#my name is Memphis Tennessee

[lucy-the-demon]

The snapcube sonic 06 dub In a nutshell

I literally have no clue what the actual sonic lore is I've based my sonic knowledge after the snapcube dubs.

[socksenjoyer]

in a startling moment of clarity i have maybe realised i should remove the things making me stressed

[paper-mario-wiki]

Who are you?

My name is Scout! I'm an Anthropologist and a trans woman living in Seattle. I like playing Team Fortress 2, and cuddling with my dog, an Australian Shepard named Scarlet. I smoke weed with enough frequency to be considered a "stoner," and I tend to spend a lot of time by myself on the computer learning about things that interest me.

I enjoy collecting things like weird old corporate knick-knacks (viagra shaped wristwatch, t-mobile spatula, camel cigarette emergency flashlight), and vintage jackets. I lived in Japan for 3 years, where I went to school at Doshisha University in Kyoto, but came back to the USA due to isolation during the beginning of the pandemic making my mental health deteriorate rapidly, since it started after only 3 semesters of being there.

I used to be a livestreamer and let's player with a few different channels and podcasts, but a year and a half ago I stopped because I didn't enjoy what being a content creator meant. Today, I'm going to eat fried chicken for breakfast, and later on I'll probably record some Sans and Papyrus voice acting for an animation someone hired me for. I also used to do Undertale voice acting, which is actually how I got my start.

I've also been known as Clown Depot, Smaverage Joe, TheMGMjr, Googoo, and a lot of online handles as the years have gone by. You may have seen me in Real-Time Fandub as Memphis Tennessee, Mr. X the Librarian, Mikeiplier, Storm the Albatross, and Da Devil from Da Bible. You may have also seen some of my viral tumblr posts, like Genghis Kanghis, Music For Unproductive Zoomers, "a chess move called The Frenchman's Cumsock", "never ask a genie for raspberry crowns, because that's a type of wasp", "that's pretty con-fuckin-venient, I'm sorry for doubting you 7-eleven, have a good night", or a few others.

Hope this helps.

[justagalwhowrites]

Stranger in a Bar - Part Two

You realize your hookup from the night before is your dad's best friend. Life goes on from there. The conclusion of Stranger in a Bar, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. Breeding kink if you squint. Talk of pregnancy. ANGST BECAUSE IT'S ME. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | Part One

“She hasn’t been home in so long,” your father was smiling proudly, seemingly oblivious to the way Joel was looking at you. 

It had never occurred to him that he’d never seen a picture of his friend’s daughter. He’d heard about you, of course. How your parents had gone to Tennessee for your college graduation, how you’d gotten a job in Memphis, how you only really came to visit about once a year and that meant your dad was busy that week. 

“Heard a lot about you,” Joel said when he realized your dad had gone quiet. “Good to… put a face to the name. Or, maybe, idea? Don’t think your dad ever mentioned your name…” 

“May not have,” he laughed, clapping Joel on the shoulder. Joel still couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fuck, this was bad. “To me, she’s just my little princess…” 

“Honey,” your mom appeared at your dad’s side, looping her arm through his. “Can I steal you for just a minute?” 

“Sure,” he gave her hand a squeeze before looking between you and Joel. “Keep her outta trouble, will ya? Have fun!” 

Joel more sensed them leave than watched them, his eyes locked on yours. He was pretty sure they were out of earshot when you spoke. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“‘Fraid not,” Joel said, his eyes drifting down over your body before he could really help himself. Your dress fit you perfectly, highlighting your every soft curve. He knew just what you looked like below it, just how smooth your skin was, just how you would taste. “You look… fuck, you look gorgeous.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. 

“Are you…” You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Never mind. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.” 

“It’s not…” he finally managed to look away from you to glance around at the people around the two of you. None of them seemed to be paying attention. He lowered his voice, anyway. “It’s not that bad…” 

“Not that bad?” You cut him off. “Are you… Jesus, come on.” 

You looked around, too, before grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the tent and toward the house. He just trailed along behind you, fighting the urge to smile while keeping an eye out for your parents. Because the last thing he wanted to do was explain to your father what he was doing, following wherever you led. 

And he did follow you - happily - into the house he’d been in plenty of times as a dinner guest or for Super Bowl parties or to help your father put together a new piece of furniture for your mother. You dragged him along to the sizable storage room off the garage and locked the door behind you before turning and staring daggers at him. 

“Not that bad?” You asked, brows raised so high they threatened to disappear into your hairline. “Not that bad? You’re my dad’s best friend! I didn’t even know he had one of those until this afternoon and I -” you looked around, as though someone might have been lurking, and lowered your voice to a harsh whisper “fucked him before I knew he existed! How is this not that bad?” 

“You in the habit of telling your daddy everyone you sleep with?” Joel asked, hands in his pockets. “Because I ain’t one to kiss and tell.”

“This is a joke to you, isn’t it,” you crossed your arms, clearly pissed. But the effect was lessened a bit by the way your angry pants and fierce stance made your breasts swell and fuck, but you were pretty. “What, you make a habit of fucking women young enough to be your friend’s daughter?” 

“No,” Joel said with a shrug. “Don’t make a habit of fucking anyone, really. Told you, I’m outta practice. And… well, can’t say I’ve ever… well…” 

“Ever?” Your eyebrows somehow got higher. 

“Ever been with someone as young as you,” he said, his cheeks getting hot at the shame of that. “Didn’t set out to, either. Not until I saw you.”

You relaxed a little then, your brows returning to a much more natural position on your face. 

“I didn’t go to that bar looking for someone,” he continued. “And I sure as shit never go chasing after women half my age. Sure as shit ain’t proud I did it last night, either. But… can’t say I really care much about any of that. I don’t care that you’re too young for me, don’t care that you live hundreds of miles away, don’t even care that you’re my best friend’s kid. Lord knows I should care about all that but I don’t. All I really care about in all that is you.” 

Your eyes searched his for a moment, like you were trying to tell if he was lying or not. You stepped closer to him and he resisted the urge to touch you, the pull stronger than he remembered it being in the past. He wasn’t sure if it was because it had been years since he’d been with someone, if it was because he could tell from the first moment he saw you that you were special, if it was because sex with you was the best he’d ever had. But, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. Not when you were this close, in that dress, when he could still remember how you tasted on his tongue. He knew he should give a shit, he knew he should at least do your father the courtesy of feeling bad but all he could feel was the drive to touch you - taste you - again.

You held his gaze until your lips were so close to his your noses brushed and he kissed you then, your mouth so plush and soft on his. 

It had been so long since Joel had done anything like this. He hadn’t exactly dated much when his daughter was at home. He tried, a bit, when she was in her teens but he ended up wishing he was spending time with her instead of trying to get to know someone he only had a passing interest in. 

When Sarah moved out to go to college - not community college anymore but Texas A&M - he didn’t have the same excuse anymore. But, when he tried to meet someone then, he found himself trying to force connections with women. They had little in common with him, they wanted different things out of life, they were just interested in things he couldn’t offer. After a few, unsatisfying and brief relationships - if you could even call them that - he’d given up on it. His life was meant to be quiet and lonely. He had Sarah and that was more than enough, even if she lived in Dallas now. He was fine with it. Happy, even. 

And then, there you were, so beautiful in that bar, something about you pulling him in. He couldn’t help but go up to you, couldn’t help but talk to you for hours, couldn’t help but walk you back to your hotel, couldn’t help but kiss you back in that elevator. 

He couldn’t help but kiss you now. 

His hands went to your waist, slipping over your sides to your back, spreading wide over you to hold as much of you as he could, pulling your body against his own. You moaned softly into his mouth and put your arms around his neck when he did and he could feel every line of you against him, could remember just what those lines felt like when there was nothing between you. 

If he was in his own head enough, he would have been embarrassed about just how fast he got hard against you, embarrassed about how quickly he gave in to the urge to grind his cock into you while remembering just what it felt like to be buried inside of you. But he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck about anything beyond just how good you felt pressed all tight and desperate against him. 

He guided you back until your ass was against a stack of plastic storage tubs, bins labeled with things like “Christmas” and “Halloween” that he’d helped your dad haul into the living room when your mom was ready to change the decor around the house. Your hands left him for a moment and you pulled yourself on top of the top bin, putting your hips at the same height as Joel’s own. You spread your legs wide and pulled him into you, grinding your pussy against his cock through his jeans and he had to fight not to come then and there. Your arms went back around his neck and your kiss grew messy, the both of you fighting to devour the other. Joel’s mouth slid over your lips to your chin, down your jaw to your throat and you moaned, arching your back. His hands moved to your thighs, forcing your skirt up and out of the way until your slick-soaked panties were pressed against his fly. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted softly, grinding that hot little pussy over his still clothed length. His hands skimmed over your sides to find your breasts, cupping the full, soft warmth of you there. Your fingers sank into his back, nails digging into him. “Please…” 

“Not a good idea,” he said, kissing back up your neck, leaving his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear. “Don’t got a condom.” 

He nipped your lobe and kissed over your cheek toward your mouth again. 

“I don’t care,” you said, breathless. “I don’t care, I just need you, fuck, please, please…” 

He groaned. He should resist you. He should, he knew better. But the way you tasted, the way you felt against him, just the thought of being inside you with nothing between you and him was making his head swim. 

“Don’t think I’ll be able to pull out, baby,” he said, kissing you all wet and sloppy and without control. “You felt too damn good with somethin’ on, I can’t…” 

“I don’t care,” you said again, pulling back from him just enough to look in his eyes, reaching your hand up to card your fingers through his graying hair. Your skin was almost glowing in the dim light, your eyes ranging over him, pupils blown. “I want you, please, Joel.” 

“Jesus,” he breathed, reaching quickly down to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. He pulled his cock free, his head swollen and leaking. He stroked himself - not that it offered any relief and it wasn’t possible to make him any harder - with one hand and watched with hungry eyes as he traced the the seam of you through your wet panties with the other, the fabric clinging to the plush softness of you. He couldn’t help but groan a little as he tucked the cotton to the side, revealing you all plump and dripping for him. 

He watched, his breath shaky, as he moved closer, trailing his cock head over your slit before slipping just inside your entrance. He just stood there for a moment, his heart beating out a frantic rhythm against his ribs, looking at where he was starting to disappear into you and he was mesmerized by it. The way you had to stretch to take even just the head of him, the way you took him so well anyway, the way you felt inside, the heat of you on his skin. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your hand clutching onto his bicep, his shirt twisting in your fingers. 

“Baby,” his voice was rough, raspy. He’d be embarrassed about how needy he sounded if he could bring himself to give a shit about anything but how you felt inside. “Fuck, you already feel fuckin’ incredible and I’m not even really inside you yet…” 

He finally pulled his eyes away from where the two of you met to find your face, your eyes so wide and pleading. He took you in his hand, his thumb on your cheek, your fingers reaching back to grip tight to your neck, holding you just so. You stretched to kiss him but he kept you in place, your eyebrows drawing together as you moaned in protest. 

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he whispered. “And sit still, just let me look at you.” 

He watched you closely as pressed into you, your breath hitching as he parted your inner walls, your tight, wet heat gripping him and he savored every needy expression that crossed your face. You were so beautiful like this, your mouth open in a silent gasp, eyes wide, looking like you were enjoying him almost as much as he was enjoying you. 

Because there was no possible way it could be equal, there was no way he felt as good as you did. You’d felt fucking exquisite with a condom on the night before, it had only taken Joel a second inside you to decide that this could not be a one time thing. He couldn’t feel something that good only once in his life, he’d spend the rest of his years searching for it otherwise. It was the cherry on top of the perfection that seemed to be you, someone he wanted to spend hours upon hours talking with and hours upon hours looking at. The way your body took him into yourself, the way you pulsed around him when you came, the way you were so goddamn soft inside. How was he supposed to just walk away from that? 

But, as Joel’s cock was buried inside you to the root, he realized that nothing - absolutely fucking nothing - compared to being inside you bare. He could feel you so clearly like this, every ridge of muscle, every little gush of come as you made a mess of his cock. You were so fucking tight he wondered how he’d even fit inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything quite as warm and soft as you and he knew he’d never felt quite so close to anyone like he did you in that moment. 

“Goddamn baby,” he breathed, his eyes locked on yours, not moving from his place inside you. 

“Joel,” you whispered before looking down to where your bodies where joined and groaning when you did. 

“Gotta stay quiet, pretty girl,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around you, his hand splaying wide over the small of your back. He held you in place and ground himself deeper into you, making you whimper. 

“Fuck me,” you panted, desperate. “Please Joel, I need you to move, I need you to fuck me, please…” 

He crumbled under your pleas, pulling back from you agonizingly slowly so that he could feel every part of you clinging to him before thrusting back inside you in one devastating go. You moaned as he did, loud enough that he was worried someone might hear. He kissed you to keep you quiet and your arms went around his neck, your fingers digging into him as you clung to him. But he couldn’t keep kissing you forever, not when the drive to fuck you harder was so strong, and he had to separate from you to gasp for breath as his cock plunged into you again and again. You moaned, desperate and needy and uncontrolled and Joel couldn’t even consider stopping to keep you quiet. Instead, he pulled you tight to him, tucking your head against his shoulder so your sounds were muffled by his body. 

“Said you gotta keep quiet baby,” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you. “Fuck… you feel too damn good, won’t be able to stop just because someone comes in.” 

