cream was posted on the fridge. Left side mwf, right side, the rest of the week. Daddy made it, really worked hard on it. Pews in a church. Wings pearl grey. Everything was pearly. Cum colored or pink. Raw and toothy. It was the inside of a mouth. Of a cunt. Daddy shaved her leg. This is the one, lick it.

Tonight, daddy would go get ice cream for them, or eat the cake while the truck went down there for her. It stopped at the hill, not a long walk. Laundromat, axila, underarms. Excitement. Daddy liked to walk. It's the ether, she said. She never went to mt fuji either.

Daddy thought abt buying a general motors car, an olds cutlass supreme, gliding smoothly over rough asphalt. It's what you think abt while you shave, while you fuck. Nice, smooth. Blue midnight metallic half vinyl top. That's the kind of car they would drive.

They rode sidesaddle. Half beard in the mirror, there are pirates who invented transgenderism. Walk the plank. Is that also the abyss? Or a kind of it, a version. For reasons they only knew, this was never consummated.

Where do we live daddy. Is it a trailer? Is it a house. Is it a cabin?

It's a mansion. Big enough for you little bird.

It really was big enough, no matter what they called it.

*

Daddy stopped in the mirror. She was a bit run down from the summer. The gel of her eyes was blue or brown or aqua, ça dépendait, when the sun hit. She didn't wear pants or shoes. Inside, she didn't wear much of anything. Baggy shirt. Why hide all this, she thought, and so she didn't hide it.

Pudor is for the dirt, the shirt said, in yellowing cotton.

Daddy liked to sleep under covers. The bed was warmer for her. Nude and warm and redolent. Patchwork lace embroidered, panels in a tapestry. She felt like penelope.

One time daddy saw a diagram of a medieval church, all the parts like a body on a map, a table of divine making. But not anymore, they were done with operations. Trepan my brain, amputate my ear, excise, cut me, dig. It was already there. It was science.

Ash on a mantle. Face in a polaroid. There is one of daddy and baby pinned to the closet. 

Baby said they lived on a cliff. It was curious to listen to him talk. He talked in his sleep too. Cliff, diving board. Daddy liked to hear him talk, she knew he could see something and sometimes she could see it too. Rolling down the street in a dream, jumping off a building. Play in that water. She felt good in the mornings when she could talk to him about what he dreamt, what he was seeing. It got her excited.

Meanwhile baby slept and talked in his sleep. Jackdaw emu...

She could tell he was dreaming abt birds again.

*

Daddy. 

Yes baby.

Remember that movie abt the birds? You know the weird one I told you abt? I dreamt abt that again last night. But now there's a garden. And children. Well, two. I think they're us. I think they're us before, and maybe again. And it's very sad and very strange but also very healing. It's like when you come back from your work and tell me abt the outside. It's like when you tell me what to do. 

Like I know you can't stay. I know this is all ending. It's the end already, but I can't help it. It's all I dream abt now. 

Baby it's never enough but it always has to be enough. Why don't you come sit with me. Let me hold you.

I want to come back here. I want to grow up and get big and strong and ready. I want to lift you on my shoulders and fly with you, and throw you in the water. You'll see, then I'll dive with you. We'll swim. Will you wait for me, until I can do it. Will you watch me?

She could never say no to him, not like that.

When baby was finished talking he put the blanket on daddy and started a fire in the fireplace.

The flames did a slow dance, like salome. He saw a headless snake, ankles and rigging, the stubborn wind. It was the edge of the world. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep but he dreamt of the morning when they'd both be naked and wet.

[pcttrailsidereader]

The Ghosts of Kentucky Camp

"Deep in the heart of the Santa Rita Mountains lies a ghost town called Kentucky Camp.  It was once a bustling mining town, abandoned after a freak accident that killed the lead mining engineer.  Some say the town is now haunted by the ghosts of the lead engineer and miners who lost their lives.  The locals say that on quiet nights you might hear the sound of pickaxes and shovels coming from the hills, but be warned, if you hear the sound of a lone miner's whistle, you certainly are not alone."

Dave Baugher, a regular contributor to this website, started his multi-year thru-hike of the Arizona Trail this year. Dave estimated that 30 percent of those on the Arizona Trail had either left the PCT or altered plans to walk the PCT because of the epic snowpack on the PCT. This story is based upon a stop early in his Arizona Trail walk.

Ever see a ghost fly?  No?  How about a man about to become a ghost as he "flew" off the third story of a newly constructed hotel in Tucson, AZ?  No?  Neither have I.  However, my buddy Ed and I spent some time in the old gold mining town of Kentucky Camp.  Let me tell you about the "Ghosts of Kentucky Camp."

Gold.  The yellow metal has driven men mad, sent conquistadores over the oceans, and even led to war between nations.  However, much of the gold on Earth is thought to have been incorporated into the planet since its very beginning, as orbiting debris formed the planet's mantle early in Earth's creation. 

About 55 million years ago, during earth movement and mountain building, hot solutions bearing gold and other minerals worked their way into the faults and fissures of folded and compressed rock.  Later, these mineral-laden veins eroded along with the host rock,  freeing the gold.  Long before any people arrived on the scene, water and gravity began the gold-milling process better than any human invention carrying and concentrating small particles of gold along the bottoms of streams and gulches.  These are placer deposits: water-laid sand and gravels that contain eroded and redeposited particles of valuable minerals.

