#this is the first time I hear Elvis sounding like metal

[hooked-on-elvis]

Brief guttural vocals in "Jailhouse Rock" performance '68 Comeback Special - Stand-Up Show #1

[shelbgrey]

Can I place an order for Marvel? If yes: HERE YOU GO. Where the reader is Steve and Natasha's daughter, Tony and Bucky's goddaughter (you can already imagine that) and mainly, she was raised by all the avengers and hidden from the spotlight. Just something pretty fluffy for what her relationship with them would be like 🥺✋

Ohana means family

Paring: Romanogers!Daughter!reader X Avengers(Platonic)

A/n: thank you for the request. This is my first request for the MCU Fandom, hope you enjoy.

Being the daughter of Captain America and Black Widow is blessing a curse... I'll tell you why.

But first if your the daughter of them I could imagine you having Steve's kind heart and Natasha's temper. Your Godfather Tony always got a kick out of a tiny you getting all angry. And his laughter would only get heavier if you came and started punching his leg for laughing.

Tony would definitely be a second father. He's wanted to be different from his father so he will always show you the love and affection his father didn't show him.

You don't like hearing about Peggy. I think it's because she was almost your dad's love. Natasha never had a problem with hearing Steve talk about her but the woman always left you frustrated just by the sound of her name... You'd never tell your dad this though.

Anyway, being around all theses heros obviously inspired your choice of future work, this scares not only your parents but the whole team.

Sure your mother would teach you how to shoot or Tony will teach you how to build a robot but they all fear the day you'll actually have to use those skills.

Your other Godfather Bucky seems to be the only one with peace about this suprisenly. If you told him you want to be a superhero he'll grien and listen to your reasoning.

There's been times where he'll put toy boxing gloves on your hands and teach you how to punch. Natasha put a stop to it quickly though. One day he was setting on his knees so he was your hight and you kept punching his flesh hand. He wouldn't let you hit his metal hand in fear you'll hurt your self.

Sam would always tease that you have Bucky wrapped around your little finger.

Bucky and Tony always compete to see who can be the coolest Godfather. If one gets you a cool Lego set or dollhouse the other one will get the bigger version. You love Elvis Presley at the time Tony will take you right to Graceland. You want to go you a waterpark Bucky will have you there in a flash before Tony can have the chance.

A down side is you learned how to be independent with your Hero Family. It's not a bad thing and they don't do it intentionally but there's many times you spent at the compound with Pepper and Happy.

But your mom and dad always make it up to you. I wouldn't say your spoiled, but if you ask one of your godfathers nicely(with puppy eyes) you usually get it.

But another down side of being a part of this family is them being extremely over protective. There's been many times you couldn't do something or had to stay indoors for long periods of time because someone was plotting your father's death.

If you do go somewhere one of them is with you. If you want to go to a zoo trip for school one of them is with you. You want to check the mailbox Sam is flying around watching you. And don't even think about going to friends house for a slumber party. Steve and Nat aren't trying to be strick or anything they just always have this sicking feeling something will happen.

On a more positive note... You always have the best time with them. To be honest you never worried about having friends because you had them. You of course have friends your age but you consider the Avengers your Best Friends. Speaking of which Cassie Lang is probably your Best Friend.

Which means the first sleepover you ever had was with Cassie. Since you technically would be with an Avenger it was okay. Tony thought it was dumb to leave you alone with "Thumbelina" but Steve trusts Scott and Nat trusts Hope.

Speaking of which play time is always token to the extreme. You want a nerf gun war, the whole team is involved. You want to build a Lego thing, tony will buy the biggest one. Blanket fort? You don't have to ask Clint and Scott twise.

I think you'll always try and lift Thor's hammer. You've tried but couldn't so one time Thor lifted it with you so you could have the experience.

You love it when Bruce reads to you. If you come up to him with a book he'll drop everything and read to you. It's the only thing that will make him leave the lab immediately. It's calming to him and he always uses different funny voices to make you laugh.

I won't tell anyone but once you got older you had a small crush on Peitro, which didn't set well with most of the men in the compound when Cassie acdently let the cat out of the bag. You've never saw the ironman suit appear so quickly..

I think once you got older the over protectiveness got old. You found it annoying a frustrating at times but in the end you're greatful that you have a group of people that care about you so much.

Be patient with them. They love you and trust you, they just don't trust other people.

Since you can't be on the flighting field you went to medical school and with everyones help(especially from Bruce and Tony) you were able to graduate with a trauma certification and now you work with Dr. Cho in the med bay.

You always hate seeing them beat up from missions but you also love helping Them and other people.

I don't think you and Peter would get along. I don't know why, I just do. I think at one point they tried to get you to go on a date with him but it never happened.

For a little bit I think you had a jealously thing going on and didn't like how close Peter was getting to Tony. Your Godfather noticed this and told you that you'll always be his number one.

Speaking of Starks, your literally the best big sister to Morgan. You two are basically two peas in a pod. And don't even think about messing with her because you will through hands to anyone who's rude to her.

Your basically to her what Tony was to you.

When you get older you do become an Avenger and the elders got over it. You proved you can survive and they couldn't be more proud of you.

This is your family and you couldn't be more thank full. There may have been bumbs mountains along the the way but they'll always be family. And that's forever.

[tabbyrp]

Day 19

@therealgamble

The bar was quiet, the few patrons nursing beer occupied with the old TV in the corner and the latest college football highlights. Tabby leaned upon the counter, spinning a coaster between her fingers, while Brian sat across from her with his post-shift bottle of craft beer.

“You’re the one who loves Halloween,” Brian said, the bottle half raised to his lips. “Come on, Tabs, give me a spooky story”

Tabby grinned. “Okay, but it’s not for the weak. You sure you’re ready for this?”

Brian leaned back, amused. “I’ve faced down worse. Bring it.”

“Okay.” Tabby rested more heavily on her elbows, lowering her voice in a conspiratory fashion. “Back when I was ten, in Vegas, there was this kid from school, Joey. He liked two things; eating Warheads and doing dumb shit. One day, because neither of us had parents who provided any kind of supervision, we decided to go exploring the famous tunnels under the Strip.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “The old urban legend ones that the gullible say are either haunted or where the mafia stored Elvis’s gold records?”

“Those are the ones. And this is where you better buckle in…”

_____________________________________________

The sun was beating down on the dusty streets, casting long shadows as Tabby and Joey snuck through the back alley behind a run-down motel. Joey, a lanky kid with a shock of messy hair, was already sweating and muttering under his breath.

“Tabs, are you sure about this?” Joey asked, glancing around nervously.

Tabby gave him a look. “You’re the one who said we should go do something cool, Joey. You wanna go back home and kick some rocks about instead?”

They stood in front of an old, rusted grate, its metal bars twisted and bent just wide enough for two curious kids to squeeze through. Beyond it, darkness stretched on and on into a void of inky black.

“Fine, but if we die, I’m blaming you,” Joey muttered, squeezing himself through an opening.

Tabby followed, flashlight in hand. Inside, the tunnel smelled damp, a mix of old rainwater and something close to rotten. Their footsteps echoed as they ventured deeper, the small beams of their flashlights cutting through the thick gloom.

"See? This isn’t so bad," said Tabby. "It’s just like trying to find the bathroom after everyone is asleep and you can’t turn on the light."

Joey wasn’t convinced. "Yeah, except last time I did that I fell over and hit my head on the bathtub."

They kept walking, the tunnel stretching ahead and revealing bits of itself with every sweep of their flashlight. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, like a clock tracking their every step. But then, something changed. A new sound emerged. A faint scraping, like metal dragging against concrete.

“Did you hear that?” Joey froze, his hand shaking slightly.

Tabby paused to listen. There it was again. A slow, deliberate scraping. She swallowed, her curiosity warring with her growing unease. "It’s probably nothing. Maybe just the wind or... I don’t know, a coyote with really sharp claws. C’mon, we can’t be wimps at the first weird sound we hear."

Reluctantly, Joey followed, though his steps were more hesitant. As they walked deeper, the scraping sound grew louder, closer. They rounded a corner, and that’s when they saw it.

Three tall, shadowy figures stood ahead of them, just beyond where the flashlights reached. Their eyes, glowing unnaturally bright, locked onto the two kids.

For a split second, no one moved. Then one of the figures let out an ear-splitting howl and Joey, wide-eyed with terror, bolted.

Tabby was right behind him.

They tore back through the tunnel, the scraping sound now following them, louder, faster. Tabby’s heart pounded in her chest as they raced through the darkness, not stopping until they scrambled back through the grate, into the blinding daylight.

Breathing hard, they stood there, shaking, wide-eyed, and covered in grime.

“I am never doing that again,” Joey panted, hands on his knees.

Tabby, still trying to catch her breath, grinned despite herself. “Told you it’d be fun.”

_____________________________________________

Brian raised an eyebrow as Tabby finished the story, his bottle still in hand but only half-drunk. “So, what were those figures? Did you ever figure it out?”

Tabby shrugged, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Nah. Could’ve been homeless folks, or some kind of weird Vegas sewer ghost mafia, for all I know. The scraping noise was probably Joey stepping on a nail and dragging it along with us. But hey, we got out of there, so I’m counting that as a win.”

Brian chuckled, shaking his head. “And here I was thinking nothing could scare you.”

“Oh, please,” Tabby waved him off. “I’m a hardcore ninja now. But I think exploring the famous Vegas tunnels was a ‘one and done’ adventure for me.”

Brian smiled. “Smart move. Leave the ghost hunting to the professionals.”

Tabby laughed. “What, like Mulder and Scully, or the Winchesters?”

“More like someone with a flamethrower.”

[faegoddessog]

 Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 17/41

Chapter 17: The Agony and the Ecstasy

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, anal play (butt plug), pussy spanking, some overstimulation, unprotected PIV, unprotected PIA (female receiving) (Play safe ya'll!), DP, squirting

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes  involved here. 

Chapter 17: The Agony and the Ecstasy

The striking of his black boots on the hard floor fades as he walks down the hallway and into the back room. You keep your head down between your elbows, not wanting to break the spell of not seeing him. Your pussy is getting cold, all wet and exposed in this position up on your knees on the ottoman. You like being this exposed to Austin, to let him play with you however he wishes.

You hear water running, then nothing. The silence stretches for what seems like forever, but is probably only a few minutes. You release a breath you didn't know you were holding when you hear his steps faintly at first, then louder as he returns. He stops behind you, taking in a deep breath and sits down with an audible “Mmm, mmm, mmm” of appreciation.

Snap.

You had forgotten completely about the camera. You feel one finger casually petting your pink slit.

“That butt plug surprise yesterday was so fucking hot,” he says, “I’m sad it’s not in your ass right now. Wait, what is this?”

You feel the cold metal rub on your wet asshole. It puckers in excitement as your whole pelvic floor clenches, accompanied by a stuttering inhale.

“I want you to know that as I was gathering items for today,” he drips lube onto your asshole, “I found your bigger butt plug. You dirty, naughty girl.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears. You know the one he is talking about. It’s big. You've only been able to take it once before. You also know that once it’s in, it feels amazing. It’s a good thing you got stretched out yesterday.

“Do you want it?” he asks, rubbing the point around your sphincter.

You nod. Your ass shakes in anticipation and you can't help the sounds coming from your throat.

"Tell me you want it," he is pressing harder now.

"I want it," you exhale.

“Say my name,” he commands, holding it still.

You realize he is giving you the chance to bail if you need to. Damn he is good. Damn he is hot. Damn if you’ll let his middle name escape your lips.

“Yes Austin, please I want it,” arching back, opening up even more.

He slowly starts pushing the metal point into you.

“Au, Au, Au Aus-tin,” you pant his name as he keeps pushing. The expansion is both torment and paradise.

“That’s it baby, take it, take it” he encourages, “take it in your ass for me, yeah.”

Before the widest part, Austin starts moving it in and out. Pushing it a little further each time.

“Oh. My. god. Aus. Aus. Aus. Tin.” gasping with each word. Exhilirating and terrifying.

Finally it goes over the drop off point, you gasp and your ass snuggles the base in tight to your crack. You feel so full. You roll your hips around, letting the weight settle inside you.

“That’s my good girl,” his voice is soothing, his hands brushing all over your backside.

His fingers can't help but gravitate to the ornamental base, wiggling and pushing. Making you fidget and shake and moan.

Looking upside down between your knees, you see a long drip of fluid coming from your pussy, adding to the little pool of ‘aqua vitae’ that has collected on the ottoman.

“Look at all this dripping, you clearly like having your ass filled.” he comments, his fingers lightly brushing your lips. “Now, do you want me to play with that pretty pussy?”

You nod, aching for his touch.

“Tell me,” his sonorous voice vibrates close to your ear.

“Oh god Austin, please, please, please,” you beg, shaking your hips.

“You wan’ me that bad? Do ya naw?" the hint of a chest born laugh gracing his words.

“Uh huh!” you whine. The way the accent slips in makes you delirious.

He turns his hand palm up under you and starts rubbing gently on your vulva. You try to grind into his hand.