Your muffled moans grew louder and you clutched onto him and he held you closer, tighter, the sharp snap of his hips never slowing or even stuttering. He felt like a man possessed as he savored the hot clutch of you. He’d never needed to fuck someone like this, never wanted to live inside another person like this. How was he supposed to move on from this, from you? When he’d never found anything that made him feel like this, so obsessed he couldn’t keep himself from fucking you hard and fast and unprotected under your father’s roof. 

His orgasm was building fast, faster than he really wanted it to. There was the nagging thought at the back of his mind - the last part of him that seemed to exist outside the sphere of your influence - that he should pull out at the very least. He didn’t know if you were on the pill but part of him didn’t fucking care. Part of him wanted to fill you up and take everything that came with it, as long as he got to keep coming in you again and again the rest of it didn’t matter. 

You started mumbling into his shoulder, your words incoherent around the fabric of his shirt and the bulk of his body and he pulled your head back just enough that he could make out what you were saying, just “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come” over and over and over and the sound went straight to his cock. 

He felt it then, you drawing so tight around him, the sensation intimately familiar after the night before, and then you exploded around him, throbbing hard and full, damn near pulling his own orgasm out of his body as he groaned against you. He didn’t do the smart thing, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he reveled in the feeling as he came deep inside you, buried to the root . 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted against him as your climax eased, sounding closer to sane now than you had the last few minutes. 

“I know, baby,” he said, breathless too, still deep within you. You pulled back from him ever so slightly, your eyes wide as they searched his face, your lipstick smeared over your skin. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you said again, but different this time, an edge of panic in your voice. You put your hand to his chest, leaning back from him and looking down to where you were still joined. “What the fuck did we just do?” 

“Nothin’ bad…” he said quietly but you looked back to him, your gaze fiery now. He pulled out of you slowly, reluctantly, and tucked himself away. 

“Nothing bad?” You asked, brows raised. “We just fucked in my parents’ house! I barely fucking know you and you just… I just begged you to… Jesus Christ…” 

Joel winced at that. 

“I can go get you one of those pills…” he said weakly. He hoped that was the right thing to say in a moment like this one. He hadn’t been in this position in so long, he wasn’t the type to just randomly fuck a woman and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to do so with no regard for the consequences. He’d learned that lesson well enough in his youth. Here he was, middle aged and fucking you like some teenager in heat, sneaking around behind your parents’ backs.

“What?” You shook your head once, sharply, like you were trying to shake him from your mind. “No, I have an IUD, but I don’t know you, you could have… I don’t fucking know, herpes or something!” 

Joel almost laughed. Not that anything about this was actually funny but it was… something. 

“I don’t got anything like that,” Joel said. “You’re safe, promise.” 

You looked to jump down from your perch on the storage bins but slipped a hand down between your legs first and groaned before looking around. 

“Do you see any paper towel or anything?” You asked, holding your hand covered in his come and yours in front of you, your combined slick pearly on your fingers. 

Joel swallowed. 

“No,” he said. “But… here…” 

He untucked his shirt and nudged your legs wider apart, forcing your dress further up your thighs, revealing your slit to him. He resisted the urge to groan at the sight, his spend leaking from you because he’d left it deep inside… 

He shook himself mentally and took the hem of his button down shirt, pressing it to your dripping hole, cleaning you gently. You leaned back on your hands and he could feel your eyes on him as he delicately ran the fabric over your soft skin. He was about to step back when he heard you moan, needy and wanting, and he realized he could see your clit, swollen and peeking out from your wet sex. 

“Fuck,” you breathed and he looked up to your face. Your eyes were closed, your mouth open in pleasure. 

“You like that?” He asked, his voice heavier than he’d meant it to be. Fuck, he shouldn’t be doing this. But you nodded, quick and desperate, and he couldn’t resist. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He knelt in front of you, looping his arms around your knees and pulling you sharply to the front edge of the storage bin before licking a hesitant stripe from your entrance to your sensitive nub. You groaned at that and he saw your fingers curl around the edge of the bin, knuckles tight. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you panted and he smiled a little before diving into your pussy like a man starved. 

He licked and sucked and ate at you, his tongue delving into your tight channel, his nose pressed against your swollen clit, his fingers pressing tightly into the meat of your thighs. Your hand flew to his hair, knotting and tangling in his curls, your nails digging into his scalp as you ground your hips against his face. You were moaning louder and he knew he should give a fuck, try to keep you quiet while he worked you to yet another orgasm in your father’s house, but he just didn’t care. All he cared about was making you come so hard you damn near took off his tongue. 

He didn’t need to wait long, your pussy growing tighter and tighter until you cried out, your hips pressed against him and he savored the way your body clutched onto him as you came. Your channel pulsed hard and strong and he drank down your slick, not caring that it mingled with his own come from just a few minutes before. 

Joel waited until your climax eased before he pulled his tongue from your body, pressing a lingering kiss over the top of your slit, making you groan. 

“Holy shit,” you panted and he got to his feet in front of you, wiping his mouth awkwardly with the back of his wrist. 

“Sorry,” he said, glancing quickly at your still slightly swollen sex. It was no longer dripping, at least. “That… that ain’t what I’d set out to do…” 

“Never apologize for that,” you said, sitting up properly this time. You slipped off the storage bin. You rearranged your underwear below your dress before adjusting the hem, looking down at yourself like you were trying to make sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. 

“Here,” Joel said, thankful that his shirt was black so your lipstick that was undoubtably on his shoulder wouldn’t show. He took the cuff that hadn’t wiped your slick from his face and carefully cleaned your smeared lipstick from your skin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that, either…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said, crossing your arms and looking him up and down. “I was literally begging for it. There’s just something about you… but that’s why we can’t do this, Joel. You’re my dad’s best friend, he’d never forgive us for this. We have to pretend like this never happened. Not tonight, not last night, none of it.” 

He just watched you for a moment. Part of him knew you were right. You were right for more reasons than just that, too. He hadn’t really dated in years, he hadn’t been in a good place to do it in ages and he sure as hell wasn’t in a place to date someone as young as you. You’d want things out of life that he was long past, things he could never give you. He should know better than this. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted you. He wanted to fuck you again, yeah, but he also wanted to get to know you, to make you dinner and take you to the beach and kiss you at midnight on New Year’s Eve. You’d woken something up in him that he didn’t know he still had, something he thought had died along with his youth years before. Wasn’t something like you worth risking a friendship for? Even one like the one he had with your father? 

“We have to stay away from each other the rest of the night,” you said. “Alright?” 

He looked at you for a moment, at the drawn expression on your face. 

“Yeah,” he said after the silence hung in the air a bit too long. “Yeah, alright.” 

The two of you made your way back toward the celebration, thankfully no one in the house to have heard the sounds he pulled form you, anyway. Joel tried not to stare at you the rest of the night but he found himself keenly aware of where you were all the time, anyway. He knew where you were and who you were with and just how far he’d have to move to pull you into his arms and kiss you. 

“Joel!” His friend clapped him on the shoulder as he sat at a table, drinking a beer and trying to not pay attention to where you were - something he was failing at because, at the moment, you were standing by your mother and your sister near the buffet. “Havin’ a nice time?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Joel cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat beside him. “It’s a great party. Y’all deserve it, too, hell of an accomplishment, puttin’ up with each other that long…” 

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “God, sometimes… See you didn’t bring a date, was hopin’ you’d be out on the dance floor with some lucky lady at least a little bit.” 

“Yeah, well,” Joel shrugged. “Don’t really got anyone to bring to someone like this and…” 

“Still,” he cut Joel off. “Should get out there… Princess! C’mere!” 

He raised his hand and flagged you down and Joel stiffened. Your eyes darted from his to your father’s before you made your way across the tent, your hands in fists at your sides. 

“You really don’t need to…” Joel began but your father cut him off again. 

“S’no trouble,” he said. “It’ll be good for her, too. Tells her mama everything, hasn’t had a boyfriend in who knows how long, she needs to do a little dancing…” 

“Yes, Dad?” You asked, steadfastly ignoring Joel. 

“Do me a favor, Princess, and get this old man on the dance floor, would ya?” He clapped Joel on the back. “He’s been sittin’ here alone way too long, think he needs a little nudge…” 

“Oh, I… I don’t,” you began. 

“Really don’t need…” Joel said. 

“Nonsense!” Your dad said. “C’mon! You two - two of my favorite people - have been sittin’ off to the sides of this shindig all night. Make me happy, get out there for me.” 

You looked at Joel half pleading, half resigned. 

“Yeah, alright,” Joel said, getting up and setting his beer on the table. Your father got up, too. 

“Good man!” He patted him firmly between the shoulder blades. “You two have fun!” 

Joel offered you his hand and you took it before he led you to the dance floor, your body tense and separated firmly from his own. The music shifted just as the two of you got there, The Way You Look Tonight starting to play and Joel almost groaned. Might as well put a neon sign over his head, flashing “I want to fuck her” in bright red. 

He took you in his arms all the same, leaving a respectable, painful distance between the two of you as he started to sway with you on the dance floor. 

“I’m sorry about this,” you said quietly after a moment. “I don’t know what his problem is, besides the fact that he’s had too much to drink.” 

“S’OK,” Joel said. His hand was at the small of your back and he knew just how soft your skin was there. “I don’t… It’s nice. Dancin’ with you.” 

You smiled a little. 

“It’s nice dancing with you, too.” 

You looked at him differently then. Your eyes were softer, your body less stiff and it reminded Joel of the night before, when you were just a stranger in a bar and you smiled and talked and laughed with him for hours. 

“I wish things were different,” you said quietly, eyes searching his. “I know we just met but… I mean, if I lived closer, if…” 

“If I wasn’t your daddy’s friend?” He asked, giving you a crooked smile. 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, that little snag,” you said. “If life was different… I think I’d like to figure some of it out with you, Joel.” 

The song wound down and he knew his time with you was numbered. 

“Think I’d like to figure it out with you, too.” 

He wanted to kiss you then and, if you were any other woman or in any other place, he would have. But instead, the music ended and he forced himself to stop touching you and he stood, in the middle of the dance floor, other couples flowing around him as he watched you walk away from him and back toward your family. 

Joel seriously considered getting hammered when he got home that night. Drinking himself into oblivion seemed like the kindest thing he could do to himself but he couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the memory of dancing with you like that. Instead, he lay flat on his back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, etching every part of you into his mind as best he could because, goddammit, the last day had to have existed for something, right? A bright spot in what had become a lonely life, something he could look back on with fondness when shit didn’t go the way he wanted. 

But, before too long, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. 

He got up, not bothering to get changed, just staying in his plaid pajama pants and threadbare band t-shirt and drove to your hotel. He remembered your room number and, only after he’d knocked on your door, did he realize what he’d done. He had, without calling or texting or anything that was actually fucking sensible, shown up at your door at - he glanced at his watch - one in the fucking morning. 

“Shit,” he said to himself, already moving to go when your door opened. 

“Joel?” You frowned a little, looking him up and down. “What are you…” 

“This was stupid,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this, I should’ve just…” 

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving and he blinked in surprise. 

“Did you want to come in or not?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yeah, I do.” 

And you smiled and took his hand, leading him into your room. 

***

Six Months Later 

“This feels like tempting fate,” you muttered as you did your hair in the mirror over Joel’s dresser. 

“Nah,” he waved you off as he lounged, shirtless, on the bed. “It’ll be fine. Think we can manage to keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours.” 

You scoffed at that. If you could, that would be a fucking first. 

In the six months since you and Joel had decided to make a go of it - damn all the reasons that you shouldn’t - you’d been happier than you could ever remember being. He’d been to visit you in Tennessee twice and you’d met up in New Orleans once but this was your first time back home since you’d decided that dating your father’s best friend wasn’t a total lost cause. 

When you were together, you spent obscene amounts of time in bed. He made you come more than anyone else you’d ever been with and you spent hours naked and tangled up with each other. Even when you were apart, he still gave you the best damn orgasms of your life because he was shockingly good at sexting for someone who was 20 years older than you. 

But your connection with Joel was so much deeper than the physical. You could talk with him the way you could no one else, he knew you and saw you in a way you didn’t realize was possible for another person to see you and know you. You wanted to spend all your time with him, do everything with him. How were you supposed to sit at your parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner with him next to you at the table and expect them to not notice that? 

“M’serious,” he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the side of your neck before nuzzling into your skin there. “Be on my best behavior. No fuckin’ you in the storage room this time. Couldn’t get me naked tonight if you tried.” 

“Oh, OK,” you rolled your eyes but laughed a little. “I’m sure you’d keep it in your pants if I just tugged my sweater dress down nice and low and headed off to the quiet part of the house…” 

“Well now you’re just askin’ too much of me, baby,” he teased, kissing you again before putting his face beside yours in the mirror. “I’m just a man, after all.” 

“My man,” you smiled and he laughed. 

“S’right,” he said. “Yours.” 

You went to your parents’ place first, keeping up the pretense that you’d been staying at a friend’s and not at Joel’s during your trip home, and you helped your mom finish up the last of dinner preparations. 

“You’re sure Joel’s not bringing anybody?” Your mom asked your dad as the two of you set the table, your dad camped in front of the television watching football. 

“S’what he said,” he replied absently before smacking his hand down on the arm of his recliner. “Fuckin’ hell! Dunno when we’re gonna field a goddamn defense this season…” 

“Well I thought you mentioned that he’d been seeing someone,” your mom said and your head snapped around to look at her so fast your neck popped. She frowned at you and you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking back down at the place setting you were arranging. 

