#our poor sweet baby elvis

[aconflagrationofmyown]

but then…Gigi

Part 4 - A Big Daddy Elvis Fanfiction

Previous chapter link for context, picking up where we left off

I owe so much thanks to my friends for all their help and input and the joy they bring me, thanks to them and my precious followers this fluffy/wacky little universe even exists. I’ve never had so much fun on a collaboration before in my life, I love y’all so.

Warnings: 18+, sexual content and heavy themes… ok so this is smutty and fluffy, right? But still there are some things that might be offensive regarding narrator’s voice so I want to warn about those and distinguish them from my own opinions. For much of this part we are in Elvis’ head and, due to it being summer of ‘77 -it’s a bit of a rollercoaster in there. Please be warned there are throwaway lines reflecting poor self esteem, depression, misogyny, severe health issues and the use of the word fat to describe oneself negatively.

Enjoy

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Elvis feels a pang of sympathy for his boys’ hysteria when he runs into a crowd of fans as he himself sits panicked in the Stutz, engine off and his shades on, watching Gigi check that the coast is clear on the sidewalk and buzz into her apartment building -in just his jacket and panties. Her sandals are gone somewhere, too, probably back at Graceland. Only that anklet left on like some harem jangle.

Her sooties must be burning on the sunbaked concrete, maybe that’s why she’s skipping everywhere she goes like a damn foal. His blood pressure feels like it’s skyrocketing just watching this show and the fact she looks like she’s in her element terrifies and excites him and -getting to know Gigi is a dangerous hobby.

As shameless as a toddler that one, and every bit as unpersuaded about needing to give a shit about things like flashing her butt cheeks for all of Memphis.

Her tanned butt cheeks.

Which brings up all sorts of questions he’s too scared to ask and will have to address with Tammy. He’s sure she’s to blame for nude sunbathing, he just hopes that wildcat has enough decency to do it privately. Very privately. Hopefully in a bullet proof bunker if Gigi is with her. This girl has been directionless and fatherless for too long; Elvis’ mouth dries out in anticipation of being that guiding, molding, firm hand in her life -the rest of his body too sedated to respond normally although he feels that weird ass dribble his pecker has recently started to do when it’s very much willing but can’t physically swell to poke a gal. He thoroughly regrets not wearing underpants to catch some of this… horny… pre-cum…incontinence…the baby blue of his tracksuit showing a small stain on his leg. Just the size of a penny. Maybe a quarter.

He takes his glasses off and rubs at his sweaty eyes.

Gigi is standing in the opened doorway, waving him in with a huge, expectant smile on her face, and feeling something he hasn’t felt since 1955 sneakin’ into Barbra’s room, he lumbers out his side of the car and doesn’t even bother to make sure no one’s looking, even though she whipped her head around to clock their surroundings like top paid security for his sake. If someone sees and thinks he’s going into a college girl’s dorm to corrupt her then they’d be right, and it'll make far prettier gossip than what’s coming out in Red’s book next month.

He slips past her and she runs her hand along his chest as he goes by, giddy and fond. She waves to someone behind his back,

“Hey Paolo! Good afternoon!” Elvis turns just in time to see an old shriveled man in an undershirt waving wildly at her as the door shuts.

“Who’s that?”

“Our repairman. Sweetest little man.” Gigi gushes and Elvis motions for her to lead the way up the stairs while speculating with nauseating surety on what Gigi might be found wearing -or not wearing- when dear sweet shriveled perverted Paolo makes up a problem with her sink and comes into her apartment. “He’s taught me how to make Limoncello jello! You won’t find anything more refreshing!”

“How very epicurean for a regular, ole handyman.” he can’t help but grumble, usually highly self-aware and unbiased for the potential learnedness of common folks. He knows he’s one. But right now he wants to make a carpet from Paolo’s nose hair.

“What does epicurean mean?” Gigi doens’t without missing a beat as she unlocks her own front door.

Now they’re back on solid, Elvis-worthy ground, he can smile indulgently as he enters her space and explain, “Somebody who likes to in-duuulge in the luxurious and the sensuuaal, it was a whole philosophy.”

“Oooh, that explains why I didn’t understand.” she giggles, “I’ve flunked philosophy twice and I’ve got a whole pile of papers over there that’s supposed to be homework but a hero of mine invited me to go swimming at his place so, there they sit!” she shows off a rather alarming stack of papers next to the poorly made up bed, half hidden by the swim suits and cut offs strewn about the carpet. “Sorry for the mess, a lotta the girls got ready over here and wrecked it. Half of it is mine though, you should’ve seen the things they suggested I wear for you! Thongs, Elvis! Actual thongs! And here I was unsure if you felt just fatherly towards me or what so I- I didn’t wear a thong.”

Elvis takes a seat on her bed since he figures they’re now past being modest about what they’re gonna do and asks, “What’s a thong?”

“You don’t- it’s this sorta thing.” Gigi is a little shocked that this man of the world doesn't know such a thing and spins around a few times before finding a very small scrap of fabric and bending over, she picks it up. Elvis forgets what she was getting off the floor for a few minutes before she starts spreading the fabric strings apart and pronouncing, “This is a thong!”

Elvis squints his eyes as if trying to see a ship on the edge of the horizon or something, “I don’t get it.” he says at last, “How’s it work? Go around your neck?”

“No, silly!” she giggles even harder in shocked exasperation, “It’s panties.”

“No way in hell.” he sounds awed, “No way, how in tarnation does that work?”

“They’re like…very little, small, tiny panties!” she explains with a hyped tone as if the more enthusiastic she is the quicker he’ll get the mechanism.