“Naw naw, ya gotta hol’ still, baby. Let’s try a little sumthin’ new,” he doesn't even realize what he sounds like right now.

Damn, you are on the edge of the rabbit hole, and this is Elvis behind you, about to push you over. You let yourself slip down, down -falling into your imagination.

Elvis pats your pussy over and over, getting increasingly harder then ends with a hard wet slap.

“Ahh!” you can’t help but exclaim and jerk your hips away from him, arching your back, the plug jiggling in your ass. It hurt so good.

"Tcht, tcht, tcht, well naw that weren’t holdin’ still. Gotta do it agin,” Elvis says tracing soothing lines along your lips with his fingertips.

He starts again, soft wet slaps, then hits you harder with no warning. You jerk again, but not as bad. You are trying to be good for Elvis.

He rubs the sting away, “Well tha’ were better, but not good u’nuf. Let’s try this.”

He starts a slow rhythm, 4/4 time with the ‘beat’ on the one.

“two, three four, ONE,” he is murmuring to himself. After a few rounds, you know it’s coming on the one and it helps you to hold more still. But you can’t stop squealing. Torment and Paradise.

“Mmm, that’s good baby,” Two Three, “say ma name.”

You are so deep into your fantasy.

“Elvis,” you breathe out without thinking.

Four, ONE!

If he was surprised, he doesn’t miss a beat. Two. “Say ma name.” Three . Four. “Elvis.” ONE!

Two. “Loudah.” Three. Four. “Elvis!” ONE!

Two. “Loudah!” Three. Four. “ELIVS!” ONE!

Two fingers of his other hand slip into your pussy, pumping in and out with the same beat. Two. “Agin!” Three. Four “ELVIS!” ONE!

He abandons the pattern to all stinging slaps now as his fingers pump wetly in and out of you. Pushing the metal egg from the inside. You are moaning “ELVIS! ELVIS! EL-VIS! EL-VIS” into the leather of the ottoman.

He is chanting out, “Yeah, yeah yeah, baby, come on, come on.”

The line between pain and pleasure becomes totally blurred, colors are melting across your eyelids. You are beaten over the sweet edge, writhing on his fingers, back arching. His smacks turn into deep circles, pressing on your clit.

“Yes! Fuck yes, That’s it, cum, baby, cum,” he growls.

You think he’s gonna stop. He doesn’t.

“No, no, nonnonoo,” you are shaking, lost in the deep sensation building in your pussy, lost in your fantasy.

His fingers curl knowingly, expertly to that place that heightens everything else you are feeling. He rubs your clit hard. You bite down on your own palm as you squirm to get away. But he won't let you. He is relentless in his pursuit.

“C’mon baby, give it to me, do it to me naw,” he spurs you on, hounding every move your body makes.

Suddenly the dam breaks, all your muscles tense and you squirt sweet fluids all over his hands, the ottoman and his arm as a muffled scream rips from you.

Shaking, you fall over onto your side. Without missing a second, he turns you over onto your back, your arms still tied above your head and sinks his cock deep into your pussy. The skin of his body cool to your heat as he leans down.

When the hell did his clothes come off?

His hands are on either side of your ribs as he dives deep and hard into you, pushing against the plug. GOD you are so filled. His mouth is hot on yours, devouring you with his need.

He starts fucking you fast, deep, hard. He is so deep, you feel his balls hitting against the plug base, making you clench around his cock and and the stopper in your ass. His body is on top of yours, his head down next to yours ardently fucking you. Still close to the peak, it doesn't take long and you are screaming again, coming again, drenching him again. His cock, the plug, his balls, the ottoman, the floor.

He slows down and pulls out. You have no idea if he came or not, distracted as you were. You are both panting. You are grateful for the breather. He unties the rope from the legs of the chair, then unwinds them from your wrists. You start to come back to reality, but then he starts talking again.

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do, baby.” He is rubbing and kissing the rope marks on your wrists. “I’m gonna pull ‘at plug out th’ way to make room for me. Then I’m gonna fuck yo ass ‘till I’m satisfied. If that’s alright with you.”

You exhale a little whimper, you are in for it now. You nod, anything for Elvis.

He looks at you with one eyebrow cocked up, waiting.

You close your eyes and whisper, “Yes, please Elvis.”

He reaches down and starts pulling. Oh god you forgot how big it was. It resists at first but he keeps pulling steadily, despite how wet it is. You are groaning, back again to the exquisite pain, the blissful torture.

“Say my name baby” “EL VI VI VI VIIISSS,” your voice is shaking. The plug pops out, you feel relieved but empty, squeezing your sphincter onto nothing.

He pours lube on his cock then positions himself between your legs, eager to get inside you. But he stops with his tip barely pushing at your hole. Your body is groveling under him, wanting him inside. You can’t get enough of him, you are ravenous. More Elvis, more cock, more pleasure.

“Tell me you wan’ me in yo’ ass darlin,” he pants softly. God his self control is off the charts.

“Oh god yes, I want you in my ass,” you beg, before he even gets all the words out.

He pushes in inch by inch. The plug prepared your ass well for him. He immediately starts sliding in and out.

“AHHHHH YEAH,” he groans.

Holy fuck Elvis feels incredible in your ass. Incredible on top of you. Just fucking incredible.

“Yeeeesss, feels so good, Fuck my ass, give it to me baby,” you are reaching down and rubbing your vulva.

Eyes closed and head down, he is running down the orgasm he has denied himself all night. He starts to go faster.

He is fucking gorgeous.

“Harder baby, come on!” you spur him on through clenched teeth, meeting his thrust with your own.

He is thundering into you, his sweat dripping onto your chest.

Finally he pushes in deep, a snarl of satisfaction bursting from his throat as his head tosses back. You can feel his cock throbbing, pumping into you.

You are squirming, still impaled on his cock. You start rubbing yourself in earnest with one hand, trying to slide your other hand between you so you can finger yourself.

His stomach arches up, allowing you access. Your fingers slip into your swollen wet pussy.

“Oh is that how it is?” he pants,” damn, woman.”

“Please…” you moan. Trying to move yourself up and down on his cock. He shakes his head, in awe, but starts moving slowly in and out of your sensitive ass. The slow after being pounded absolutely drives you out of your mind.

In less than a minute your orgasm completely consumes you, body and soul. You claw him close to you with arms and legs, as you are convulsing under him. You start weeping, it feels so exquisite, tears sliding into your ears.

“Hey baby,” Austin says, hearing you cry. “Hey. Shhhh. What’s wrong, was it too much?” You shake your head, no, yes, no. Exquisite Agony.

He pulls out of you, softer now so it’s not too intense, although you gasp and arch, unable to control yourself. He gathers you in his arms as you continue to cry quietly, trying to process all that just happened. It was all so stunning, so fucking good, it was like you were transcendent.

“It. was. Just. Too. Good.” you manage to get out between sobs.

“Oh honey.” He holds you close, rocking you, whispering things like “it’s ok baby”, “I got you”, “breathe”.

[hangmanstigerlily]

The Sky, The Shore, and The Sea (Part 2)

I am a new writer here on Tumblr. I used to write and never post my writings....and here we are. Please let me know what you guys think!

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Named OC (Callsign is TigerLily)

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, blood

Jake has a serious thing for Bianca, an old friend of Rooster and Maverick. But what will he do about it? Bianca is definitely hiding her past from everyone except Rooster who knows why. Rooster tries to help get them together and of course, may lead to messing up his friendship in the process.

Here is a link to Part One

Bianca was curious about Bradley's text. A surprise for me? She agreed and went to bed, her alarm cutting through her dream with a shrill sound. She shot up, groaning slightly at the early hour, getting dressed in her swimsuit, she used her waterproof makeup to cover the jagged scar running up her left arm and peppered scars on her chest and stomach. Most days she didn't have to cover up the scars because of her shirts, only on beach days. A honk broke her from her thoughts as she grabbed her beach bag and ran outside, hopping in Bradley's bronco. "Hey Bee, good morning" he smiled, wearing his usual Hawaiian shirt over cutoff jeans and a white shirt combo "morning Bradley, looking like it's a vacation all the time as usual" she laughed and got in. "You know it" they drove and sang to the radio, first stopping at her restaurant as she picked up some of Jake's favorite pastries. 

"I…uh promised I would get some for him last week" she blushed as Bradley smirked at her. "Uh huh, sure TigerLily" he stopped, realizing what he had said, glancing at Bianca. She froze, but the moment passed over her face. "So you had a surprise for me?" She changed the topic, pretending that the use of her callsign didn't bug her. She cranked the radio up as Elvis Presley came on, singing loudly to it. "You really love that song" Bradley laughed as "Can't Help Falling In Love"  ended. "What can I say, Bradshaw, I'm a hopeless romantic" she laughed as they pulled up to what looked like an abandoned hangar "uh…well this isn't creepy and far away from civilization. You're not a serial killer are you?" She looked at him. "No no. Come on, we gotta be fast or else we will be late getting back to the Hard Deck" he hopped out and she followed, jogging to the slightly open door.

Wait, wasn't that Mav's motorcycle? Well one of them at least. She stopped dead as the sun glinted on silver and chrome. The Tempest. Written in cursive across the side of the plane. My F-18…but how. "I found her one day, Maverick said it was a surprise for your birthday." Bradley didn't want to see her expression, hearing her sandals calmly hit the ground and echo as he heard her sniffle. Bianca had walked closer, a mix of emotions filling her as she laid a hand on the cool metal. She took a steadying breath as flashbacks moved through her head. "Why…did you…" her voice was only a whisper as she moved her hand away "I thought you would be happy it wasn't lost" he finally looked at her, she was distant and pale. "It happened today…3 years ago today" she teared up and made her way back to the hangar door. Bradley's eyes widened, he had forgotten and really screwed things up. Of course, how could he forget? "Hey wait Bee, I didn't…" he trailed off as she wiped her eyes and glanced back at him "Just…take me to the Hard Deck" she wouldn't look at him or speak to him the whole trip back to the bar. 

"Please Bianca, talk to me" Hangman heard Rooster and two car doors slam as he saw Bianca turn and glare at Rooster, he was holding her arm as they made their way into the bar, she pulled her arm away from him, something about her body language and the look on her face made Hangman want to punch Rooster "Absolutely not, what was the point of showing me that? To hurt me? Especially today. So listen asshole, and I cannot stress this enough, go to hell Rooster" she turned and stormed across the bar, walking up to Hangman, dropping everything on one of the nearby tables and wrapping her arms around him, catching everyone off guard including Hangman, who dropped his cue stick on the pool table and wrapped his arms around her. What was that whole conversation that he had witnessed about? What was today? It clearly had made her very upset. He rested his head on hers. "Hey…." she mumbled into his chest.  “Hey yourself….you okay there darlin’?” He whispered in her ear, his breath making her shiver slightly, she still was thinking, her body felt rigid to Hangman almost clinging to him. “I got you, don’t worry.” He said quietly so only she could hear, her body relaxing and snapping her from her own thoughts. She hummed and breathed in again. There was that dumb cologne again. The smell was  mixed with the smell of salt, suntan lotion and sweat. Jake held her as long as she needed. Breaking the hug first she realized that everyone and she meant everyone was staring at them. "Sorry guys, am I holding up the game? I brought your favorite pastries.…" She said quietly, Hangman had never seen her like this, like her light had been diminished. "Ah no, we are all waiting on Mav to get here" Coyote cleared his throat, answering her question.

Phoenix came over and punched Rooster in the shoulder. “What the hell did you do?” He rubbed his arm, “Doesn’t matter what the hell I did. It pushed her to Hangman, didn’t it? What more did I need to do?” He looked at her and shrugged, trying to not seem like the day hadn’t gone way wrong. Phoenix shook her head and walked off, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy following her. Maverick walked into the bar with Penny and stopped, the room seemed tense. “Okayyyy so what happened in here? Who died?” He tried to crack a joke but went quiet as he looked at Bianca, holding onto Hangman’s arm, anger and sadness flashed across her face as she met his gaze. So that’s new. Rooster looked like he had lost something important  “Well time for dogfight football” He clapped his hands together and walked out onto the beach, the Dagger squad following him.

Hangman started walking out to play, but Bianca stopped him on the deck. “Aren’t you playing sweetheart?” He quirked an eyebrow, she shook her head no, the distant look coming back to her eyes. “Here” he pulled off his black shirt and handed it to her, “You can hold onto that, I know it has my cologne smell on it. I wear it ‘cause I know it’s your favorite smell. Will that keep your pretty blue eyes from being so haunted?” He had tilted her head to look at him, she blinked a couple times and nodded. “Y-yes, Jake…I. It means a lot to me” She stammered out, meeting his gaze. “I’d do anything for you, my tiger.” Her eyes widened slightly at him using the same nickname for her when they first met in such an affectionate tone “anything for me?” she echoed his words as he backed up, giving her a wink and smile, running to meet with the guys. 