Gold was discovered in the Santa Rita Mountains in 1874.  In the following years, up to 500 miners worked in what became known as the Greaterville Mining District.    Early on, the miners had to haul their pay dirt to the few running streams in the area or haul bladders of water to their claims on the backs of pack animals.  At first, this laborious effort was worthwhile, but by 1886 the easy pickings played out, and most miners moved on.

In 1902, a charismatic California mining engineer, James Stetson, had an idea to solve the water problem.  He believed collecting seasonal runoff into a nearby reservoir would be possible, thus creating a permanent water source and making placer mining again profitable.

Stetson sold his idea to investors and formed the Santa Rita Water & Mining Company.  Kentucky Camp in the Santa Rita Mountains was the Company's headquarters.  It was an attempt to get the land to give up its gold with placer mining.  That process, successful in California, uses water cannons to break up desert hillsides so gold can be washed out and recovered in sluices, a sort of industrial-sized gold panning.  Stetson believed the California process would work in Southern Arizona.  Californian George McAneny put up $150,000 to get things started in 1902 and was made president of the new Company, with Stetson as the manager.

Stetson designed a dam near three streams with over eight miles of pipe and ditches to get the water to the mining site at Kentucky Gulch.  A company office building, a house for Stetson, a barn, and two other buildings were constructed.  The 40 to 100 workers lived in a nearby tent camp, and the operation opened in 1904.

Unfortunately, it all washed out.  Only about $3,000 was repaid to McAneny, so a meeting was called in Tucson on May 22, 1905.  McAneny and several other stockholders were to meet at lawyer Samuel Kingan's office.  However, around 3 o'clock the afternoon before, a maid working on the 2nd floor directly below Mr. Stetson's room heard a thud on the windowsill of the room she was cleaning.  She went to investigate.  She leaned out her window and saw Mr. Stetson's dead body on the concrete sidewalk below.  Stetson mysteriously fell, jumped, or was thrown from a third-story window of the Santa Rita Hotel and died.  The truth of his death was never determined.

McAneny's health and finances fell apart after that day.  He got divorced and claimed that ghosts were ever after him.  He died in 1909.  The Santa Rita Water & Mining Company ended, and the land was used by ranchers.  Kentucky Camp was abandoned in the mid-1960s, and the U.S. Forest Service took it over in 1989.  

Renters around the ranch sometimes report ghostly noises, and a ghost-hunters group has spent time documenting the strange happenings in the cabins.  But seasoned visitors say it is mice in the place and skunks making a winter den under the house near the propane heater that account for the mysterious night sounds.  A resident jaguar living in Santa Ritas may also visit the area.

On the hot afternoon of Friday, March 31, 2023, Ed and I dropped our packs on the covered porch of Mr. Stetson's house.  There was water for us to fill our bottles, electricity to charge our electronics, and displays describing the past history of Kentucky Camp.  I'll be honest, we did not stay too long.  There were still miles of trail ahead before we could call it a day.  However, we enjoyed the shade, and several other visitors joined us on the deck to cool off from the sun. 

Ghosts?  We did not see or hear anything that afternoon.  Later, camped by a small lake, Ed and I talked about the place, and we both thought it might be exciting to return to in the future.  Calling it a night, we dove into our tents as the cold chilly wind ran down from the Santa Rita Mountains high above our camp.  Tired, I did hear things in the evening twilight.  Shovels and pickaxes?  No.  Whistles?  You could say that the cooing of doves in waning light or the soft chirps of quail in the brush might resemble a whistle as I drifted off to sleep thinking about the ghosts of Kentucky Camp.

[dingleberrytimes]

Citing Financial Concerns, Rachel Dolezal Announces She Identifies As White Woman Again

TUCSON, ARIZONA - Wanting to seek out better economic opportunities for both her and her family, today controversial transracial activist and former NAACP leader Rachel Dolezal announced that she would be no longer identifying as a black woman, and would return to identifying as her birth race, that being a white woman.

“While I still very much appreciate black culture and still feel more culturally black, there’s no denying that the way I identify really limits my economic potential.” Dolezal told reporters, looking noticeably different without the makeup she used to make herself look darker and her hair fully straightened. “Ever since COVID, I really began to struggle financially, and I’ve never really fully recovered from it. So while it was a tough decision to make, ultimately, I feel like it would be in the best interest of both me and my family if I put a stop to me identifying as a black woman, as I could really flourish in this day in age as my old white self.”

Dolezal went right to work applying for jobs as her newly returned white self. She would go on to say that while she’s physically white again, she’s still culturally black, and will continue to listen to Hip-Hop and watch BET to show her continued appreciation to the black community.

[hackedintucson]

Internal Revenue Service (IRS)

I have always worked and paid my income taxes. Even when I was day trading on the side, I was honest and paid. One year I owed the IRS over $12,000 from day trading. The amount was higher than I expected and largely due to my short holding period. I setup a payment plan with the IRS and paid what I owed in about a year.