“That -those ain’t gonna hold or cover nothin’.” he insists, “Now you’re the one pullin’ my leg.” he notices there’s a magazine with his face on it stashed under the teetering bedside lamp and makes mental note of that before leaning back against her massive stuffed bear.

“They’re not supposed to work, they’re supposed to be sexy?” she tries again before playfully putting them on her head and striking a pose.

“Sexy, hmm?” he rumbles, his eyes twinkling and she knows she’s got his interest at least, whether he’s fibbing ignorance on knowing about thongs or not, she can’t tell. Suddenly it strikes her that Elvis Presley himself is lounging on her bed, leaned against the stuffy she grinds herself on to the thought of him pretty regularly. Suddenly having his jacket zipped at all feels oppressive from the rush of heat that sight floods her with.

“If they were for comfort we’d just go without.” she laughs, “They dig up into your…” she looks about before dropping her voice and taking a couple steps closer to him, “butt crack.” she blushes furiously at having to name it and his fingers itch to do unspeakable things to this little girl.

“Show me.” he says, low and steady and a little removed, just cool enough to be commanding, just warm enough to make her feel (very) admired. He sees her sweet blush turn into droopy lidded arousal before his very eyes and with meek acceptance she hooks her fingers into her swim bottoms without a pause.

They drop to the floor in a nylon puddle between her legs. Just like that. Simple as that, her bare little pussy lips are peaking out from his jacket at him and she smiles gently at his shock as she hooks her legs through the thong’s leg holes and shimmy’s the stupid excuse for lingerie up her stems. “It’s just you, daddy.” she explains in a confidential whisper that melts his heart.

“Yeah, jus’ f’me, baby girl.” he makes a pronouncement of his own, hushed and boyish and her own heart feels too big for her chest at the way his blue eyes somehow soften in wonder at her exposed self. She had expected something rougher, ravenous, impetuous. Not this revenant appreciation that bends his whole frame towards her with open mouthed puffs of longing. He aches, wishing he’d brought his Polaroid to snap this memory forever, add it to his collection. A little something tangible he could thumb at it in the future and remember this night when an terribly hot, painfully young, big tittied woman had wanted him.

“Will ya do a lil spin f’me? Wouldn’t want that wedgie to go unappreciated, now would we? So sweet to try it on for me.” he coos and then hums deep and appreciative as she does a couple slow spins for him, that humm she’s only ever heard in amplified concert footage sending sparks to her very toes.

“You like them?” she asks, toes curling in nervousness for his verdict.

He lounges back and strokes his mouth a few times while cocking his head to the side. She’s breathing so heavy he thinks if he even blew on her she’d come. “They’re practical.” he decides definitively.

“Are they?” she sighs with relief.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles soberly, “quite. For what we’re up here to do, they’re practical.” he adds this slowly and doesn't miss her shudder or the way her eyes light up in relief that they’re getting to the point. He likes that she’s letting him lead, she’s a good girl. “Step closer baby.” he stays lounging so she does all the work and when she gets to the edge of the bed he keeps motioning with his fingers until she’s kneeling on it herself, clambering forward over his lap. “See, when a man makes a meal of a lady’s lil garden, s’real important to have unrestricted access.” he proves his point by slipping his index finger along that abominably small seam of fabric that’s poofy and filled out with bare labia lips.

“Daddy.” she wails at the contact, shaking apart already and that along with her little place has his head thudding some kinda way. She’s gripping onto his neck, near clawing whatever part of him she can grab, close to tears again like a child not getting what she wants. The art of the tease seems lost on her, she’s so hungry.

He’s gotta ask. “Honey, y-yo- honey you ain’t actin’ younger for my sake, are ya?”

“Oh no,” her face turns down again and he’s done it again, insulted her somehow, “you find me immature?”

“No!” he shouts and then tries to moderate himself, “No, no it’s jus’ that -you’re a baby, thas all.”

“Well,” her grin is guileless, “you’ll just have to bear with me, big daddy, I’m all so excited I’ve got Elvis Presley in my room! Elvis Presley! You’re Elvis Presley.”

“I-I-I am.” he admits, perturbed, “What’s wi- why Big Daddy?”

“Cause that’s what you are!” She says it like she’s assuring a pageant queen she won the prized title. “Elvis Presley’s about to eat my pussy.” she murmurs to herself as she kicks her feet and he recalls yet again that he is sat down on her fluffy pink bed for a reason. He tips her over into the sheets.

“So uh, you’ve thought of this before, hmm?” he smirks slyly and reaches out to clasp an ankle in his big, ringed hand, his tanned digits encircling it entirely and he thumbs at the veiny soft spot beneath the ankle.

Gigi moans at his slight pressure.

“That’s a pressure point for the reproductive system, did you know that sir?” she is as eager about information as he is, and clever too.

“So that’s why all the girls lose it.” he hums with a laugh, “No, Gigi, I didn’t know tha’, you like gettin’ rubbed?”

“YES!” she sighs so loudly it’s like a little wind tunnel through the room, “Though it doesn’t happen much.” That makes his heart hurt in sympathy and he adds his other hand to knead her toned calf, those legs of hers spreading jello, just like he calculated they would, “I love to rub folks though! Love givin’ people rubs.”

“Who do ya rub?” Elvis is cross at this new information.

“Oh, anybody who needs it!” she makes it worse.

“Lotta demand for that at Uni?”

“Yeah, so many sore athletes after games.” she is perfectly sober about it, while so enthused he wants to murder every person those sweet hands have descended upon in soothing kindness. “But I think you’re the best I have ever had do it to me, oh Lord you’ve got magic in those hands.”

He’s tempted to tell her how true that statement is but he can’t bear her laughing at him right now so he leans further across the bed and inches towards her knees with his squeezes and tries to elicit more of those moans.

