#sleepless in Denver

[hatredmadeofgold]

I worked months on this, please read and enjoy 🥰❤️

Guys, my #samuraiden fanfic “Sleepless in Denver” is now fully updated by @r3dr4g3 and chapter 12 is on its way. I encourage you to re-read the previous chapters (as if it is your first time reading it without comparing to previous version).

I hope you will enjoy this fanfic!

[phoebe-delia]

let me always be with you

Based on "Annie's Song" by John Denver. This song holds a lot of childhood nostalgia for me, and while I tried to stay true to the romance, I hope you feel the same tenderness reading this fic that I do when I listen to this song.

Draco rises easily and early these days. Long gone are the nights when the moon was his sun, and the daytime was slept away behind blackout curtains and a silk eye mask. Now, his body pulls him toward rest not long after the sun has set, and it brings him into the dawn with enough time to appreciate the pinkening sky over a cup of Earl Grey.

Harry is a heavier sleeper. Draco used to tease him about it a little before Harry confided in him about sleepless nights spent in a cramped, dark cupboard; after that, Draco stopped setting an alarm on the weekends and held Harry a little tighter when they went to bed each night.

Draco's favorite morning pastime, on days when he swears the sun rises a little slower, is to watch Harry sleep. To see him take his rest. Harry looks younger when he sleeps, despite the slight gray at his temples and his deepening laugh lines. Draco likes to think they're aging backward as well as forward; making up for lost time.

When Draco has stared his fill, he settles back into bed. Harry's arms reach for him, wanting Draco close even in his subconscious state, and it never fails to hit Draco's heart with a pang of tenderness.

Draco burrows his head against Harry's chest, letting that hard-earned, steady heartbeat lull him back to sleep. Outside, the sky invites a little more light to creep through the clouds.

[shadowland]

gram parsons & emmylou harris

In mid-February 1973 Gram, Emmylou and Phil Kaufman visit the KBPI-FM studios on Morrison Road in Denver. / Tour rehearsals, Feb 1973 by Kim Gottlieb / We'll Sweep Out The Ashes In The Morning by Gram Parsons ft. Emmylou Harris / Gram Parsons & The Fallen Angels Liberty Hall in Houston, Texas (1973) / Gram Parsons: Fallen Angel (2004) / Emmylou Harris Star Billing at Max's / Love Hurts cd + lyrics / Dwight Yoakam / Gram Parsons by Ed Caraeff in 1969 / Joshua Tree / Emmylou Harris from The Guardian (2018) / A Song For You by Gram Parsons / Boulder to Birmingham by Emmylou Harris / Gram and Emmylou sitting on Phil Kaufman’s Harley, with a Sin City jacket hanging off the kicker by Ginny Winn (1973) / Almost Famous (2000) dir. Cameron Crowe, Pete Droge and Elaine Summers / To Know Him Is To Love Him by Trio, originally written by Phil Spector. / Linda Ronstadt in the Trio Documentary / Emmylou Harris 'Pieces of The Sky' (1975) / The intended cover for 'Sleepless Nights' by Ginny Winn, featured in Rolling Stone Magazine (1974) + lyrics / Poster for Liberty Hall in Houston, Texas (1973) / Emmylou Harris clipping, unknown

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Friendly Sex - Chapter 9 - The Calm

We're back baby! Chapter 10 will definitely be up at some point this week but I'm not going to put a time limit on it in case I get bogged down with life etc. Thank you once again to everyone who has liked, reblogged, commented, and messaged you are all actual 'sweethearts'.

Chapter warnings: MDI (18+ only), explicit language, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, over use of pet names, sex without a condom (reader is on the pill), creampie.

_______________________________________________

Your dad picks you up from Indianapolis Airport just after 6am the following morning, holding you tightly for a good 20 minutes before you both could pull yourselves together, and get back on the road. 

“I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye to the twins.” You mumble tearfully, forehead resting against the passenger window.

“That’s not your fault sprout. That goddamn Philip, if I'd have been there I'd have laid his ass out.” Your dad seethes, and you can't help but smile, your dad is a good ten years older than Philip, slightly overweight with a heart condition, but you’d still bet money on him. “First thing I’m going to do when we get home is call your mother and give her a piece of my mind.”

“Dad, it’s not worth it.” You say tiredly. “She’s made her choice, and it’s not me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick you a better person to be your mom, kiddo.” He sighs sadly, patting you on the cheek.

You drift off for a while, the gentle rocking of the car soothing along with the quiet radio, it's not until you're 20 minutes outside of town that you wake up properly, stretching as best you can in the cramped car. Your dad is whistling quietly along to John Denver, as you pass the sign for Forest Hills Trailer Park, you wonder what Eddie is up to, thinking about how he talked you down last night.

You told him you missed him, it was a brutally honest moment, never expecting him to return the sentiment. You supposed it was natural to miss someone when you had spent just over a month with them, but you knew it ran deeper than that, you could have called anyone last night but you needed Eddie.

You finally pull onto the drive, the weight of yesterday feeling stronger again, you’re exhausted from all the tears, the pain of your mother’s rejection, the sleepless night in the airport.

Your dad takes your bag out of the trunk, unlocking the door, you toe off your sneakers and notice a fishing rod and tackle box to the side, suddenly remembering your Dad’s plans for the long weekend; fishing at Patoka Lake with his buddies.

“Oh Dad, I'm sorry, you were supposed to be on your fishing trip!" You cry feeling awful.

"Hey, don't worry about it sprout, there'll be plenty of other trips over the summer." He reasons, dumping your bag down. "Besides, you're more important right now."

"But you've been looking forward to it for months. Why don’t you call Dale? You can still make it up there. I’ll be ok on my own.” You say earnestly,

“I dunno kiddo.” He says scratching his head. “You being on your own after last night doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Well how about I call Robin? See if she wants to stay over?” Knowing damn well Robin wouldn’t be the person you were going to actually call. You could see the turmoil in your Dad’s eyes, you sigh hugging him round the middle.

“Dad please go fishing, I just need a girl’s night, ice cream, crying, watching Grease.” That did it, and you couldn’t help but smile as he tensed in your hold, your dad hated Grease.