For the 2019 tax year, the IRS owed me about $600. Unfortunately, the “back office” group at Fidelity Investments closed my checking account shortly after I filed by income tax returns. I never received the federal refund from the IRS since my checking account was closed. The State of California mailed sent me a large refund for 2019.

I called the IRS multiple times even when I was homeless trying to straighten things out but was unsuccessful. They require your tax year Adjusted Gross Income (AGI) and refund amount to prove my identity. I was unable to do this because I didn’t have the tax return and didn’t remember my login password to Tax Free USA. I called them but they couldn’t help me reset my password,

So the State of California sent me $14,000 In unemployment benefits. Evidently, they were supposed to have sent this to me a year prior but I don’t complete a form or something. I find some of the simplest things difficult to understand after being hit by a gangstalkers car. My jaw was broken and I hit my head pretty hard. I honestly don’t have any recollection of being hit by a car or the surgery to try to fix it. I woke up at my parents house with no idea how I got there or what I was doing there. There was a nerve they had to cut and as a result I have no feeling in my chin or lower lip. It doesn’t hurt anymore and my jaw seems to stay in place now. Anyway…

So I just talked to the IRS and they are going to send me some PIN number so I can file my tax return for 2023. I filed it the other day but it was rejected by the IRS and State of Arizona. They also gave me the phone number for the IRS at the federal building in downtown Tucson. I had an appointment there a while ago but they called me and cancelled it. I need to call them again and setup a new appointment to verify my identity. I just need to show them my Arizona picture identification card and social security card.

About three years ago everything I owned in the world was stolen from me; you name it they took it. From my California drivers license to my United States passport; all my credit /debit cards as well as paper checks for my Fidelity checking account, a couple of personal laptops, several iPhones and Bose Bluetooth headphones were stolen along with my suitcase in front of the Ka Quinta hotel on N Alvernon. I became homeless on this day as you are unable to rent a hotel room in Tucson, Arizona without picture identification.

I had never really been homeless in my life and well I am a better person from the experience, even though it was let’s just say physical painful at times as well as mentally the toughest thing I’ve been through. The weather in Tucson can be very extreme; both hot and cold. The gangstalking, sound and electricity along with non-stop sirens from police, paramedics and fire trucks and the ever present eyes in the sky here with the military jets and C-130s. Not to mention the moving satellites or whatever they are in the night sky. I used to see a lot of odd things in the sky both during the daytime and night. I have also seen some of the most amazing ice sculptures in the sky. Sometimes I think it is either the military or the university which creates these things. Whoever they are, they try to communicate with me but I am not sure if I understand everything. The best way I can describe it is they put thoughts into my head which aren’t mine. I experience a lot of what feels like Deja Vu. They tell me often that I am the enemy of the earth which just isn’t true. I don’t hate anyone or anything. I am doing the best I can to mind my own business and add positive things to the world rather than just taking from it.

I never believed in God before I came to Tucson. We never went to church when I was growing up. We were too busy trying to make a better life. I thought God was good for people though. I thought Hof provided comfort for people who wanted to know their loved ones were in a good place after they die. They tell me God is very angry at me and has finally gotten around to dealing with me. He isn’t happy with me and is allowing negative things to happen to me even though he doesn’t necessarily agree with what others are doing to me. Anyways…something like that

[bike42]

Thursday January 11, 2024

Up early for our excursion to Corcovado National Park, with our 4 new friends from the UK (2 originally Irish, one Scot, and one Brit). We had breakfast and met our guide, Tony. Then down to the boat for about a 30 minute ride to the park, with sea a little rougher today, but not too bad.

Tony is extremely knowledgeable and we started with driving up the river a bit, and he pointed out many species of birds, faster than I could record them. We’d heard a bit about Tony from Fernando last night, they’d been out birding together that evening. We stopped at an island just outside the park where Tony told us about the brown footed boobies. They came from somewhere in South America to nest here, and had a fuzzy white baby chick with them.

Landing was a little more exciting with the surf up, but the boat pilot navigated it well and timed it perfectly. We’d been instructed to wear closed toed shoes while hiking in the park, so Jeff and I took off our shoes and jumped in barefoot. We were met by an officer, not terribly friendly, not terribly friendly. It was her job to inspect our backpacks to ensure we weren’t bringing in any disposable plastic bottles.

Tony was a fantastic guide for the park. He told me in the early 1980s he had his first opportunity to come to the United States. They took a bus tour from Washington DC to Tucson Arizona. In Tucson, he lived with the family for eight months. The trip was funded by several central American governments for them to learn farming practices and bring what they learned back to Costa Rica. Tony said he was 24 years old before he ever heard anybody speak English, so going to the United States was a crash course for him. Tony grew up in the area near what is now this national park. It was amazing to hear him describe how he worked with his grandfather when he was a child to take down trees in the rainforest and burn them, then level the fields to plant rice, beans and bananas, and have space for cattle. The area he walked us through first had been the farm, and he pointed out the new growth of the rainforest only about 45 years old, and lots of remnants of banana trees.

