#such a sweet story

[peaceloveelvis]

Superfan Sandi Pichon wrote in Elvis Unlimited magazine in 2011 about how she started her Elvis journey, back in 1956.

ON A WARM May afternoon in 1956, the course of my life changed. I was an 11-year-old girl living in Memphis, Tennessee As most pre-teen girls, I was bored. I had heard the kids at school talk about going over to Elvis Presley's new home at 1034 Audubon Driver and not wanting to be left out, I wanted to go to! They said he was really nice, but I wanted to see for myself. I had heard his music on the radio and it really was cool! So my friend, Billie Frances Hall and I asked my mother if we could go over to Elvis' house.

"Why?' my mother asked. "I just want to see him", was my reply, My wonderful mother said, "Get in the car, I hope you know where he lives." And with that, off we went. It wasn't really that far — less than two miles As we approached the house, I asked my mother to pull over a couple of houses down.. .after all, I didn't want Elvis to see MY MOTHER driving me over — that would look like I was a child... (as if he would be looking out the window!) But humoring me, my mother let us out before we got to his house and I boldly walked up to the back door and knocked. (In the South, the front door is for company and I wanted to appear to be right at home!) There was no fence, no gate, no security.

The maid, Alberta, answered the door and I asked, "Is Elvis home?" She replied that he was sleeping — I couldn't understand why he would be sleeping at that time of the afternoon! I told her we would wait. I straddled the red Harley under the carport and Billie Frances perched on the fender of the yellow Cadillac convertible. In a few minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Presley drove up in the pink Cadillac, having been to the grocery store.

They didn't appear to be surprised by two strange girls sitting on their carport and were very nice. Mrs. Presley offered us some lemonade, and Mr. Presley brought it back out when he came to get the rest of the groceries.

We were watching the activity in the back yard — a swimming pool was being dug and a pool house built (although later Elvis would use it to keep motorcycles in). I asked Billie Frances if she thought he would come out, but she didn't say anything. I heard the back door open, but I thought it was Mr. Presley coming to get more groceries. Then I felt the back of the bike go down and these two arms come around me. Leaning into my left ear,

Elvis Presley said, "Wanna go for a ride?" I promptly spilled what was left of my lemonade and started to shake. Elvis laughed, knowing he had me "All Shook Up". He kind of dipped his head, with his tongue between his teeth, such a little boy gesture, and said, "What can I do for you girls today?" I could barely look at him, and when I did those blue eyes reached right in to my heart. I was smitten... for life. Billie Frances told him we wanted an autograph and I finally set my glass on the carport and got off

the bike and dug out my autograph book. "What's your name, honey?" Elvis asked me. I suddenly became tongue-tied and couldn't speak. He kind of chuckled and repeated the question. "San-n-d-d-r-a" I stammered. He wrote, "To Sandra, Love, Elvis Presley" I beamed at him. Finally I was able to look at him — he had on that long sleeved green shirt that laced up, with the laces hanging loose. He wore that a lot in 1956. He also had on a motorcycle cap with a white bill — which now has its home at the Graceland Randers museum!

His hair was brown and had a lot of grease in it, and he had acne, but he was still the cutest thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't stop staring at him! He got tickled because he knew what I was feeling — confusion at my emotions. After all I was only 11! Then he said, "Girls, I have to go somewhere today, but you are welcome to come back any time."

Then he got on the Harley I had been sitting on and roared off. Wow! Later, at home, I couldn't stop thinking about Elvis and how sweet he had been to us, even though we had just dropped in unannounced. I played Heartbreak Hotel, and I was the One over and over, remembering that smile and those blue eyes.

On June 1, Billie Frances and I attended a Rockabilly event at the Overton Park Shell. The entertainers were Warren Smith (Rock & Roll Ruby), Eddie Bond (Rockin' Daddy) Johnny Cash and Carl Perkins. Elvis was not scheduled to appear, but if there was music in Memphis, Elvis was there. Suddenly we all went Crazy as Elvis walked out onto the stage, introduced as a local boy with some new records out. I yelled out his name, just as a photographer from the Commercial Appeal shot a photo of the crowd. The next morning there was my picture on the front page the second section, mouth wide Open, screaming for Elvis!