“You sure sprout?” He asks, hands practically itching for the fishing pole.

“Positive.”

____________________________________________________

You do feel a small twinge of guilt at your white lie as you wave your dad off, but it quickly evaporates into a strange sense of excitement and anticipation at the idea of having Eddie in your house. You rush to the phone in the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter as you listen to the rings, cord twirled tight about your hand.

“Hello?” A gruff much older voice than Eddie’s answers, this must be the illusive Wayne, or rather the Wayne you’ve been tactically avoiding.

“Oh - uh - hi Mr Munson, my name is Y/n, I’m a - friend of Eddie’s, is he around?” You don’t know why you’re stammering so much, although it might be because the inappropriate part of your brain is screaming ‘Hi Mr Munson, I’m booty calling your nephew, also we’ve banged on your couch - sorry.’

“You wanna speak to Eddie and you’re a girl?” He asks, sounding surprised and it throws you for a loop.

“Um - last time I checked, yes Sir.” You mumble, laughing awkwardly.

“You’re a girl and you’re calling for Eddie?” He clarifies again. “Alright - he’s outside, let me get him.”

The line goes silent for a moment but then you can hear Wayne call something out and Eddie’s voice getting closer.

“- jeez Wayne, why you gotta be so - Sweetheart?” He’s out of breath.

“Hi.” You say simply.

“You ok? You home? Are you safe?” He asks rapidly and you wonder if he’s been worrying about you all night, it made your heart do a funny flip.

“I’m fine Ed’s, I crashed at the airport and caught a flight out just before 4am, I got home about an hour ago.” You reassure him, hearing him exhale heavily.

“You had me so scared last night.” He mutters.

“Yeah, it was intense.” You agree, wiping your clammy palms on your jeans, now feeling nervous. “So, uh I was wondering and you can say no, but my dad has gone fishing for the weekend, did you maybe wanna come over and -” 

“- yes.” Eddie jumps in before you can finish. “Uh, sorry, yeah I’d love to come over, if that’s cool?”

“Yeah it’s cool.” You say smiling, swinging your legs slightly against the counter.

“What time do you want me?” He asks. A loaded question.

Whilst your urge to see Eddie is strong you look like shit, desperately needing to sleep, shower and get groceries.

“Dinnertime? Does six work?”

“It works, see you then princess.”

___________________________________________________

You had briefly called Robin in between your nap and going to the store, filling her in on the events in Chicago, and that Eddie was coming round for the evening. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who went through some shit last night.

“-come again?” You ask, ears ringing slightly.

“Steve and Nancy had a big fight yesterday.” She sighs, and you can hear her pacing in the background.

“What about?” You ask, biting at your thumb.

“He didn’t really say, well more he wasn’t in a fit state to say, he was hammered by

the time I got to him. But if I deciphered his slurs correctly, Nancy had booked plane tickets to go and see Jonathon next weekend without telling Steve.”

“Shit.” You breathe, sitting down on your bed. “I mean maybe she just forgot to tell him?” You offer weakly.

“Doubtful. Either way it sounds like they both said some pretty hurtful things to each other, I think they might be on a break.” She says seriously.

You felt dizzy, you had left Hawkins for all of 24 hours, everything was bright and breezy, you came back and Steve and Nancy are on a break?

“So, Eddie was a lifeline yesterday huh?” She asks, snapping you back to the present.

“Yeah.” You say quietly, mind reeling. “He was really sweet.”

“What’s your plan for tonight?”

“Uh, spaghetti.” You mumble, shaking your head slightly to clear Steve’s image from your head.

“- and?” She presses.

“And spaghetti, Rob.” You laugh wryly.

“Well, whatever you crazy kids are calling it, be safe!” Robin teases, and you flush.

“Ok, bye, Robin, hanging up now!”

“No - wait! Call me tomor-” You put the phone down, running your hand across your face, Steve could be single. Could be, but his track record said otherwise, and his voice from last month was clear as a bell ‘-me and Nance, we always find our way back to each other. I can be myself around her, you know? No bullshit, it’s easy.’ 

“It’s a blip.” You mutter aloud. “Not worth thinking about.”

_______________________________________________________

You should have ordered pizza, good god why didn’t you just order pizza?! You had to go to three different grocery stores in order to get everything you needed for Bolognese, which took up an extra hour of your time. The tried and trusted recipe of your Nana’s inexplicably failing you after 9 years of flawless service, maybe she didn’t approve of your dinner guest. The pasta had clumped together in the water, leaving a stodgy mass, the sauce was weirdly acidic and salty having caught on the hob, and you’d slopped red wine down your white t-shirt when the cork shot out. At this rate the garlic bread would be the only thing edible.

Ding-dong.  The doorbell sounded more akin to a death knell.

You glance at yourself in the hallway mirror as you run for the door and groan, your hair frizzy from the cooking steam, face flushed, the large wine stain looking like you’d thrown up blood.

So why, when you open the door, is Eddie looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen?

“Hi.” He grins, leaning against the porch, he’s trying to affect a pose of nonchalance but you notice his left leg is bouncing slightly.

“Hi.” You say breathlessly, attempting to smooth down your hair. “Where’s your van?” You ask, peering past him to the empty driveway.

“Oh, I parked it up at Gareth’s, didn’t want your neighbours to give you a hard time, tell your dad or something.” He answers sheepishly.

“You didn’t have to, Mrs Roberts is blind as a bat.” You laugh, thumbing to the house on your right. “You wanna come in?” You ask, awkwardly jumping to one side, realizing you’re barring the doorway.

“Thanks.”

You watch him take in the lower part of the house from the hall, consciously slipping his battered Reeboks off onto the doormat, hanging his jacket up carefully on the coat hook.

“Nice place.” He says, smiling widely as he looks at a picture of you on the wall, taken when you were in kindergarten, bright yellow dress and bows in your pigtails to match. “Very cute.”

“Shut up.” You laugh, shoving him lightly, he catches your arm and brings you in for a bone breaking hug. You wrap your arms about him instinctively, his head pressing to the top of yours, rocking you slightly.

A lot of unsaid things pass through, it's a hug of comfort about what happened with your mom, it’s a hug of missing each other, it’s a hug that’s needed by both parties and you find yourself burrowing a little closer. He pulls back after a minute or so to look at you properly.