The sign said to stay on the path, but that didn’t apply to Tony, apparently. He had on knee-high rubber boots, and he would call for a bird, listen for a reply, and then go trapsing into the jungle expecting us to follow him - a bit out of my comfort zone of course. We were able to see about a half dozen different kinds of birds. I didn’t retain all the names, nor did I really get photos. He also found several hiding places of bats, and we disturbed a few of them and they flew off in a huff. It was very hot, and very humid with no breeze. Jeff and I both felt ourselves getting lightheaded.

Soon, we looped around and went back to the pavilion where we had a snack and freshened our water bottles, and had another shot at the bano, then we went across the river to the area of the old growth rain forest. By then other groups were starting to arrive, and I think Tony led us on the loop backwards from the way most people do it, because we didn’t encounter many groups until we were walking out of the forest . Tony let us down to the beach as we heard the Scarlet macaw in the trees down there. It was fantastic to stand on the beach and watch three macaws feeding on some kind of nut. Jeff and I had watched Mackay on the beach a few days ago With similar behavior pattern. Tony said the macaw beak cracks the nut with 100 pounds of pressure. Whoa, keep your fingers away! They flew off together and it was simply majestic!

Back in the forest, Tony had us stay on the main path while he went down a side path. He was looking for a sloth that had been there a few days ago, but the sloth had moved? We Trudged on, and soon we came upon several families of Coati, several moms with lots of little babies. They were adorable to watch. Tony had a lot to tell us about who in the jungle is prey, and who’s predator, up and down the chain. The Coati eat crocodile eggs and I can’t remember what kind of animal feeds on the Coati.

Back to the ranger station, and our boat arrived about noon. On our way back to Aguila, we stopped at a beach I recognized as San Josecito (love how familiar we are with the area now), and picked up the boys from last night’s band. Looking forward to another show tonight.

We had another delicious lunch, sat with two ladies from the UK. They live in London and on the Isle of Skye. Charlotte is a landscape designer with work all over the UK and Scandinavia - cool! After lunch, I retreated to the hammock. Scrolled through email, read a bit and napped until it was time to shower and head down to Happy Hour. While I was in the shower, it started raining outside - heavy rain. We grabbed our large umbrellas and headed down to the Jungle Bar, enjoying the rain - the smell, the noise and the moisture in the air!

We played a couple of games of cribbage and chatted with some others. G&T was mighty refreshing, but I just couldn’t eat much of the tuna tartare appetizer tonight!

7pm dinner bell, and the music started right on cue. We met some new arrivals, but didn’t chat a lot as the music was the show again! Just after dessert was served, it started raining again really hard, and blew into the first layer of the restaurant! The band moved a bit more towards to the center of the room, as did most of us! And then we lost power. There was an emergency flood light over the desk, giving us a bit of light, and the singer’s amp was battery operated, as he kept singing even though the accompanying keyboard had stopped. It was awesome!! Fernando called it “Jungle Charm” and I can’t think of a better term. The power came on after about 15 minutes, and most of us took advantage of that to head back to our rooms. I heard the next day that the band kept playing … wish we’d have stayed!

[scentedchildnacho]

She told me her dad makes mashed bananas with honey so her complexion gets so colorful so I said yes if my birth father would cook then we can have poor arts like gathered wood and real home pop corn on the stove......my mother took care of us though a baked potato with only butter and salt like greek medicinal films if sick or depressed so the allergen goes away....my friends were smokers so the bad people are who teach me the jesus of materialism always better....and aquisition but if its my mother then i get rest philosophy and what is it.......

She told me I should go to my mom....so I told her the story was genocidal not new York fantasies that the poor white is the Jew...its the Jew that does not always report itself to taxation the poor white is truly a third story....

My mother's life got to change it's a sad southern almost incest story for women to live with their mother....women are not men men own the house and take care of their mother like a good boy does it doesn't work that way for women....

My mother is like padre pio....you shouldn't torment her anymore with obligation to me and others....it's job bitch cop medical fucker that hasn't pulled its maturation promise to me and given me an lgbt family after all it's done to me....don't confuse my mother with cop complexes...my mother did pay her debt to me...

Jhumpa lahiri to speculate on Asian overachievement all these parts of my education can be stripped out it's you all as a human family that have failed to create a decent story not my mother to me....

That would be the women's health clinic that has refused to pay a tobacco settlement for barbaric humor and at times selective cruelty you all for pap retard has to finally pay a taxation not live out fantasies of battering me to lobotomy and Zionist saveing me shame on you to me and yourself

That would be hells angels it's white that learns African illegal worlds and shows off it can do some pretty mean stuff

He said he goes to the krishna's and wants to be a vegetarian or vegan so I told him he is going to have to consult an african grocery about that because most United States cultures are of hunting....Indians to Africans do find their emigration a useable disruption to be included in their dominance but Austin there was not agricultural theory without Africans and you will get a wicked nutrient deficit without Africans....

Sweden to Dakota my grandmother could trace her family to Gustavus Adolphus for Sweden's research with serial killers you just don't think women exist....

I'm not joking about Danny boy good Jewish boy.....he is always with us if there are chicks to compound and cult good Jewish boy is always with us with his business degree and neo Nazi position of pay and he dominates the mentals with his psychiatric ability...I am not Danny boy and cult of narcissism doesn't owe nobody anything

Ep Thompson the debt is in agency the truth is they don't know how to create a contemporary women's culture and I have had to create that possibility and they paid nothing to be ass for Jew boy charm....