I continued to visit Elvis’ home whether he was there or not, getting to know his parents a little better. His mother was a true Southerner — hospitable, loving and gracious. She baked chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies and I was often lucky enough to sample a hot One. Her worry for her son was evident. She didn’t understand why the girls wanted to tear his clothes off or grab a piece of his hair… and honestly I didn't either. I just was so happy to be in his presence and drink in his extraordinary good looks. He was funny with corny jokes and he was comfortable with us — most of us were 8-10 years younger than he was. As trite as it sounds, he was the "boy next door" and we adored him.

The more I saw him, the more I wanted to see him... he was all I could think of. I rushed through homework when school was in session just so I could go to Audubon Dr. I just felt good when I was there and I was made to feel welcome. Many times when his buddies were around, we didn't get a lot Of attention, but we weren't asked to leave either. Often Elvis wasn't at home because he was on the road building his career, He was constantly making changes to their home. He closed in the carport, added a fence and gates. If the gates were open and the garage door was open, it was a sure sign Elvis was out of town. If the gates were closed we had to wait to see if we would be admitted. We were called "Gate Girls" but I was there before there were gates!

Story found on Facebook page "Elvis: The Man Known as the Legend"

[baronessblixen]

Experiencing a bit of déja vù here, but please go look at the notes in Foxes & Stardust 🦊✨

I read it! Thank you for writing it for me ❤️ I loved the story!!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Penelope's final gambit, you will always be famous, no matter the subtext.

[nabis-dreamscape-world]

Wallflower - Final Part - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE. PART THREE HERE.

(uploading early cuz this just works out better for me.)

🌻 Summary: A decision on Seonghwa’s part finally forces you to make choices in regards to your job and your feelings for him.

🌻 Word count: 7.6k

🌻 Genre & warnings: nerdy seonghwa with coworker reader. fem pronouns for reader. smut. oral sex, both reader giving and receiving. dirty talk. unprotected sex. creampie.

🌻Tags are now at the bottom of the fic.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               “Oh, you didn’t want to take advantage of wearing jeans this Friday?” Sir Dipshit looms over your desk, peering down at you with a curious expression on his face.

               “I didn’t, I actually don’t really like wearing jeans,” You reply, pretending to be engrossed in reading an e-mail.

               “Don’t like wearing jeans?” He says incredulously, “Never heard of such a thing! You know, it’s a perk for the office to wear jeans on the occasional Friday. Seems to be a shame not to take advantage of it.”

               Your skin is starting to crawl from this conversation. Time to get out of it. You close out of the e-mail and push away from your desk, making a show of having forgotten something.

               “Completely forgot to get that TPS report cover that I made a copy of.” You are inching past Sir Dipshit. “Sorry, excuse me.”

               Before he can say anything, you are scurrying away from your cubicle, taking the long way to the copy machine by circling over to Seonghwa’s cubicle.

               He is typing away, oblivious to your presence since his back is towards you. You haven’t been with him physically since Tuesday when you devoured one another with such force that you still can’t really wrap your head around it. Ever since then, it isn’t that things have been awkward but…something has felt different. Off. Wrapped up and shoved in the back of the closet with the door tightly shut with all the other problems you’re ignoring.

Keep reading

[theeroticlover]

Time to wake up hun !!

[happyheidi]

𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾: 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝖾

[minimiffy]

My Melody— Mariland Stories vol.38

[causalityparadoxes]

The fact Rogue didn't push the button while kissing the Doctor. It would have been so easy. In character for what the Doctor might expect even. He's the Rogue after all, the classic morally dubious role.

I think with that quiet 'no' the Doctor was expecting him, maybe even asking him, to take the decision out of their hands. To press it for them. Then they'd both have the fresh pain of losing someone and could go on to travel together.