“Oh god I can’t believe Elvis Presley is rubbing my legs.” she gasps again to the ceiling and it’s this youthful narration of her life happenings that makes him think of his Yisa and if he could he’d put both of these little darlings back into their fragile eggs to keep them away from the cruel world.

“So, you done thought of this before, baby girl?” he asks, casting a little smug look over at that ponderous stack of his records and the TV set stationed right at the foot of her bed. He knows the answer already, thanks to Tammy, but it nags him, the question of which Elvis she was touching herself to after her first visit to his house. Her closed eyes and near drooling mouth give him the idea that if he’s good enough at this, puts enough effort into being what he used to be naturally, she can keep those pretty eyes closed and he can morph back into whatever daydream she’s once had. He could give this pretty little girl a little time capsule and before she’s fully awake, slip away again, leave before she recalls it was the gift of an old man, his potency gone to seed but his love for women and their secret parts just as strong.

He bends over, gut digging into his diaphragm and knocking out his wind, presses a kiss to the inside of her knee. “Tell’me ‘bout when you thought of me.” he murmurs into her warm skin. He notices he leaves goosebumbs in the wake of his touch.

“Mmm?” she’s goners with just this firm kneading of her limbs, breathing heavy and sedated from lust.

“Have ya thought of me when you’ve played with yourself?” he’s a little sterner than he should be, just because he knows the answer and wants an honest reply.

“Oh yes.” she gives it, unabashed.

“Is it my movies? Ya watch my movies when ya touch y’self?” he prods, working up to that baby soft stretch of inner thigh that still seems like the most fragile of all God’s creation, like cotton Candy holding ligament and muscle together by some miracle. “Or ya prop up that record right there?” he pulls his head up long enough to point at the foremost record cover in the stack -Live From Madison Square Garden, it reads, and features him silhouetted against black, crouched in a white jumpsuit.

A more mature option; interesting.

Gigi opens her eyes and cranes her head to see what he’s pointing at. “Oh, yeah, sometimes that one,” she nods, “it’s the closest thing I could find.”

“Closest to what, the genuine article?” he snickers in judgment, “It’s goddamn cardboard, at least watch a movie like a normal pervert.”

“The closest to how you are now!” she pouts adamantly, “You’re so…smooth… in all your movies. Nothing like how I know ya when you drive past on the street.”

Well, that’s something else, even if Elvis doesn't quite get what that something is. It’s absurd, the fact she existed all along on some sidewalk he sped past. “How’s that now, honey?” he asks.

“I couldn’t find anything closer to what you are now!” she explains, “Nothing since Aloha and -well I like that one, don’t get me wrong but I,” she bites her lip and a skittish flinch settles into her eyes.

“What about that one, darlin?” he begs softly.

“Well I like how hairy and strong ya look but,” she doesn’t look down or away when she gets to her point, instead she bends forward to be nearer to him, to hold his hands as they lay on her legs, to peer into his eyes gently, “you seem too sad in it for me to -to use it like that.”

He’s touched, so much so he swallows hard and dips his head to kiss her knobby little kneecap. “T-that were a rough time in my life.” he admits and his voice has gone wrecked. It is odd beyond words how he feels like she’s a child to be protected but just like a child at a sleepover he can duck under the covers and admit his worst fears to her.

It all goes back to being proportionally heartbreaking as Gigi leans forward and makes him lean back, clambering methodically back into his lack as if she owns the damn space, holding his furry cheeks tenderly as she licks those luscious lips and slots them against his. This he is familiar with, nothing odd at all about this age old ritual of him being seductively depressed and a girl soothing it away with her tongue and hands in his hair.

He allows himself the liberty of stroking her bare back beneath his jacket, figuring if he’s gonna lick beaver he might as well do a little seducing beforehand, cherish her like she deserves, give them both the works. As much as he can give with this dull headache and the meds making him feel so leaden he could fall asleep in seconds. He takes a breath and tries to clear his head, focusing on kissing her well, kissing her better than any of those stupid young jocks ever managed.

Back at making a case to her that he could make her happy. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying that argument when a couple decades worth of broken hearts and homes behind him suggest otherwise.

“Wanna see what I used to pretend it was you?” she tempts against his lips as they surface for air, sounding so demure yet utterly unrepentant even as she confides, “After you petted me and sent me home I needed you so bad, couldn’t find anything that felt like you now, so I shut the tv right off. Grabbed my stuffy ‘cause he was fuzzy and had a belly like you and then I grabbed…here, wait here, don’t you move now!“

Her little butt is already bouncing out the room into the en-suite before she finishes the sentence and he is left to sit on the bed and await her return, processing the fact she had wanted hair and a corpulent figure.

Bizzare taste, definitely dealing with father issues, painfully sweet.

He groans in recognition that she’s entirely to his own taste.

She comes back holding the most bulbous bottle of shampoo he’s ever seen in his life. The size of his damn fist easily, bright yellow and shaped at the top like like a lemon an- hell it’s even named “Lemon-Something-Or-Other”.

“I used this!” she proclaims with a giggle that jiggles her whole body.

Elvis just stares, torn between impressed and horrified. “You’re tellin’ me that…thang…fit up your lil cooch?”

“Well, no,” she admits, mood immediately deflating in disappointment with herself, “but I’m working on it! Or maybe I don’t have to, now that I’ve got the real thing, as you call it!”

Gigi bites her lip and winks in an attempt to be seductive and it’s the most ludicrously jarring thing Elvis can imagine, he roars with laughter at her art of being a cock tease without trying and a total clown when she does try.

Oh fuck he’s in love. Yeah, already established that awhile back but, it’s just, it’s hitting him again.

“I think you’ll find the real thing a bit disappointin’ by comparison.” he wheezes, too amused to be insecure.