I told her pacific beach is a very awful place for homeless Tucson is much better the emigration there at least tried to strengthen women and force men away from them...that's men everything is theirs and they suffer all the time for it

She was like why did ya leave...no where else had to leave poor women alone with placenta aids COVID...men...and so there kept being constant refugees to finally not have creeps like men that win off women and then can't pay anything to anyone the shelters in Texas are the most unsanitary and they stalk surrounding states with their refusals to stop being a tuberculin capital

I'm 42 and I swear I'm like I will be dead in 30 years or less and if people expect me to spend the remaining years of my life with harassive repetiive queers who don't think I can ever have a life I also would go sleep on the street of a foriegn city then ever hear go die at your mothers of some bad name given to you

David I love david I will then get some career certificate and die in four years of over stimulation then God

I will then get a landscaping certificate and go dig up all the mines the water hoses that keep shooting people and entry level mechanic and break all the lights that won't stop shooting at you and then just go die

Joining the military is better then gross cellulite stag ass down at the restaurant telling ya off...they were migrants did they let you in as you ran from militants or did gross bitch ass cellulite lock the door on ya till stag beat

Always remind bitch privilege down at the restaurant that it could not do for you what was done for it

The jobs are harassed migrants and the hotel said okay come in they will protect you did they do that for us no....left us out to die of those night stalker things

She asked me if I had ever been in a shelter in Portland or Washington..........so I said my friends really into addiction like really awful crank reefer alcoholism in high school liked it out there so I have always avoided it because they gave it a really bad helter skelter name like a haven for right wing pregnancy and other creepy dealer shit like they get to go to the legalize company and you can die of pesticide baggies

Helter skelter getting high in vans and birthing in Portland...

The south east not north west is where whites can have a confederate sanctuary....that part of the United States is where whites may think they can be in a better efficient sanitary world Portland is that lady that gets high in her van down by the river and learns lyndie england Stanford creepyness....

Right wing creepyness ya know it can get high and be with male dealers not her baby daddy a lot but still stalk up and say it's her and his fantasy....

That type of Jerry Springer stuff immigration scary I don't enjoy the West Coast and only do it because it's a necessary means to an end

Edward said...because he is a voice of authority about fixing what is without complaining and not ever having to fantasize there is anything else in life and I think that creepy Darwin frietal Zionist shit I came across in Ruidoso won't stop stalking me with Armageddon bullshit

But up on the mountain God finally cares there there will finally be a nuclear new deal Zionist freakshow

[aestheticvoyage2022]

Day 351: Saturday December 17, 2022 - “A Walk In The Park”

Its been a month now, with me having (literally) bounced back, fully engaged in Dad-mode.  And now, the real test of my new found resilience; my first full 3 day weekend on my own.  No cavalry coming to save me if things get sideways.  After 18 months, I was on my first full-on Dad Mission.  I hadn’t an idea, that as I planned and mapped out each day to ensure smooth direction and ease with task-loading, that William would have his own intentions for making it completely memorable for both of us.  Spoiler Alert -> Dec 17th 2022 was the day this Tucson born boy added “Cactus” to his vocabulary among many other things.

Saturday morning:   When time for morning nap - take William on car ride to Saguaro National Park Loop.   When he wakes introduce him to my favorite place in his hometown - that lookout on the backside.   

William played along with this plan after a 5:30 am wakeup, and was ready to roll out at 10am.  He was asleep basically when his butt hit the car seat.  A beautiful crisp day - sweater weather here in Tucson.  He slept for an hour while I enjoyed some quiet reading time.  When he woke - he took my plan, and made it his own.   We spent the next 45 minutes walking up and down the road and little William, who has not quite figured out that he is the little boy in the window, introduced himself to his shadow.  Practically running up and down the street, dancing, and squealing with it.  Every time I stopped to take his picture, he’d stop and cry (because he didn’t want to stop).  He also didn’t want me to pick him up  (he’d lose the shadow) to take him back to the car...instead I just turned him around and urged him back up the other direction, pointing out and naming all the different cactus as we went, just like his mama would do if she were here.  “See that big tall one right there? - thats a Saguaro.  Sa-war-O.  Don’t let mama make you hug it”.  It was a wonderful time out there - I couldnt have imagined that little part of my plan to go even half that good.

The rest of the day included learning to climb the bar stool to put himself in his high-chair to eat (amazing monkey strength), stringing new phrases like “daddy I gotcha” and “I got ice!” and when we climb up on the table to juice the lemons we just picked he stopped, pointed (appropriately) and said “cactus” - clear as day!  We sat out on the grass and played trucks together, his imagination starting to come in fast as his phrases and climbing ability.  I rewarded his big day with a feast of Noo-noos (another turn of my map strategy).   

Part of the plan for the weekend that was a huge success was also mapping out the tasks I wanted to complete during each nap and evening and I stuck to it, ensuring that my own mental health stayed strong and I felt like I was getting things done aside from parenting.  It worked great.  By the end of the week, I felt productive and proud of myself.   My first full weekend on my own with William was a big success - even got up over that Sunday afternoon Nap meltdown hump.  I never flinched once. Mindful, skillful, helpful.  Calm Peace Smile Release, 3 days in a row (even on just 13.5 hours of sleep for a 3 night total).   