But the Rogue isn't into cosplay, he isn't playing a character. So instead he puts the Doctor's happiness with Ruby above his own life, and above a life with the Doctor. He pushes Ruby out of the way, taking the controller with him so the Doctor still doesn't have to choose. That sad, cheeky, rogue-ish grin as he does it. Its just so unbearably sweet

[peonierose]

All he wanted for his birthday was to spend an evening with the person who made his worries disappear and his burdens feel lighter. Tonight, he got everything he wanted. In fact, much more than he had hoped for. And if birthday wishes came true, there would be many more nights like this in his future.

I love this paragraph so much I cannot even tell you 🥰🩷

I love these little moments when we see Ethan show a softer side 🥰🩷

Thank you so so much for this sweet story 🥰🩷

Tags:

@choicesficwriterscreations

All He Wanted

Book: Open Heart, Book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Fluff Word count: 1.5K Prompt: Ethan doesn’t care to celebrate his birthday, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend it alone. A/N: My Ethan’s birthday is October 5th. This fic takes place during Sawyer’s intern year.

For @choicesoctober event: autumn / favorites things / celebration For @choicesprompts Flufftober 2023 event: Birthday Surprise

It was a crisp autumn morning in early October. The sun was still rising when Sawyer exited the hospital and came face to face with Ethan. 

“Hi! You’re here early,” she greeted, surprisingly perky after a grueling night shift.

“And you’re here late. Wasn’t your shift supposed to end at five?” 

“It did, but after clocking out, I went and checked on Dr. Banerji one more time. He was awake, so I stayed and chatted with him for a bit.” 

“I’m sure he appreciated the company, thank you,” Ethan replied. 

“I think he did. He was all too happy to share several stories about you as an intern,” she smiled devilishly.

While teasing him about getting caught in a supply closet, Sawyer began to shiver. Accustomed to much warmer climates, she had not yet adjusted to the much colder temperatures in Boston, and found herself unprepared nearly every time she went outside.

“Hold this for a minute,” Ethan instructed, handing her his tall cup of steaming hot coffee from Derry’s. 

As he unzipped and removed this jacket, Sawyer was distracted by the words written on the side of his cup. Happy birthday, Ethan! 

Busy processing this bit of information, she was almost startled when Ethan offered her his coat.

“Here,” he said, holding it open for her.

“Oh, thanks…but wait…are you sure you won’t need it later,” she stammered, shifting the coffee from one hand to the other as she slid her arms into the sleeves. 

“I’ll be fine,” Ethan assured, spinning her around and zipping the jacket. When he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hands and cleared his throat, “Sorry, you probably could have done that yourself.”

Sawyer smiled, unfazed.

“Thank you. In Arizona, we would still be wearing shorts and flip-flops this time of year,” she chortled, “I’m still getting used to real fall weather.”

Sawyer handed his coffee back and wondered if he had forgotten about their plans to research Naveen’s case that night. Presumably, he would have other plans for his birthday.

But before she could ask, he confirmed, “Just bring it back tonight.”

“You’re still wanting to work on the case tonight?” 

“Yes…but if you are no longer available, I understand–” 

Sawyer could have sworn she caught a flash of disappointment and quickly interjected, “No! I mean, I am. Available.” 

“Good. My place at seven? If I get delayed checking on Naveen, let yourself in and make yourself at home.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you later,” she nodded, a plan forming in her head as she started toward the train station.

A hot shower and a few hours of sleep later, Sawyer left her apartment on a mission. 

When Ethan arrived home shortly before seven o’clock, he was not expecting to find the lights on.  

“Sawyer?”

“In the kitchen!” she called back.

As Ethan rounded the corner, the kitchen came into full view, and he was taken aback.

“Happy birthday,” she softly exclaimed.

Genuinely surprised, “How…how’d you know?” he asked.

“Your coffee cup this morning.”

“I see. Outed by the coffee rewards program,” he said amused.

On the kitchen island, there was a large paper bag, a bottle of wine and scotch, and a bouquet of chocolate bars with a couple balloons tied around the base. 

“You…you didn’t have to…thank you,” he fumbled for words, sincerely touched.

Sawyer gestured to the two options, “Take a load off and pick your poison. I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I got both.”

Ethan reached for the scotch. While Sawyer hunted down two tumblers, he examined the bottle. 