Bianca sat in one of the beach chairs, Hangman's shirt was laying across her lap as she messed with the fabric, so far she had remained grounded, not tossed back into the events of three years ago. She waved back at Jake ever so often when he waved at her, smiling her way. Does he actually feel about me how I feel about him? Does he know that I was head over heels for him? She had just relaxed in her beach chair and closed her eyes when she heard someone flop in the chair next to her "Hey Bee, you okay?" It was Maverick, she knew just from hearing his voice. She looked at him, searching for any sign that he knew what Rooster had done. "You almost lost me three years ago Mav." She said quietly. He looked at her, his jaw clenched. "Bee…I.." she held up her hand to stop him.

"Bradley showed me the plane" Maverick took his shades off "he did what?" He looked mad, glancing at Rooster, who was playing. " That's why I was clinging to Hangman when you came in, I feel I'm stuck there sometimes Mav. When you asked if someone had died, I feel like it was part of me on that day, left in the ocean like the others. I was doing well today. I thought I would make it through without being sucked back into the past but Bradley made sure I was still there, anchored to ghosts." She looked towards the game, watching Hangman for a bit. "Bee, I had no idea he would ever do that to you. I was going to give you the plane for your birthday, I worked so hard to restore it for you. But I'm so sorry that you saw it today of all days. I never meant for the plane to cause you so much pain." Maverick said quietly. She looked at him after a few moments, resting her hand on his arm. "It's okay Pete, I know you wouldn't do that intentionally." She leaned over and hugged him tightly. "You think I'll ever be able to fly again?" She whispered quietly after breaking the hug. "I fully believe you can do anything you want Captain" Maverick said quietly, a smile being shared between the two. 

Hangman glanced over at Bianca and Maverick, seeing her smile made his heart leap in his chest. "Hey look out!" Payback yelled too late as Hangman got hit hard by Rooster, the football landing a short distance away. The wind was knocked out of Hangman, he groaned, his arm stinging slightly as he shoved Rooster off, glaring at him. "What's your problem, Bagman?" Rooster asked, putting his hands on his hips. Hangman got up slowly, dusting the sand off his arms "I should punch you in the face, Bradshaw!" He pointed at Rooster "What's the matter? Finally realizing your feelings for someone?" He sneered back. "Watch your mouth, whatever you did to Bianca was uncalled for" Rooster scoffed slightly "like you care about someone other than yourself"

That sent Hangman over the edge, he charged at Rooster. Bianca and Maverick looked up in time to see Hangman charging Rooster. "Hey! Hey! Stop that!" She jumped up and raced over to them, gripping Hangman's arm to stop him before he punched Rooster "Just because you don't give a damn about anything around you Bradshaw doesn't mean you get to hurt someone I care about!" Bianca managed to pull him away. He was going to fight Bradley about me. "Hey, hey. Jake! Look at me" his eyes softened as he looked down at Bianca. "Come on, your arm is bleeding, let me take care of it" she took his hand and led him back into the bar. 

"Go on, sit down" she pushed him onto one of the barstools gently. He finally looked her over, she had his shirt on and boy did that only make him fall more. She watched him for a moment, pulling out a first aid kit and smiling slightly “see something you like there Seresin?” she raised an eyebrow as she applied some antiseptic to the slice, noting the slight jolt in his arm. “Yeah, I would ask for my shirt back, but I like it so much more on you” He hummed, winking at her. She laughed and covered the cut. “Well maybe I want to wear your clothes more often” she winked back and felt her cheeks grow warm from her sudden boldness. He was speechless for a moment, studying her. “Can I…” He asked quietly, looking at her. She stepped closer, between his legs, and put her arms around his neck, his hands wrapping around her waist.

The moment felt more than the usual hugs, it was something more. She leaned back, her breath hitched as his hand ran under his shirt and against her skin, leaving a trail of fire. She had her swimsuit on still, but she felt his hand near the scars marking her stomach and side. “J-jake…” She looked at him as he stopped and dropped his hand “Sorry darlin’, I don’t want you to think badly of me” She shook her head “No it’s not that…I want nothing more than you to touch me” She stopped talking abruptly, looking at him. He flickered a smile, but not the same wolfy grin he would with other women. “Maybe one day…you can tell me about that haunted look you get in your eyes sometimes” His hand brushed her cheek, and she looked at him and nodded. 

A throat-clearing noise broke the moment as they both looked at the door. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything” I heard Penny chuckle softly as she made her way behind the bar. “Hangman here almost started a fight with Rooster in my honor and got cut up by the seashells on the beach” Bianca laughed and nudged Jake. “Well, that’s very white knight of you” Hangman shrugged and smiled brightly “What can I say, ma’am, I hate seeing those I care about being hurt by others” Bianca smiled and looked at Penny, “So where did you go off to?” Penny paused and looked at Bianca “Oh, Maverick asked me to take flowers out to…” she stopped and glanced at Hangman.

He felt Bianca tense up and wrapped his arms around her waist again. She relaxed. “Flowers to their graves” she finished her thought “it’s okay. Jake should know some of why I freeze up all the time and keep my distance from others” Hangman looked quizzically between the two. “Graves? Bianca?” she looked at him “my friends…they died about 3 years ago. They were pilots…Penny and Maverick have been putting flowers on their graves because I can’t bring myself to go visit them.” she looked down and rubbed her eyes, feeling the tears prickle at the edges of her eyes. Jake glanced at Penny, worry, and sadness crossing her face. He pulled Bianca tighter to him, his hand gently resting on the back of her head, he felt the tears on his shoulder.

“Shh, shhh. I've got you tiger” Penny raised an eyebrow this time. Like her callsign. She pulled back after a few minutes and sniffled, wiping her face with the edge of his shirt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you before.” She shook her head, looking at him for any sign of rejection and all she saw was adoration and care, maybe even worry. “I’ll always be here. I care about you. Whenever you are ready to share anything, I’m ready darlin’” He smiled and rubbed her back. “I think I’ll go back home….” she stopped mid-thought and sighed “Bradley brought me here in his Bronco, said he had a surprise for me out at Mav’s old hangar” She trailed off and sighed again “I’ll give you a ride home” Jake spoke up “Really? You don’t have to. I can ask Phoenix or Bob” She motioned to the beach. “You make it hard to sweep you off your feet” He chuckled and grabbed her stuff and his off the table. Penny smiled as she saw Bianca take his outstretched hand and walk out of the bar. 

So there is part 2 of this storyline. Let me know what you guys think!

Tag List (I hope it's cool): @topguncortez @notroosterbradshaw @roosterforme

[coffeecupandcorgi]

on repeat

i'm not great at doing tag games ahhh, but @dirigibleplumbing tagged me, so i'll give this a go -

Rules: shuffle yr "on repeat" playlist from spotify or etc. and post the first 10 tracks.

Manilla Road, "Necropolis" - the Seek & Destroy DJ Tanner must really dig this one because I've head him play it a few times now. K says the vocals sound like a sports announcer calling the Kentucky Derby lolol BUT i think they're cool. i mean, c'mon, they're absolutely giving severian in nessus in gene wolfe's shadow of the torturer-

Entombed in time without decay Never thought it would be like this It feels like I'm living inside a dream But my mind tells me I'm Lost in Necropolis, lost in Necropolis

-but also giving that couple making out in the pit of skulls, lost in an endless cemetery going slowly insane in the iron rose (1973)?? plus this album is from '83 & i feel like eddie munson definitely liked it.

2. Dio, "Holy Diver" - yeah, classic, guess this one is pretty self-explanatory... I did just read what's currently my all time fav ST fic, this time loop fic star of the masquerade by glorious_spoon, and eddie's fav track there is holy diver.

3. Steely & Clevie, Righteous Flames, "I Was Born To Be Loved" - idk I just freaking love this dancehall track from 92, heard it on the radio a while back and put it on my 'seattle wip' playlist, which I was listening to while noodling around with a post-u mich kj/owen story that alas has not materialized beyond a set up and a few scenes. it's always gonna be a kj and owen mood for me. :')

4. Kate Bush, "Running Up That Hill" - for a while in college @dirigibleplumbing played "wuthering heights" like everyday BUT somehow i never heard/took in "running up that hill" until i started watching Pose last year - when it plays at the end of the pilot !!! while that man is picking up angel !!! I just !!!! stay away from her, get a job !!!! anyway, also, max gender, is there a more gender-y song?

5. Afsky, "Tyende Sang" - more metal. first track i heard on Seek & Destroy that gave me a fanfiction oh. moment. like, we are no longer just doing fic research, we go here now.

6. HAAi, "Baby, We're Ascending" - this song is fine/fun, i threw it on a recent playlist so i'm hearing it a lot, but i loved loved loved HAAi's recent Resident Advisor mix & listened to it a bunch. tried to put it on during a philly wedding afterparty last spring but then it was TOO LOUD and we had to leave to the hotel. :(

7. Built to Spill, "Car" - I think this is my favorite track from their early 90s album There's Nothing Wrong With Love, an all time album which i also loved as a teen. good to sing along to.

I want specifics on the general idea I want to think what I should know Want you to do me what you show

gotta just absolutely belt it out. those lyrics are all caps in my head.

8. Sevana, "Lowe Mi" - this has been playing all the time on KEXP's saturday morning reggae show. it's super catchy.

9. Leonard Cohen, "The Partisan" - as previously discussed i love a good time loop story - it's maybe one of my favorite tropes?? the melancholy and bittersweet yearning can be so exquisite, it fully KOs me - anyway, this track is used so well in Palm Springs, under that slow-mo close up on Sarah while Nyles realizes he is big time in love and needs to get his shit together -

10. Florence + The Machine, "Morning Elvis" - this is my Grey's end of season 2 song for Izzy and Denny :((((( I guess 'cause "we are trying to make it through the devastation" vibes + Denny is from Memphis.

idk idk @katiewont, @rostovs, @zombiesassy, if u wanna-

[freudianslumber]

Tiger Man

Summary: The year was 1941, bandmates and secret lovers Scotty Moore and Elvis Presley got caught red handed by Scotty’s fiancée, and this led to the young men being thrusted headlong into the China-Burma-India theater of World War II as members of the first American Volunteer Group (The Flying Tigers).

Chapter 12. The Long Way Home

Pairing:  Scotty Moore/Elvis Presley (m/m)

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings:  gun violence, angst

With remarkable boldness, Elvis laughed in the face of the crazed Major who was aiming a gun at him menacingly: “How deluded can you be, Ishikawa?  I ain‘t got plans to spend eternity with a scumbag.”

“Quit trying to rile me up with your insults, that won’t work with me.  Nothing can save you tonight, El, just take a deep breath and prepare to die pretty.”  The Kempei officer replied, cocking his gun, then added: “It’s really quite romantic, like a new version of Romeo and Juliet.” If his life were not in immediate jeopardy, Elvis was certain he would counter with morbid sarcasm: “Sure, if one of them raped and murdered the other.”

Right then, some rapid footsteps could be heard scurrying up the stairs. “What’s that?” Elvis suddenly glanced behind Ishikawa at the direction of the door and yelled on the top of his lungs: “Seto, HELPPP!!!”  A look of shock came across the gunman’s face as he instinctively began to turn his head in that direction too.  A fraction of a second later he realized the American was bluffing, by the time he turned back the clever pilot had slipped into the dim hallway.

Irked by his own miscalculation, Ken Ishikawa muttered a curse word in Japanese and chased after his prisoner, firing a few shots at his back.  Elvis ducked as bullets flew by but kept running as fast as he could, it felt like forever but in reality, only a few seconds passed by when he made it to the bathroom and locked himself in it.

Breaking down the weak barrier of a locked bathroom door would normally be trivial for a highly trained intelligence officer like Ishikawa, but currently his effort was severely hampered by bouts of dizziness and blurry vision.  Then everything changed as the front door was kicked down, and Ninja-clad Katsunari Seto rushed into the space with pistol in one hand and flashlight in the other.  For a brief minute or two there was absolute silence in the house, but then a burst of intense gunfire broke out when Seto’s flashlight revealed a shadow in the short and dim hallway connecting the doorway and the dining room.  As the crossfire ceased, the smell of gun powder permeated the air. 

Moments later, Seto came out from behind the dividing wall that was used to shield himself, and moved closer to the panting, moaning lump in the hallway.  Illuminated by the flashlight, Major Ishikawa was clearly mortally wounded, with blood seeping out of several bullet holes on his torso.  He looked up at his childhood friend turned assassin, gasped out his accusation with great difficulty: “S-Seto, you betrayed me… and the emperor!  You… you traitor!” His eyes lost focus and rolled up as his agonal breathing terminated.  “War criminals and heartless murderers don’t deserve loyalty, Ken.”  Seto kneeled down, checking to be sure that breathing and pulse were both absent, and his pupils had dilated, confirming the Major had indeed expired.  He collected the dead man’s pistol and army knife and mounted them onto his own battle belt.  Seto stood up and began calling out: “Mr. Presley, are you okay? It’s me, Seto!  Ken is dead!” 