“You good?” He asks gently, thumbs rubbing across your cheeks.

“'M good.” You mumble, smiling softly. He leans down to kiss you when he stops just shy of your lips, to sniff the air.

“Do I smell burning?”

“SHIT!” You shout, pelting towards the kitchen, smoke billowing from the oven. You grab some mitts, and extract a heavily cremated loaf of garlic bread, coughing as you heave it into the sink.

“Aw honey, you baked.” Eddie croons, wrapping his arms about your waist from behind, you can feel his chest vibrating with barely held in chuckles.

“It’s a disaster.” You whine, leaning back into his embrace.

“What was it supposed to be?” He asks gingerly, lifting a saucepan lid to examine the spaghetti log.

“Spaghetti Bolognese.” You sigh.

“Well, points for effort princess.” He laughs openly, spinning you in his arms. “Do you have ramen noodles?”

You grab two packets of ramen from the pantry as Eddie pulls on an apron with a flourish tasting the sauce, wincing slightly. “You got any sugar?” He asks.

You dutifully pass him the sugar bag, watching as he eyeballs a small amount of sugar into the pan.

“My old man is a shitty person but he always knew how to make a mean pasta sauce.” He notices your curious expression, holding the spoon out to you, the sugar has managed to balance out the acidity and salt. 

“Salvageable.” You nod impressed.

Eddie dumps the dead spaghetti into the sink on top of the still smouldering bread, putting fresh water into the pan along with the ramen noodles as you pour the rest of the wine, handing him a glass.

“It’s supposed to have tasting notes of cherries, chocolate and cinnamon.” You read off the bottle label, sniffing yours.

“Tastes -” He takes a healthy gulp “-like wine, so - fucking gross.”

 You laugh, passing him the colander for the noodles, and grabbing some pasta bowls and cutlery.

It’s a sickeningly domesticated scene, the two of you sat at the breakfast bar, knee to knee, slurping away at the strange dish.

“Well sweetheart, we’ve managed to insult two great nations at the same time, cheers to Japan and Italy.” He grins lifting his glass of wine in a toast.

“Or we’ve created some kind of new fusion that will take the world by storm and we’ll be rich.” You counter argue.

“Oh yeah, this is some Michelin Man shit right here.” He says, taking another huge forkful.

“Michelin star.” You correct, laughing, feeling lighter than you have in hours.

You wash up the dishes together, Eddie constantly finding excuses to touch you, until you flick dishwater at him.

“Ah, now princess, play nice.” He warns, wiping his sudsy face with a smirk, pinching your side. You cup a large handful of bubbles, advancing on him menacingly.

“You wouldn’t.” He challenges, eyes narrowing.

“Try me Munson.” You dare.

“Truce?” He asks carefully, hands raised in peace.

You nod, letting him get close again before shoving your wet hand up his back.

“Oh you’ve done it now.” He laughs loudly, grabbing the dish cloth aiming a whip towards your ass.

“Eddie no!” You screech, rounding the breakfast bar, chucking an orange at his head.

“It’s war Y/n!” He yells, chasing you, you race out of the kitchen pounding up the stairs to your room, giggling wildly, you’re just in the door when he seizes you about the waist, lifting you off the floor.

“Ed’s put me down!” You gasp, laughing so hard it hurts your ribs.

He pretends to suplex you into the bed, but he’s gentle as he lowers you, protecting your head from the bounce hovering above you.

“Do you submit?” He asks breathlessly, hair mussed up, t-shirt slightly wet.

“Never.” You say defiantly, the effect somewhat lost as you trace your hands up his arms.

He presses his lips to yours, the last of your breath leaving you in a pleased gasp as he deepens the kiss, hands stroking idly up your slides and across your stomach.

“Missed you sweetheart.” He murmurs against your lips, your heart pounding like you’ve run up the stairs again. 

“Missed you too.” You mumble quietly, fingers scratching gently through his hair. “Wasn’t gone for that long though.” You remind him.

“Doesn’t matter, you weren’t close by, I didn’t like it.” He says, brown eyes staring intensely into yours, your mouth feels dry, filled with a jumble of words that don’t quite make it out. You settle for bringing him in for another kiss. Time seems to stand still, as you both lay there, absorbed in each other’s mouths, hands wandering, squeezing, stroking, until he suddenly stops a confused expression on his face.

“Ed’s?” You whisper, chest heaving.

“Who - do we have here?” He asks with a smirk, you feel your eyes widen in embarrassment as he extracts your childhood teddy bear from under your back, having forgotten to put him in the closet earlier. “This is a very respectable looking teddy bear princess, does he have a name?” He teases, making the bear wave.

You glare at him, making a snatch for it.

“His name is Bearington Bear the Third and he’s very old, so gimmie.” You pout, blushing.

“Bearington Bear the Third?” Eddie repeats with unbridled joy. “That is one hell of a name.” He laughs but relents in passing you the bear which you quickly kiss before unceremoniously throwing it across the room.

“That is no way to treat an elderly person.” Eddie gasps scandalized, you’re about to punch him when your phone rings making you jump, you roll away quickly grabbing the receiver.

  “Hello?”

“Hey kiddo, just thought I’d check in.” Your dad says, sounding very cheerful.

“Hey Dad, yeah everything’s all good here.” You say, trying to ignore Eddie who has decided to place kiss after kiss to the side of your neck. “Uh- how’s the fish?” You ask, elbowing him away but it just spurs him on, nipping at the soft skin.

“They’re biting pretty good, got a couple cooking up now. Gordon and Dale say hello.” You snag your lip on your teeth, as Eddie sucks on a particularly sensitive spot, attempting to lean away from his touch. “Sprout, you still there?” 

“Yeah I'm here dad, just uh - got distracted by the film.” You mumble shakily, a kiss pressed dangerously close to your mouth.

“That Travolta boy shaking his ass about again?” He asks with a laugh.

“Um - s-something like that.” You stammer, Eddie’s fingers splayed across your naval, threatening to move lower beneath the band of your leggings.

“Alright kiddo, I'll let you get back to it. Have a good night with Robin, love you.”