“This is one of my favorites.”  

It wasn’t the most expensive brand, but a bottle would certainly stretch an intern’s budget. 

“Yeah, I know. I stopped by Donahue’s and asked Reggie what you liked,” she revealed. “That’s actually a gift from him. He insisted when I told him it was for your birthday.”

Ethan shook his head in wonder. “I’ll have to remember to thank him when I see him next.” 

He finally sat and poured a glass, taking a sip and savoring the smooth, smokey flavor. 

Meanwhile, Sawyer busied herself with dinner, removing takeout containers from the paper bag and grabbing plates from the cupboard. She plated his dish and passed it to him. 

Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes when he looked down at the swirl of black pasta on his plate. 

“Is this from Coppa’s?”

“Mm-hmm,” she answered, “...you conveniently mentioned it was one of your favorite restaurants last week.”  

“But I don’t recall telling you Linguine Alla Sepia was my favorite dish,” Ethan countered, twisting the squid ink pasta and Rhode Island calamari around his fork.

“You didn’t. I gave the hostess your phone number and they were able to pull up your previous orders in their system.” She continued, “And in case you’re wondering how I knew about the candy bars, well, you left a wrapper in your coat pocket.”

“First, you discover the secret behind Patient X, and now all of this. I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared,” he poked fun. 

“Or proud that my mentor has instilled in me the importance of listening and observing,” she suggested with a wink.

“What did you order?” Ethan wondered, as Sawyer reached for her meal container. 

“Pizza.”

“Of course you did,” he chuckled.

“Why is that funny?” she asked.

“Rookie, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you would be perfectly content ordering from the kid’s menu.”

“Says the guy eating squid!” Her body trembled in disgust and she pretended to gag, earning a toothy smile from Ethan.

As they dug into their meals, their playful banter eventually faded into a peaceful lull. After a couple minutes, Sawyer finally broke the silence with the question that had been on her mind all day. 

“Hey, why didn’t you cancel for tonight?”

“Why would I?” he asked innocently, taking another bite of pasta.

“Surely you had better things to do on your birthday. Dinner with your family? Drinks with friends? A date?”

From the corner of his eye, Ethan could see her staring down and picking at her pizza, appearing almost nervous. 

“My dad and I usually go out to dinner. He’s coming up this weekend,” he explained. “To be honest, I don’t care much for the attention, or for people making a big fuss.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry if I–,” she started.

Covering her hand with his own, he cut her off, “This is perfect, Sawyer. Thank you.”

As the evening wore on, they enjoyed the rest of their meals, drank, talked, and laughed. When it was time for dessert, Sawyer lit a candle, pressing it into Ethan’s tiramisu. She spared them both a solo rendition of the birthday song.

“Make a wish,” she insisted, holding the plate a few inches away.

Ethan’s eyes flitted between the burning candle and Sawyer’s eyes before he blew it out.

Neither had realized how much time had passed until Sawyer cleared the dessert plates and noticed the late hour on the microwave’s digital display. 

“Wow, is that really the time?”

Checking his watch, Ethan too realized it had gotten late. Much too late to start any research on the case.

“I’ll find some time tomorrow to review the new case studies. We should probably call it a night.”

Like this morning, disappointment once again flashed across his face. Not realizing that Ethan was only upset that the night had to end, Sawyer misinterpreted his distress as frustration and offered an apology.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get any work done.”

“Don’t be. If I’m being honest…,” he exhaled, “it was nice to have a night off.”

“Then, I'm glad I could help provide a distraction," she smiled, internally breathing a sigh of relief.

Together they cleaned up and waited for her ride. 

“Your car is here,” Ethan announced when his phone pinged. Sawyer gathered her things and he followed her to the door.

“Thank you for tonight, Sawyer.”

“You’re welcome,” she beamed up at him. 

Suddenly the air became heavy, a standard goodbye not feeling adequate for the celebratory occasion. Cutting through the awkward tension, Sawyer slid her arm over his shoulder and pulled him in. 