Ive evolved a great bit this past month.  I may only ever be able to explain it with the salt of time.  But when I go to make sense of it, I’ll remember this weekend.  For how important it was, how great William was, and how much he seemed to boom after that morning nap in Saguaro.   And when I look back, I’ll believe then more than ever the old rule “your future is behind you.”

Song: The Sunparlour Players- Pacifist’s Anthem

Quote: “When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.” ― Patrick Rothfuss

[pokefanbri]

I broke down in tears yesterday,.I didn't realize how much it's affected me my whole life. I had to grow up at an early age, taking care of my brothers cuz my mom couldn't, cleaning all the time. From being abused as a kid, not getting the love I needed, a mother hooked on drugs, being taken by cps at 13. I stayed in a group home full of hormonal teenage girls for 4 years, while my 3 brothers were adopted out by a good family getting everything they ever needed & wanted, a car each etc, a pool in a nice 2 story house...Bri was left to fend for herself after emancipation, I had my own apt during hs which was nice, but cps would only help with rent til 21yrs old, my whole teenage years I was working my ass off. To this day I haven't learned how to drive & just use the bus. With what family I have left, my twin brother cut ties with me because I let my mom in my life again & I'm the one that abandoned the family? She raised 4 kids on her own and cracked under the pressure of addiction it wasn't her fault, I forgave her & she's a better person now she knows he faults, she's the only one that helped me when I needed her & I missed my mother. I took care of them, where my brothers when I need them. I do things on my own I've been independent as long as I could remember, doesn't mean I'm not tired or weary. I had to stop everything college & work after hs & was admitted to the hospital, I had cracked under pressure of the world on my shoulders, I didn't work for 10yrs & was on disability, but I got married & started again. Things changed after my divorce, covid hit, stayed with my brother but that didn't work out & I escaped him...being taken as kids affected him the most. He has kids of his own, my neice and nephew love their auntie. Friends wouldn't help except 1, his family let me stay with them til I got my 3rd ever place but I couldn't afford another lease on minimum wage, my aunt has plenty of room but won't let me stay even though my twin did once b4, yet my mom was the only one to help me again to help me get back on my feet.

I broke down in tears cause, why did I have to strive on my own for so long? When can I rest, why do I have to be in constant survival mode while everyone else is so comfortable, aren't I loved anymore? Am I wanted? Doesn't anyone care about me? I have family and friends but...everyone only cares about themselves they're all too busy, they don't care about me, & all the family I have left are dropping like flies. Where are my friends? They're all getting married and having kids, my best friend and I had a falling out. So why did I come to Vegas? Cause there was nothing left in Tucson anymore, I felt more alone than I ever had before, my church family became my family but they were all gone too & filled with new people. My mom was driving me crazy but I wanted to venture out, not be stuck in a rut every day watching my mom smoke her life away. I couldn't take it anymore, my life was going nowhere. I always wanted to see Criss Angel's other shows, I've seen Believe in 2011 it was an amazing experience I'll never forget. He made my day better everytime I saw him on TV, I could always count on him to cheer me up, he always makes me smile. I grew up watching him since I was in the group home, he practically raised me, he reminded me alot about myself & he was like the father I never had, kindred spirits. Over the years he's taught me a lot too, the courage & bravery to not give up on my dreams cause I know there's something better for me out there, to look forward to a better future because I wish for anything to have a life that I deserve, I deserve to be happy. With people that really do love and care about me. Where to find that, but with his encouragement I know this pain is just temporary and I'll fight with everything I have to see a better tomorrow. It'll get better, things will calm down, I can rest and heal from my pain, and I'll tell my story when the time comes.

I had a very different life than my brothers. Ive had to start over 100x it seems. A child's trauma is supposed to go away, not follow them into adulthood. If u adopt a child, make sure u take their siblings too if u can, don't tear them apart, they deserve to have a safe home with parents that will make sure they're loved. Love your kids and your fur babies, hold onto them

Things flubbed up here too but I'm handling it ok, it's another struggling stage of my life but since I've been here I've gotten closer to God & I've felt the magic in the air. I know if I go back I'll feel worse if I leave with unfinished business. Gonna finish the holidays here and possibly go back in January, I'm trespassed from planet Hollywood and all ceasars properties til March or April next yr, due to unexpected corrupt security guard tomfoolery I missed out. Amystika was the show I wanted to see but I couldn't in full and it went on tour b4 I could rightfully experience it. But that's ok, all I have left to do is visit the restaurant I think. When I got here I felt at home and more free than I had in a while, it felt good, til all that shit went down & the party poopers ruined it lol but I know it's not Vegas turning on me just a series of unfortunate events & the people here are different. I like being a lone wolf but it gets very stressful being alone especially in a whole new place, my life is again different but I'm liking Vegas Bri actually, just keep getting better from here & working on my self love.