“Love you too Dad.” You slam the phone down as Eddie slips his fingers into your panties, lightly circling your clit.

“That was fucking mean Eddie.” You gasp, back arching into his chest. 

“Sorry baby, I just couldn’t help myself.” He groans, sinking a finger into your tight heat.

“Fuck.” You whimper, bringing an arm back to curl around his neck.

“This fucking pussy, jesus.” He growls next to your ear, nipping at your lobe, another finger pressing past the wetness gathered between your thighs.

He pulls you backwards so he’s resting against the headboard, your back pressed to his chest, legs cradling you as he pumps in and out, turning his head to kiss you, tongue fucking your mouth in the same rhythm. It’s maddening, his free hand cupping your breast, thumbing over the nipple, his hardness rutting against your spine.

“Ed’s.” You whine, hips rolling to meet his movements. 

“Let me get you there baby.” He huffs. “Wanna make you feel good.”

He slips from your cunt to rub rapidly at your swollen clit, the warmth moves slowly from your belly, washing across you in a gentle wave. You mewl into his mouth, Eddie swallowing every sound with his own.

He shifts out from under you, letting you fall back against the pillows, hands pulling at your leggings and panties, hooking your legs over his shoulders, tongue flicking straight at your sensitive bud. It’s like he’s making out with your pussy, wet, sinful, decadent. 

“Oh - god.” You stutter, hands gripping at hair.

“Feel good sweetheart?” He asks needlessly, fingers re-entering your cunt, crooking them to rub against the spongy spot that has you immediately cresting again, hips canting against his mouth.

“Eddie, fuck me please.” You beg.

“Your wish is my command.” He grins, stripping in record time, you pull your wine ruined top off, both of you bare and wanting. Eddie’s face falls suddenly.

“Shit! I forgot to bring condoms.” The poor boy looks devastated and you can’t help but giggle.

“Ed’s c’mere.” You beckon, he does as he’s told, crawling back between your plush thighs. “I’m on the pill, I have been for years.” You soothe, hands running over his back.

“You - you are?” He stammers, ears bright red and burning. “And you don’t mind me -” He trails off looking at you pointedly.  “ - I mean I'm clean, I've had the checks.”

“I’m clean too, and no I don’t mind.” You grin bashfully, he looks like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh holy shit this is hot.” He breathes, cock braced in his hand, sliding through your slick, you nod vigorously, the skin to skin feeling electrified.

He pushes in and you both gasp, you can feel every vein, bump and ridge as he drags along your walls. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so warm.” He moans, head dropping into your neck, kissing at your pulse point.

“Eddie.” Is all you can say like a record stuck on repeat, each thrust and snap intensified, the wet slapping of your bodies meeting in a delicious slide.

“Wanna ride you.” You murmur, sucking on his bottom lip.

“Jesus H Christ you’re gonna kill me.” He groans, rolling you both so you’re on top, you brace your hands on his chest, helping you to bounce, Eddie holds your hips so tightly you can feel bruises blooming and it sends you to dizzying heights.

“Baby, baby, baby.” He chants, grabbing the back of your hair, smashing your lips together, his hips pounding up into you. You rub at your clit, whimpering as the coil winds tighter and tighter.

“You gonna cum sweetheart?” He asks moving faster, and you can only nod, writhing on top as the band snaps.

“Oh god, I can feel you.” He whines, head pressed back as he ruts up harder. “Where - where can I cum princess?” He asks desperately, looking like he’s barely clinging onto sanity.

“Inside. Eddie, please cum inside me.” You cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

Eddie makes a choking noise, the veins in his neck strained tight, strong hands working your slick cunt over him continuously as he pumps into you. It sends you over for a fourth and final time, the warmth of him spilling out and around, both of you clinging to each other like life preservers.

“Sweetheart, I -” You wait for the rest of the sentence, heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears but he just gathers you impossibly tighter, pressing a hard burning kiss to your swollen lips. “ - I have a great time with you.” He breathes fiercely.

“I have a great time with you too, Eds.” You whisper, kissing him back.

Taglist:

@avalon-wolf @mystars123 @lolalanaie @eddiemunsonsgf2@eddieslildarling@bakugouswh0r3@sidthedollface2@81rain@blueberrylemontea-fanfic@winchester-angel@bimbobaggins69@tuskjohnny@fckyeahlames@thecomfortgoth@alanamarie@miarosso@ghosttownwherenoonegoes@somespicystuff@eddiethesexy @unfocused81 @1paire2vans @take-everything-you-can @mynameismothra @kingaa101

[wardowrites]

A sleepless night had done nothing to make Wardo look remotely human.

After finally tossing his phone to the other side of the room so he wouldn’t have to dwell on his conversation with Louis, he’d spent the rest of the night dwelling on his conversation with Louis. 

How they’d managed to get to this point, some weird limbo state, a truce of sorts, Wardo wasn’t really sure. All he’d wanted to do was thank the other man for looking after Ivy when Wardo regrettably hadn’t been there to have her back himself. Then, the conversation had descended into the most painful type of chaos Wardo had ever endured. He’d thought that he’d feel better about lashing out at the man, finally letting Louis know how much he’d hurt Wardo by upping and leaving without a word. Instead, a sick feeling had hit him in the stomach as soon as he’d hit ‘send’ and he’d sat waiting for the man’s snappy rebuff, only for Louis Denver to turn around and call him ‘baby’.

There was other stuff he’d said as well, but that had always been the one word in Louis’ extensive vocabulary that would forever render Wardo silent. It had coaxed out smiles from him before, had prompted him to stop talking mid-rant and completely melt under the touch of the other man and now, apparently, it had the frankly impressive ability to strip away ten years of ugly, irrepressible anger.

Don’t get Wardo wrong, he was still hurt. He still didn’t have any answers. But he was also standing in front of a shop window trying to rub away the dark shadows under his eyes so Louis would think he was somewhat good-looking.

“You’re a fuckin’ loser,” he told his reflection. He tugged at his hair, trying to comb it into submission as if the suggestion that he brushed his hair two times a year now instead of once would be enough to encourage Louis to give him some answers. Wardo, unfortunately, didn’t have high hopes for his complete lack of allure being a selling point.