“Said I thought he was seein’ someone,” your dad corrected her. “Been actin’ all cagey last few months but he’s got this funny look on his face when he shows up for basketball is all.” 

You bit back a smile and put out the next napkin. 

“Well, that’s good,” your mom said. “I hope he is seeing someone. Joel’s a good guy, he deserves a good woman.” 

“I agree OH COME ON!” He was on his feet, remote clutched in his hand as a ref gestured on screen. He turned off the TV and threw the remote into the couch. “Well, there’s no comin’ back from that. I’m gonna take a piss before folks get here…” 

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that during the holidays,” your mother grumbled. The words were barely out of her mouth when the doorbell rang and she looked to you. “Would you mind getting that, sweetie?” 

“Sure,” you smiled and tried to keep yourself from running to the door, stopping at the mirror to check your hair and makeup before pulling the door open. Joel was standing there, one of those cocky, crooked smiles you loved so much on his face. 

“Well hi there,” he said, his brown eyes soft. 

“Hi,” you smiled and then feigned a frown. “I’m sorry… Jim, was it? Think we met at my parents’ anniversary party?” 

He pursed his lips for a second and rolled his eyes and you could tell he wanted to grab you and kiss you. 

“Joel,” he corrected you. “And yeah, somethin’ like that.” 

Your mother put Joel across from you, the two single people at the table, and you slipped your foot out of your shoe during dinner, tracing your toes over his calf where no one could see. 

“So, princess,” your dad said as dinner wound down and you were on your third glass of wine. “You ever gonna get a real job? Think about movin’ closer to home?” 

The room went silent, Joel’s eyebrows knitting together before looking toward your father at the head of the table. 

“Honey,” your mom said quietly, lightly scolding your dad. 

“What?” He asked, picking up his wine glass and taking a generous sip. “Think it’s a fair question. We bankrolled her gettin’ that damn degree thinkin’ she’d do something with herself and she’s, what, playing music for whackos?” 

“Dad,” your sister hissed, her eyes darting to her boyfriend across from her. “Cool it.” 

“I’m providing music therapy in an inpatient setting,” you said, setting your wine glass down. 

“You’re finding some damn way to chase that pipe dream of being a goddamn singer is what you’re doin’,” he replied. “It’s time to grow up, find a real job…” 

“Just because you don’t recognize the importance of mental health doesn’t mean my job isn’t real,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. 

“You said you wanted to study psychology so you could help people,” he cut you off. “Not so you could find some way to play rock star, and…” 

“And I think you’ve had a few too many,” Joel cut him off. Your dad opened his mouth to argue but Joel cocked his head, his jaw tense. “C’mon. You were just tellin’ me that she don’t come home enough, you think this shit is helping? It’s Thanksgiving. Cool it.” 

Your mom looked quickly between you and Joel before clearing her throat. 

“Pie, anyone?” She asked, ending the conversation before your dad had a chance to pick it up again.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said when you got back to Joel’s that night, taking your earrings out and setting them on the nightstand you’d claimed as yours. 

“He shouldn’t have said that shit to you,” Joel said, his voice heated. “Can’t believe he’d even think that shit let alone say it. I’d never dream of saying somethin’ like that to Sarah, not about to just let him…” 

“Yes, you are,” you said, crossing your arms and facing him. “He’s always been like that, he’s always only wanted me to exist as an extension of himself and only do what he thinks is worthwhile. It’s nothing new, I’m used to it…” 

“Well, you fuckin’ shouldn’t be,” he snapped. “You deserve better than that.” 

“It’s great that you believe that,” you said. “I do, too. But if we want to make this work? You can’t come to my rescue. If it happens again, you have to let me handle it. Understand?” 

He sighed before going and kissing your temple. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

July 4th, 19 months later

“Do we really have to go?” You groaned, Joel’s ceiling fan turning lazily over your head. You were naked, the only way you could handle being anywhere close to Joel in this heat, your bodies sticky with sweat and come. 

“You are visiting for the holiday,” he said, toying with your fingers. “Probably look pretty damn weird if you don’t turn up for the cookout.” 

You sighed. 

“You’re right,” you said. “But you have to behave yourself this time. Actually behave yourself, I mean it.” 

“When do I not behave myself?” He teased. “I’m always on my best behavior when it comes to you, baby.”

You snorted. 

“Is that what you called it when you cornered me in the bathroom last Christmas and stuck your tongue down my throat?” You asked. 

“Yup,” he said. 

“How about when you pick a fight with my dad when he says something shitty?” 

“He stops sayin’ shitty stuff, I’ll stop fighting ‘im on it,” Joel shrugged. You groaned. “I just don’t understand that man. I love ‘im like a brother, and all he says about you when you aren’t around is glowing. You’d think that man worships the ground you walk on but for some reason, you come home and he decides to act like a fuckin’ jackass and I’m not about to just let him talk to you that way, baby, I’m sorry but I’m not. I’d stop any man from talking about his kid that way but I’m sure as hell not gonna just let him do it to you.” 

“Your chivalry would be hotter if it wasn’t putting our entire relationship at risk,” you said wryly. 

He shrugged. 

“We gotta tell him eventually, baby,” he said. “And if he finds out because he was being an ass, well, that’s on him.” 

You went into what had become your usual habit with Joel and holidays. When he wasn’t with Sarah - another hurdle you had yet to cross, not sure how she’d feel about her father dating someone just two years older than her - the two of you were usually together. When you came to Austin like you were now, you went to your parents’ house first and pitched in with your mother, counting the minutes until he showed up at the door. When he did, with his special recipe baked beans in hand, a profound relief took you. He was there, with you, and you were making it work. 

Or you were, until your dad made a back handed comment about your career yet again. 

You clenched your hand a little tighter around your beer bottle and you opened your mouth to respond but Joel beat you to it. 

“I don’t know why you say that kind of crap,” he said, going from leaning against a fence post by the pool to rising to his full and frankly massive height. “You tryin’ to make your kid feel like shit? Make her think you ain’t proud of her and what she does? Because I got news for you, bud, you’re damn lucky to have someone like her for a kid, someone who’s smart and kind and talented as hell. You’re damn lucky she comes around here at all, you talking to her the way you do and I’m not about to just let you pull that shit in front of me!” 

You stood there, mouth open, staring at your boyfriend who no one knew was your boyfriend. The party had gone silent, the only sounds coming from the sizzle of burgers on the grill and the quiet guitar of background music from the speakers around the pool. 

“Don’t much appreciate bein’ spoken to like that in my own home, friend,” your dad said eventually, his voice low and dangerous. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Joel muttered, setting his beer bottle down with a little too much force on a nearby table. “I’ll see myself out.” 

He hardly looked your way on his way to his truck and, when the rest of the guests left that night, you just had to pray that your mom believed you when you lied and said you didn’t know why Joel would act like that because of you. 

Two months later 

“It’s just not working,” you said, your voice thick. 

You didn’t like doing this. You didn’t want to do this. You needed to do this. 

“Baby,” he said, a pleading edge to his voice. “C’mon, I know… I know things have been rough, that the distance is real hard and that I fucked up when you were here last but…” 

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked, rubbing your temple with one hand and clutching your phone to your head with the other. 

“I thought we were lovin’ each other,” he said in a voice so sad and weak it almost broke you. 

“To what end?” You asked. “Where is this going? We’ve been doing this for more than two years now and what’s changed? We’re still in different states, my parents still don’t know and neither does your daughter, our lives are still separate. We have no where to go from here and I just… I can’t keep doing this. It’s not working.” 

“Isn’t it worth it like it is?” He said softly. 

“Joel,” you whispered. 

He sighed. 

“You’re right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just… You’re right. I shouldn’t hold you back, you deserve to have whatever you want.” 

“So do you,” you said quietly. 

He laughed once. 

“We both know that ain’t true,” he said. “Just… take care of yourself for me, OK baby? Give yourself something good.” 

“You too,” you said, just letting yourself sob now. 

“Still love you, baby,” he almost whispered. “Think I always will.” 

You pressed your nails into your palm. You weren’t sure you could survive saying it back. 

He didn’t ask you to. 

“I’ll see you around,” he said. “Bye, baby.” 

He hung up before you said I love you, too. 

Seven Years Later

You wondered if you should feel guilty, looking at your engagement ring on your finger as your new fiance snored lightly beside you. 

Reid was a good man. You’d met on a dating app a few years earlier, a few casual boyfriends between you and the disintegration of your relationship with Joel by then but he still lingered there on the edge of your consciousness. Never close but never far away, either. 

Your new fiance had wooed you in the usual way. He charmed you over text, he thoughtfully arranged dates, he even sent you flowers the first time you slept with him. He did almost everything right, even if he was sometimes oddly distant and unreachable. You were happy when he got down on one knee at the mini-golf course he’d taken you to on your first date, a large and shining diamond held out to you as an offering. 

But for a moment, just half a second, it wasn’t Reid you wanted to ask you that question. It was Joel, the man you’d loved more than any other, the man you hadn’t spoken to in the better part of a decade, the man you had no business still loving that you wanted to ask for your hand. 

Breaking things off had been the right call. You were right, it couldn’t work. You couldn’t have with him what you had with Reid, someone to sleep next to every night and plan a future with every day. But fuck, you still wished you could. 

You toyed with the ring, twisting it on your finger, the stone feeling oddly heavy on your hand. Reid was a good man. One you could settle down with, one you could build a life with. He was what you needed. 

You rolled over and wrapped around a pillow, trying to not think of Joel as you fell asleep next to your fiance. 

***

Bar None, Present Day

Joel thought he was crazy when he saw you. 

It wouldn’t surprise him if he’d lost his mind, spending the last decade hung up on you the way he had. There hadn’t been a day that passed since you left him that he didn’t think about you. He wondered how you were doing, if you were too stressed at work or if you were drinking enough water or if you’d seen a movie he thought you’d like. 

Sometimes, he just thought about you existing in your life. He pictured you on your couch reading or laughing with a glass of wine in your hand or lying in bed with your eyes half closed as you drifted toward sleep. He liked doing that, picturing you in your space in the intimate moments of your life. 

Others, he thought about the deeper things. He thought about you being happy, both alone and with someone else. He thought about you getting older and advancing in your life and your career. He thought about you struggling sometimes and how he wished he could make it easier. He thought about sending you flowers on your birthday and almost did a few times before deciding that might mess things up for you, if you were dating someone and flowers from another man showed up at your door so he didn’t because all he wanted was for you to be happy. 

He’d started talking to your dad again, a few months after you broke things off with him. They made up in that gruff way men did, dodging any and all emotion as much as they could. Joel latched on to everything your father mentioned about you. He became masochistic, in a way. Asking after you sometimes, checking in on how you were doing, seeing if your dad took pictures when you came home for the holidays. The day you got engaged was a punch to the gut. Your dad had proudly announced it to the whole team at their game that night, damn near glowing. That hit him harder than he thought it would. 

You really were gone, then. It really was over. Your dad had shown him the picture you’d sent him when you’d gotten engaged. It was a selfie, a man much closer to your age than Joel was holding you close and tight as you held your ring up for the camera and smiled broadly. But, he thought - maybe wishfully - it didn’t reach your eyes. Not really. Some part of this wasn’t entirely what you wanted. 

He shouldn’t like that - and most of him didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have every good thing you could because you deserved that. But the rest of him was selfish because he wanted to be the one to give you those things. He wanted to give you smiles and orgasms and fucking diamond rings. 

But he could’t. And you deserved someone who could. 

He’d tried to move on in your years apart, he really had. He’d tried dating for a while. Sarah even showed him how to set up a dating app and he went out with a few women but it hadn’t been any different than it had been in the past. It wasn’t long before he gave up, resigning himself to a life where the best of it was behind him. 

Going to Bar None was one of those masochistic things he just kept doing. He tried not to go too often, limiting himself to once a month at most. Some months were better than others. Sometimes, he could go six, eight weeks without stepping foot inside the place he’d first met you. Others, he went back three or four nights in a row. He always sat at the same spot he’d been at when he first saw you, like if he stayed rooted there long enough you’d walk back into his life and you could pick up right where you left off. 

Still, it was a shock when he saw you come in with your friends that night. He forced himself to sit there and wait even though your eyes found his the second you were in the door. 

You were engaged. Maybe even home for some kind of wedding related event. The last thing you needed was some ex-boyfriend butting in where he wasn’t wanted. 

But… you were looking at him. Not just looking at him, looking at him the way you used to, looking at him like you wanted him. So, when the last of your friends got up and left and you were there at the table, alone, he couldn’t help it. He went to you. 

And you weren’t wearing a ring.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, looking at your bare hand for a moment before going back to your face. “Your dad didn’t say…” 

“Yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled,” you smiled a little, putting your hand back in your lap. “He lost out on some deposit money for the wedding when that fell through. Thankfully, he got to place the blame on my ex and not on me.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” Joel asked, trying to keep from feeling hopeful. Lord knows he shouldn’t. 

“He cheated on me,” you said, shrugging simply as though you’d said he’d forgotten what you’d sent him to the store to get.

“Shit,” Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s a scumbag, not to mention a fuckin’ dumbass.” 

You smiled a little and shrugged again. 

“It happens,” you said. “And, honestly… I was a little relieved. The closer we got to the wedding, the more I wondered if I was doing the right thing.” 

Joel’s heart sped up. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “As much as I loved him, it just… it wasn’t the same as how I felt for this one guy I dated before.” 