“Oh really?” she perks up in palpable relief, “Oh thank jesus! That thing’s huge and I was gonna try for you but- but -but it’s huge! And I was just gauging from what I saw floppin’ around in your tracksuit that night and I was trying to not be obvious, so I couldn’t exactly clock it real good but it looked awfully wide, like a paper towel roll when it’s halfway gone and this was the only thing I could find like it, I wasn’t going to use anything of Tammy’s and besides they weren’t fat either so I just…” She trails off with a shrug, still standing there before him holding the fuckin’ Lemon Drop Shampoo.

She’d tried not to be obvious, she says, but he’d caught her staring well below his belt half a dozen times in two days. “So,” Elvis is still wiping the tears of amusement from his eyes, “so ya used a shampoo bottle and a teddy bear.”

“Yeah.”

“And did it work?” his eyes darken at the prospect of hearing her tell him this naughty story.

“Sorta.”

“How can it ‘sorta’ work?”

“I came,” Gigi sighs, “but I felt so empty..after. Cried myself to sleep” her embarrassed giggle does not deceive him from the certainty that she’s telling the truth.

“Oh baby, what’re we gonna do with you?” he asks her and God Almighty all at once.

“Hold me, please?” she whispers.

“Course, baby. Nothin’ I’d rather do, get over here,” He holds out his arms and she cruises in at a deceptively fast speed, colliding back into his chest and tucking her face into the crease of his neck, she’s pressing kisses there into that sweaty fold and he rubs her back, traces the dip of her waist, the slow curve outwards of her hips, thumbs at the flimsy material of her panties. Feeling her soft skin and treasuring it. Wondering what she’s thinking and not knowing she’s thanking God she gets to be held by him.

“You make feel so safe.” her breath ghosts over his face and he’s not sure how it’s so fresh and lovely after scarfing down burgers and cherry coke but he can’t get enough and he grabs her face as gently as he can manage with this much wonder filling him in a rush.

He’s pretty sure she ain’t ever had a chance to kiss with tongue, she’s eager to slip hers in but she’s got that petrified immobility of a gal who’s never gotten the chance to give and take, just give while some stupid rash boy slobbers and knocks her teeth.

Elvis is quite good with his tongue.

He flicks at her tongue, he waits, taps her butt until she gets his prompt. She flicks. He trails it alongside her own, he waits. He taps. She mimics. They get a good commerce going and soon she’s squirming and writhing in his lap while he stays put, his patience and experience a buoy for her as she flounders with so much desire she doesn’t know how to cope beyond undulating against him and tugging at his hair, their mouths wide and uncaring, devouring.

It’s fun with a girl leveraging down on him from his lap, one might think it would put him at a disadvantage but it doesn’t, he turns her silly head with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, and she’s just a dolly up there for him to work against his mouth. Rather like how he’s gonna work her pussy if they make it that far. For now, there’s this age old dance and her pretty breaths.

He sucks her tongue and she lets out a cry that’s distorted by the absence of any control over her own tongue and suddenly he can feel her move more frantically, fumbling between them until he hears the zzzz of the zipper as she undoes her jacket front and frees her full breasts like the thin cloth was suffocating her. It becomes clearer what she needs when she continues to fumble between them, unsatisfied, until he feels his own taught closure opening and the fan air hits him and goosebumps spread and shame flares and then it’s unity. Their chests meeting, pressing, soft and warm and she shudders against him like she just touched a force field.

She mewls into his mouth again and traces his puffy lips with the tip of her tongue while he breathes. “Feels so right.” he realizes in a mumble.

“Mhmm.” she says as she presses more kisses to his panting mouth. Gigi reaches between them once more and he watches cross eyed from the closeness as she hefts one boob up and presses it between them more firmly, before repeating the procedure with the other until, until they are smashed to her satisfaction. Then she starts grinding, those fat titties of hers, against him with the rest of her- against his hairy, saggy man boobs, she’s dragging her nipples across him and worrying them red with his rough texture, her toes curling from the friction. Her nipples are pebbled and she’s crying out, can’t stop moaning or calling for God because he feels so good against her. Cradling her boob her fingers press selfishly against one of his own nipples and lil Elvis wants to fight against his induced state, desperate to twitch for this pretty girl’s attention. “Oh god, you’re so hairy, like a nest! So perfect and manly and, I’m gonna, let me, let me please, please oh god, feels so good!” she’s working herself up to a squealing frenzy going over one particular patch of ratted curls… from…rubbing her pretty nipples on his chest hair.

Elvis just sits there and computes, watches, like a green boy, Gigi’s cradled boobs, her gaping mouth, her long throat and her cramping widdle sooties. God, what he’d give to suck those curling little piggies.

He’s hot as a furnace, this man, and those coarse, wiry curls are zapping her already throbbing nipples until Gigi can’t seem to breathe, so much sensation crowding her senses but not where she needs. She grinds down on him, where they’ll join so perfectly, and she feels that perfectly fat cock of his wedged on top of his thick thighs that he can’t manspread for once with her on top of him. She reaches down and positions him through the silky track bottom until she can slide along, feeling the width of him parting her pussy lips even with the thong’s fabric obstructing. His pants are sticky to touch, even though he feels too heavy and floppy to be fully hard.

Elvis should kiss her again. Warn her he ain’t good for nothin’ before she gets her hopes up and he gets to humiliate himself like some useless old fuck.

“Daddy, daddy fill me up, daddy.” she beats him to it in the prettiest little beg he’s ever heard.

“Oh Gigi.” he groans compassionately before grabbing her hand and bringing it up away from his messy lil pecker, “I’s gone lick you, don’t you recall?”