He stood back, taking in his jeans (the nice ones, without any tears), his white t-shirt and his black bomber jacket. His hair still stuck up in every direction and his bloodshot eyes were a clear indication that he hadn’t slept at all after their conversation, but it wasn’t getting much better than that. 

Reaching Ivy and Raff’s bar, he petulantly waited outside until his watch read 7.01pm, because Louis Denver’s passing moment of vulnerability had not granted him a free pass from Wardo’s pettiness. Swinging the door open, he almost let it swing right back and hit him in the face when he realised Louis was already there, sitting at the bar and talking to Ivy. Catching it just in time, he stepped around it and waited for the other man to see him.

It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d seen Louis since the other man had been in New York, but it was the first time he’d planned to see him. And, you know, talk to him. Every instance before this one had been a horrible coincidence.

“Hey,” he greeted himwhen he eventually crossed the room, standing awkwardly in front of the bar stools, not yet sitting down like some sort of fucking moron. With a sideways glance, he caught Ivy’s eye and made a barely imperceptible face at her, before turning back to Louis, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

[deviloutofluck]

if you’re hearing BLACK SMOKE by ANN SOPHIE playing, you have to know ANASTACIA "NASH" MENDOZA (THEY/THEM; NONBINARY) is near by! the 47 year old BOUNCER AT AMBROSIA LOUNGE has been in denver for, like, 5 MONTHS. they’re known to be quite SECRETIVE, but being PROTECTIVE seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble SARA RAMIREZ. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those WORN OUT LEATHER JACKETS, LATE NIGHT SMOKES AND MUSIC PUMPING FROM THE SPEAKERS AT ANY HOUR vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the DOWNTOWN DISTRICT long enough!

tw: lowkey death mention right at the end

Anastacia (mostly known as Nash) Mendoza is the youngest sibling of two and Felipe's titi (gender neutral word for aunt/uncle in spanish) but has very little contact with their family, dipping in and out of their lives and mainly shows themselves during important occasions. They got branded as the black sheep of the family early on, refusing to conform to a lifestyle fitted for their class. They were more so the type to stay out until early hours, hammer away on their current car or even sneak away for days at a time doing who knows what.

They moved out at the age of 17 with their then girlfriend, both settling in a loft apartment while they tried to keep themselves afloat. It was the best 3 years of Nash's life thus far, finally getting a proper taste of freedom - but it wasn't to last as the couple found themselves wanting different things in life and thus parted ways. Nash proceeded to get themselves a bigger apartment to dull the pain and dated around for a while, but no partner lasted longer than a year.

It wasn't until they crossed paths with a most stunning woman named Yazmin Elsayed that they turned around their life for real, smitten from the start and unwilling to give up until they had the other person on a date. There were a few years between them, after all, but it didn't seem Yazmin minded too much and not before long they both found themselves dating. It turned into one of Nash's more fulfilling relationships to date, the two feeling quite in tune to the point of moving in together and being comfortable enough to imagine their future with one another. However, things were to take a turn for the worst and both of their flaws were to become their downfall.

Two friends of Nash reached out one day to fill them in a business idea they had been cooking up for the past year or so, wondering if they would be willing to help finance the project for a stake in the company - and being slightly on the impulsive side of things, Nash found themselves unable to say no. They chose not to let Yazmin in on the investment, wanting it to be a surprise once money came rolling in - and it surely seemed to be heading in the right direction, until one of the two friends suddenly bailed with the funds. Nash and the second one stood there empty-handed, unable to do much besides file a police report for the money but no matter how long they waited they saw no return and the bank was suddenly on their tails, wanting to see some payments made back to them.

The stress, anxiety and sleepless nights began to take a toll on Nash, finding it ever so hard to tell Yazmin of what had happened and that they were sitting in the red money-wise. They slowly moved away from their chirpy self, being snappy and cold and it didn't help that Yazmin was too busy with work to properly notice that something was going on - often tired herself from work. Nash began to sneak money out of their shared joint accounts to pay off their debts and even tried to embezzle some money from their current work place, which didn't go unnoticed and eventually got them fired. Eventually Yazmin found out and the two were thrown into a fight of a lifetime, one that shook them to the core and caused them to crack in every corner. Nash felt like Yazmin was neglecting their relationship and Yazmin was hurt by Nash's lack of trust in her - thus they broke up.

Nash decided to move away from Denver in the hopes of getting away from, well, everything and managed to a slight degree. A new job, some new flings... but the debt kept looming over them like a dark cloud. Then, a mere decade later their sister came them a brief call to let them know their father was on his death bed, not wanting them to miss the chance to say goodbye. Nash decided to take the opportunity to return back home, figuring that plenty time had passed and there was little chance of them bumping into their past at this point. Today they work as a bouncer at Ambrosia Lounge and doing their best to simply move forward.

[everythingholy]

( taylor russell. cis woman. she/her. ) ⸺ 🦬 greetings, buffalos ! walking around campus, sporting her HONEY BEE BROOCH, we’ve spotted RAMONA WRIGHT, a TWENTY-TWO year old who contributes to our thriving community as a SCAVENGER. according to our intel, they’ve been around the sanctuary for FOUR YEARS and what we know about her, aside from the fact that they don’t agree with the decision to close the gates, is that she’s got a secret stash of old chapstick that she’s spent the last decade collecting. she’ll share any flavor, except for the cola ones ; there are about five of her journals scattered around colorado, documenting her adolescence in doodles and hastily written paragraphs and lost to time ; the build-a-bear her mom bought her is still sitting on her bed. it reminds her that nothing is really over until she decides it is. doesn’t that make them fantastic ? we think it does, and that’s why we appreciate her so much, grateful for what they give to our community.