“Really?” Joel asked, forcing himself to stay in his seat and not take your face in his hands and kiss you. 

“Really,” you smiled a little bigger now, one that it looked like you were struggling to contain. “We dated for a while and I loved him so much. I still do. But I was stupid, I let a bunch of life things get in the way and I didn’t fight for things with him the way I should have.”

Joel moved a little closer to you. 

“Probably not stupid,” he said. “Probably just practical.” 

“Nah, it was stupid,” you said. “When you love someone that much, the only practical thing is to figure it out, you know?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.” 

“Anyway,” you said. “I decided to come back here. See if he was still single and willing to make a go of it. A real go of it this time, one where we say fuck all the life problems because this is worth it.” 

“Well,” Joel said, his heart racing now. “He’d be a fool to turn you down. He was a fool for letting you go to begin with.” 

You smiled all the way then before leaning into him slowly, hesitantly. You kissed him, gentle and soft and your lips were so familiar but so electric on him. Something in him came alive at your touch, sparking low and deep and hot and he was suddenly desperate for you. His hands moved of their own accord, one to hold your face to his, the other to take your waist, slipping around to your back, pulling you damn near off your bar stool and into him, his tongue dipping into the sweetness that was your mouth. 

After what seemed like forever and no time at all, you pulled back from him, breathless and wide eyed. 

“Want to come back to my place?” You asked quietly. “I’m still unpacking but it’s not far.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly and then laughed a little. As if he wouldn’t go anywhere you asked. “Course I do.” 

You were barely in the door when your arms were around his neck, your body pressed tightly to the front of him, his hands snaking around to hold you close. You led him to your bedroom, tugging at his clothes and stepping out of yours until both of you were naked next to your bed. Joel’s eyes ran over you in the dark, the slats of the blinds casting lines of moonlight over your bared skin. You were somehow - impossibly - even more beautiful than he remembered, his hands gently running over the outline of you in front of him. 

“You sure about this?” He asked quietly. 

“I’m sure,” you whispered back. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.” 

He smiled at that, kissing you before that smile swallowed him up, and he lowered you onto the bed. He guided you back on it, until you were in the middle of the mattress and he settled between your thighs. His cock - already so hard it almost hurt and dripping with want - nestled against your soft, wet heat, the head of him brushing your clit as he rocked himself against you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed as he kissed your neck, drinking in the smell of your perfume and skin and just a little bit of sweat from the heat of the bar. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you, too,” he dragged his teeth up and over your skin to nip at your ear lobe. “So goddamn much.” 

He kissed over your skin, pressed himself against your warmth, worked himself against your slit, savoring every part of you he could possibly touch until you were dripping and damn near writhing below him. 

“Please,” you panted, your fingers knotting in the hair at his nape. “I need you, I need you inside me, please, I…” 

He just nodded, separating from you enough to look between your bodies as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing just the tip of him inside your grasping pussy before settling on top of you again. His eyes found yours in the dark, your skin soft on his, your mouth open as you whimpered in pleasure and want. 

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Give you everything you need.” 

You nodded quickly, frantically, and he pushed inside, his cock spreading you open and he had to fight to not close his eyes and get totally lost in the feel of you. But he needed everything, he needed to see you while he felt you and heard you and breathed you in. It had been too long since he’d seen you like this - back arched, mouth agape, keening and whining from his cock. He needed it like he needed water or air, needed you with him like this as often as he could get it. He needed you with him in every other way, too. He was an addict, there was never going to be enough. He knew now, after years of drought, that he would happily drown in you if you’d let him. 

He kissed you as he bottomed out inside, the whole of him filling the whole of you. Your walls clung to him, already fluttering lightly over him, your thighs wrapped around his hips as he held himself deep. He could taste you now, too, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Finally, he had all of you again, overwhelming all of him again. 

When he started to move inside you, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too goddamn good and it had been years since he’d last been with anyone without a condom. But he didn’t need to worry about making you come, he could tell you were already close. It had been years since he last had you but his body knew yours deeply and intimately. He knew how your hips moved when you got close, how your channel would draw tight for a moment before relaxing ever so slightly, again and again until you were pulled so close around him that he knew you were right on the precipice of your climax. 

“Come on baby,” he whispered, looking in your wide eyes. “Come for me, let me feel you.” 

You cried out, the sound cracked and desperate, and he pressed deep as you came, your channel throbbing and pulsing over him so hard that the rest of the world fell away. All that was left was you and how you were taking him, you and how damn good your pleasure felt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, still grinding his cock deep into you until your orgasm started to ease. “Not gonna last baby, can I come in you? Fuck, please…” 

“Please, Joel,” you moaned but, before he could start fucking into you hard and fast, your fingers dug into his bicep and your eyes met his, pleading in a new way. “But… I’m not on anything.” 

He stilled inside you, your cunt still tight around him, the last aftershocks of your orgasm running over him. You wanted him to come inside unprotected. He knew you’d always wanted children. You’d even day dreamed about it with him, fingers laced with his when you were naked in bed, but that’s all it had ever been: a dream. Now, you were damn near asking for it. 

“You sure?” He asked, breathless. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want you. All of you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck and fucking into you in earnest, his cock harder than it had ever been at your words. “I’m yours baby, only ever been yours.” 

Your thighs tightened against his sides, your hips rising to meet his, your pussy drawing tight around him again as he worked down into you and he moaned into your skin as he came, the heavy pulse of his orgasm making you come around him again, finding the height of your shared being together again, the way it seemed like it always should have been. 

When his climax finally eased, he went limp on top of you for a moment, your hands tracing slow, easy paths over the breadth of his back. When it felt like he could control his limbs again, he kissed your shoulder and pulled out of you gently, falling to your side. You rolled to face him and he tugged you close before lacing his fingers with yours, brushing over your knuckles as he did. 

“Did you mean that?” He asked quietly, eventually. 

“Yes,” you said softly, watching him closely. “I know what I want, Joel. I went a long time without you. I had a lot of time to think about things. I know what I want and what I want is you. I wanted you while we were apart, too, I was just… too afraid of what that might mean. But I know better now.” 

“What about your family?” He asked. “Your dad… not sure he’ll ever forgive us.” 

“Don’t care,” you said. “I fight with him all the time, anyway. At least this is a good reason to.” 

He smiled a little. 

“And it doesn’t bother you that I’ve got a kid who’s just two years younger than you?” He asked. 

“Moved past that years ago,” you smiled back. “Does it bother you?” 

“Moved past that years ago,” he said, too, and you laughed. 

“Does it bother you that I…” you took a deep breath. “That I want kids?” 

He watched you closely for a moment, your lower lip drawn between your teeth. 

“Haven’t thought much about having more kids,” he said. “But the times I have… they’ve been yours.” 

“Really?”

“Every time,” he said. “S’long as you don’t mind them having an old dad…” 

You laughed again, all gentle and easy, the way things were when the two of you were alone together. 

“Think we can manage,” you said. “I just want you. Everything else? We’ll figure it out.” 

He smiled a little and he reached out, cupping your cheek and looking in your eyes and feeling a spark in his chest that said he was holding the whole world in his palm. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Think we will.” 

A/N: I'm SO SORRY it took me a million years to finish this, I really didn't intend to. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

I hope you enjoyed these two crazy kids. I had a blast writing them. Thank you for being here and for putting up with the insane wait between chapters. Love you!

[slytherinn-xo]

Swim Tryouts at 7:30- Danielle Van De Donk

Danielle Van De Donk X USWNT Player! Lyon Player! Reader

Synopsis: When Daan has football at 7:00 and swimming practice at 7:30, while at the world cup.

851 words

Being a US player that plays outside of the US is rare, like extremely rare, but being the only one to have never played in the NWSL, now that's rare. 

I was born in the USA, raised in Memphis Tennessee, but when I was 14, I moved away to Germany as that's my father's home country. When I spent the next three years before I started off my career in the German Women's top League.

I've played for four leagues, now, starting off my career in the German League with Bayern Munich in 2017 for just one season. Getting to play with the greats over there, learning so much from Frido, Sara Dabritz, Jill Roord, Leupolz, and Leah Galton.

Before I signed with Arsenal in 2018, for the next three seasons, until 2021. Where we won the WSL title once, in my first season.

Which was where I met Daan, I fell in love to say the least. But she was already in love, with Beth Mead, so I watched on from the side lines, like I was waiting to be subbed on now.

But she was my best friend, it was her, me, Viv and Jill when she finally came and joined us. The Dutchies and the American.

But they were my family.  

And then I moved to play for Barcelona for just one season after they won the Champions League in 2021 til 2022. Before I moved, and I got the chance to be with the girl I was in love with. 

Daan. 

So I joined in 2022, which was where we reconnected, and to say we both fell in love was the truth. We've been dating now for 10 months, and we do hide it, but we don't at the same time. 

We're private people but not a secret.

So facing here now in the group stages of the Women's World Cup, it was hard. 

But with less than 3 minutes to go of extra time was on the clock, and I turned back after the whistle was blown. 

I just saw an orange shirt on the floor. "Who is it?" I asked Lindsay, my Lyon teammate, as I couldn't read from that far away. Well that and I'm dyslexic and can barely read myself.  

"Daan." She muttered before I ran over to my girlfriend. I couldn't hide all of this, I was scared, my girlfriend is on the floor not bloody well moving. 

"Schatje." I told Daan standing by her as she was led on the floor not moving, crouching by her as I had my hand on her shoulder. 

"Poepie." Daan muttered back to me. 

"Not that name." I told her with a smile, that was one good sign she could still understand me and knew who we were around her. 

When the Dutch medics made their way over to Daan you saw the first showings of blood slowly coming out of her hair, but you had no idea how much there would be under there. 

I wasn't given a choice but to move away from her as the Dutch staff moved me out of their way, pushing me back away from my girlfriend. 

"No, stay!" Daan told me as she locked eyes with me, trying to reach her hands out to grasp onto me. 

"I'm right here." I told her as I kept eyes with her. 

I watched as they placed some gauze over her wound, before just placing a swimming cap over it. 

I laughed at her. 

"Not a word!" Daan told me, pointing that finger at me, wagging it at my face. 

"You look like you've got swimming practice in half an hour." I told her with a smile. 

"Oh shut up." Daan told me as she stood up. 

"Make me!" I told her walking away from her backwards as she was escorted of the pitch before she could return to play. 

~~

"Are you two doing okay, it looked rough on the pitch?" The interviewer switched to English seeing me walk up to Daan, and I stood a bit behind my small gal. 

"The best players are always the most competitive." I told the interviewer as I interrupted Daan's interview. 

"Best friends?" The interviewer asked us both, as my arm was around Daan's shoulders but Daan's was holding onto my waist. 

"The best." Daan answered like clockwork for us, squeezing my waist twice, doing our code, for when we wish we could say our feelings. 

"Go get that checked out properly." I told Daan raising one eyebrow up at her, as she nodded, looking deep into my eyes. 

"I will, ik houd van je." Daan told me, trying to politely kick me out of the interview. 

"Ik houd van je." I told her back quickly kissing her before walking off to Lindsay who was gasping at my actions, before I froze. 

"You didn't mean to do that?" Daan asked me. 

"No I didn't!" I said shaking my head, before running back to kiss Daan one last time before running away back to Lindsay as we were both bright red in the face now. 

[sgiandubh]

Caitriona at an Irish singer's concert 🎶

And there is a music producer about whom no news is written in the Internet newspapers, who is not invited to any music awards ceremony!!

He does not appear at events with music personnel !!!!!

where is he as a producer in the music world?🔎

Dear Where Is He Anon,

So, so sorry for the delay in answering you - very busy week @work, and lots of exciting things we managed to put in motion in a very short time span.

Back to your absolutely legitimate question, 'where is he as a producer in the music world', I think we know by now he's been almost exclusively in cahoots with The Fratellis, that Glaswegian Indie Rock band whose last album, Half Drunk Under A Full Moon, was released in 2021. Which is to say three years ago.

He is not a producer and he certainly was not that album's producer:

[let it also be reminded that Dr. Eustace was the photographer working on the album's design, which explains a lot of things]

But by all means, do not believe me. However, believe Jon Fratelli himself, talking to The Guardian, one of my favorite UK media outlets:

Their real producer is another Tony. Tony Hoffer, from Memphis, Tennessee. And who has a very decent, transparent personal and professional tracking record to boot:

Nobody mentioned TMcG's name in The Guardian, in 2021, two years after The Remarkable Weekend. Wikipedia simply mentions him as 'additional personnel' - there is enough cruelty in that choice of words to insist, Anon.

A man of many mysteries, indeed, probably more versed in fixer uppers and Bitcoin speculation, if you ask me.