“Yes but I’m past that, I need you inside me!” she gasps, grin growing by the second.

“Ah, yeah, well baby it’s a big deal, takin’ innocence and uh-“ he scratches the back of his head and she escapes his hold and her hand is back to it, squeezing his cock and it really does feel nice, in a head scratch sorta way. “Look, Gigi, honey, I’m sorry but lil Elvis is shy tonight.” he holds his breath as she slowly processes this.

She doesn’t retract her hand as she registers what he’s saying. “Aww, but I can kiss him!”

“M-m-maybe some other time?” he pleads like he’s asking a child to please let him get away with just five bedtime stories. Six is overkill and Daddy has work tomorrow.

She pouts briefly before bringing her sticky hand up to her mouth and licking her fingers like a barbarian. That sight alone almost fixes his damn ED. Gigi likes the light taste of him, humming in approval at the first taste like a baby trying candy for the first time.

“T-t-that means he likes ya, though.” he assures her like an idiot and she smiles around her digits.

She’s very sober and a little mournful, the way she keeps looking at him, not at all petulant or even the slightest bit contemptuous, just concerned and it primes some pump inside him to explain more than he ever should but he can’t seem to stop the words as they come out, “Had a migraine this mornin’ before ya came over and I wanted to be in ship-shape for some fun -fun with you- so I had to take some lil helpers for the head and they, well, they, they mess with…that.” he motions to his lap.

“Awww,” she laments, heartbroken as if he had to endure having his head sawn clean off, “you had a migraine? And you still had us over? Oh poor, sweet daddy!” she shifting in his lap to rub at the back of his head and into his hair and he tries to mumble assurances that it’s better now but they get lost in the glorious blubber of her frankly unnecessarily huge breasts that happen to be smashed in his face as she attends to his head. “I’ll put some oils on it- I’ve got a bathtub, we could put you in tha-”

“-Baby girl,” He laughs, excavating his chin from her cleavage, “it’s better now, I was just explainin’ the faulty mechanics. I ain’t always so stove up, didn’t want you thinking-“

“Oh I wouldn’t care!” she gushes intensely and he’s very worried that streak of the insane fan in her is larger than he thought but it’s too late, she’s caught him in her big tittied, huge nippled, anklet wearing trap, “I’d lick you and suck you and wiggle you inside me soft no matter what, all my days! I don’t care!”

“T-that’s real touching.” he murmurs in a daze. She’s perfect, every man’s wet dream - and he’s the damn lucky bastard that gets to have her. And he can’t even make full use of her.

“I’m gonna give you a back massage with some marjoram oil-“

“No, no you’re not.” he grabs at her to keep her forcefully on his lap, “I don’t need no hippy potions, I ain’t no witch’s experiment or an ole man. I’m here to eat beaver. Or…baby seal, with that bald thing.”

“You sure? I-“

“Gigi, be good.” he puts his finger to her lips and she freezes like a chastised bambi. “Good baby girl. Now you lay back f’me and spread those pretty legs. A man needs room to work his magic.”

“Ok.” she agrees in an excited whisper and tips out of his lap sideways onto the sheets, giving him a full view of her -nearly- naked self for the first time, completely serene and without artifice. He knew she'd be even worse without clothes, worse for his obsession and his indulgence and everything else but this -this is an Angel.

God, he really adores women. Best idea ever to make ‘em, and to make them with fat boobies and lil holes to rub peckers into and sweet faces to paint slimey and cute widdle toes to rub your balls against.

“Ok, let’s see what we’re workin’ with here.” he smirks and gets on his belly with a grunt, heaving himself up the bedsheets and in between her long legs, taking his fingers and moving aside that stupid little string they call underwear these days. “Oh lord, look at that.” he appreciates the pretty pink beauty of her and the smooth pale skin of her kitty, so delicate and girly and -he’s a little smitten. More than he expected. Which was an oversight with the way she keeps blowing his hopes out of the water.

“You’re the prettiest thing I ever did lay eyes on, sweetheart.” he swears with his whole heart, shuffling in closer and kissing her thigh.

Gigi cranes her neck and unsatisfied with the narrowed visuals says, “Wait, lemme prop up.” and stuffs a few pillows behind her back and sits up, legs spread wide and her smile pleased like she’s about to watch her favorite film, “Ok, now I can watch you. Go ahead, daddy.”

“Umm, alright.” he clears his head once more at the thought of her wanting to watch and dives in. Somehow he gets the feeling if he doesn’t go for it she’ll come in seconds anyway she’s so high strung and then he’ll have barely gotten his taste.

Furry, silky, warm -that’s how his hair and head feel beneath her hands, his fuzzy sideburns and his hair so little styled after the pool fluffs and tufts adorably and his cheeks puff out with his vigorous exertions and his sideburns chafe her thighs and his hands are everywhere at once -Gigi watches all these things and marvels in her heart at it. He’s very voracious about it while still having a great deal of -nuance- to it. Like a man who is in a watermelon eating competition, he may look rabid but if he’s won a few then he must have a calculated method down amid the mess.

The predominant feeling is comfortable intimacy. They are both surprised by it, she by the naturalness of watching the most famous face on planet earth smeared from her pleasure and rapturously content with her taste, he with the pleasant rightness of her legs squeezing his shoulders snuggly and her hands petting his hair away from his sweaty forehead. His scalp sweats the more he works and she rubs his neck as if mindful of the lurking migraine, as if she can only thank him for his touches by returning them.

She praises his tongue in breathy awe, “so long and pink and wet and oh-“

Nose buried in pink and wet and sweet womanliness Elvis hums his agreement. Peeking up through his lashes he can see the one hand not cradling his head is industriously tugging on those dark, large nipples of hers. He grinds himself against the bed on pure instinct. Another day, another night, he’s gotta get those large nipples of hers in his mouth.