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

✭☆✭ NEW RELEASE ✭☆✭

Best Match by Pippa Green

From the outside looking in, my life is perfect. I’ve made it all the way from Sweden to the USA to be a star player for the Arizona Rattlesnakes NHL team and we’re having our best season ever. The problem is… I can’t take the heat. Literally. I need to get out of the desert as fast as possible.

I have a plan and it’s simple: remain detached from my life, as Tucson is just a pit stop, and when we win the Cup, I’ll get myself traded to any other team in a colder climate. My teammates think I’m a grumpy bastard but that’s just my way of keeping them at arm’s length, so I don’t miss them too much when I bolt.

I’ve hit another snag in the form of my new next-door neighbor. Elizabeth’s a ray of jävlasunshine—and we know how I feel about the sun—and she can’t seem to take the hint that I want her gone. My stand-offish nature doesn’t seem to stop her from baking me muffins, doing my yard work, and generally driving me insane with her curves as she prances around in yoga outfits and lounges in her bikini by the pool.

I need to resist, but every minute I spend with Elizabeth and her three-legged dog makes it harder and harder to remember why I can’t just let myself go and enjoy her warmth. She may be the best thing that’s ever happened to a grumpy bastard like me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let the sexy, taco-loving temptress lure me into staying in Helvete, or Hell.

If I stick to my plan I’ll be happy…right? But what if I’m wrong?

@PippaGreenAuthor

Hosted by @LadyAmbersReviewsPR

#NewRelease #NowLive #BestMatch #ArizonaRattlesnakes #SportsRomance #PippaGreen #MustRead #Romance #LadyAmbersPR #OneClick #Bookstagrammer #Bookish #BookBlogger #ContemporaryRomance #SteamyRomance

[sapphicbookclub]

Author Spotlight: Anna Pulley

Today’s spotlight shines on Anna Pulley, who just released her first book earlier this month!  That book, Love Where You Work: An Office Romance, is one of our latest book club reads. Why we (still) need hopeful queer stories

TW: internalized homophobia, murder, suicide

I first learned about gay people when I was three. The house my family rented had been previously occupied by two deeply closeted gay men in the military. One shot the other, and then shot himself. I never learned more about them than that.

A few year’s later, my best friend’s mom, who had been straight her entire life, discreetly moved in with a very butch woman named Paula. She insisted for two years that they were roommates, even after Paula became violent with her, and she had no one to turn to for support.

A few years after that, my own mother relayed her one encounter with “lesbians”––a pair of bisexual girls who seduced her college boyfriend into a threesome, thus ending my mother’s relationship.

A few years after that, a friend pointed out to me the one gay bar in Tucson. I’d seen it many times, but didn’t know what it was. The bar was in a plain, brown square of a building with no sign and the street-facing windows were entirely covered in thick black paint. (They still are.)

The takeaway to my young queer self was obvious: Certain stories should not be told. Certain lives should be buried, or hidden away, out of view. Queerness is not only shameful and obscene, but could very well get you beat up or killed.

Books about queerness when I was growing up weren’t much better, and the unfortunate themes of women-loving-women narratives are marked by fear, secrecy, and violence. Look no further than the bastion of optimism that is The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall, “the most depressing lesbian novel ever written,” as one critic put it. Or Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinstein. Both protagonists suffer immense abuse, trauma, and violence due to their gender identity and sexuality. In Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg, implied lovers Ruth and Idgie sort of get to live happily for a little while, but first Idgie is tried for murder (Ruth’s abusive husband). Then Ruth gets lady-parts cancer (because of all the sinful scissoring?) and dies. In Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson, protagonist Jeanette is excommunicated from her God-fearing family and town, made homeless, and is forced to survive on her own. And it’s one of the more uplifting stories to come out of the ’80s!

What about movies? A quick tally: High Art (death; drug overdose), Foxfire (mistreatment, attempted rape, abuse), Lost and Delirious (suicide, return to straightness), Heavenly Creatures (murder, life imprisonment), and so on. Even But I’m a Cheerleader, the funny, crowd favorite of the ‘90s, revolves around a queer conversion camp, where literally every queer teen is rejected by their parents simply for being who they are.

Why am I telling you this?

Because words matter. Stories matter. Every tragic end to a queer person––in books, on TV, in films––drops a stone into a bucket of a young, impressionable heart, until one day they are so heavy that they can’t get up, and they don’t even know why.

Of course, a lot has changed in the last 20 years. And we’ve come a long, long way since my (admittedly not wildly progressive) Arizona upbringing. Many more hopeful and nuanced LGBTQ+ narratives are now available, well-received, and well-liked. But in spite of these immense strides, one of the biggest hurdles queer characters’ in media portrayals still face is that they can’t seem to stay alive. Killing off queer characters is so prevalent that it even has a dedicated, ever-expanding trope: Bury Your Gays.

This is why we need more hopeful gay stories. And this is why every story I’ve ever written, including my latest novel, Love Where You Work, has been a rebuttal to the bury your gays trope––and to the horrid messaging that tells queer people we’re expendable, depraved, broken, lesser-than, or confused heterosexuals on brief gay detours. (Another common queer lady narrative, aside from death, is a “return” to straightness.)