TW: weapons, death

ramona’s childhood passed by like a comet. blink, and you’ll miss it. she was her parents first and only child, and the first baby on both her mom and her dad’s side of the family. that’s to say … she grew up spoiled. there was not a single thing she wanted that she didn’t get. a child of the upper west side, her folks were pretty influential in the fashion world. she’s got spotty memories of being taken to runways and shoots when she wasn’t in school. her friends would always ask her where she’d been that weekend and she’d reply with a monologue about belize or ankara or sicily. as a jetsetter at such a young age, as well of a student of a very expensive college prep elementary school, she was clueless about the privilege she held. she hadn’t the faintest idea that all of this would soon trickle away.

right before the virus started hitting communities en masse, she was in washington at her parents’ summer home, enjoying the tail end of the season. the news was spreading on the radio, but it meant nothing to her until she saw it for herself. what was simply akin to a flu in her mind was something only comparable to the things her friends showed her in horror movies. the further her parents drove from washington, the further she felt from her own reality. so much time on the open road, her parents trying their best to shield her from the brand new monstrosities of the world–to no avail. she saw her parents kill one of those things for the first time only a few weeks into the end of the world. it was from that moment that something shifted in her. she realized, at the young age of ten, nothing would ever be the same. her parents, the world, could never come back from this. she had to adapt. and adapt, she did. her parents did most of the heavy lifting, but eventually, they trusted her to do some of the scavenging by herself. slipping silently into buildings already falling into disrepair. it became something of a talent of hers, moving invisibly into spaces without anyone or anything noticing she was ever there. a remarkable difference from her life prior; all glitz and glam, wherever she was, eyes would follow. it was difficult for her to cope with the fact that it would never be like that again.

on her sixteenth birthday, her mother and father encountered a group of people who weren’t as benevolent as they made themselves to be. ramona had been practicing her pistol skills by a lake not far from their base in saskatchewan while they had been kidnapped, stripped of their belongings, and left to die in the cold north. she would come across their bodies after a week of sleepless nights on her feet, searching for a sign that maybe they just gave up on her. quite the contrary. afterwards, she bounced from survivor group to survivor group. some good, some bad, but always trying to avoid the ghouls that took her parents from her. always skulking between places, sight unseen. she traveled with these groups from canada all the way down to denver, where she eventually made contact with the university sanctuary. the biggest survivor post she had come across in her life. it felt like the return of something she had never thought possible, and she had fallen in love with it. the sanctuary allowed her to live life with a degree of normalcy she had only heard her parents speak about with a fondness that sounded so … bittersweet. she thinks, just maybe, this might be a part of the creation of something new. at least, that’s what she hopes.

DETAILS AND HEADCANONS

ohhhh ramona. my sweet, stunted child. adapted to the horrors of the world but still somehow retaining the naivety only someone robbed of the opportunity to complete her childhood would have. her nose, when she isn’t out scavenging, is always stuck in a book or a journal. she tapes little hand drawn comics around campus and picks wildflowers just for the hell of it. she finds joy in the little things.

she was only able to keep a couple things from her parents, but all of these things are incredibly valuable. her moms honey bee brooch, her father’s broken watch, and the torn up and beaten build-a-bear she got on her seventh birthday. when she presses it’s paw, it speaks a message. it’s full of i love you’s she’ll never hear again in person. she wouldn’t replace that thing for the world.

her weapon of choice is a dagger. sharp and mobile. she’s skilled with a gun, but recoil freaks her out sometimes.

loves goofy and slightly irresponsible antics. hmu if you and your muses are big fans of danger.

[placerdiario]

Six to Six from Neta Cohen on Vimeo.

During the lengthy sleepless nights, the familiar home surroundings of a new mother take on a dark, eerie appearance.

For more information go to: six-to-six.com

FEATURED ON Short of the Week shortoftheweek.com/2021/06/03/six-to-six/ Stash stashmedia.tv/six-to-six-short-film-by-neta-cohen/ Motionographer motionographer.com/quickie/neta-cohen-six-to-six/ Booooooom tv.booooooom.com/2021/06/14/six-to-six-neta-cohen/ The Animation Blog theanimationblog.com/short-film-spotlight-six-to-six/ Hommage hommage.com.au/filmcatalogue-sixtosix

AWARDS Animation Gold Winner, 1.4 Awards of Brilliant Filmmaking, 2021 Best Short Film Directed by a Woman, New York Intl. Women Festival, 2021 Award of Excellence, One-Reeler Short Film Competition, 2021 OFFICIAL SELECTIONS Annecy International Animated Film Festival 2020 Animafest Zagreb - World Panorama 2020 OFF - Odense International Film Festival 2020 Maryland Film Festival 2020 Linoleum Contemporary Animation and Media Art Festival 2020 Indie-AniFest - Korea Independent Animation Film Festival 2020 Encounters Film Festival 2020 Raindance Film Festival 2020 Canlandiranlar Festival 2020 Bit Bang Festival 2020 Denver Film Festival 2020 London International Animation Festival 2020 Jerusalem Film Festival 2020 Ulsan International Film Festival 2020 Dam Short Film Festival 2021 Void International Animation Film Festival 2021 Fest Anca - World Panorama 2021 Jerusalem Women's Film Festival 2021 Tel Aviv International Student Film Festival 2021 Shockfest Film Festival 2021 Deep Focus Film Festival 2021 Short of the Week - Online Premiere 2021

[coloradohq]

WELCOME TO DENVER, jo! you’ve been accepted as waylon ford (JIM PARRACK)! please have your account sent in within 24 hours; don’t forget your CHECKLIST!

JO, 31, EST; THEY/SHE. | if you’re hearing 911 by TEDDY SWIMS playing, you have to know WAYLON FORD (HE/HIM; CISMAN) is near by! the 40 year old OWNER OF THE MARKETPLACE has been in denver for, like, 19 YEARS. they’re known to be quite SELF-DESTRUCTIVE, but being GENTLE seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble JIM PARRACK. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those SLEEPLESS NIGHTS UP WITH A NEW BABY, A TV LEFT ON IN THE BACKGROUND WHILE YOU’RE ASLEEP ON THE COUCH, THE SMELL OF A FRESH MEAL BEING PREPARED WAFTING THROUGH THE HOUSE vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the DOWNTOWN DISTRICT long enough! *Filling Vince’s ex connection!

[johntzanosphd]

With increased academic competition and peer pressure, a child can develop anxiety. Sleeplessness, loss of appetite, emotional outbursts, and whatnot! A natural and safe space for your child is what I ought to bring. Professional guidance and better understanding!