She calls him beautiful. Again and again. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful, worse in person, more than I ever imagined, in my wildest-“

Again and again. Beautiful, she says. More than dreams. More, he’s more and more till Gigi’s praise dissolve into shrieks and pants, screams that whimper out into the low apartment ceiling as the afternoon sun dims, as he keeps going until they build again. And again, her hips are nothing if not insistent on grinding up against his mouth. The room smells of sweat and pleasure and sun-in. She’s vocal in her gratitude, persistent in returning his touch, petting him to say thank you when she finds she can’t form coherent sentences.

Eventually there is no more.

Just peace, and him, heaving back his breath against her thighs in a pussy-drunk stupor, and her shaking from seizing one too many times. His scalp is burning beneath her hands, his neck too. Inflamed and angry, she thinks of how much he loves to give. Wished she’d looked at the clock, something to tell the girls about. Just how many minutes, hours, days? he’d spent pleasing her.

“Good?” he asks in a hopeful little slur and the pink of his cheeks and the shiny glimmer on his nose is so childlike and content in his pouty snooze that her heart melts and she curls over him as best she can and squeezes.

“It was everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes into his burning ear, “I’m hooked.”

His laugh rumbles the whole bed, “Me too, baby girl.”

Their skin is sticky and tacky, they adhere to each other in their embrace. He is soothed by such a clasp as theirs while the longer he lays on his stomach the more keenly aware he is of how it hurts. Now’s the time to roll over and mention something about needing to get back. Now would be it, but for some reason the words don’t come and he lays on his knotted gut, suppressing winces and biting his lip against the pinches, trying to recall the sweetness of her, what made this worth it. Her breath fans his neck, wafting across his cheek -cuddle bug, he thinks, fond. Home, he should go home, but never has it felt so utterly foreign. Like a figment of what he wants and needs, like Christmas morning without your mama. A house is just a shell without heart. He wonders if his boys have got the front den cleaned yet of barbecue and would-be-in-laws.

“Do you need to get off your…head?” Gigi whispers softly and it startles him. She’s got a point, all his blood is rushing to his brain the way he’s laying.

“Probably should.” he grunts and slowly, like a pair of cats, they uncurl from around each other to be face to face for the first time since they shared such pleasure. They’re both a little pink and their smiles are too wide. He wonders at the happiness she’s releasing, marveling that he put it there. He’s got to be careful or it won’t be too long before this little girl realizes she’s got him wrapped around her finger already.

She rubs her nose against his. Another way to kiss.

She asks him if he needs a drink.

“I’ll help you with your philosophy homework.” He promises instead, it’s a reason to see her again. And soon. A reason to see her again and a hint it can’t be tonight.

Tonight he needs his pills, his bed, an enema and god knows what else just to make it till morning. He could cry from how badly he wants to be spontaneous, to go to a girl’s place, make love, cuddle like this and when he says he has to go and her eyes well up with tears at the prospect of his absence -he’d like to be able to say he can stay.

“Hush it’s alright, I’ll stay. I’ve got you, no one’s gonna ever leave you cold again.” something like that. Instead he says he can help with her test. Instead he tries to fool himself into being something less than heartbroken at how even the simplest thing in his life has to be a big production.

“Will you really?” Gigi’s face lights up at his piss poor offer.

“Promise.” he repeats.

“And will you promise me you’ll let me repay you?” She presses slyly, her hand petting down his chest and over the swell of his gut. Some childlike weariness in him wants her to rub it better. He remembers feeling the same way as a child regarding his mother’s touch and despite the fact that Gigi’s a baby girl - his baby girl - he trusts she’d make one Gladys Love Presley proud, doing her best to take care of him.

“Mmmaybe.” he looks down at her with playful suspicion.

“Promise me!” she demands, kicking her feet and flipping over to look down at him, swinging a leg to straddle him again.

He can’t help the wince his face flashes at the pressure of her hands from that high vantage. She flings them off him like she’s been burned, likes she’s the one who got hurt. “Oh shoot, sorry, sorry.” she gasps, her eyes wide and blue and tearful, “It’s bad, huh?”

As if not being able to get it up weren’t chastisement enough for his ego, now there’s this. “Uh huh.” he grits and the stab passes for the moment.

“Do you have something for it?” she hopes, “Do you need to go home?.”

There’s the out he needs. Didn’t even have to say it himself. Melancholy descends like fog over his soul but he reminds himself it is what is, he’s better off than most. So what if he can’t have sleepovers on whim or shit like a normal human or skip having his blood pressure checked every goddamn morning -he has a lot, and he got to eat Gigi’s silky smooth bare pussy. Today was a good day. Not even a wash, it was a good day, she made it a good day.

“Yeah, I need to get home.” he sounds every bit as despondent as he feels about it and he hopes she’ll take that as the compliment intended.

“Ok!” she chirps without missing a beat, jumping up in nothing but his open jacket, skipping out the bedroom door, left turn into what seems to be the kitchen.

Well, she handled that better than expected. Elvis almost hopes she’s still orgasm-happy and it doesn’t reflect her readiness to have him out of her place. He idly flicks at the stack of papers to get some impression of where the test is stumping her. He fidgets with his zipper and closes his jacket back up, coloring at the memory of letting her expose him like that.

She comes bouncing back within the minute holding a glass of water and presenting it with authority, “Now you just drink this daddy, it’s got fennel tincture in it and will help your stomach. You just drink that while I pack my bag. I’ll be fast, don’t worry,” she goes on as he tries to compute what she means and sniffs her concoction warily, “I pack light anyways and we can always come back for the rest of my stuff later.”