[kvetchlandia]

Baron Wolman Blues Musician Mississippi Fred McDowell, Overton Park Shell, Memphis TN 1969

“My name is Fred McDowell. They call me Mississippi Fred McDowell, but my home is in Rossville, Tennessee. But it don’t make any difference—it sounds good to me, and I seem like I am at home here when I am in Mississippi. And I do not play no rock ’n’ roll y’all. I just play the straight, natch’l blues. And whenever you want to get somebody to play for you just call for Fred McDowell. I was raised on the farm you understand. The only way you can rock Fred, you got to put him in a rockin’ chair—lay me down you understand? That’s my type of rocking. And my type of blues, I plays with a bottleneck. I first got this style from a beef bone you understand me? Come out of a steak. My Uncle, when I was a small boy in the country, he ground this bone down and filed it with a file and put it on the little finger. But I put it on my ring finger you understand? This here bottleneck sound is better than the bone cause you get more kinda clearer sound out of it. And I would like for you whosever listening to me . . . who buy one of the tapes or albums or anything. I’d like for you to listen to what I am saying. I make the guitar say what I say y’all. If I say ‘Our Father’ it will say ‘Our Father.’ If I give out a hymn it will say it. If I play Amazing Grace it will sing that too. Now that’s my style when you hear me doin’ that. I hope y’all will like it whomever get it.” Mississippi Fred McDowell

[friccafracc]

DROP THE FIC OR IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEECAPS

ALRIGHT OK BUT I NEED IT TO BE KNOWN THAT I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING SERIOUSLY SINCE HIGHSCHOOL OK

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

“Something is after me. I know it is, I’ve seen it. It looks like a man, but I know that it’s not. It…. It’s face is like a mockery of something human- like- like if you asked someone who has never seen a human to draw or model a person’s face, their smile. No… I don’t think any human would be able to get it that wrong.”

“And I’m not crazy, alright? God, y’all probably get that a lot here, don’t you? You people specialize in crazy. Not that I’m anyone to judge anymore, given the shit I went through before coming out here. I didn’t even know a place like this existed outside the Usher Foundation. I just…there’s some weird, crazy shit out there I guess, and when I heard about y’all, I figured I should probably pay a visit. At least let someone know before I die.”

“I know I’m gonna die.”

“I suppose I should start from the beginning. My name is Joshua Nelson, I’m originally from the States–Memphis Tennessee. Now, if there’s one thing you should know about Memphis, it’s that nobody in their right mind should EVER move there on their own accord, ‘cause you’ll either get mugged or stalked or both. I was born and raised there, so I never really got the choice during the formative years of my life. I’ve learned to live with it, though.”

“I worked retail in a gas station before…well, everything. It was a shithole. The kind of building where, no matter how hard you scrubbed and no matter how much bleach you used, the stains and smell of smoke would never leave. Instead just…mingled with the citrus of the chemicals. It paid the bills, though, and I was never witness to a robbery, so I couldn’t complain too much. The customers were docile and if I noticed anyone shoplifting, I kept it to myself. I wasn’t getting paid enough to give a damn.”

“We had regulars that would come in on a schedule and regulars that wouldn’t. People who were just passing through the city or visiting family or friends. You get all types in that kinda place, and if you’re placid enough to any asshole who’s having a bad day, everyone gets along just fine. There were a couple of regulars who were friendly enough, though, that I remember their names. Miss Kelly was an older woman, short and heavyset–she was one of the friendlier ones. We’ve got a lot of talkers in the south and boy did she make sure I knew every exact reason for what her kids were getting up to, or what was going on in a reality show she was hooked on at the time.”

“George Michael, a thin man in his 40s, maybe, always came in whenever he needed a new pack of cigarettes, I think he was a chain-smoker, cause he was in there a lot.”

“And then…then there was Hunter. Now Hunter was a younger man, maybe college age. A little older than that? Poor bastard was hooked on something, that much anyone could tell. He was gaunt, a little twitchy, you know, telltale signs of drug abuse. I could never tell what specifically he was on, but then again, it was never my business to know. I treated him the same as every other customer, we all knew he wasn’t gonna cause any harm, he usually came in for food, chips and hotdogs and stuff and he never caused a fuss.”

“I think… I think Hunter is dead.”

“One day he came in, I think it was a Wednesday or something cause it was slow that afternoon, and he burst through the door. Well–maybe not burst, but he came in the building like he was racing to get indoors first before someone else. The guy was usually jittery and, I’ll admit, a little shifty usually, but this was full blown paranoia. It startled me at first, his intensity, and he made a b-line towards the back of the store and ducked behind one of the shelves. Maybe not duck completely like ducking for cover, but it was obvious he was hiding. It almost made me expect the police or some drug lord to come storming through the door, but nobody else came.”

“Hunter stayed pacing in the building for a good 20 or 30 minutes, periodically lifting his head to crane his neck and peer out the window or the glass of the door. I checked once or twice as well, but if someone was out there, I didn’t see them. Eventually the guy calmed down enough to buy something and when he approached the counter with his bag of Doritos he looked almost like he was going to be sick.”

“I asked him if everything was alright, but he just shook his head and left.”

“I didn’t see him again for another week or two after that. Obviously I assumed the worst. I theorized that someone was after him and when he didn’t show up when he usually did it was more than enough to confirm my suspicions. Be it cops or some random person on the street, I couldn’t decide which fate would be worse, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel for the guy at least a little bit.”

“Hunter was almost completely out of my mind when I saw him again. I was surprised. By all accounts, it didn’t look like anything had changed about him. Maybe aside from the fact that his posture was way better than it usually was when I saw him, but other than that, nothing was out of the ordinary.”

“Business went on as usual and when he came up to the till with a liter of coke, I offered him a ‘Welcome Back’ and rang him up.”

“When I turned back to him, he was smiling. For some reason it was like a pit opened in the bottom of my stomach. I couldn’t understand why, though. It looked like Hunter–patchy, unkempt stubble, greasy hair, thin face, sunken eyes. His appearance had never bothered me before, so I was struck with confusion that mixed in with the undefinable, sudden sense of dread.”

“‘Thank you,’ he said as I handed him his change. And he walked out the door. It sounded like Hunter, too.”

“Hunter returned the next day, and the next. Each time he was polite and quiet, and each time he smiled when I rang him up. I counted his teeth. They were straight and flat. When I counted mine in the mirror when I smiled, I saw 17 or 18. Hunter’s counted 24.”

“Maybe he has a dental problem that I didn’t notice until now, I told myself. Human bodies are weird. Sometimes you have more teeth than usual.”

“The fourth day he came in a row, I saw his eyes and his pupils were…swollen, is the only way I can describe them. I know what people’s eyes look like when they’re high. This was not that. It was like they almost swallowed up his irises completely, and they were dull. Dull in the sense that the fluorescents overhead did nothing to cast any reflections onto them. It made me want to writhe and squirm whenever he looked at me.”

“I called in sick the fifth day. I knew Hunter would be back in that gas station to see me. I knew it was to see me. And I knew that thing. That..whatever it was. It wasn’t Hunter.”

“I guess a part of me was always dreading that day. I had always heard stories about people being stalked from friends of friends. It was only a matter of time before it happened to me, right?”

“I saw Hunter at the grocery store the next day, posture straight and face split open into that smile with too many teeth. I didn’t have the mind to be polite. I turned completely around and walked the other way, trying to fool myself thinking that he hadn’t seen me. I kept a pocket knife on me after that encounter. I probably should have been before, but hindsight is always 20/20.”

“Each time I saw him after that, it was worse. On the street to my apartment, his eyes were too wide and his grinning mouth was slightly agape. A crude facsimile of delight as I rushed past him. I stopped going into work when I started to spot him everywhere I went. Every destination no matter how far or random, he was there, grinning at me. He knew where I lived, that I had no doubt. So I went to a friend’s one night hoping to throw him off. Maybe I could move out and lose him. Lord knows I didn’t have the money to break my lease early, but I was desperate.”

“My friend suggested I call the police, but for some reason I was convinced that wouldn’t help. Cops usually only made things worse in that town, and I had a sinking feeling going that route would only waste my time.”

“The final straw was the second night I was crashing on my friend’s couch. I was exhausted, the past few weeks spent sleepless and paranoid and I was ready to finally pass out when I heard a light, rhythmic tapping on the window behind my head.”

“It’s just the wind, I thought to myself. A tree branch or something scraping against the glass. The exhaustion was completely gone, my pounding heart and pumping adrenaline overpowering any lame excuse that I would be stupid enough to be reassured by.”

“I didn’t move from where I lay. Tap. Tap. Tap. Came through the window once again.”

“I don’t know why I laid there for so long, unmoving, convinced that if I didn’t turn around, whatever it was outside would lose interest and leave. I really, really wanted it to leave.”

“I lay still for what felt like hours, every muscle in my body wound up and tense and ready to leap into action at any given opportunity. I was praying the opportunity would never come.”

“I don’t know how long it was when the tapping ceased, but it was long before I finally managed to relax. It seemed like my strategy worked. What an idiotic thing to think. Like I was a child hiding from an imaginary monster in the dark. Like the logic of not giving a stalker any attention so it would go away was sound. No. I think it was that false hope that landed me in this situation.”

“Because when that tapping came again, I wasn’t prepared to turn around. But I did. I turned around and what I saw in the darkness through that glass was… I don’t know what it was. I know it had eyes and teeth. It was grinning, but its teeth stretched well beyond what would be the borders of its face. God, I couldn’t see its face. I knew it was Hunter, though. It had those same lightless eyes that stared back at me every time I closed my own. Dead and dark and dull and staring at me–eating at me, wide and gleeful and spilling into the shadow that I could only assume was a part of the creature, itself. Its form took up nearly the entirety of the window, blocking the outside world. It didn’t move.”

“I screamed. I screamed and closed the curtains and I hid. This woke my friend of course, and she came stumbling out of her room, looking bleary but alert. I tried to signal to her not to go to the window or do anything or to call the police. Thankfully she got the message and the cops were there within the hour.”

“They didn’t find anything. Or anyone, for that matter. I left out the…the monster bit, because I assumed it might land me somewhere I really didn’t want to go.”

“They were about as helpful as I thought they would be. Told me to call them again if I noticed any suspicious activity.”

“I booked my flight here that very night. I wasn’t going to stay in that goddamn city with whatever the HELL that thing was. I don’t want to end up like Hunter. I don’t want it to wear my skin.”

“It will, though. I know it will and it scares me more than anything in the world. And I know I can’t escape it, either.”

“It followed me here. I saw it. It was still grinning at me and it was still. Wearing. Hunter’s. Skin. The shadow that was cast over it made it so I could only see the whites of it’s eyes....its teeth.”

“I don’t want to die.”

[smallpwbbles]

I stg mephiles better come back

See I would love that too but I don’t think there’s anything they could do to make him threatening to me cuz all I can hear when I look at him is “my name is memphis Tennessee”

[be-my-ally]

A Tour of the Penthouse

ugh naming one-shots is the bane of my existence. I'm terrible at coming up with titles.

Hello! I am back! not that I ever left, but I've been on a bit of a writing break the past few weeks - not intentionally I might add, so I am mighty pleased to be *inspired* and writing again. Much more in the pipeline coming soon, but first, a fun little smutty 1973 vegas one night one-shot!

warnings: 18+, p in v, oral (v receiving), mirrors... that's it folks, short and basic but hopefully still hot! this doesn’t feel super elvis-y to me but i think that might be the self-doubt creeping in after it being so long since i last posted (i hope)!

For the prompt: “No. Don’t talk to her like that."

pairing: 1973 Elvis x female reader (note: photos below are from the stax studios sessions in memphis July 22nd about 2 weeks before the vegas dates this fic is set in, but if he was willing to wear velour in tennessee in july, I don't see why not in vegas in august).

wc: 4.4k

You’d had the fantasy, the idea of being plucked out of the audience, the concept of a tap on the shoulder; “Please, miss, come with us.” But you’d known that was purely fantastical. You’d not been handpicked to be here this evening, you’d handily bumped into the brother of your best friend’s husband - a tenuous link if ever there was one who’d happily offered you an evening’s entertainment after you’d embarrassingly admitted you’d come to Vegas alone in the vain hope of scoring an Elvis ticket. The embarrassment waned pretty fast though when he’d apologised for not being able to do better than a back of the balcony seat, but that, perhaps because you’d sounded so embarrassed or pathetic, he knew someone with a standing invite to “not an after-party, just, casual drinks after the show.” Even so, you’d not believed you’d get anywhere near Elvis himself. Yet, somehow here you were, drink in hand, being flirted with (inexplicably terribly)  by one of his entourage as you pretended not to be solely focused on his friend and boss, talking mere feet away. He suddenly whirls around to you, talking loudly to the man in front of you, 

“No. Don’t talk to her like that, man, c’mon.” Elvis shakes his head, “You gotta do it right if you’re gonna try.” The thin man, his name escaping you as entirely inconsequential now you’re being faced with Elvis himself, takes a step back as Elvis practically pushes him to the side, taking his place directly in front of you, hand brushing your arm in greeting. “ Just ignore him hon.” You nod, a little starstruck at being so close to him, having watched him from the balcony earlier that night it was almost a little jarring to go from such distance to so close. The top of his head and bridge of his nose had been more visible to you than anything else, the novelty of now being able to see up his nose one of the many thoughts rapidly running through your head. Oh God, how did I end up here? And, Lord, is that really Elvis talking to me? Competed to be at the forefront of your mind, although admittedly along with Is he really wearing velvet velour in Vegas? 

“Oh, I’ll do my best! If you say so, Sir!” Sir? To be faced with him in all his physical glory - velour and all, was hindering your ability to form thought or words. He chuckles at you, seemingly finding your obviously flustered state endearing, while nudging the other man again,

“Now - before I had ta step-in and save ya, what was he promisin’ ya? A tour?” The other nods sheepishly, as you agree, 

“Oh - uh, yes, um your, uh, friend - uhh, sorry, what was it again? Oh uh, Red here, was saying he could take me to have a look around the showroom, while it was empty-like. If uh, if I was interested.” You cringe internally as you feel yourself stumbling over your words. Elvis scoffs, rolling his eyes beneath tinted glasses. 