After a moment of silence, a small shuffling sound could be heard coming from behind the closed bathroom door, and a slightly hoarse voice responded: “Seto?  Is that really you?  Call me Elvis, I’m in the bathroom!”  That’s when his rescuer noticed a long metal chain on the floor which went under the bathroom door.   Before Seto tried to break down the door by force, he could hear the American unlock it from the inside.  With a little creak, the door opened, and the Flying Tiger slowly emerged from the darkness.  “Is that bastard really dead??” Elvis questioned, still not fully convinced of his safety from his tormenter.  While locked inside the dark room, he had broken a mug and used a sharp fragment to cut open the shirt sleeve that was used to tie his hands together.  Not surprisingly, he cut his fingers while trying to accomplish all this in a rush and without any light.  He held on to a large piece of shard, prepared to fight to the death once Ishikawa broke in. 

But now all of a sudden, it looked like this was no longer necessary.  The monster had been slain.  Seto’s familiar stocky built, black-framed eyeglasses and deceptively simple-minded face almost brought tears of joy to Elvis’ eyes.  The therapist/secret agent stepped closer: “Elvis, I’m so glad you are still alive.  I was afraid it would be too late!”  He took a hold of the pilot’s bloodied hands and inquired with concern: “What happened?  Where else are you injured?”  “Don’t worry, that’s just me being clumsy when I untied myself with this shard from a broken mug.  I think I got scraped on the shoulder by a bullet when Ishikawa shot at me from behind.  I was lucky, that’s all.”  He turned around, and Seto’s eyebrows furrowed at the prominent blood stains on his white shirt located at the back of the left shoulder.  From the short amount of time they had known each other, Seto already knew the stoic young man tended to downplay all of his injuries, it would be more accurate to assess the extent of these wounds personally.  Besides, just one look at him revealed the overall impression of someone malnourished and mistreated.  His unusual and torn attire made Seto wonder what more God-awful things Ken Ishikawa had done to him.  His cheeks were abnormally rosy, and his shirt was soaked with sweat despite the cool and damp room.  “Are you feeling hot?”  Seto held out his hand and asked for permission to feel the young man’s forehead, “Can I?”.  Just a quick brush of the skin there confirmed the therapist’s suspicion: “Elvis, you are burning up.  Let’s get out of here and get you some medical attention.”   

“What about Mizuki??  The poor lady was hurt a lot worse!  You’ve got her to the hospital, right?”  Elvis asked urgently as he suddenly remembered the dire situation of Mrs. Ishikawa.  Seto reassured the American that he had applied first aid to the young woman’s mutilated limb and transported her to a safe location where she could be tended to by a trusted surgeon without being threatened by too many suspicious minds or prying questions.  It was gratifying for Elvis to hear that Mizuki’s suffering and anguish were not in vain and she would ultimately succeed in breaking away from her suffocating arranged marriage and live to tell the tale.  In a way it even reminded him of himself and Scotty, wouldn’t it be great if their love could survive the war, overcome all the obstacles, blossom and bear fruit?

As the idealist filled his head momentarily with sweet visions regarding the future, agent Seto took out a shackle opener to unlock Elvis’ shackle.  The pilot’s right ankle was quite bruised up and swollen from earlier struggles against the metal during his close-range fight with Ishikawa, but nothing felt more liberating than when the same ankle was released from its confines after several days of being chained up.  With remarkable efficiency and effectiveness, Seto did a quick cleanup of the scene and bandaged up Elvis’ wounds.  The two then transferred the Major’s corpse downstairs and into the trunk of Seto’s vehicle parked at the back gate.

Thus in the dead of the night, Seto backed the car out quietly and drove away from the nice-looking residence with many dark secrets.  He explained to Elvis that most of the surrounding houses were vacant, left behind by business owners and wealthy British expatriates who had lived there previously.  Some were now occupied by Japanese Army officers and their families like the Ishikawas, but they were rather spread out.  This explained the exceptional tranquility of this neighborhood and meant that gunshots fired near midnight around here were unlikely to be noticed or reported.  The secret agent went on to outline his plans to sneak the newly freed Flying Tiger out of Japanese occupied Burma and back home safely.  The first step involved hiding him at a nearby Buddhist monastery, where a few rescued Allied POWs were staying temporarily.  Specialized undercover agents would then take over and provide all that was necessary to smuggle the American pilot across the border to China, e.g., funds, transportation, route, guide, etc.  Once inside Free China, Elvis would be sent to Kunming where he could eventually board an American military transport plane to return to the States. 

  

After elucidating each step involved, Seto realized he hadn’t heard a word from Elvis for a while.  He looked over at the passenger seat and found that the exhausted young man had nodded off with his head leaning against the car window.  The secret agent pulled the car to the side of the road to check on Elvis, worried that he might have passed out.  Once able to observe more closely, Seto was relieved to detect a slight heaving of the pilot’s chest that accompanied his breathing.  He felt Elvis’ forehead with the back of his hand again, further reassured by the absence of high temperature.  The fever had apparently defervesced for now.  In his slumber, the flying ace looked even younger than he normally did, long eyelashes casting a shadow on his cheeks.  It was hard to fathom how much depravity and cruelty the sweet-faced lad had already experienced at this young age.  Hoping not to disturb his much-needed rest, Seto started the car again as quiet as he could and went back on his way.

________________________________________________________

New Year’s Day 1943 in Memphis was crisp and cold as usual, the sun barely made a cameo in the gray sky and was already starting to slip away quite early in the afternoon.  As during most major holidays, the Forest Hill Cemetery had more visitors than usual, but by this time most had come and gone since the gate would be closed within the hour.  Scotty walked on his own with a bouquet of flowers in hand, passing between rows of headstones, looking for that of Gladys Presley.  He had visited her grave site once before but it was hard to remember the exact location, because most of the tombstones looked indistinguishable from a few yards away. 

A chilly winter breeze blew by, Scotty shivered slightly, and his heart was filled with melancholy.  He recalled how he had promised to visit Gladys’ grave with Elvis, how he had consoled the devastated young man and held him tight.  Barely a month or two later Scotty lost Elvis forever during the battle of the Salween Gorge.  The young pilot’s body was never found.  Scotty held out hope that his lover had somehow survived the plane crash, but eventually had to accept the heartbreaking reality that his sweet baby would never come back to him again.  The American Volunteer Group disbanded in July and Scotty returned to his hometown as a celebrated flying ace and war hero.  He tried to start a country band again, but his heart wasn’t in it.  It seemed no singer’s voice could ever measure up to that amazingly dynamic and passionate baritone that had been ingrained in Scotty’s brain.  The guitarist started to drink excessively and fell into a funk.  That was when a new and improved MaryAnn moved back into the picture.  More mature and understanding, the blonde provided Scotty with much-needed empathy and encouragement exactly at the right time.  She was even able to rise above past grievances and commiserate with Scotty regarding his tragic loss.  Eventually MaryAnn’s benevolence and sincerity pulled Scotty out of depression and convince him that she still loved him despite everything.  Since the previous termination of their engagement was never announced to anyone other than immediate families, who were more than happy to see the protagonists reconciliate, everything moved along very quickly, and a modest wartime wedding was held in October.  Just a couple of weeks ago, the new family welcomed the joyous news of a baby on the way.  Concurrently, Scotty made a big career move as well, accepting a job as a studio musician in Nashville, while getting his foot in the door of music production.

Yet despite all the positive progress he had made in his personal and professional life in the last few dizzying months, Scotty could never truly let go of the memory of his lost love.  In the back of his mind, he couldn’t ignore the guilt for falling back in with MaryAnn so fast after Elvis had lost his life trying to save him.  But Scotty consoled himself with the thought that Elvis’ spirit would have wanted him to walk out of darkness and find new purpose and happiness in life without delay.  Elvis’ family hadn’t made a tombstone for him yet, understandably still not ready to fully accept their child had died so young.  But it went without saying that his final resting place would eventually be right here in Forest Hill next to his Mama.  Therefore, Scotty felt that he needed to come here to say goodbye to Elvis before he would move to Nashville later in the month. 

As Scotty arrived at his destination, it was clear that he wasn’t the only visitor of Mrs. Presley’s grave today.   Two fresh-looking flower arrangements made from white and pink rose buds adorned the sides of the headstone.  It also appeared the previous mourner had cleaned the tombstone and pulled out any weed in the surrounding area.  This was not exactly unexpected for Scotty, since he knew New Year’s Day was a popular time for family members to visit the graves of their loved ones.  However, as he set down his bouquet which was a mix of tulips and irises, something more unusual happened:  He heard a guitar strumming not far away.  The sound wasn’t loud but certainly attracted the attention of the musician’s highly attuned ears.   

At first Scotty couldn’t make out any particular melody or style, as the guitar chords sounded a little chaotic.  After a brief pause, the player started strumming again, even humming along.  Soon he launched into the intro of a slow ballad, and Scotty froze the moment that first line hit him.  He thought his ears were playing tricks on him.  This was exactly the voice that haunted his dreams, the one that he could never forget.  “Elvis!!” Scotty screamed in his mind, but he held it in as he was pulled towards the direction of the magnetic singing voice. 

Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart? Does your memory stray to a bright summer day When I kissed you and called you sweetheart? Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare? Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there? Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again? Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Scotty’s heart just about jumped out of his chest as he approached the lone figure who brought forth this achingly beautiful rendition.  The young man sat with his acoustic guitar under a tall oak tree overlooking this corner of the cemetery, fully immersed in his sentimental crooning.  Even from the back, Scotty could recognize that lustrous head of chestnut hair with golden highlights.  Still in shock and disbelief, Scotty finally called out: “Elvis, is that really you?? How are you still alive?!” 

The strumming halted abruptly at the sound of his voice, none other than Memphis Flash turned his head, looking back at his love with a million mixed emotions in his cerulean eyes.  “Scotty…I thought I would never see you again…I wrote you twice while waiting to fly back from Kunming, but never got no reply.  I arrived just in time for Christmas, but my Christmas gift was finding out you were now a married man.  I…I couldn’t bring myself to see you again.  I assume you were avoiding me…”

“No!” Scotty interrupted Elvis’ babble and grabbed his hands.  “I never got any letter!!  MaryAnn’s gonna have to answer a whole lot of questions about this!!”  Upon closer inspection of Elvis’ face, Scotty could see the last seven months had left discernible marks there, and it wasn’t just maturity that made his features more angular and refined.  In place of youthful ebullience and innocence, there was now a paradoxical mixture of vulnerability and tenacity.  “Looks like you’ve been through a lot, sweetheart.  It figures since you were left behind in a war zone on your own.  Tell me, how did ya even make it out?”  Scotty asked with concern, cupping the young man’s cheeks.

For Elvis, this scene brought back memories of when Scotty consoled him after his Mama had passed away.  The guitarist with the steely blue eyes always seemed to be the one he could confide to, whether in dream or reality.  Although circumstances had played a cruel joke on them and their relationship could never go back to the same, the soul connection they had built remained deep and special.  So Elvis recounted his story as he packed up his guitar and the reunited pair walked out of the cemetery together in the setting sun.

Characteristically, Elvis brushed over many of the harrowing details of his POW experience in Burma, not wanting to upset Scotty too much.  However, the way Scotty looked back at him was so poignant, it felt like the guitarist somehow already knew everything.  As they now stood next to Elvis’ old Lincoln in the parking lot, Scotty just enveloped him in a firm embrace all of a sudden: “Oh dear Elvis, you’ve really been to hell and back, I’m so sorry you had to go through so much!  I feel like scum for not being able to protect you from harm like I had promised!”

It felt so safe and warm to be in Scotty’s arms Elvis wished time would stand still, but then rationality took over and he forced himself to pull out from the hug: “Scotty, I don’t want you to feel guilty at all.  I crossed the ocean and went straight into war in Asia by my own free will.  I was willing to die for you and almost did.  This was all because I love you.  A couple of times, when my life was on a thread, I prayed to God he would keep you safe and worry-free, even if you had to forget about everything between us.   When I didn’t get any replies for my letters before my return, I already mentally prepared myself that you might have moved on with your life.  Even so, my emotions got the best of me when my suspicion became a reality.  It didn’t help that Daddy already started going out with a woman named Dee when Mama had only been gone for less than a year.  It made me feel disillusioned about love and family.  I felt alone even at home, so I came to visit Mama every day, talking and singing to her and to myself.  But don’t worry, now I’ve sorted everything out in my head.  I should be happy for you and MaryAnn.  After all, you had known her even before you met me.  I should not be selfish because you deserve to have family and kids and we have no real future together anyway.  So I’ve bought a one-way ticket to California, where I’ll work as a truck driver or take whatever other job I can find.  When I save enough money, I hope to go to acting school and pursue a career in film.  I’m glad you are here today, Scotty, so I can say goodbye to you in person.” 