Come back. For her stuff. Don’t worry -she packs light.

The fennel wafts around him, the smell of licorice and fairgrounds and his mama’s hand in his and daddy winning him that stuffed tiger. Fennel, for his stomach. He shakes his head. His tongue feels fuzzy.

Come back. For her stuff. She packs light.

She is coming with him. That’s what she must mean, he realizes as he drinks her awful drink and watches with teary eyes her bare ass bend over to grab jeans from a dresser and throw them in a duffel bag. Like Graceland is summer camp.

Come back for the rest later, she’d said. She is coming back with him, just knowing she’s welcome. He didn’t even have to beg, to ask, to suggest, to hint. Send a limo, nothin, just eat pussy and now she’s gonna live with him. Let her press her skin against his own just once and suddenly, he’s never gonna be lonely again.

She bounces into the bathroom and comes out with the damn lemon shampoo, to match the lemon conditioner abandoned on the floor.

Cheap drug store shit.

“Hell no, you’re not bringing that stuff into my house.” he lays down the law, his one condition and the first time he’s vocalized any acknowledgment of her entitlement to his hospitality, “You’ll use mine till we get you sorted.”

“I like the way you smell.” she admits, dropping the bottles there in the middle of the floor. That's that sorted.

It’s still not sunk in fully as Elvis drives his quite recognizable beast of a car through Memphis’ now dark streets, while Gigi sits beside him with her white stack of papers catching the street lights glare as they pass. His giddy joy at her willingness and her entitlement to stay with him is overshadowed by the cold lump in his throat, panicking about how to keep a shred of dignity intact or retain an iota of her attraction for him when she becomes aware of his routines.

“You’re gonna teach me how to help, right?” she asks very soberly from her side, as sober as he’s ever seen her.

“Whatcha mean, baby doll?” he tries to keep his tone light.

“You’ll teach me and show me how to care for you, right?” she presses again, “I wanna take care of you, like you take care of me.”

Simple as that -for her. He grunts out something she mistakes for a yes.

Elvis puffs harder on his lit cigar and feels like he’s gonna choke, ends up rolling his window down, gulping in fresh air as Gigi does it on her side too, hanging her head out the window and whooping into the night. He wonders what might distract her while he slips away this evening, maybe a movie or maybe the hot tub or maybe the horses. Maybe Tammy is still there like a bad penny and will keep her distracted. Tonight Elvis would welcome that. Only tonight, and his hand tightens on the steering wheel in frustration over his own worn out body and how it just can’t walk this stuff off anymore.

She’s still hanging out the window, she looks so young like that. His vision blurs.

Somehow Gigi’s feet have ended up in his lap by the time Sam’s letting them into the front gate. She wiggles her toes under his belly, rubbing at the soft skin. Grinning at him suggestively, like a fat man’s belly is the most sexy thing imaginable. He wants to snort.

“Think they saved us any barbecue?” she grins.

“No, it’s all in Gingersnaps’s hair and I ain’t touchin’ that ever again.” he allows himself to be a bit of bastard, it can’t be wrong when it makes Gigi giggle in maniacal glee in the passenger seat, secure now in having her Daddy’s attention. “I’m in the mood for peanut butter anyway.” he retorts.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

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@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

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@richardslady121

@lilycherries123

@18lkpeters

@xenaspace3-blog

@lil-mamas-obsessions

@father-of-2cats

@helen06dreamer

@returntopresley

#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #70’s elvis #Elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis photos #elvis the king #70s elvis #elvis fans #Elvis smut #austin elvis imagine #big daddy Elvis #big daddy elvis fic #but then…Gigi

[satninroses]

Hey is there a possibly way I could get a fix of reader standing up for Elvis against the corneal, and being a unmovable rock for him in his toughest times.

Because I love You

(A/N) 1 more off the list :) This one was cute! I hope you like it Nonnie! Also, look out for the drabble list later tonight!

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Word count: 1,344

Warnings: Passing Out, Mentions of Drugs, and Swearing

The last thing Elvis could see before passing out was the vauge outline of you. You were running towards him with… was it worry etched on your face? Before he could make a move to get closer to you, he had passed out cold backstage.

“Oh god, someone please call an ambulance or, or get a doctor! Please!” You yelled frantically to anyone that would listen. At the sound of your voice in such a worried state, Jerry bent down beside you and Elvis to comfort you. He rubbed your back as you tried to get Elvis to wake up. Jerry was also barking orders about water and ice to get him.

Scrambling feet and loud voices calling 911 filled your senses. “(Y/N). It’s going to be ok. We’re gonna get him to a hospital and have him look at, ok?” Came Jerry’s sweet voice. Tears welled in your eyes and you stared back. “What if this isn’t like last time? What if he can’t wake up? Please, god please let him live.” You sobbed out. Your grip on Elvis tightened and you leaned into his face. “Please wake up baby. Please wake up baby. Please wa-“

“My, what is going on here?” Came the Colonel. You whipped your head back at him and looked him in the eyes. “It’s Elvis! He isn’t feeling well! W-we have to get him to a doctor, please!” You spoke frantically.

You had quite the disdain for Tom Parker. In Elvis’ words, he was nothing more than a blood-sucking vampire. Night after night, Elvis would come home tired, hungry, exhausted, and everything in between. You kept yourself quiet as to not upset Elvis. You knew that Tom Parker was the reason Elvis was where he was today and you were forever grateful for that. However, it came with its fair share of problems as well. Elvis would be overworked to death most nights. He could barley make it up the stairs to your shared bedroom without collapsing half way up them and in need of your assistance.