“The showroom? That was the best you could do, huh boy?” He shakes his head in seeming exasperation, turning back to you to ask, “You ever wanted to see a dressing room… or uh, my suite?” Of course you have, who wouldn’t have done?  

“Oh. Well, I uh, I can’t say I’ve considered it before.” You wince internally, trying to keep your outer expression neutral, was that seriously your best reply? 

“No? Well honey, I’ll have to take you back and show you some time.” You can’t help the giggles escaping, nor the slight snort that preceded them - too utterly flustered to worry about playing it cool.  

“C’mon EP, that’s not playin’ fair, you’re practically bribing the poor girl.” Red says it almost without thinking, and you can see the nerves play out on his face, hoping Elvis would react the way he’d intended. 

“Bribing?” He scoffs, “With you as the competition,” sneering he turns back to you, “go on then, doll, who’d you pick? Me or this ol’ lug?” He puffs out his chest as if showing off. 

“Well, uh, Mr. Uh. Mr West. You’re very nice and all, but -“ Red laughs in response,

“Don’t worry darlin’, I knew I was fighting a losin’ battle soon as he stepped over here.” He nods, “I’ll try my luck over there, you two enjoy your night.” He smiles, although you can tell he’s a little put out. Elvis looks pleased with himself, hip cocked and hand inserted into his bright gold belt, seemingly waiting for you to have something else to say. 

“That - that’s not the outfit you were wearing earlier.” If you could smack yourself right now, you would; of course it wasn’t the same outfit, why would he stay in a stage costume all night, you wish you could take the words back but Elvis smiles, a little ruefully, pulling his hand from his belt to run it through his hair. 

“Well honey,” He drawls out the endearment, elongating the syllable break, as if debating whether to tell you, or perhaps an attempt at making his voice sound even more appealing. “It’s, a bit embarrassin’ to admit, but… I’ve got a bit of a  habit of splitting my pants…” He looks at you, solemnly shaking his head,  “Just you know, with all the movin’ and shakin’ on stage, I seem to go through a lot of them. Made it through the show alright tonight, but apparently climbing down them stairs off the stage at the end was too much for ‘em.” 

“Oh.” Your eyes widen as you take that in for a second, mind gone as you imagine the white crystallised suit of earlier, splitting down the seam and then all the way down his legs, imagining it falling off of him completely, him stood nude and glorious against the spotlight of the stage. You realise he was still talking, “Huh? Sorry - What’d you say?” Elvis rolls his eyes, 

“I said, listen, how’s about you come and take a look? Are you any good with a needle?” You’re slow to the uptake when being faced with his southern drawl and seemingly random question and you panic for a second; he’s still looking at you, watching your expressions with unblinking eyes beneath his lavender shades, you can’t think of what to say in response, such an easy question, but what level of skill does he even need? You gape at him until he finally seems to take pity, shrugging a little, 

“S’alright if you’re not, it’s just my fingers, I’ve never got the hang of it,” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “My ma tried, but I can never thread it quite right.” He mimes trying to thread a needle, comedically - tongue out, and one eye closed. You burst out laughing, mostly from sheer relief from being able to form thought again. “You must at least know how to hem?” 

You nod, a little offended, “Of course! I made this dress!” He looks you up and down, and you feel yourself stand up a little straighter, an almost subconscious reaction to his looking, while smoothing the pockets down as surreptitiously as you can for his inspection. 

“Made it fill out just right too.” You squirm on the spot in response, you can’t work out if you should be offended at being reduced to essentially free labour, or that you somehow find it totally acceptable just because he’s made your tummy flip with that one little sentence. 

“Well, you know, just thought maybe, maybe I could just get you to take a look and let me know what you think I should do.” 

“Oh uh, sure thing - Yes, absolutely, I could do that.” He grins at you, in reward for your compliance, before pressing a hand into the small of your back, directing you to the elevator. 

It’s overwhelming, the feel of being with him in such a confined space, focussed on the door in front of you for the mere seconds between floors. It’s all you can do to keep yourself together, the smell of him, the feel of his hot palm still against your back making your thighs clench. Elvis seems to be in a world of his own, fingers gently rubbing your back, humming under his breath. You’re not quite sure why you’re both pretending you really were going to look at a torn jumpsuit. But when you start to follow that line of thought you can feel your heart-rate increasing and panic start to rise - it’s not that you don’t want to do whatever he has in mind, just that you’ve never done this causally before. All you can do is quickly attempt to distract yourself by curiously assessing the decor. 

Somehow though, mere minutes later, small talk and short tour over, you find yourself sitting at his dressing table, jumpsuit in hand as you peer at the split straight along the seam of the crotch. 

“Well, er, Elvis, here’s the thing - I think it might be beyond repair - or, at least it’s beyond what I can do with a travel kit.” He nods, solemnly, from over your shoulder, his sideburn hair tickling your cheek, and hands starting to span across your ribs. 

“Hmm, guess I’ll have to send it to get mended then,” He tugs it out of your grip, balling it up and throwing it off to the side.

“Oh, well - yes, I’m sure someone will be able to - oh!” His hands creep further around your ribcage, until he’s just ever so slightly brushing his fingers further against your breasts. You shiver as his breath gets heavier on your, puff of laughter at your immediate physical reaction sending goosebumps across your exposed skin. He brushes your hair out of the way, gently tucking it behind the other ear, while his other hand remains spanning your ribs, thumb moving in delicate small circles. The small part of your brain not totally preoccupied solely with the sensation of him behind you wonders if you should be doing something yourself, turning around maybe, but before you can move you feel him lean back in to your neck, lips barely two inches from your skin.They brush against your ear and you squirm away, shuddering a little. 

“Oh,” Elvis laughs, “That’s a no for that, huh, sweetheart. I’ll have to pull out my special moves for you then.” You nod, rapidly, starting to explain that he definitely should pull out any and all moves just nowhere near your ears, but as you’d swung your head up you’d made thunking contact with his nose. 

“Shit! Son-of-a-mother -“ He swears loudly as he takes a sudden step backwards, knocked off balance, and you whirl around apologies tumbling out of your mouth, 

“Oh god, oh, god I’m so sorry.”  He’s pulling his glasses off of his face, a red mark spreading from the bridge of his nose up to between his eyebrows where your head had knocked them hard against his soft skin. “Oh god! Your face!” He blinks at you for a moment, rubbing at the redness, before his face breaks into a crooked grin.

“Can’t say I’ve bumped noses in a while.” He’s still rubbing the spot even while he’s joking and you can’t bring yourself to laugh with him, the embarrassment rolling down your spine, your cheeks turning red to match his. 

“Oh god, maybe I should just go,” You stand from the chair, looking around for your purse, “I don’t know what I was thinking - this is clearly a sign, I’ll be out of your hair in a moment.” He rushes to stop you, hand grabbing your forearm, 

“No, no, please, look - I’m fine now,” He gestures to his face, “bet it won’t even bruise.” You shake your head, “No, look, we just needta be face to face.” His hands grip your waist, eyes telling you to stay, and once he’s sure you’ll stay in place, he brings his hands up to cup your cheeks, “See, you can’t headbutt me from here, just needed to look at each-other.” You nod, gently, barely moving your head. 

“Well, you might be right,” His thumb brushes over your lips, hand moving to clasp the back of your neck, drawing you closer. You stumble towards him until you’re pressed against his front, so close that you’re practically inside his jacket, resting against his shirt. 

Your eyes fall closed as his lips meet yours, he’s hungry for it, capturing your mouth, tugging your lip between his teeth. You feel a little like you’re being devoured, melting against him, his other hand moving to your ribs again clutching you to him and holding you upright. You stumble backwards when he starts to walk forwards, still gripping your body and still pressing his lips against yours. 

He pushes you back onto the bed, leaving you to scrabble backwards up towards the pillows, watching him strip his jacket off.  He immediately goes for his shirt, rapidly unbuttoning it. He’s slimmer than you thought, all tan lean corded muscle, with just a little layer of fat over his stomach and you find your mouth watering as you take in the soft covering of his chest hair. He seems to assess the situation for a moment, before unbuckling his belt, taking his plush velvet trousers off, unveiling his lack of underwear, half-hard cock flopping out. 

You try to swallow your moan, he looks you over, reassuring;  “Don’t worry, I got the sound locked darlin’. S’not like the house, but it’s good enough. You can be as loud as you like.” You almost immediately put it to the test when he hikes your dress up to your waist, exposing your panties, yelp escaping. You stare up at the red canopy, breath hitching as you take in the mirrored ceiling - you can’t take your eyes off of it, watching Elvis’ naked back, the small scattering of moles as he moves. His hands curl around, deftly unzipping your dress even from underneath you, loosening it enough to pull it off. Your head rolls back, watching your nakedness be slowly unveiled. You’ve never been body shy but somehow being unable to look anywhere but at yourself makes you a little self-conscious, and you’re glad when Elvis moves himself back up to be covering you.

“What’d ya want honey?” He slides a hand down, pressing a long, masculine finger against the soft cotton of your panties. “You going all shy on me?” You shake your head,

“No, no - I don’t, I don’t know,” He pushes the fabric into you, gathering the wetness already pooling there, wet patch slowly spreading.  “Take - take ‘em off, let me, need them off Elvis, please.” He grins, finding your slight desperation amusing, 

“Hmm…but they look so pretty doll,” He circles your clit through the fabric, “You sure?” You nod, 

“Uh-huh, please -“ He hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down your legs, getting you fully nude. He chucks them onto the floor and you flush at the sound of the wet fabric hitting the floor. Elvis soon distracts you though, resting on his elbow alongside you, pointing out how you look in the mirror. 

His hand drifts over your bare stomach, somehow gently but firmly brushing over your skin and up to your chest, large sweeping circles - your breath catching as his hand trails closer and closer to you breast, rings warmed by the heat of his hand rubbing against your skin. Every time you think he’s going to touch you, properly, he returns to circle your stomach and if you could form a thought you’d ask him to speed it up, but as it is his mouth is attaching to your collarbone, gently sucking down, little bruises forming. Finally, your back arches to meet him. He finally brushes his fingers over your nipple, tickling, you gasp as he lightly pinches one, an immediate jolt of heat to your core. His hands brush down your sides, leaving you panting, before he wriggles down, pulling your legs with him, so that you slide down the bed, situating himself between your thighs. He runs his hand through his hair, finger-combing the fluffy hair backward, eyebrow arching, 

“You ok with this baby?” You nod, not quite able to believe Elvis Presley is offering to go down on you but there he is, gripping your thighs, placing his head between your legs. “C’mere then.” He kisses the soft skin there, a little line across to the crease of your thigh. His breath tickles and your thighs tense in response. He murmurs something you don’t quite catch before he moves to press a kiss right above your clit. His fingers move from your legs, one hand remaining where it was, the other coming to stroke your labia, spreading your inner folds, feeling where your slick is already sticking your skin together. 

“Lawd, hon-ey, you always get this soppin’ wet?”

“Oh god, Elvis, I haven’t - no-one’s ever,” You can feel him chuckle, the vibration making you gasp, but he doesn’t respond, simply wets his lips and dives in. His hands hold you open for him, and he manhandles your legs to keep them open and apart, your burning core on display for him. He flicks between lapping at your inner and outer folds, his fingers coming up to replace his tongue, scissoring into you, so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.He’s clearly skilled, and the wetness, the newness of it - the shock of it all only adds to your growing heat; and the way you feel yourself start to tremble as the sensation grows.

Your hands clutch at the sheets, trying to avoid gripping his head even as your hips thrust up in response to his tongue spearing into you. You can’t look away from the image of his head between your thighs, enjoying the way his back ripples and how when he pulls back the bridge of his nose and eyebrows become visible. Reminding you who it is between your thighs, as if you could forget from the feel of his famed lips. His tongue licks its way up and down your folds, before tongue-fucking into you. His fingers move back as soon as he moves his tongue away, constantly touching you in some way. Your hips jolt and he moves his mouth up to suck on your clit; everything coming to be too much. He licks you through it, your stomach clenching as the pressure grows out from your core, orgasm starting to fizz through your veins, ringing in your ears.

You shudder as it hits, Elvis leaning back a little, rubbing gently with his fingers, your hips rolling in pure pleasure, until he leans in again to kitten-lick your sticky, wet, skin. Your thighs suddenly slam together of their own accord, and you feel his cheek on your thigh before you hear his “oof” at the sudden impact.

“Oh god, not again.” You try to sit up to apologise but you’re still breathless, and with your core still tensing from your orgasm you struggle to even manage to get onto your elbows. “Oh-no.” Elvis pops his head up, so you can both see each other properly, growling at you. Your head rolls back at the sight of him, sweaty upper lip and a mix of unidentifiable shiny wetness on his chin. 

“You are trouble.” He quirks a grin, as if to ensure you know he’s at least half-kidding, shaking his head at you, “‘m starting to think I needta tie you down if I don’t wanna be battered.” You gasp, back arching and he chuckles at your visceral reaction. “Not right now though, huh, gotta - wanna be in you.” You nod frantically, affirmative words spilling out of your mouth. He slides back down to rest his head between your legs, holding your thighs open with a tight grip. 

“Now, you be nice to lil Elvie, you hear me?” He whispers right against your sensitive folds, breath tickling, talking directly to your vagina, as if it might behave of its own volition, “I don’t think you have hands… or legs… but just in case. No more hittin’ me. Got it? I ain’t afraid to make you behave.” You burst out laughing when he does a high-pitched voice in response to himself, “Yes, sir, Elvis, sir, I’ll behave.” making it seem as if your vagina had just agreed with him. He’s smiling when he pushes himself back up, pulling himself to flop down on the bed at the same height as you, before rolling over, pushing an elbow onto the other side. He tugs on his cock for a second, before lining himself up, sinking into your hot, soaking, heat. 