Surprised by how independent and resolute his young partner sounded, Scotty nevertheless tried to change his mind: “Dear, I know you are mad at me and justifiably so.  In my devastation from losing you right in front of my eyes during the war, l was shell-shocked and just wanted to quickly form a family to restore a sense of security and stability again.  I was trying to hide from haunting memories of you.  MaryAnn was at the right place and right time, so she took advantage of that.  Now I realize my decision was so foolish and rash and I kick myself for rushing into it.  I know my love for you can never be replaced.  My heart aches terribly when I hear about what you’ve suffered through, even worse when I’m reminded it was my fault.  I came to Mrs. Presley’s grave to say goodbye because I thought your spirit would be hanging around here, I accepted an offer to be a session player in Nashville and would soon get to try my hand at being a producer.  But the moment I heard your voice again I knew I wanted my Blue Moon boy back more than anything in the world.  I miss all your gentle smiles and loving kisses, I miss your brilliant singing and charismatic performances, I miss our chemistry on and off the stage.  We fit together like a glove, Darlin’.  Now that God gives me another chance, I’ll never let you go.  I know you are not ready for things to go back to how it was in the past, but won’t you come with me to Nashville?  You can have another crack at your ambition as a recording artist and I can be your producer.  I swear I’ll make sure MaryAnn does not get in the way.” 

Elvis was on the verge of breaking down as his one and only pleaded for him to stay and revive their romance.  He had never seen Scotty lost his cool like this before.  He closed his eyes for a few seconds, clearing his thoughts and steeling himself, then reopened them and replied: “Scotty, you know I’m willing to do almost anything for you.  But I don’t want to be the one to wreck your marriage and new family, otherwise I’ll be a real hypocrite.  Besides, I need a break from relationships right now.  Physical wounds may heal in time, but psychological scars stay longer.  I’m pretty sure I’m mentally unfit to be anyone’s boyfriend at this time.  I have so many nightmares and flashbacks it’s not even funny.  Maybe this is God’s way of telling me to refocus my energy on things other than love and romance.  Or maybe it’s just a part of growing up that was accelerated during war.  At the very least, I need time and space to reflect and heal in solitude.  Just six months ago, I’d never imagine what I’m telling you now, Scotty.  I hope you can see my point of view and understand my need to strike out on my own, it’s a difficult step but better for the both of us.  I treasure everything we’ve shared together, and it pains me to ask this of you, but will you please let me go?”

The star-crossed lovers were now looking at each other with tears streaming down their cheeks.  Sometimes communication required no words, Scotty knew then that any further attempt at persuasion would be futile.  He wiped away the tears and simply conceded: “Alright darlin’, I know I have no one else to blame, and I’m glad you’ve grown into an adult with a mind of your own.  But if I’m allowed one last request, can I ask for a goodbye kiss?” 

At the sound of that Elvis realized it was what he wanted too.  A little tender gesture for the road would do his mind and body some good, even as a parting gift from his significant other.  So he agreed with a nod, and in the afterglow of the fading sunset Memphis Flash and Guitar Slinger shared a long and passionate kiss in the backseat of the car in the empty parking lot.  It started out gentle and chaste, but quickly became more fervent.  Elvis’ sweet and plump lips felt exactly like how they were the very first time Scotty tasted them.  The delicate way Scotty held Elvis’ jaw and stroked his wavy hair was also how it had always been.  For a short while, the pair of flying aces were back in their private little bubble, safe, cozy and familiar.  However, no matter how much both of them wanted to prolong and savor this moment, the nostalgia had to end somehow. 

As Elvis finally pulled away from their entanglement, his eyes caught sight of a clover-shaped pendant hanging from a silver necklace around Scotty’s neck.  It was previously obscured by the guitarist’s neckline, but now clearly visible after a shirt button had popped open during the hands-on kissing session.  “I thought you said it was just silly and you’d never wear it!”  Elvis picked up the pendant, turned it over, opened the hidden locket, revealing a lock of his own soft and silky hair.  “I used to think that way, but after what happened at Salween gorge, I realized I was the silly one.  This was the only thing you left me, it made me feel connected to you no matter how far we were apart, even if you were not in this world.  So I proudly wore it around my neck ever since as a symbol of my undying love for you.  MaryAnn does not know the significance of this pendant, but in my heart it’s more important than my wedding ring.”

Elvis was visibly shaken by Scotty’s confession, why did God have to make his every decision so tough and conflicted?  He lost his own set of this love token when he fell into enemy hands, where almost everything he had was severely compromised, including health, dignity, sanity, faith in humanity and at times the will to live.  Those carefree days before the war seemed like such distant memories, the lost innocence could never be restored.  It would be pointless to wallow in sentimentality or self-pity, the best Elvis could do would be to look ahead and go on with his life.

With that thought, the young man gave Scotty a final hug accompanied with a simple and heartfelt promise “You’ll always be on my mind”, then waved farewell to the love of his life.  As the Blue Moon Boys bandleader walked over to his own vehicle on the other side of the lot and drove off into the dusk, a pair of tearful sapphire eyes followed him all the way as far as the visibility would allow.  The frigid westerly wind swept through the barren tree branches, where only a few months later tree buds would sprout and flowers would bloom to announce the return of spring.  This was the end of a chapter in life, and very well might be the beginning of another.  What would follow, only time could tell.

The End

[reviewsclown]

Wild at Heart 1990

First off, gotta say, did miss the first like 20 minutes of this movie, oops. This is directed by David Lynch though so that's cool, never seen one of his movies before I hear he writes good stuff?

Outfits/set design are very good, very 90s movie extremely so. They gave Nic Cage (playing a character named Sailor in this one (??) a weird Elvis-type accent because he's obviously meant to be an Elvis-type guy, has metal music though so that's a bonus. They gave him a snakeskin jacket too that's pretty swaggy

There's a noticeable weird use of sound effects, noises and a scream they play a few times it's odd, maybe the use of sound effects is what makes this Lynchian in nature. Lots of cutting to new scenes with very different moods and back, I assume that is also Lynchian

Very neat characters, they're distinctive, a lot of memorable evil guys. Honestly a very silly movie in a serious way as someone said, it's comedic in nature a lot of times but it's not a comedy

Nic Cage does say the f slur but he also apologizes for it later so it's fine.

Rating: yeah this is good, lots of sex scenes some violence in it but it's a good movie, nic cage and lynch work well together turns out. you should watch this and not miss the first 20 minutes probably.

[cyborg-franky]

Hi franky! I was wondering if you had any headcanons or anything about the WBP or any of the other one piece characters doing karaoke? <3

-slams hand down on desk- this is good for my mental health and I want to hold you. Lots under the cut! If anyone wants other chars please hit me up <3

Ace

He acts all shy at first but get a drink in him and he won’t shut up.

He will drag you on stage and do a duet.

Has no concept of holding a note, just belts it out.

The drunker he gets the worse he gets.

Unironically loves Backstreet Boys.

Went as one of them for Halloween, don’t you know.

Also tries to do the screaming parts of alt music.

Video him taking off his shirt and swinging it around to highway to hell and humble him every time he gets sassy at you.

Marco

Likes the atmosphere of going to karaoke but doesn’t partake so much.

Is happy to sit with your things and watch you, makes eye contact the entire time with a smile on his face, being your biggest fan and supporter.

You can coax him up, depending on what sound you dangle under his nose.

Cheesy 80s songs or alt music tends to be his jam.

Would be 100% that bitch who’d lose it to Pretty fly for a white guy and make everyone stare at him, wondering where that energy came from. 

Thatch

Loves it, lives for it, and will make everyone join in.

Was probably the one with the idea to go.

Loves to sing all sorts and will belt out Elvis one second, Bonnie Tyler the next, and Lady Gaga the next. Just loves to sing, and will do all the parts himself, male and female roles. He’s a one-man show.

But he likes to get his friends on stage to do any song. 

He drinks gets excited and gets everyone pumped.

He’s just everyone's hype man including himself.

Just living his best life.

Watch him sing total eclipse of the heart and love it.

Izou

You dare bring him to your silly sing-song hall?

He’ll not be happy.

Will sulk.

However, is not above recording people making fools of themselves for future blackmail or amusement.

Though Izou is not immune to the charms of booze.

Get Izou drunk and he will be screeching the classics.

Will even do a headbang and whirl around his hair.

A drunk Izou is a great Izou.

Deuce

Every time he is dragged up on stage you can tell he is longing for the person who did that to him to get eaten by the floor [Ace]

Will mumble into the microphone.

Hates it, even drunk he will more than likely have an inward meltdown at the entire thing.

Ace can sometimes get a duet out of him.

Will throw a mic at the first heckler, however.

Will be the first person to tell you what you did wrong.

Sassy.

Vista

Sings the mic like it’s a lover.

If you are on stage with him he will accidentally smack you in the face with his dramatic arm movements.

Could sing opera.

And does.

Ever heard every song ever turned into an opera version? No? Then, boy, you are in for a treat.

Loves to be solo as well as a group.

The only one who is able to not mangle other language songs.

Is loud, hell, doesn’t even need a mic.

Jozu

He’s very shy and will prob just sit at the table and have a good time eating, snacking, and watching everyone else get on stage.

Kinda hides behind Marco [despite being so much bigger than him] when he’s asked to join anyone.

The only reason you can even hear him is the fact he has a deep voice.

Just kinda shyly stands there and sings and taps his foot.

There, he did it once, please just let him hide.

Haruta

Loud, over-the-top, drama kid.

He loves it, he has to be the loudest.

Picks all the really annoying songs that get in your head for the rest of the night.

Nags people who don’t really want to get on stage.

He hits the high notes well at least.

Will sing the really, really, fast songs.

“Come on guys! Just one more!” until he dragged off the stage.

Whitey Bay

Voice of an angel.

Looks like a superstar as she stands there with her flowing hair and flawless poses.

The proceeds to roar to death metal and scares everyone in the area, maybe not Ace or Marco but they are still surprised a woman that petite is capable of making the table shake.

Solo only - you will only cramp her style.

You might manage to get her to sing something that you can hear the lyrics of through loud screaming vocals.

Does have a nice voice.

[sophie-i-guess13]

Hound Dog

|Words: 1872|

|Characters: Sylvia, Tim Shepard, Dallas Winston|

|Genre: Teenage Dumbasses, Fluff near the end|

|TW: Mention of a gun, animal neglect, implied underage drinking|

Tag! @mjmacchio1991 @apricot-colored-feathers @pepsi-and-cigarettes @the-kneesbees @ralphmaccchiato 

I had a few ideas of what Sylvia wanted from me when she came through the door of her cousin’s bar. Like a drink or two, maybe a dance. Maybe she wanted to spend the night. But, in her typical fashion, she just had to prove me wrong. That’s the only reason I’d be sitting in the passenger seat of Tim Shepard’s t-bird and squinting through the rain-splattered windshield.

We move along down the road, the only sound being that of the rain beating against the car and Elvis’s voice coming from the radio. Tim’s headlights reflect off the streetlamps we pass, even the occasional broken bottle tossed in the middle of the road. Each time the light shot back at us, it got caught in his eyes and hair, the vibrant contrast of black wild curls and clear blue eyes, all tied together with a jagged pink scar running from temple to chin. “Likin’ the new tires?” he asks, lips still twisted into a scowl so it would look like an insult to anyone else.

It still hurts to breathe too deep, but that’s the least of my worries. That wasn’t the first time Tim had taken a cheap shot at my ribs, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last, either. “You should be thankin’ me, Shepard,” I say casually, “told ya’ you were due for an upgrade.”

“Just admit you slashed my tires ‘cause you were jealous,” he mutters without even a hint of sincerity. It took me a while to figure out when he was bluffing- the last time I fucked up we both ended up in the Curtises kitchen and bandaging our wounds. My eyes dart up to his rearview mirror before I respond. For a girl who always seemed so cold and cool, Syl’s pressed against his window like a little kid at a toy store. “An’ what do I have to be jealous for, your fat head?”

“How ‘bout the fact that I have a car, and you’re a fuckin’ freeloader-”

“Pull over!” Sylvia cries out suddenly, already pulling at the handle of her door, “That’s the house!”

The street is still dark but through the occasional crack of lightning, I can make sense of where we are. “Your house is three up, doll,” I mumble. It must have been soft enough for her to have not heard me because she pushes the door open and trudges through the rain. “She ain’t headed home,” Tim tells me as he turns the key and lets the engine die. “Sylvia’s been obsessed with the dog in that yard ever since I met her.”

She’s teetering back and forth in her high-heels as she leans over the metal fence, running her hands over the slim, grey body beneath her. I can’t make out her words- since they’re all slurred together with cold and liquor, but they don’t hold the same edge I’m always used to hearing from her. “So you drove her to visit a mutt?”

There’s a second icy gust of wind when Tim forces his door open and pops the collar of his leather jacket. “Get your head outta your ass, Winston,” he groans, just loud enough to be heard over the clap of thunder, “we’re helping her take him!” Before I can get any more clarification, Syl’s voice cuts through the rain once more. “Hurry up,” she calls, “the thunder’s freaking him out! You’ve got the thing?”