Ethan far from minded the gesture, but even still, he cautiously accepted the friendly squeeze, placing a hand between her shoulder blades.

The hug only lasted long enough for the intern to wish her boss a happy birthday one last time. 

“Happy birthday, Dr. Ramsey.” 

Then they parted. When Sawyer cracked the door, Ethan reached over her head to hold it open for her.

“Goodnight, Rookie.” 

She offered a small wave and Ethan closed the door with a contented sigh.

All he wanted for his birthday was to spend an evening with the person who made his worries disappear and his burdens feel lighter. Tonight, he got everything he wanted. In fact, much more than he had hoped for. And if birthday wishes came true, there would be many more nights like this in his future.

Tag List: @lilyoffandoms @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @openheartforeverinmyheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin @headoverheelsforramsey @zealouscanonindeer

[oleoleolw]

I love how in tumblr nobody judges you and everything is a normal topic. I can't say anything to my friends, but here I can openly admit I want to be fucked nonsense by a monster with a huge cock, buried deep inside me, impregnate me with his cum and then cuddle afterwards. Yeah, like it's a normal conversation.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [7]

After biting Danny, vampire king Dick gleefully tells him that he now belongs to him, seeing as his bite made him his thrall.

However, beings of the Infinite Realms operate on a lot of Fae rules, and Danny Uno-Reverse’s Dick by telling him that he must now serve him because he ate from him without his permission.

Neither are willing to give up so they are going to have to find some occult lawyer to figure this out.

[keferon]

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH

[egophiliac]

i love your riddle design so much, he's so pointy and british. so gracious. do you think he would enjoy a brazilian goiabada

thank you! ❤️🖤❤️ it's just. important to me on a level I can't explain that Riddle have an extremely pointy nose that he can stick into everyone else's business.

also goiabada is sweet and fruity and red, I think he would like it very much indeed!

not me stealth-editing because I forgot his antenna whoops

[asmodeusamaryllis]

[foldingfittedsheets]

My beloved is very particular about their belongings. I was surprised when we first started dating about the scrutiny their loaned objects would be placed under when returned. Their car would be checked carefully for scrapes if someone loaded a bike into it, all returned objects were carefully and thoroughly looked over. Even now if Korben has bitten something left out like a dildo they’ll carefully look it over for damage it has one tiiiny tooth dent.

It won’t surprise anyone to learn that books they’d loaned people had previously been returned with broken spines and dog eared pages, and now it's very important to them to maintain their things in good condition. Their things weren’t treated with care and now it’s a sign of respect to them.

The first time they loaned me a book I was a little shocked that they received it back and began immediately investigating it for wear. To my chagrin there was indeed a tiny scuff at the corner where I’d put it in my bag too hastily. They said nothing, but nothing needed to be said.

Going forward I treated each book they gave me as utterly precious. I dogear my own pages but I’d never dare on a book that wasn’t mine and on their books I elevated to special protocols, handling them as gently as possible.

When it came to books I loaned them I got them back exactly as I’d handed them over. I had them read American Gods. They weren’t totally sold and I suggested the lighthearted sequel Anansi Boys might be more up their alley. It’s about a trickster god and his sons.

I was lounging when I got a call from my beloved. We usually texted, they��re not a phone talker so I picked up right away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry,” they blurted.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I was getting in my car, and I had a coffee and I was trying to juggle things and well-“

The silence stretched out.

“What?” I asked gently, afire with curiosity.

“I left your book on top of my car and I drove off. When I realized I drove back but I couldn’t find it. I’m so sorry!”

As the words sank in a laugh started rising out of me. “You lost my book?”

“I’ll buy you a new copy! It was an accident!”

“I’m not mad, it’s okay! Its just really funny, you’re always so careful.”

I then realized that they were holding themself to their own standard, beating themself up for something that to me was just a silly mishap.

“It’s really okay! I’m not mad, you can get me a new copy.”

They did, and when I chuckle about it they still pout a little like the funny part is that they made a mistake.

But honestly the thought of someone coming upon a copy of a book about trickster gods being left in a coffee shop parking lot and taking it is the funniest part. I hope they enjoyed it.