He groans, pressing into you as you adjust to his length within you, feeling the sweat on his chest rub against your skin. He’s slow at first, building up to forcefully thrusting into you, famous hips  moving at speed. 

“God, you’re tight, don’t do this often do ya honey?” You shake your head, and then nod, trying to respond, “Not too tight though huh, doll, you’re just - just perfect. Perfect for me.” He punctuates each sentence with a hard thrust, your response catching in your throat - practically choking yourself.  He drags you back against him, hands gripping your hips. Jolting your body back and forth as he slams into you, shifting you to fuck into you at just the right angle. You have no idea what noises were coming out of your mouth, only that you were certainly babbling something. He seemed incapable of silence himself, a stream of curses and praises continually falling out of his lips. 

He pauses in his thrusts, preoccupying himself with stroking a finger the length of your vulva, feeling where your bodies are joined. Your eyes fall closed, lost in the sensation of him. He moves back again, sliding his hand up to brush his thumb across your already sensitive clit, your back arching in response. He grunts above you, his thumb keeping pace, and his cock thrusting in at the same speed. It doesn’t take long before the way he’s knocking perfectly into your already sensitive core sends you into orgasm again, clenching down on him and shuddering, your mouth agape and your eyes shuttering closed as the waves of pleasure crash over you. 

He drags you back from it, hips stuttering at a rapid pace, lasting only a minute before you can feel him jumping inside you, his face screwed up tight, mouth opening as he rapidly pulls out, shooting his cum across your stomach. He groans in pleasure, and you tip your head up to meet him, kissing him as aggressively as you can manage in your post-orgasmic state. By the time he pulls away, rolling off to the side and flopping onto his back, both of your lips are bitten and red-raw. You make eye contact in the mirror, watching both of your chests heave as you try to form coherent thoughts again. He’s covered in sweat, fluffy hair starting to curl at the ends with the exertion of it all, and you stare at your own flushed state for a moment, wondering how on earth you’d ended up here. 

“So, don’t needta tie you down then, honey, just gotta tire you out.” Elvis’ voice was gravelly, and you murmured an agreement, 

“I don’t normally flail so much.” You admit, somewhat jokingly. He grins, rolling onto his side to rub your stomach, avoiding his cooling ejaculate, 

“Oh so I’m just special huh?” You nod, 

“You must know that.” He stares at you, and you try to convey with your eyes the depth of feeling by which you mean it, not wanting to scare him by saying it out loud. You think he gets it though, when the next moment he’s smiling a little bashfully before rolling off the bed and stretching beside it. You take the chance to assess him all over again, now that the heat and speed from before is over, taking your opportunity to drink him all in, from the tan line high on his thigh, to the slight swell of his tummy all the way up to his little nipples, and to the slight shadow forming on his chin. He seems to appreciate the attention for a minute, smirking at you, before he wanders off to the ensuite, 

“You hanging around for a lil bit, sweetheart? D’you wanna come to the show again tomorrow?” You wonder if it was intentional that he’d ask this where he couldn’t see your expression, calling out from the bathroom as he starts to turn on the water. But, in what world, in what universe could anyone turn down such an offer.

“If you’re inviting me!” He hums back in response and you feel a giggle rise in you at the next thought that pops into your head, “‘sides, got a promise of a tour didn’t I - Red’ll be expecting me.” You hear the faucet suddenly turn off, although the shower stays running and the next thing you know he’s striding out from the ensuite at that, bouncing you on the bed from the force of his jump onto it, growling as he pins your squirming, laughing self down, his knees on either side of you. He’s struggling to maintain a straight face as he manages to capture both of your wrists in one hand, the other tickling your sides as best he can,

“You better not. You want a tour, I’ll give you a tour. You hear me, little girl?” His hands feel like he’s only playing but his face was deadly serious - you nod rapidly in agreement, 

“Yes, yes, Elvis - yes, I was only kiddin’ I swear!” You manage to make out through your giggles and he growls again, ceasing the tickling and pressing a kiss to your cheek, still practically smothering you, leaving little teasing nibbles down your neck. 

“Fuckin’ Red.” He mutters against your skin, 

“I swear I was only messin’ with you.” He huffs, but nonetheless kisses your lips once more, before releasing your hands and clambering off. He holds out a hand, 

“C’mon - the shower will be hot now. Get you all clean and tucked up in my bed, somewhere no-one else can try and steal you.” You grin as you allow yourself to be pulled up, happily going with him and excited to see what the next day’ll bring. 

[heaveninawildflower]

I posted the FAB silk postcard of the American actress, Maude Fealy a couple of weeks ago and said that I would post some more about her, here a are few more images of Maude from my collection of postcards and photographs.

The first postcard shows Maude as Alice Faulkner from the play 'Sherlock Holmes.' The third one shows Maude as Eunice from 'Quo Vadis'.

The sixth postcard shows a winning photograph by Burr McIntosh from the French magazine 'Paris Figaro Illustre.' Maude's photograph was sent to their competition (to find the most beautiful woman in the world) by the American photographer, William Burr McIntosh. Maude was the winner, chosen from out of 30, 000 entrants from all over the world.

Some information about Maude from Wikimedia.

Maude Mary Hawk was born on March 3/4, 1881-3 in Memphis, Tennessee (the dates vary depending upon the source) the daughter of actress Margaret Fealy and James Hawk, who divorced. Maude took her mother's name, Fealy.

In 1896, she made her debut at the Elitch Theatre in Denver playing various children's roles. Her first appearance was during the week of July 19 in Henry Churchill de Mille's The Lost Paradise. In 1905, Churchill de Mille's son Cecil B. DeMille was hired as a stock player at Elitch Theatre, and Maude appeared as the featured actress in several plays. Their friendship continued for decades, including when DeMille cast Maude in his film The Ten Commandments.

Maude made her Broadway debut in the 1900 production of Quo Vadis, again with her mother.

Maude toured England with William Gillette in Sherlock Holmes from 1901 to 1902. Between 1902 and 1905, she frequently toured with Sir Henry Irving's company in the United Kingdom, and by 1907, she was the star in touring productions in the United States.

In Denver, Colorado, Maude met a drama critic from a local newspaper named Louis Hugo Sherwin (son of opera singer Amy Sherwin). The two married in secret on July 15, 1907, because, as they expected, her domineering mother did not approve. The couple soon separated and divorced in Denver in 1909. Maude then married actor James Peter Durkin. He was a silent film director with Adolph Zukor's Famous Players Film Company. This marriage ended in divorce for non-support in 1917. Soon after this, Maude married John Edward Cort. This third marriage ended in a 1923 annulment and was her last marriage. She bore no children in any of the marriages.

Maude died on November 10, 1971.

[krispyweiss]

Pete Best Band with the Cyrkle at Valley Dale Ballroom, Columbus, Ohio, July 28, 2024

Pete Best says his four-show American swing is designed to take audiences “back to the days I played with four guys named John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Stuart Sutcliffe.”

That it did. Though the crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling of Columbus, Ohio’s 1920s-era Valley Dale Ballroom likely didn’t remind Best of the dingy U.K. and European clubs in which he put the backbeat in the Beatles from 1960-’62.

Best made the comment after his eponymous Band’s opening salvo of “Rock and Roll Music,” “What I’d Say,” “One after 909” and “Chains,” which were played on a stage bookended by screens that showed images of the Best-era Beatles together on- and off-stage.

It was the one time on July 28 the 82-year-old, black-clad Best would emerge from behind his white Gretsch drum set, from which he, alongside brother Roag on an adjacent kit, drove the all-Liverpudlian quintet though 23 songs and 90 minutes of authentically rendered, pre-Fab Beatles music.

Recreating Beatles tracks is a ridiculously difficult proposition, as Best’s tour mates, the Cyrkle, demonstrated during their hourlong opening set. The Brian Epstein-managed group, which has two members remaining from the lineup that played on the Fabs’ ’66 tour, offered such selections as “If I Needed Someone,” “Eight Days a Week” and “While My Guitar Gently Weeps;” numbers by the Ides of March (“Vehicle”) and Ohio Express (“Chewy Chewy”); and its own two hits, “Turn Down Day” and “Red Rubber Ball.” The musicianship was shaky; the set list often beyond the Cyrkle’s grasp, particularly on the Beatles songs and McCartney’s “Maybe I’m Amazed.”

But where the Cyrkle stumbled, the PBB soared, reigniting a 60-plus-year-old jumble of energy on Beatles numbers both mostly forgotten (the Lennon-Harrison instrumental “Cry for a Shadow,” Lennon-McCartney’s “Hello Little Girl”) and still-beloved as with “P.S. I Love You” and “I Saw Her Standing There.”

Best’s wisdom lay in his sticking with his era and avoiding songs with which he wasn’t involved. Tony Flynn, who proved his Britishness by praising the virtues of Olive Garden’s Italian food, was particularly adept on throat-shredding numbers such as “Please Mr. Postman” and “Mr. Moonlight,” yet softer fare, including “Besame Mucho,” “Till There was You” and “Like Dreamers Do” fared just as well, sounding right at home in America in 2024.

And by the time the Pete Best Band said cheerio with the pairing of “Kansas City/Hey Hey Hey,” fans could only be grateful Best returned to music in the 1980s and continues to share the fruits of his truncated career with Beatlemaniacs who are better off for his musical generosity.

Sound Bites still isn’t sure what he expected from Best. But it surely wasn’t an exceptional gig such as this.

Pete Best Band setlist: “Rock and Roll Music;” “What I’d Say;” “One after 909;” “Chains;” “Please Mr. Postman;” “Hello Little Girl;” “Mr. Moonlight;” “P.S. I Love You;” “Roll over Beethoven;” “Besame Mucho;” “Cry for a Shadow;” “Till there Was You;” “Slow Down;” “Money (That’s What I Want);” “Like Dreamers Do;” “Ain’t She Sweet;” “My Bonnie;” “Lucille;” “Memphis, Tennessee;” “Some other Guy;” “I Saw Her Standing There;” “Twist and Shout;” “Kansas City/Hey Hey Hey”

Grade card: Pete Best Band with the Cyrkle at Valley Dale Ballroom - 7/28/24 - A/C-

7/29/24

[paper-mario-wiki]

where did u get the idea for da devil from da bible? most of your lines seemed scripted they were so good so im curious how long you'd thought about it!

well i went into the role knowing i was gonna do a funny voice, but when he first came out i just started talking by saying "hey shadow, it's ME..." and then i realized i didnt know what Black Doom's name was (at the time) but i'd already set the sentence up like i was about to say my name, so i just called him the devil cuz he kinda looks like a lich or a demon lord and i figured that was close enough. and then i committed to that.

same reason mephiles was called memphis tennesee, i just couldn't think of his name but knew it started with "meh" so i just said. memphis tennessee. that's why i said it so weird, the thought was still being constructed as it came out of my mouth.

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, I rarely post hip hop, and when I do its usually so deep underground that a brief, intermittent ray from the sun would strike it fuckin’ blind. I like hip hop that is bizarre and experimental and for the last year or so, I’ve been getting increasingly deeper into phonk; a darkly themed and distorted subgenre of trap. The primary reason that I enjoy phonk is because it seems to be a modern worldwide trend for regular people with audio software to create this kind of music from nothing more than disparate samples, which is based on old school Memphis rap and southern hip-hop styles. And while I wish I could tell you a whole lot more about the artist showcased this week, like a lot of other phonk performers, SPYDER550 seems to enjoy his anonymity. Smash play and enjoy GODDD MODE from 2019’s ACID THUG.

As much as I enjoy giving my audience on Tumblr a proper overview of who the artist is, what they stand for, etc… sometimes I can’t dig up anything of substantive value. SPYDER550’s Instagram is here, his SoundCloud is here, his Spotify page is here, and I found a slightly more robust profile that seems legitimate enough here. You, yes you that is reading this, feel free to go ahead and Google this artist for yourself and tell me if you can possibly draw a clearer picture of the person behind the music than I did here. I suppose I should be relieved; generally speaking, there is TOO MUCH information on certain musical acts that I post, and here is a good example of the polar opposite. From what little I was able to ascertain from my research for this post, 550 is very new to the worldwide music scene, having their first album out in 2019. As far as I can tell, they’ve released at least five albums since then, all under 10-tracks at a stretch. I can’t even tell with 100% accuracy where this artist is located on the planet. One profile says they are from Russia, another says they’re based out of Finland, and another says Memphis, Tennessee… which I’ll assume is just a throwback to Memphis rap (i.e. the music his own sounds are based on). I don’t even know if the above picture is really 550, or even what the hell his real name is. But you know what? None of that really matters, because I’ve been bouncing from tune to tune wherever I can find his music online, and I can tell you there’s a lot of noticeable raw talent here. Each individual tune I’ve found by this artist is intriguing, catchy, and thoughtful in its own unique way. His musical arrangements possess a haunting quality that is often repetitive, but repetitive in a good way, all while managing to be enchantingly mesmerizing. Like a lot of phonk artists, you can bet your bottom dollar that 550 ‘chops and screws’ a lot of his tracks together using various samples directly from the internet (including the vocals most likely). Just below is another bizarre banger, Toxic Face from 2021’s SPYDELIC. Enjoy!