I don’t know what thing she’s talking about. I don’t know why I’m spending my night out in the rain while Sylvia crouches in the mud, trying to soothe some mangy old dog that’s probably older than we are, but here I am. The rain beats down on us, even going as far as to wind down my back and under my t-shirt like a serpent. “You got a plan or anything?” I shout to Tim when he slams the trunk closed and heads towards the rickety old house, bolt cutters hanging in one hand. “Not really. Just cut the chain and get ‘im to Buck’s, I guess.”

In all honesty, stealing a dog doesn’t sound like the worst way I could spend my time. But, there is no way in hell that thing is coming anywhere near my bedroom. The street stays dark for the most part, except for the occasional shot of lightning through the clouds like the cracks through Buck’s drywall. The thunder’s got the dog on edge as he paces back and forth against the fence, sometimes even raking his paws against it. He doesn’t bark though, which means his owners inside have no reason to look outside when Tim and Sylvia hop over the chain link.

Blue jeans turn muddy and hair is plastered flat against their foreheads. Watching Sylvia drop to the ground and not caring for the grime caked under her nails as she pulls at the thick leather collar pushed against his throat. “You’ve gotta hold ‘im still,” Tim orders rough grit teeth and a white-knuckle grip on his bold cutters, “I can’t cut the chain if he keeps moving!”

Years ago, he might have been a good looking dog. Now, with ribs sticking out far enough to count, white and cloudy eyes, and a torn ear, he was everything but pretty. His thin fur was grey and matted, yet somehow still thin enough to see the bald patches on his chest and stomach. If it were any lighter, we probably could’ve seen the ticks and fleas crawling all over him, too. “I’m trying,” Syl huffs in response, “it ain’t my fault the thunder’s freaking him out! Dal, get down here an’ hold him!”

He whimpers and cries, straining against Sylvia’s arms as she tries to hold him still and Tim grabs hold of the rusted chain in one hand. “Syl didn’t invite you to just stand there,” Tim spits, rainwater and a few choice words falling from his lips when the chain slips from his hands and the dog jerks back further into Sylvia’s arms. In all honesty, she didn’t invite me at all. She walked into the bar, dark lips twisted into a smile and flipped some bleached hair over her shoulder.

That’s all it took before I was following her out into the night and the passenger side of Tim’s t-bird like a- well, like a dog.

“Shut up an’ give the chain.” I grumble, narrowly avoiding the dog’s tail when he whimpers again. The metal is cold and slick with rain, but still rough with years worth of rust. It pushes into my palms, nearly deep enough to slice the skin while Tim runs his fingers back and forth searching for the weakest link. “I keep tellin’ you, Syl, you need to find a guy who’s willin’ to steal a dog. Not the kinda guy you’ve got to lie to-”

“Just cut the chain, Tim-”

The metal goes slack before my hands drop to my sides. “Makin’ a move on my girl, Shepard?” I’ve always had a temper. It’s gotten me in trouble before, and that’s all it was getting us in now. Too many things happen at once. Thunder rolls overhead, Sylvia groans, and Tim laughs. Lightening cuts across the sky, like a knife slashing through fabric. “Shut up, Dal,” Tim snarls, “I wouldn’t get with Syl if she was the last chick this side of the equator.”

I see her lips move, even see the initial shock cross her dark eyes, but no sound comes out. All I hear is the incessant ringing in my ears and the smell of gun powder. I can see it now, the steel chain resting at my feet, cut short to a jagged end, illuminated by the hazy yellow glow of a porch light. Tim already has a hand on Sylvia’s arm, hauling her to her feet and dragging her in the direction of the road.

I follow in a blind panic, adrenaline burning under my skin just as it had all those nights before I showed up in Tulsa. At least back in New York people wouldn’t justify your murder saying you were on their property. I can hear the man of the house hollering after us, he’s got a deep voice, but the words all slur together. Exactly how you’d expect some asshole who leaves his dog out in the rain to sound.

That fucking dog.

I never should have looked back, but I did, anyway. I was supposed to gauge how far away he was, maybe if he planned on re-loading and taking another shot at the three kids running out of his yard, but I see the dog instead. His belly is against the soaking grass, tail and ears gone limp. In an instant, I freeze. The man lumbers down his stairs, shotgun hanging over his thick shoulder.

He growls another insult my way, fist waving in the air as he talks. The dog tries to sink lower into the mud as if it would be able to swallow him whole. Behind me, an engine roars back to life and tires squeal on wet cement. I should’ve gotten in the car. We should’ve counted our losses and realized that we’re greasers, not heroes.

But that motherfucker never should’ve kicked his dog.

“Thanks for this,” Sylvia hums in the early hours of the morning with her head on my chest and my arm wrapped around her shoulder. It hurts to breathe and every inch of my body aches, but all of that seems worth it now. She’s still trembling, despite being wrapped under all the blankets I could find in my room and Buck’s sweatshirt from last year’s rodeo season. We’re all freezing, but that meant Buck was willing to share his moonshine. It burned on the way down, but at least I could feel my fingertips again as they traced her shoulder.

“God, can y’all knock this shit off? You’re making me sick.”

Tim’s standing at the foot of the bed, greasy black curls still pressed to his forehead and one bloody fist wrapped in an old t-shirt. “Nah, this is what you get for makin’ me run in the rain with a dog and batshit old man chasing me,” I spit back. Sylvia smiles against my chest before sitting up and pushing her hair back from her face. “And for implying you’d have a shot with me, you arrogant prick.”

He leaves not long after that, drenched in rainwater and defeat. No sooner had Tim Shepard closed the door and wandered back down the hall, had the dog- Bruce, wiggled out from under my bed and stared at us.

“Hey, Dally-”

“He isn’t sleeping on my bed, babe.”

“C’mon, Dal, it’s just for one night, babe.”

I’m a greaser. The kind of guy known for getting into drunken fights in bars and empty parking lots. I steal, I lie, I cheat. I’m not a good person, nor have I ever claimed to be one. Hell, I fight guys twice my age and weigh more than two of me, and win.

But sometimes, when a hood is left to face his girlfriend and her dog, you just have to accept defeat and move over.

[bookwrm99]

Preferred Music- OM! Brothers

Not that anyone asked me, but I was in the mood to write and I’ve gotten back into Obey Me! after a super-long hiatus.. so these are my thoughts on what the brothers listen to in terms of music. I’ve only finished S1, so forgive me if these don’t make sense in context of the later seasons T_T

Lucifer:

It’s established in canon that Lucifer loves listening to classical music and has an extensive record collection- the more cursed the better

I headcanon though that he also likes to listen to big band music, like the Glenn Miller Orchestra

I can imagine him putting one of his vintage Glenn Miller records on his grammy and asking his s/o to dance with him one night if he was feeling especially romantic. The song he’d initiate on would be Twilight Interlude, Moonlight Serenade, or Starlit Hour.

I also headcanon that Lucifer listens to crooners, like Nat King Cole or Frank Sinatra

If MC can play an instrument, especially if it’s the piano, Lucifer might lurk in the hallway for a while if he hears them playing music by composers like Beethoven, Mozart, or Chopin. He doesn’t know how or why, but he thinks their works sound best whenever MC plays them

I think Lucifer’s guilty pleasure is 50′s/60′s decade music, but only listens to them when certain conditions are met: he’s in an exceptionally good mood, his privacy is guaranteed for at least an hour, and it’s just him in his bedroom. He feels that artists like The Beach Boys, Elvis, and The Beatles don’t fit with his polished, high-class image, hence the secrecy around listening to them

You’ll know he trusts you when he allows you into his space while one of these artists’ records is on the gramophone

Doesn’t change MC’s ringtone in his phone, because one: he’s an old man and hardly uses the thing for anything besides communication anyway, and two: he wants to be the only brother who wasn’t prompted by Mammon’s ringtone change

Probably changes their ringtone after a few weeks, when his brothers have forgotten all about it

 Mammon:

The Black Crowes. Next-

It’s canon that Mammon likes R&B music

Mammon strikes me as a classic/90′s alternative rock kind of guy too, though. Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, U2, Deep Purple, The Black Crowes, Pearl Jam- that kind of vibe

If he’s feeling something a little more hard, he’d probably dip into Nirvana, Van Halen, AC/DC, or another band along those lines

“Money” by Pink Floyd is DEFINITELY his ringtone

If he’s trying to really focus to come up with a scheme to make Grimm, or is just in the mood for something really chill, he might pull up a lofi hip hop playlist/station to listen to in the background

If he and MC happen to be chilling in his room, though, he’d probably play whatever they’re into- not because he likes them and wants to learn more about them or anything, noooooo sir, definitely doesn’t want to know their favorite artists so he can maybe take them to a concert one day either

Probably starts listening to MC’s favorite bands and genres too as their relationship develops

I headcanon that as soon as he finds out whatever MC’s favorite song is, he sets it as their ringtone in his phone so he can distinguish them from modeling agencies and his brothers

Leviathan:

It’s canon that Levi LOVES anime music, which like- I 110% subscribe to

I think he’d also really like video game music as well. Especially if it’s a game he loves and their soundtracks are *chef’s kiss*

If the Devildom has an equivalent to K-pop, I could see him being into that too. BTS, EXO, SUPER JUNIOR, Girl’s Generation, and SEVENTEEN all give me Levi vibes

Because he used to play so many different instruments, I also headcanon that sometimes he gets in the mood to listen to some of the music he used to play

He might get started on a classical music kick for a couple hours, then be satisfied for a week or two until the craving comes up again

Like Mammon, he might try listening to MC’s favorite music to get to know them better- but if he’s too averse to it, he’ll just go back to listening to his usual music

As their relationship develops, he might change MC’s ringtone in his phone to the theme of an anime they’ve both watched together and loved, or to the theme of his favorite anime- not to be outdone by Mammon, of course

Satan:

It’s canon that Satan also enjoys classical music, especially symphonies

I headcanon though that Satan might resent this similarity to Lucifer, so listens to classical music in secret- or abstains from it until he cracks and binges for a few hours

I could also see Satan listening to music very loudly in his room to piss Lucifer off if he’s in a particularly vindictive mood, especially if it’s hard rock or metal

Three Days Grace, Shinedown, Breaking Benjamin, Disturbed, The Veer Union, Gojira, Beartooth, Steel Panther- and if he’s really mad at Lu, he’d pull out the stops and listen to some death metal

Lowkey kind of likes some of it, even though he started listening to it exclusively with the intent of making the eldest tear his hair out in frustration

For casual listening, though, I headcanon that he has soft indie playlists and stations that he’s favorited/subscribed to

I could also see him as the type to have a playlist built with all his favorite songs from his favorite Broadway plays (looking at you, Les Misérables and Cats)

When he catches wind that Mammon and Levi changed their ringtones for MC, he didn’t hop on the train to outdo them- he just thought it was a good idea. He changes it to a soft indie song that reminds him of MC in some way, whether the lyrics are explicitly about someone similar to them or the sound of the song gives them MC vibes

Asmodeus:

Asmo listens to healing music in canon

But I also imagine him listening to dance/EDM music, because it gets him pumped up for The Fall and reminds him of the good times he’s had there

I headcanon that Asmo listens to healing music when he’s pampering himself or doing spa sessions with MC, and dance/EDM when he’s getting primped up to go to the club

Asmo is DEFINITELY the type to put soft music on when he’s about to get it on with somebody to set the mood, but it’s not something he listens to on his own- he feels ambivalent about romantic music in general

With MC, though, if their relationship buds into something more than friendship- you can bet your ass that he custom makes the perfect playlist for spicy situations with them, and his opinion on romantic music changes into a more positive one

I also see him listening to Queens like Ariana Grande, Rihanna, Nicki Minaj, Beyoncé- really powerful women vocalists

Asmo might have an easy listening pop playlist/station subscribed on his app of choice, but probably has to be in the mood for it to put it on

Definitely changes MC’s ringtone to something cheeky at first, like “Sexual Healing”, but trades it for a romantic song that reminds him of them later as they get closer

Beelzebub:

The RAD newspaper reports that Beel likes the song in the “Hell’s Burger” commercial

But I headcanon that when the newspaper club asked him that question, he just didn’t know how to respond because he listens to so many different genres, so he blurted out the first thing on his mind (so of course it would be food-related)

Beel doesn’t strike me as the type to like one genre in particular to the exclusion of most others- he seems more like he’d have playlists of all different genres to switch between depending on the situation and his mood

He’d definitely have a workout playlist full of songs to hype him up, like “Eye of the Tiger”, “Welcome to the Jungle”,  “Seven Nation Army”, “Thunder”, etc.