Love Where You Work tells an everyday lesbian love story, where the tragedies are limited to not enough alternative milks in the office fridge and a love interest who doesn’t know who Kristen Stewart is. This isn’t to say the characters don’t face hardships; they do. Because we all do. But the hardships aren’t limited to death or invisibility.

Not only do the queer characters NOT die, they learn to live with abundance, joy, and ordinary devotion.

Every day that queer people are alive and happy and resilient (even in fiction) is a rebuttal to those limiting, untrue narratives that many of us swallowed in our formative years because we never saw the joyous freedom that comes from living authentically, and didn’t know there was an alternative to fear, rejection, or shame.

Hopeful queer stories open doors for people who didn’t know such happiness was possible or that they could wish for it themselves. They show us what new worlds could look like, or old worlds made better, because they’re viewed with new eyes, new dreams, and new visions.

This isn’t to say that we need to view the world (or all of our books) with rose-tinted glasses or pretend that tragic stories don’t exist. They do and they always will. But this is also to say that we can do better. And we must do better.

We need books that showcase not just how we survive, but how we become, and more importantly, how we remain. We need realms filled with the brilliance of queerness that’s not under attack, denial, or threat of violence. We need word seeds and word breaths and word reimaginings that depict the world as inhabitable, joyful, and profoundly, ordinarily alive.

We need this not only for the next generation of queer people––many of whom are already leagues ahead when it comes to knowing who they are and being unapologetic about what they want––but for all people. Yes, straight people benefit from hopeful queer stories, too. If the only representations of a culture or subculture you see are marred by tragedy or stereotypes, then those representations form negative associations and often lead to biases, prejudices, or outright hostility.

I remember reading a book about the famous Implicit Association Test (IAT), which is a way to identify implicit bias (that is, hidden biases we hold that we might not be aware of), including race bias, but also bias against people with disabilities, obesity, and queer people. It’s extremely difficult to decrease one’s implicit bias, and in the book, the author tried over and over again to decrease his bias against Black people. Nothing worked, despite his sincere attempts. And then one day, he took the test and his bias went down, seemingly out of nowhere. He realized it was because he had been watching the Olympics that morning, which showcased the incredible feats and strengths of Black athletes. It was an antidote to the racist and stereotypical images he saw every day. Consuming resilient queer stories can have a similar effect. It’s one of the many reasons why visibility and representation matter.

If you had told the closeted, terrified queer person I was back in Arizona that I would grow up to be very out, proud, and to experience the immense privilege of writing three humorous, radical, queer books (with many more to come), I wouldn’t have believed you. I had no frame of reference. I was too blinded by the mirror society held up for me to see my own stark, vulnerable luminosity.

Every piece of art we create that affirms the truth at our cores is a radical act. It holds a small light up to the darkness that surrounds us, not only for ourselves, but for anyone else who needs to see there’s a universe of possibility waiting for them.

[ctxrover]

A couple more lyrics Bruce Springsteen can go and fuck himself for writing

1) I swear I lost everything I ever loved or feared/I was the cosmic kid in full costume dress (Growin’ Up - Greetings From Asbury Park NJ)

2) Closets are for hangers/winners use the door (Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) - The Wild, The Innocent And The E Street Shuffle)

3) The highway’s jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive/everybody's out on the run tonight, but there's no place left to hide (Born to Run - Born to Run)

4) If dreams came true/oh wouldn’t that be nice (Prove It All Night - Darkness on the Edge of Town)

5) You sit and wonder just who's gonna stop the rain/who’ll ease the sadness/who’s gonna quiet your pain (The Ties That Bind - The River)

6) The only thing that I got's been botherin' me my whole life (State Trooper - Nebraska)

7) You can’t start a fire without a spark (Dancing in the Dark - Born in the USA)

8) God have mercy on the man who doubts what he's sure of (Brilliant Disguise - Tunnel of Love)

9) So you been broken and you been hurt/show me somebody who ain't (Human Touch - Human Touch)

10) Just sitting around waiting for my life to begin/while it was all just slipping away/I'm tired of waiting for tomorrow to come (Better Days - Lucky Town)

11) I told myself it was all something in her/but as we drove I knew it was something in me (Highway 29 - The Ghost of Tom Joad)

12) Your house is waiting/for you to walk in, for you to walk in/but you're missing, you're missing (You’re Missing - The Rising)

13) I'm just trying to survive/what if what you do to survive/kills the things you love/fear's a powerful thing (Devils & Dust - Devils & Dust)

14) Whose blood will spill/whose heart will break/who’ll be the last to die for a mistake (Last to Die - Magic)

15) Now the cards I've drawn's a rough hand, darling/I straighten the back and I'm working on a dream (Working On A Dream - Working On A Dream)

16) Hard times come and hard times go/just to come again (Wrecking Ball - Wrecking Ball)

17) Strength is vanity, and time is illusion (Hunter of Invisible Game - High Hopes)

18) We fought hard over nothin’/we fought till nothin' remained/I've carried that nothin' for a long time (Tucson Train - Western Stars)

19) You count the names of the missing as you count off time (Last Man Standing - Letter to You)

I tried to pick my favourite lyrics; one off each album. The Seeger Sessions isn’t included as he didn’t write those songs.

This is really just poetry.