[cyborgdumptruck]

I brought you SamuRaiden meme.

The image can be kinda related to my fic Sleepless in Denver.

Original image:

[finishinglinepress]

FLP POETRY BOOK OF THE DAY: Internet Girls by JSA Lowe

ADVANCE ORDER: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/internet-girls-by-jsa-lowe/

The poems of Internet Girls concern themselves with electronic as well as physical loss and inevitability; they try to contain that slippage, to box up all that which is evanescent and disappearing. Their speaker is exhausted if not exhaustive and possibly also electronic herself, a queer female narrator staring down the untraversable span between intimacy and distance: “I keep thinking how I wish I were a poet to describe / certain things I cannot get right.” A shifting constellation of images embroiders the work together through textual and linguistic disruptions. “Someone has to sleep with politicians, be a starfucker, do your dirty / service, this work of being soap-slimed and broken,” observes one; in sequence, the lyrics stand for something natural, mystical, and larger than the self, even split by grief: “So I loved on, a desperate believer, / divider: three parts in vain but two / just here for the river.”

JSA Lowe’s poetry chapbook Cherry-emily was printed by Dancing Girl Press (2015), and her chapbook DOE by Particle Series Books (2012). Her essays have recently appeared in Denver Quarterly and Rupture. She is an adjunct professor of literature at the University of Houston–Clear Lake, and she lives on Galveston Island.

PRAISE FOR Internet Girls by JSA Lowe

Internet Girls is a work of genius, the kind of genius that unsettles you and challenges you and cheers you as you stumble in the wake of it. Lowe’s poems rattle and wobble and keep opening up, refusing nothing, despairing and celebrating and despairing again—and then joking about the despair. The poems boil over the way a mind boils over at 3 am of a sleepless night—with fears and worries and sudden jolts of insight. Things I come to these poems for: The range of reference (from Fortinbras to Trazodone), the flash of language (and the unplumbable depths in the afterflash), the ear for the music of experience, the philosophical and psychological astuteness, the laughter-in-the-face-of-it-all, the brittle keening on the brink of every danger. These poems won’t protect us or save us; they’ll take us, as Denis Johnson once wrote, “straight into the heart of the trouble” which might finally be where we need to be.

–Jon Davis

By turns notational, fluid, imploring, and unruly, Internet Girls emanates with a brand of joy—élan vital meets “blister & filth” brimming with everyday intimacy. In lines that mirror a caustic sense of self, the poems reflect immediacy of mind as being “alright with my fight / fine by my fears and my queers and my tangles.” So addressed to lovers, friends, specters of youth, persons estranged, companions in art, search-engine fantasies, and the locus of the poem itself, this writing suddenly seizes you in the intervals between craving, craft, sentence, and scene—matchless “in the grim local minimum / of the night.”

–Roberto José Tejada

These are poems of existential loss and heartbreak, weighed down by a heavy psychic burden, yet they keep showing up, through Lowe’s crystalline language, to make some sense of the shards, and in the face of barely believing it possible. Or maybe they are not even poems, maybe they are something else, something new—maybe a transcription of dreams, or of an inner monologue that began a long time ago and will go on into the future, the way all sound is a wave that just keeps pushing outward, into the universe, forever…that’s what it feels like, reading JSA Lowe.

–Nick Flynn

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #read #poetrybook #poems

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

The Mystery of Paulpaula

Although my mystery polyp was not clearly identified, I had named it Paulpaula as I didn't know whether. it was male or female.

Going into my third colonoscopy in eight months, Paulpaula had been discovered, approximately located and tattoed by Dr. Matthews my gastroentolgist who didn't have the surgical skills to removed it. My surgeon Dr. James was about to attempt thay mission wiith an "aggressive" colonoscopy.

The night before the colonoscopy was sleepless for me and full of cleansing both physical, spiritual and emotional. Of course I watched teevee throughout the vigilant night. Weirdly enough I started watching The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis and binged my way through the entire first season originally broadcast in 1959 which featured high school Dobie played by Dwayne Hickman in pathetic, futile, romantic pursuit of Thalia Meninger as played by Tuesday Weld. Dobie's rival for the affection of Thalia was rich guy Milton Armitage as played by Warren Beatty just before he became a movie star. As usual, Dobie was aided/confounded by his "beatnik" friend Maynard G Krebs played by Bob Denver who would soon go on to become Gillgan in Gilligan's Island. Maynard's speech pattern was a preview of coming generations as he included the word "like" in almost every sentence.

I attached waaay too much significance to each episode as I considered the ramifications of the upcoming procedure and the navigation required to get us this far. In other words, I was wide, wide awake and my memory was operating at full capacity. For the rest of my life, I'm gonna remember the episode that I watched around 3 in the morning when Maynard gets drafted.

We had to get to the hospital at ten in the morning for the 12;30 procedure. By 10:15 I was in the pre-op room wearing my hospital gear with the open back and the funky socks with the tread on the bottom so I wouldn't fall down.

By 10:45, I had the IV in my arm. Lynn sat patiently beside me during all of this fallderall. Finally at 12:30, Dr. James my surgeon entered the room and asked me if I was ready because he was. We shook hands and ten minutes later, they were wheeling me into the operating room.

I hadn't been in an operating room for 65 years but in the last year, I've been in one four times and this one made five. The operating room is always kind of a freakout at first. The nurses are chipper and outgoing and ready to go in. The Doctor had his back to me as if he were going over some last minute notes. Now that I'm an old pro in the operating room, I told them my standard OR joke.

" A skeleton walked into a bar. The bartender said,'whaddya you need?' to which the skeleton replied "a beer and a mop.'"

They laughed. I was glad they got the joke.

They had me turn on my left side leaving my behind exposed. I asked them if I would remember this and they said "oh yeah but you're not gonna remember much of anything else after this because we started the juice.

Next thing I knew, I was in a recovery room with Lynn by my side. Dr. James came into the room and told us the good news that the mystery polyp had been found, captured, removed and finger printed.

Beautiful.

It didnt appear to be cancerous but it was going to examined to make sure there had been no "malignant transmission" to the nearby lymph nodes We felt very relieved and thankful and I was hungry. It had gone about as well as could be expected, Paulpaula was no longer onboard. Only the official biopsy remained.