Probably has upwards of thirty playlists/stations he’s subscribed to because of his broad tastes, but the ones I see him frequently playing are pop, indie, alternative, and punk rock

Because he shares a room with Belphie, he’s grown accustomed to listening to chill, soft piano music at night when the both of them are first falling asleep- so much so, he has a hard time falling asleep without it, so he always brings earphones with him when traveling so he can still listen to it

MC’s ringtone in his phone is the “Hell’s Burger” commercial song- the only other contact that shares the ringtone is Belphie. Hearing his favorite song helps him distinguish his favorite people from everyone else calling his phone, even if hearing the song makes him hungry and drool a little bit before he picks up

Belphegor:

Belphie likes chill piano music in canon

Makes sense to me, since he’s sleeping 99.999999% of the time

But I headcanon that he also likes punk rock, like Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, blink-182, Good Charlotte, All Time Low, Panic! At The Disco, Bring Me The Horizon, and more

He only listens to it if he has to stay awake for a long period of time- listening to piano music makes him sleepy, so that’s out of the question, even though he needs music to be able to focus

Belphie is another brother who will stick around if he hears MC playing the piano- he’s less covert about it than the eldest brother, though

He’ll straight up trudge into the music room, sit on the bench with them and lean his head against their shoulder as they play

Hope you weren’t planning on stopping anytime soon, MC

Belphie also seems like the type to have subscriptions to ASMR or soft storytelling podcasts/stations/playlists, for the times he finds he’s having a hard time falling asleep

Like Lucifer, is one of the last to hop on the ringtone train, and honestly didn’t really give a shit about it until he really thought about it. What if MC was in trouble and tried to call him while he was asleep? His normal ringtone wouldn’t wake him up in that scenario, which could end up being really bad

Changes it to something really loud and obnoxious at first, like “What Is Love” (the animal cover)

Eventually changes it to something more romantic as he and MC get closer in their relationship, like “Check Yes, Juliet”

~~

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. <3

BTW, this is the ringtone I HC’d for Belphie lmfao: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mx5-aOGphII&t=53s

It’s my morning alarm and my family hates it, but I’m an extremely heavy sleeper sooooooo guess I’ll just keep being a menace to society

[nekojuro]

straw hat pirates and their music taste (artists they like)

pls im new here but this is the first content that came into my mind :’) might be inaccurate but pls bare w/ me

LUFFY

- he’s not the biggest music enthusiast but obviously, he’s into upbeat songs-- most likely trap or songs that u can dance to in general.

- pls i don’t know why but i can imagine him playing animals by maroon 5 on loop together with zoro in the middle of the forest!!!!

- aBSOLUTELY A TWENTY ONE PILOTS AND MAROON 5 LISTENER <333

- he prefers brook’s music more than anything tho

ZORO

- im telling y’all i decided to make this because i JUST KNOW HE LISTENS TO EMINEM MORE THAN ANYTHING

- im 100% sure he listens to without me by eminem when he’s working out 

- doesn’t like other songs, he’s picky and he sleeps a lot so he doesn’t listen to music often anw.

- probs have a few 5SOS songs in his playlist but he’s most likely to only have a 1 playlist that has 30 songs maximum

SANJI

- dO I EVEN HAVE TO LIST DOWN BELOW LIKE DUH

- absolutely loves ricky montgomery, penelope scott, paul anka, elvis presley, beck, and joji.

- would prolly ask brook to teach him violin

- owns a turntable and collects records

- likes musics with a lot of saxophone and cello instruments

- sometimes he struggles a lot when it comes to choosing what record to play while cooking breakfast so there are times when he finishes late, resulting to hungry strawhat!!!

USOPP

- hE PRACTICALLY LISTENS TO EVERYTHING

- doesn’t have a certain genre he likes

- maybe a bruno mars fan???? 

- pls he’s not picky as we all know so he enjoys whatever the crew’s listening too

- pERSONALLY REQUEST BROOK’S MUSIC

- sumn mother mother songs when he’s feeling drained

- a dUST OF CHASE ATLANTIC

- he prefers screamin and being chaotic with luffy and chopper tho

CHOPPER

- like luffy, he’s not the biggest music fan and enjoys brook’s music more than anything.

- aDVENTURE TIME AND STEVEN UNIVERSE SONGS BCS HE’S A SOFT BABIE DONT @ ME

- can listen to anything except metal rock and dark academia playlists cuz he gets creeps and his ears are sensitive

- his mood shifts depending on the songs

- prolly prefers r&b more than other genres

BROOK

- hIS MUSIC IS THE TASTE OK DO I EVEN NEED TO ELABORATE

- have the same music taste as sanji

- oldies but goodies

- likes learning new songs that crew members loves tho

- drinks milk while listening to records at the kitchen with sanji in the morning

FRANKY

- kNOWS A LOT OF MUSIC AND ARTISTS

- childish gambino, blackbear, the neighbourhood, arctic monkeys-- nAME IT ALL HE KNOWS EVERYTHING

- u can’t convince me that he doesn’t listen to justin bieber and create choreos out of nowhere

- recommends artists and songs to the crew so they got most of their playlist from frankyyy

- pLEASE I KNOW HE LIKES PARAMORE AND BLASTS IT UNDER A SCORCHING AFTERNOON WHILE FIXING AND MAKING NEW INVENTIONS

JIMBEI

- manz is clueless, he enjoys whatever he’s hearing!!!

- another member who prefers brook’s music more than anything

- jUST LET HIM BE OKAY 

NAMI

- a fucking cardi b, doja cat, katy perry, and saweetie enthusiast

- idk how to elaborate but she’s the baddest bitch and sHE KNOWS

- prolly teaches robin how to twerk SHAJHDKXAJSHJKAHSA

- she doesn’t like listening to music when doing her navigator works tho and gets mad when there’s a slightest sound

- stripped off franky’s non-existent debt bcs he recommends good songs

- iSTG SHE MEMORIZED EVERY SONGS AND LINE BCS OF HOW MUCH SHE LISTENS TO IT

- her outfits depends on her song of the day

ROBIN

- eLITE AND IMMACULATE TASTE

- the weeknd, taylor swift, chase atlantic, lorde and lana del ray

- she got mommy issues dont touch her

- sMEXY & CHILL MUSIC TASTE FOR SMEXY & CHILL WOMAN

- not really picky and can listen to everything but prefers laid back songs

- she usually listens when going to bed

- istg i feel like she got bad insomnia

- earphones typa girl

- hOT GIRL SHIT <3333

++ that’s all! this took me almost an hour and a half because i scanned through my playlists to match them as close as possible. u can request contents and i’ll try my best :>

[rosealine-bishop]

Greaseball Headcanons

Okay so, @marastriker and I were talking last night about some GB headcanons. Not all were happy. But Im of the strong belief that no one starts out being the way they are and that their circumstances change and make them the way they are. So, playing off of that, here are some headcanons I've got about GB. (Some HCs may be familiar because they're also on this post here since they and I also were talking about other things and got to talking about potential kids and how GB & Dinah + Electra & CB would be as parents)

Anywho, I've talked about the background long enough, let's get to the main post.

(Might make this a two parter because it genuinely gets so so long)

(also @sweet-dining-car this is the post I mentioned)

TW: abuse, alcoholism, death, violence

So, for starters, GB wasn't always the way he is now. (Even now he actually deflects and has created this persona of a meathead who can be a total dick, but genuinely he's just a soft and nice guy at heart) Back when he was a kid, he actually was the cutest and sweetest kid out there. He was always so nice to all the other trains, and acting as a protector for all of the other trainlets (even if he was the runt of the litter. He just wanted to be like his favorite super hero: Captain America)

He would always be seen trailing Poppa or getting the most upset and doing his best to cheer up Poppa whenever he was having a bad day or looked even the slightest bit upset.

On that same note, Momma to him was like a second mother and both her and Poppa were the perfect relationship. (yes in my HCs Momma and Poppa exist together and same for the Hip Hoppers and the Rockies)

Unfortunately, at home, it wasn't as good as he could imagine it was in the train yard. At home, his dad was the biggest homophobic and toxic masculine guy you can image. A raging alcoholic with gigantic anger issues. He would constantly beat GBs mom and sometimes GB too.

His dad believed that BECAUSE he was the runt, that constant abuse would make him stronger. GB used to be the biggest cry baby but through years and years of abuse, would learn to hide it and "be a man"

His mother would sneak in some vinyls she managed to get for GB of Elvis or Frank Sinatra or anyone else she could find and she would help him hide everything when his dad would get home from work.

GB has always had a soft spot for dining cars because his mom worked close by them and he would sometimes visit her at work when he was way younger.

GB isnt actually straight. He's bi but represses it and hides behind the toxic masculinity because he made the mistake of telling his dad when his dad had a good week and he was almost beaten within the edge of his life. (and since that day, the abuse towards him was actually way worse)

GB would hide any of the abuse behind clothing and sunglasses and a cool guy persona. He would use it to deflect and pretend that nothing was wrong at home.

Eventually when GBs parents split (which was close to him turning 18), his dad managed to convince the court that his mom was unfit to be a parent. (Him and his mom talked about it before and agreed that in the end if the court asks GB his opinion on where he wants to live, he would choose his dad and then go find her when he turns 18. Because that way it would be best for the two of them)

So, at 18 he left without telling anyone and went to go find his mom. However, he never did and in fact found out about the fate of his mom from a phone call, telling him that she was found beaten to death. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.

GB actually blames himself for his mother's death, but like a good son, uses whatever money he had earned to give his mom a proper burial.

When he has to go back to get her personal belongings, he takes all the photos and rips his dad out of all of them and hangs them around his small one bedroom apartment. He even managed to find some old recordings of his mom singing and some old home videos. (he cherishes those and will play them when he's sad so that he never forgets his mom. and in a way he always has a part of her with him)

He actually is really good at metal working (thank you mara for this headcanon) so he uses his skills to make his necklace from one of his mom's old earrings so she's always with him and in a way that necklace becomes his lucky necklace in all his early races.

Speaking of races, his first race outfit wasn't the best quality at all. He didn't have much so he created the whole outfit from scratch and he actually used to hide his face no matter what, behind a poorly made train helmet, to hide from the risk of his dad finding him.

The longer he was away from that situation, the more he actually would hide behind the early version of the persona that he has now. He's always idolized Elvis and he holds a spot close to his heart for the singer, that he started slowly changing his appearance to look more like Elvis.

He started working out so he would never be seen as weak ever again.

Eventually, he made a big enough name for himself that he would get interviews on TV every now and then and that's how his dad found out about him still being alive. At first it didn't really click in his dad's head but the moment GB started speaking, his dad knew exactly that that was his son. (Yes he sounded more like Elvis but a father never forgets his son's voice)

So, his dad, as an anonymous donor, asked a young CB to crash GB in the next race. CB, not one down to turn down money did just that. And yes, that whole interaction had put GB out of many races and caused him to pawn off any and all belongings to pay for his hospital bills because any small sponsor he had managed to get dropped him.

(No one wants damaged goods)

and while GB is back to normal, he every now and then when he's super stressed, will feel his bones aching, like a phantom injury and he will start limping slightly because he never fully healed from that.

But now that he knew about CB would go to him and ask him to throw races in his favor, sometimes paying in sexual favors, sometimes in actual money. Because otherwise, he felt like he could never be at 100% and would always lose any race after his accident.

He needed the sponsors and money so he would do anything to get back into the top contenders.

He has major daddy issues that he and Dinah have discussed before. She's probably the only one who knows about GBs true past (aside from Pearl and Poppa and Momma)

Because of his trauma, he actually hates hearing even the word "daddy" so one night when CB accidentally lets it slip during one of their sexual encounters, GB slaps him. Thats the only time GB would actually hit anyone.

On that note, GB actually wont ever truly hurt anyone. For all he knew, Rusty actually did crash and all the damage was from that crash. He had no idea the Diesels roughed him up.

But one night when him and Rusty talk and he finds out about what actually happens, Electra has to get his components (namely Krupp and Killerwatt) to hold him back as GB unleashes hell and yells at the diesels. Like there is pure murder in his eyes.

Yes, sometimes GB hurts other trains during races but after every race they get an anonymous donor paying for all the repairs and a letter along with it with a long apology and flowers. (Dinah helps him spell check it)

GB has only cried twice since he was a child. Once when he found out his mother died (and thats the only time he would turn to alcohol. Otherwise he swears off of it completely) and second when he found out Dinah was pregnant.

GB is 100% terrified of thunderstorms because it reminds himself of his old living situation. Often times you can find him hiding in the closet or under the bed, pillows over his ears and under many layers of blankets.

He would actually be one to collect Squishmallows and other stuffed animals because he never got to as a kid. But whenever he gets any stuffed animal, Dinah names them. However, when his kids are born, he gets matching squishmallows with Norma Jean and Presely and names them after his kids. (Thats probably the only time he gets to name any stuffed animal)

GB actually really really loves Dinah. On the yard he may be this dick towards her but the moment he gets home he apologizes to Dinah profusely and will do anything she wants to make up for it.

He would NEVER do anything to hurt her and when she's pregnant will go above and beyond to be there for her. He even went to Dustin to ask for advice and tried to ask him to keep the fact that Dinah was pregnant under wraps (unfortunately, Dustin, being the sweetie that he is, cannot keep it under wraps and eventually the whole yard knows. Poppa actually gives him some of the best fatherly advice.)