I try to put as much research that I can stand into these musical entries, and sometimes, there’s just not a lot of meat on the bone. That said, if you liked the music in this post, click here, and here, and here for more. It’s just about all I can do to fully inform you of this artist’s existence outside of hiring an internet sleuth to ascertain more. Image source: https://www.viberate.com/artist/spyder550/

[cozyaliensuperstar7]

Rest in peace Shannen Doherty

🙏🏾♥️🕊

Repost @violadavis

Your bravery and ability to share your Cancer journey left something "in" people. Rest well. God bless your loved ones ❤️🕊️🙏🏿🎥@people

My deepest condolences to Shannen's family and friends. 🙏🏾♥️🕊

#ripshannendoherty

Shannen Maria Doherty ( April 12, 1971 – July 13, 2024) was an American actress. She was known for her many roles in television and film, including as Jenny Wilder in Little House on the Prairie (1982–1983); Maggie Malene in Girls Just Want to Have Fun (1985); Kris Witherspoon in Our House (1986–1988); Heather Duke in Heathers (1989); Brenda Walsh in Beverly Hills, 90210 (1990–1994), 90210 (2008–2009) and BH90210 (2019); Prue Halliwell in Charmed (1998–2001); and Dobbs in Fortress (2021).

Shannen Maria Doherty was born on April 12, 1971, in Memphis, Tennessee, and raised in her mother's Southern Baptist faith. She was of Irish and Native American descent.

In 1982, Doherty had guest spots on TV series including Voyagers! and Father Murphy, which was created and produced by Michael Landon. The same year, 11-year-old Doherty won the recurring role of Jenny Wilder on Little House on the Prairie, which Landon starred in and produced. Doherty appeared in all but four episodes in the final season of the show, which was cancelled in 1983.

Doherty lent her voice to the animated film The Secret of NIMH in 1982. She appeared in an episode of Magnum, P.I. ("A Sense of Debt"), followed by an early episode of Airwolf for which she was nominated as Best Young Actress: Guest in a Series at the 6th Youth in Film Awards in 1984.

In 1985, Doherty starred as Maggie Malene in the teen movie comedy Girls Just Want to Have Fun alongside actresses Helen Hunt and Sarah Jessica Parker. Doherty was cast as the oldest Witherspoon sibling, Kris, on the family drama Our House, which ran from 1986 to 1988, a role which garnered her several Young Artist Award nominations.

Doherty's first major motion picture role was in the dark comedy Heathers, which premiered in 1988. She garnered worldwide attention and fame for her breakout role as Brenda Walsh in the Aaron Spelling-produced TV series Beverly Hills, 90210 in 1990. In 1991 and 1992, her portrayal of Brenda earned her a Young Artist Award nomination for Best Young Actress Starring in a Television Series.[8] Doherty left the show after the fourth season in 1994.

She appeared nude in Playboy magazine, first in December 1993, followed by a spread in March 1994.[9] She posed for the magazine again in December 2003 and was featured in a 10-page pictorial.[10][11]

Doherty's career afterward consisted primarily of made-for-TV movies, though she also had a lead role in Kevin Smith's 1995 film Mallrats and later cameoed in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. In 1998, Spelling again cast her in another of his television series, Charmed, in which she played one of the lead characters, Prue Halliwell, the oldest of three sisters who are witches. Doherty also directed a few episodes for the series during the second and third seasons. Doherty left the show in 2001 at the end of the third season, resulting in her character's death. Reportedly, her departure was caused by on-set and off-set tensions between Doherty and co-star Alyssa Milano.[12] Doherty was also twice nominated, in 1999 and 2000, for the Saturn Award, Best Genre TV Actress, for her performance in Charmed.[citation needed] In 2004, E! placed Doherty at number 10 on their list of the 50 Most Wicked Women of Prime Time. In 2007, AOL named Prue Halliwell the 10th greatest witch in television history.

In 2003, Doherty hosted the Sci Fi Channel candid-camera show Scare Tactics during its initial season.[14] From 2004 to 2005, in a return to her prime-time soap roots, Doherty starred as a regular on the short-lived TV series North Shore, where she starred as Alexandra Hudson. Later in 2005, she was in the pilot for a comedy, Love Inc.

In 2006, Doherty produced and starred in her own reality show, Breaking Up with Shannen Doherty, which premiered on the Oxygen channel. In the show, Doherty carried out the "dirty work" for members of the public, including dumping boyfriends or telling people what their friends really think about them. The show was canceled after one season due to poor ratings.

She also appeared in several episodes of the popular British sitcom Bo! in the USA, a brain child of Leigh Francis.[7] In the show, she played herself being randomly harassed by Avid Merrion (Francis), who claimed they were lovers. The show aired in October 2006 on the British Channel 4.

During 2007, Doherty appeared in two television projects. She first appeared in Kiss Me Deadly: A Jacob Keane Assignment for the Here TV network and followed up with a starring role in the holiday film Christmas Caper for ABC Family. That same year Doherty also set up a production company called No Apologies with which she planned to develop a TV drama for herself. Later in 2007, Doherty was ranked number 96 on Entertainment Weekly's list of the 100 Greatest Television Icons.

In 2008, Doherty was featured on the Swedish television show High Chaparall, appearing in the second episode of the show's fourth season.

Also in 2008, 14 years since her last television appearance as Brenda Walsh, Doherty joined the cast of the Beverly Hills, 90210 spin off for The CW Television Network. She returned as a guest star in the new series, reprising her old role of Brenda in four of the initial six episodes. Her character, now a successful theater actress and stage director, returned as the guest director of the high school musical. After her initial guest spot was completed, Doherty stated she was open to returning to the series later in the season[16] and eventually agreed to appear in three additional episodes, including an airing in May 2009. The writers were eager to have her share scenes with Jennie Garth, who reprised her own 90210 role of Kelly Taylor. It was reported that Doherty and Garth's characters would both have a romantic interest in the character Ryan Matthews (Ryan Eggold) reminiscent of their old rivalry for former bad-boy character Dylan McKay (Luke Perry). Doherty and Garth later confirmed that the reports about the love triangle between their characters were false.

In late 2008, Doherty was announced to co-star alongside Dylan McDermott in the independent film Burning Palms, a satire based on Los Angeles stereotypes told through five intertwining storylines. (The film's world premiere was at the Newport Beach Film Festival in April 2010.) Doherty played a lead role in the SciFi Channel adventure film The Lost Treasure of the Grand Canyon. The film premiered on the cable network on December 20, 2008.

On March 1, 2010, it was announced that Doherty would be a celebrity contestant on Dancing with the Stars for the tenth season. The season premiered on Monday, March 22, 2010. Doherty was paired with two-time champion Mark Ballas in his sixth season on the show, but the pair was the first couple eliminated in the second week on March 30. The judges said, "Doherty wouldn't have left if we would have just done scores". She wanted to do Dancing with the Stars to make her ailing father proud. Doherty returned for the finale.

Doherty starred in FEARnet's animated web series Mari-Kari, which launched on June 3, 2010. Mari and Kari are identical twins, but Kari is already dead and is a ghost. Doherty voiced both Mari and Kari in the eight-episode show.

On July 21, 2011, WE tv announced that Doherty would star in a one-hour reality series that would follow her and her fiancé, Kurt Iswarienko, as they planned their wedding. The show, Shannen Says, premiered on April 10, 2012.

November 2016, Doherty joined the cast of a Heathers television series, originally set to air on Paramount Network in March 2018. She played the mother of one of the new generation of "Heathers", different from the character of Heather Duke that she originated in the 1989 film. However, the Parkland school shooting affected the show's premiere, which was delayed because of its dark tone and themes of high school violence. In June 2018, the network chose to pull the show altogether. Ultimately, the series aired over five nights in October 2018.

Doherty once more reprised her role of Brenda Walsh for the six-episode sequel BH90210, which debuted August 7, 2019, on FOX. The same year, she was in the movie Undateable John, starring Daryl Hannah, Tom Arnold and Margaret Cho.

In 2021, she was in the movie Fortress starring Jesse Metcalfe, Bruce Willis, Chad Michael Murray, Kelly Greyson, and Ser'Darius Blain. The film was released in select theaters and on video on demand by Lionsgate Films on December 17, 2021.

1999, Doherty revealed she had been diagnosed with Crohn's disease.

In March 2015, Doherty was diagnosed with breast cancer, which had spread to her lymph nodes. In February 2016, Doherty revealed that she was receiving anti-estrogen treatment to shrink the tumor and enable treatment by lumpectomy rather than mastectomy. The presence of multiple tumors meant that a lumpectomy was not possible, and a unilateral mastectomy was performed in May 2016. Surgery revealed that some of the cancer cells may have spread beyond the lymph nodes. Because the cancer was more advanced than previously thought, Doherty underwent chemotherapy and radiotherapy following surgery. On April 29, 2017, Doherty announced that her cancer was in remission.

On February 4, 2020, Doherty announced her cancer had returned a year prior, and that she was now stage four. In October 2021, Doherty provided an update on her cancer treatment during an interview with Juju Chang of ABC News. In June 2023, she announced that the cancer had spread to her brain and was terminal. In November 2023, she revealed that the cancer had spread to her bones. In January 2024, Doherty shared that she was undergoing a new cancer treatment and that it was successfully breaking through the blood-brain barrier, calling it a "miracle".

Doherty died from her cancer on July 13, 2024, aged 53, as noted in a statement released by her publicist announcing her death.

[hooked-on-elvis]

"HARBOR LIGHTS": The first song ever taped by Elvis Presley (officially)

PICTURES: [1-2] Elvis Presley, December 27, 1954. Photo by Lou Lowery.

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

Elvis had paid for two private sessions at the Sun Studio, when he would cut two acetates with the songs "My Happiness" and "That's When Your Heartache Begins" — the actual date is not certain but it happened sometime in 1953 — and again Presley would go back to Sun Studio on January 4, 1954, to record "I’ll Never Stand In Your Way" and "It Wouldn’t Be The Same Without You," all ballads.

"In fact, he sang very little but ballads, and to the untrained ear, we now know, he sounded like plenty of other local C&W singers. To Marion [Keisker], though, there was something there — a stronger yearning? A deeper passion? A greater determination? Whatever it was, she wanted to keep an eye on it; after the kid had made his acetate she made herself a note: “Good ballad singer. Hold." — Ernst Jorgensen on "Elvis Presley: A Life In Music"

A while after the private recordings, on June 26, 1954, Elvis was officially invited to a recording session at Sun Studio. A phone call was made by Marion Keisker (Sun Studio's secretary), and soon after that Elvis walked back in the studio and he started the official recordings singing in the same familiar way, not venturing in something out of extraordinary. Nothing came out that was really interesting to tape, but still certain there might be something good ahead, a while after that Elvis came back to Sun Studio once more and that's when the ballad called "Harbor Lights" was covered by him.

The song was originally recorded by Roy Fox & his Orchestra with vocal by Barry Gray, in London, on January 29, 1937. You can listen to the original record of the tune below.

Elvis recorded "Harbor Lights" on July 5, 1954, during his first commercial recording session.

According to Ernst Jorgensen, it may have been the first song Elvis recorded. The first song put on tape. The order for the official recordings during that session at Sun Studio would have been, "Harbor Lights" and "I Love You Because", nothing that really caused a big impression on Sam Phillips, but then during a pause from the recordings, Elvis, Scotty Moore and Bill Black were just joking around, having fun playing Arthur's Cudrup tune their own way, without even realizing they were doing something that finally got Sam Phillips really excited about. That's when "That's All Right" came to be and then, during the same session, there was "Blue Moon of Kentucky", both songs, as soon as released, instant hits by this new Memphis guy with a funny/weird/unique name.

Opposite to the hits "That's All Right", "Blue Moon of Kentucky" and even the ballad "I Love You Because", Sam Phillips considered the recording of "Harbor Lights" unworthy of release, according to Jorgensen once more, because "they couldn’t get the Hawaiian-inspired pop song right" (Look at Hawaii being there for Elvis since the very beginning of his career... in a certain way. Interesting). In 1976, tho, RCA released the master of "Harbor Lights" on the LP "Elvis – A Legendary Performer, Volume 2", for the first time.

I don't know about you but this is surely one of my all-time-favorites Elvis song. ♥ Thank God it came to the light of day.

MASTER (TAKE 3):

Music by Hugh Williams (the pseudonym of Austrian composer Will Grosz) and lyrics by Northern Irish songwriter Jimmy Kennedy. Elvis recorded the songs during studio sessions for Sun Records between July 5–6, 1954, in Memphis, Tennessee.

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SOME OTHER TAKES:

TAKES 1-2 and 3/MASTER

TAKE 4:

TAKES 5-8:

LPS/CDS WHERE THE TUNE CAN BE FOUND:

Elvis - A Legendary Performer, Vol. 2 (1976); Greatest Moments in Music (1979); The King of Rock’n’Roll – The Complete 50’s Masters (1992); A Golden Celebration (1998); Sunrise (1999); Today Tomorrow and Forever (2002); Elvis at Sun (2004); A Boy From Tupelo (2012) - FTD; For LP Fans Only (2018) - FTD.

PICTURE: Elvis and The Blue Moon Boys (Bill Black and Scotty Moore), in 1954.

Sources: "Elvis Presley: A Life In Music" by Ernst Jorgensen and Peter Guralnick; Wikipedia; www.elvis100percent.com.