Stay tuned.

[cjwelford-archive]

CJ had been there. In the six months his mom had her breakdown and left for Denver the first time around, and how his dad's job at the rig meant it was hard to get in touch, he and Wren spent many sleepless nights at the kitchen table in the small apartment they could barely afford to rent, with Emery tucked up in the only bedroom, being shielded away from it all as his elder siblings worked extremely long days just to keep a roof over his head. But he hated thinking about that time, because things improved and they were all adults living on their own without any worries (well, mostly, but CJ had good faith that Jeanie would let him know if they were indeed royally fucked), so he thought best how to help his friend, if he could share anything that he would have liked to hear back in his own situation. "I mean, you won't need to pay for movers ever, you got me. And I know a guy who has a truck. If you ever find yourself needing any extra work, I got you man. And Mattie is more than welcome to come with to sit in the office or by the pool if you have no one to watch her. I found some bills in Todd's jacket if you need some extra cash." He grinned as if he were joking, winking at his friend as he held out the pliers, but some of his shitty roommate's emergency cash was currently in CJ's backpack flung by the door. Just in case he had his own emergency, of course.

Boyd knew he needed to move. Not just because of the landlord, but because sleeping in the same room as his almost nine year old daughter was seriously cramping both of their styles... "Fuck, I'd love to man, but I don't know if we can swing it right now. With Mad's medical costs, breaking the lease, and the cost of movers..." Everything was so damn expensive these days. He ended up being lucky that Dilan's baby wasn't his. "One day, though. That's the dream. Can you hand me the pliers?"

[aaronkraft-blog]

(The 605 Studio)

This is my brother singing

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Stranger Things/The Black Phone, Bad Connection

"You know when you said you were going to help me, you didn't mention you'd be bringing the rest of the Goonies with you."

"We're pack animals." Dustin explained as he and the rest of the kids milled around Steve's now messy living room. "At this point you should just kind of expect it." Eleven was not included in this group. James Dante had not been found and according to Mike, Hopper refused to let anyone see El. Steve tried not to put too much thought as to why this was. Instead focusing on the large corkboard he'd taken off the kitchen wall that was covered in the articles and photos he'd borrowed from the library. Well "borrowed". Nancy probably wasn't going to be happy if she realized all these were missing from the archives.

"And we're playing detective because?" Max asked semi annoyed as she pinned another picture to the board.

"Weird ghost shit."

"Very specific." Max rolled her eyes. Lucas sat next to her scrolling the Denver, Colorado phone book Steve also...borrowed from the library. Using a highlighter to mark possible family members of the boys they might be able to talk to.

"You do know this thing is like five years old right?" Lucas asked as he marked down another Arellano. "Half these numbers probably won't even work anymore."

"Don't remember asking." Steve paced, taking a sip of the third cup of coffee he'd had since five that morning. The bags under his eyes were bigger and his body was shaking but that was fine, really.

"You sure you don't want to take a nap or something? You look like you're going to pass out." Will spoke with some concern as he watched Steve move.

"Nope. Can't sleep, just get nightmares and I wake up again. Or the phone rings. Or both. Or maybe I'm just having nightmares about that happening. Either way, I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to!" Steve's voice got more sporadic as he spoke. "You know, I just realized, I don't think I like coffee that much." Steve paused for a moment before taking another sip. "What was I saying?"

"Jesus H Christ Steve." Dustin made a face, looking over at the pile of missing flyers for James that they'd been given to hand out. "Hey...you don't think James disappearing has anything to do with this?"

"What?" Mike asked as he added another X on the map of the Denver suburb where Finney Blake was last seen.

"I know this was across the country-"

"And six years ago."

"-but it's weird that all of a sudden Steve starts seeing dead kids and then someone goes missing."

Everyone turned to stare at their jittery babysitter when Steve heard it. The phone upstairs started ringing. Dustin clearly noticed the face he made and he asked.

"What's wrong?" Steve didn't answer as he made his way to the stairs. Unsure whether it was the sleeplessness combined with excess caffeine or fear towards whoever was on the other line. Regardless, he took the phone off the receiver.

"He-"

"I want to go home." A boy's voice sobbed from the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His voice repeated over and over again. There was the sound of something hitting flesh then a scream.

"Hello?" Steve gripped the phone cord tightly. "What's going on?" There was a pause on the other end of the line when it struck him across the face. Literally. Like the force of a belt slapping him hard across his face. Dropping the phone as he stumbled back and cried out in pain.

"Steve?" One of the kids called out. The young man winced as he brought a hand to his burning face. Pulling it back to see blood covering his palm. He turned to see Dustin standing next to him with a worried look. "What the fuck happened?"

At this point, even Steve didn't know.

~~

Billy wasn't in a good mood when he entered the general store. His father was still pissed about the previous night which resulted in the shiny black eye he was now sporting. Sending him out to fucking Melvald's to grab a carton of milk. Course, he could've just picked it up on his way home from work but no, he needed it now. Combined with the fact that Max had disappeared to hang out with her weirdo friends, he was already walking on eggshells around the man.

"Stupid fucking bitch." Billy muttered to himself as he went back to the freezer. Grabbing a carton of milk, Billy saw the blue logo of the Safety Pup on the side warning kids to never take shortcuts home, he couldn't help but snort. Like this actually helped missing kids.

Billy was snapped from his thoughts by someone bumping into him and he turned to snap at whoever it was.

"Hey, watch where you're fucking going." Pausing when he saw the weirdo from the night before. Still in all black clothing. Still wearing sunglasses. Indoors.

"Oh, sorry." The man chuckled as Billy narrowed his eyes. "Hey! You're that kid from last night." Kid was hardly the right word considering Billy was seventeen. "Man we have to stop meeting like this."

"Yeah. We really do." The man looked him over like the girls from school did.

"You know, you look just like this kid I used to know." The man grinned. Getting way too close and Billy backed away with a snarl.

"Hey, you ever hear of personal fucking space?"

The man cowered away. Flinching like he expected Billy to hit him. He thought about it for a moment before shoving past the creep. The teen had other problems to deal with. Not noticing the way the man stared after him as he left.