When he finds out that Dinah is pregnant, however, he has multiple night terrors about his childhood. He becomes extremely scared that he'd be like his dad and both Dinah and Poppa reassure him that he's nothing like his dad. That in fact, he has more of his mom in him than he realizes. (Dinah even says he looks more like his mom than his dad, even though GB doesnt see it. She's also not one to admit that she actually knows that its true. She's seen a few ripped up pictures in the trash of his dad back when GB and her first started dating.)

Dinah is actually the one who helps GB compile all of the pictures of GB and his mom into a photo album. This photo album eventually has pictures of Dinah and GB and then Dinah, Norma Jean and GB and then Dinah, Norma Jean, GB and Presely. So its just one big happy book about everything right in his life.

One day, he even finds Norma Jean decorating it and Norma Jean, being the little kid she is is worried that her dad was going to be mad because it looks like he had a bad day at the yard and she just touched something that he cherished, even if she was trying to make it pretty, but GB actually tears up at it because its the cutest thing he's seen and now that book is just that much more special to him. He actually gets the whole family to do hand prints on the back and then sign their name underneath (with an addition of him writing "One Big Happy Family" underneath it all)

_________________________________________________________

Okay okay this has to be it for this post because there are just so many more headcanons and I wanted to end it on a happier note. So if anyone wants to know more I'll create a part two but for now this is what we've got because good god is it long.

[gayenerd]

The Sex Pistols

By Billie Joe Armstrong

The Sex Pistols released just one album — Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols — but it punched a huge hole in everything that was bullshit about rock music, and everything that was going wrong with the world, too. No one else has had that kind of impact with one album. You can hear their influence everywhere from Joy Division to Guns n' Roses to Public Enemy to the Smiths to Slayer. Never Mind the Bollocks is the root of everything that goes on at modern-rock radio. It's just an amazing thing that no one's been able to live up to.

It's a myth that these guys couldn't play their instruments. Steve Jones is one of the best guitarists of all time, as far as I'm concerned — he taught me how a Gibson should sound. Paul Cook was an amazing drummer with a distinct sound, right up there with Keith Moon or Charlie Watts. There are bands out there still trying to sound like the Sex Pistols and can't, because they were great players.

The difference between John Lydon and a lot of other punk singers is that they can only emulate what he was doing naturally. There was nothing about him that was contrived. As far as the bass player goes, I don't think it was necessarily a mistake to replace Glen Matlock with Sid Vicious. Matlock was cool, but Sid was everything that's cool about punk rock: a skinny rocker who had a ton of attitude, sort of an Elvis, James Dean kind of guy. That said, there's nothing romantic about being addicted to heroin. He was capable of playing his instrument, but he was too fucked up to do it.

The things that Lydon wrote about back in '76 and '77 are totally relevant to what's going on right now. They paint an ugly picture. No one ever had the guts to say what they said. The only person who did anything similar to it was Bob Dylan, and even Bob Dylan was never that blunt.

When I first heard them, I was 14 or 15 and into a lot of heavy-metal and hard-rock music. I think I was at a girl's house. I remember hearing those boot stomps to "Holidays in the Sun." And then the guitar came roaring through like thunder. By the time Lydon's vocal came in, I definitely wanted to destroy my past and create something new for myself. That's sort of the impact that they always had on me and my music. When I'm trying to create something, I always refer to the Sex Pistols, because they show you what the possibilities are in music. You don't have to emulate them, but thanks to them, you can take it anywhere.

[tiesandtea]

Suede @ the El Rey Theater, Los Angeles, USA, May 21-22, 1997

A brilliant fan review by Terry Jordan (x)

They say crime doesn't pay, and we all assume it to be true. But tell that to the 800 or so fans who caught Suede the evenings of May 21 and 22 in Los Angeles for two terrific, sold-out performances that, oddly enough, owe a certain debt to a crime.

A few nights before, the group's equipment was stolen between shows in Boston. This resulted in Suede quickly putting together an acoustic set for the second night there - which, from various accounts, went over great. Arriving in Los Angeles with the acoustic set fresh on their minds, they also had a pretty good idea that most of us in L.A. would be attending both shows. "We've always liked L.A., and we wanted to give you all a treat," drummer Simon Gilbert said as he signed autographs in the back of the hall May 22. The result: a "regular" electric set the first night and an incredible acoustic set the second night. How fortunate we all were!

Those of us Suede fans who follow the trade papers and the Web sites were probably not surprised by much that happened the first night. After all, by the time the tour arrived in L.A., the boys had been on the road - playing generally the same set - for more than six months. We figured they would open with "She" (which they did), close with "Beautiful Ones" (ditto), and inbetween perform most of "Coming Up" and a few songs from each of the first two albums (yes again). Still, to those of us seeing the band live for the first time, there were two particularly striking features:

*The contrast between the exuberance of Brett and Richard on the right side of the stage and the posed, icy demeanor of Neil on the left side is amazing - something you can't take your eyes off all night. Brett looks remarkably like a young Bryan Ferry, and his stage movements on this tour (twirling the mike cord, jumping up and down), recall Mick Jagger in the mid-1960s. Richard is similarly enthusiastic on stage, reminding us of Bernard on the 1993 tour. What, then, are we to make of Neil, who spends most of his time looking bored, impassive, or even angry? On songs that he didn't play on originally (i.e., "The Wild Ones"), he folds his arms and stares out into space, looking annoyed that the band is performing them, or he smokes a cigarette. On "New Generation," he turned around on his organ bench and, with his back to the audience, rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. It's obvious that he knows he's being watched, and he poses for us. Is he really upset that the band is performing pre-"Coming Up" material, or is this just an act? Who knows? Regardless, it's intriguing to watch.

*Also providing an alluring contrast is the set list. A wild "Animal Nitrate" is followed by a soft "By the Sea." A gentle "Saturday Night" precedes a powerful "New Generation." An achingly beautiful "Picnic by the Motorway" is followed by a buoyant "Beautiful Ones." Suede brings you up, then lets you down gently. Then brings you up again. For me, one of the real highlights of this night was hearing live renditions of songs that didn't move me the first time around, but these bolder versions make you look at things in a different light. "Picnic by the Motorway" is a good example. It's easy to listen to "Coming Up" and be bowled over by "Trash," "Lazy" and "Beautiful Ones," while overlooking "Picnic." But in L.A., Neil's keyboard was wandering all over the place and Richard was working magic on his guitar. The result was mesmerizing. I thought, "Gee, that's 'Picnic'? Wow!"

The only down side to the concert concerned some technical problems that bothered Brett and ultimately proved distracting to the audience. Time after time, Brett yanked out his in-ear monitor and thew it to the ground, only to pick it up again on the next song for another try -- which inevitably failed as well. A couple of times he stalked off stage. It was annoying to see him so annoyed. After awhile, you just wanted him to leave it alone and sing. Did Elvis need an earpiece in 1956? Did Jagger wear one in 1969? How about Bowie on his "Heroes" tour? So why does Brett need one now? Ah, modern technology . . .

Fortunately, modern technology took a back seat to pure, raw talent the next night. The boys came out for the May 22 show carrying stools and acoustic guitars (well, Richard and Neil did - Mat was still electric). They strummed into "Europe Is Our Playground" - yes, without keyboards; yes, with Neil on guitar. Such a different version, but such a nice one. "Trash" was like a sing-along around a campfire, and so was "Lazy." Gee, can you really play these songs this way and make them sound good? Suede did.

The real key this night was the song selection. It was almost like a fan club gig, featuring several B-sides. Brett received huge ovations when he announced "My Dark Star" and "Sound of the Streets" (hey, these are real fans here!) and the ringing guitars and haunting vocals took your breath away. Other songs that most fans along the "Coming Up" tour didn't hear, but that we fortunate ones were privvy to: "My Insatiable One," "Another No-One," "This Time" and "The Power." Neil took to the electric piano (not the synthesizer, mind you) for "By the Sea" and "Picnic by the Motorway," turning gentle songs even gentler.

But oh, dad, this band really drove us mad on the encore. Brett came back out and asked for requests, and as a result they played (get this) "Metal Mickey." Unplugged! Neil turned sideways on his stool - he didn't play on this one - and buried his face in his hands, laughing. The rest of us marveled. We knew the band was really letting down their guard to play THIS song in THIS manner, and I, for one, felt flattered that they would unmask themselves in this way. None of us wanted this intimate night to end. But we knew it had to.

So here I am, in my 40s, an old drummer from garage bands in the 1960s, flying from St. Louis to Los Angeles to see these guys, hanging out with fans young enough to be my children. Was it worth it? Before I left the Midwest, I thought, 'Well, if the concerts are duds I still have the palm trees to admire and the ocean to walk along." But I needn't have worried. Even if Suede had come out that second night and played their first night's set again, note for note, it would have been worth it. As it was, I and 800 others were treated to two tremendous concerts, as different as night and day, that we won't forget for a long time.

Suede. The best band in the world? I dare you to name a better one.

[angielou7]

My Father’s Demons

The day I found my mother tied to the chair while my father beat and choked her must have been as liberating for him as it was life shattering for me because he no longer tried to conceal his rage when I was present. It was a mere two weeks from that day, when I remember climbing into the backseat of his prized 1965 Ford Mustang. It was metal flaked, midnight blue with black leather seats that seemed to always be scorching hot from the Florida sun. I always positioned myself right in the middle of the bench seat so that I could peek through the opening in the front two seats and see my daddy shift the gears each time the engine roared for his attention. It amazed me that he could control such a creature with a mere touch from his hands and a shift of his feet, but then again he was a god to me at that age. In the days that had passed I had tried to reconcile my young mind as to how he could have done such a thing as I had walked in on. That was not my daddy. No, my daddy was a protector. He was the one who doted on me. He made sure that I knew how much he wanted and cherished me everyday. He would watch me play and tell me how much he loved me. He made sure that I had nice things even if we really couldn’t afford them. He would brush my hair with his hand and sing to me. I can still hear him singing, “Don’t know much about history, don’t know biology, but I do know that I love you and I know that if you love me too, what a wonderful world it would be...”. He had an amazing voice and it was mesmerizing. Anyone who heard him sing would tell him how much he sounded like Elvis and he LOVED that. What those people didn’t know about him was the side I had witnessed. I can’t help but wonder if he would have killed my mama if I hadn’t walked in. He was no longer a god to me. No, now I knew that he never had been. I was just blind to his evil, but not anymore. The images of that day are bombarding my mind as we embark on our trip. A day that should have been one of the happiest days of my young life because it was my first day of Kindergarten and I had done so well. That milestone was replaced by a terror that no one should have to witness, much less a five year old girl. I am lost in my thoughts as I hear a commotion break out in the front seat. We are stopped at a four way stop-sign and I hear my father in a rage , ranting that the man driving the car at the stop-sign to our right is staring at my mother in a way that he feels is flirtatious. The man proceeds through his stop-sign and my father slams his foot down on the gas peddle, causing the tires to scream in anticipation of what was about to take place. My mama is crying and begging him not to do anything as she clings to my sister who had been sitting in her lap. It is to no avail as I can see the demons have already awoken to control their vessel like a puppeteer moving the strings of his puppets to garner maximum impact on his audience. We are now inches from the man’s car and my daddy is laying on the horn while leaning out the window and screaming for the man to pull over. HE DOES! I was pleading with him in my mind not to get out of the car. Just take off, PLEASE! He isn’t listening. He is out of the car so is my daddy, followed by my mama as she sets the baby down in the seat she has just vacated. Thinking back to that day I can see it clearly. The man couldn’t have been more than twenty to twenty-five years old. He was handsome with his blonde hair that fell around his face and just barely dared to dip and touch his shoulders. He wasn’t too small or too big, but he looked as though he could hold his own if need be. Through the years I have imagined him as a surfer with the beauty that comes from being kissed by the sun. He is wearing a t-shirt with white, yellow and brown stripes and a pair of tight-fitting faded blue jeans that flare at the bottom just barely revealing white sneakers. The look of confusion on the young man’s face told me that he had no clue as to who we were or what was going on. Without any explanation my father slams the man against the trunk of his car and starts punching him in the face. My mama is hanging onto his arm, begging him to stop and trying to pull him away, but she can’t. She is so tiny and he is so big. It is like watching a single raindrop try to extinguish a blazing fire. Her efforts do not phase him. This poor man is now covered in blood and I start screaming. In that moment, when my daddy hears me, the demons falter. I see the recognition on my father’s face. The realization of what he had just subjected his prized possession to. He had knowingly allowed his puppet-master to take over in the presence of his daughters, and for what? Because he thought this man was looking at his wife? The man could have been admiring the beautiful car or simply been looking both ways to insure he wouldn’t be pulling out into oncoming traffic. Who knows? Regardless, the man certainly did nothing to deserve the beating he took. With that realization, he picked the man up onto his feet and in stark silence he helped him into his car, gave him a hundred dollar bill and waited for the man to drive off. I can’t remember where we were on our way to that day, but I know that we never made it. My father and mother returned to the car and we drove home in a deafening silence. My father never spoke about what he had done that day, but then again, he never spoke about any of the evil within him. But I will...