You loved Elvis more than anything and it hurt to sit and watch him kill himself for the sake of the music industry. Colonel on the other hand, could care less about it. As long as Elvis was up and ready to preform and making him money, he didn’t care about the poor boy. This enraged you to no end. As much as you wanted to slap some sense into Parker, you also wanted to slap some sense into Elvis. He needed to see that he was being used for his talent and skill.

“Oh, do not worry girl. He will be up to perform. Jerry, get him some of this pills we were talking about earlier. That will wake him up!” You shot your head over to Jerry and gave him an unreadable expression. This look turned into tears, and heavy ones too. “You’re his best friend! You giving him drugs? Have you all known about this?!” You were in a full blown panic attack by time anyone could reach down and comfort you.

“Mrs. Presley, I understand your concern but our boy will be just fine with some of these painkillers. They have things in them that will make him feel better.” The colonel spoke stoically.

“DRUGS. That’s what they’re called! Don’t beat around the bush with me. You stood here and let him KILL HIMSELF just so you could make some money? You’re disgusting! You sit there and, and you think you’re his savior? God-sent warrior? You’re KILLING him you piece of shit!” You blew up on Parker. Your voice dropped in venom from pent-up hatred for him. His eyes widened as well as some of the backstage crew members standing around. “For too long I’ve sat here while you turned him into a brainless zombie. It ends NOW. Get me an ambulance or so help me God, I’ll carry him on my back to the hospital.” You spoke with a dangerous edge in your voice.

If looks could kill, Colonel would have been a dead man standing. He opened his mouth as if he were going to responded but promptly shut it. He turned away from you and began to walk away from the scene. “Call them an ambulance at once.” He spoke simply. The anger in your body was replaced with an overwhelming sense of relief that was under-toned with guilt. You really hadn’t meant to blow up. It just kind of.. happened? Whatever the reason for it was obsolete now. You needed to help your baby get well.

His breathing was shallow for a few moments before returning to a steady pace. You maneuvered his head so that it sat in your lap. You brushed your hands softly against his face and whispered sweet words into his ears.

“Come on baby. Please wake up for me? When we get home, we’ll have some of those sandwiches you like. Those peanut butter bacon banana sandwiches? Come one baby, wake up. I love you so much” You spoke very wobbly. Before you knew it, there were paramedics at the scene doing his vitals. You stepped out of the way and stood next to Jerry. He extended his arm out and wrapped it around your shoulder to bring you into a hug. “It’s gonna be ok (Y/N). He’s gonna be back and running in no time.” You sniffled against him and nodded.

Elvis’ eyes had fluttered open slowly and adjusted to the harsh lighting. He tried to sit up but someone had pressed their hand against his chest to keep him down. “Wh-… what’s goin’ on?” He spoke. “Mr. Presley, my name is Andrew. I’m with the Memphis Department of Health and Safety. We’re gonna take you to the hospital to get checked out, ok? Someone said that you took a pretty harsh fall and we just want to make sure you’re ok.” Elvis shook his head gently before letting the two young men besides him help him sit up.

Through your sniffles and sobs, you heard the paramedics talk to Elvis. This meant he was up. You let go of Jerry and scampered over to him. “Elvis?!” You spoke with a sob. The two young men who had helped Elvis stand up whipped their head towards you. Elvis turned slightly and saw you. A gave you a reassuring smile but it faltered once he had seen the stains of tears and puffy lips you sported. “Baby, c’mere. What’s wrong?”

You wanted to launch yourself at him but you knew that would do him any good. You hugged him lightly and sobbed into the jumpsuit he had on. “I-I was so afraid th-that you died! I don’t want anything like th-this to happen again!” You stuttered out. Elvis hugged back and kissed you on the crown of your head. For a moment, you both sat like that in the middle of the hallway, entranced with each others scent and being.

Jerry came over to Elvis and pat him on the shoulder. “Good to see you up again E.P.” He spoke with a smile. Elvis smiled back and held you tighter to him. “By the way, should have heard what (Y/N) said to Parker.” Your eyes widened and you gave Jerry a displeased look. Elvis raised his eyebrow and looks down at you. “Satnin. What did you say?”

Red and Sonny joined the conversation after overhearing Jerry. “Yeah! She called him a P.O.S. Kind of out of character for you though.” Elvis looked down at you, confused.

“What did you say baby?”

“Oh…uhh… I called him a..,” your tone got quieter and you mumbled the last part.

“Baby, speak up. What did you say?”

“I-I called him a piece of shit. I told him to treat you better too.” You finally confessed. You blushed a little and looked away. You were still pressed up against him when he squeezed your arm tightly. You thought he was mad so you looked up at him to apologize.

“God I love you.”

(My faves🤍: @mt12209 @myradiaz @presleyenterprise @ccab @18lkpeters @austinsmutler @elvisalltheway101 )

#satninroses #elvis presley #reader insert #x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis

[kitticaturday]

Awe. He/she looks identical to our old kitten, Elvis. Elvis electrocuted himself by chewing on wires while we were on vacation. Poor baby fried himself to death. He was such a sweet cuddly guy.

#brown cat #brown kitten #🐈‍⬛ #cats of tumblr #cute cats #cat #caturday #Saturday Caturday #Kitty Caturday #catcore #kittens #kitty #kitten #kitty cat #kitties #kittyposting #cute kitty #kittycore #kittencore #cute aesthetic #cute animals #cute baby animals #baby animal #furball #cuddly #fuzzball

[kiankiwi]

CG!Elvis, CG!Reader x Little!Austin: Our Little One AU

"Toothache"

Elvis walked into absolute chaos.

Your little, Austin was so upset. His face was so red, his nose was an absolute faucet and he was screaming his little head off while you were trying to find some of the baby medicine in the kitchen cabinet. Absolute chaos

Elvis scooped up your little and held him close. He snuggled in but continued to scream. "Well, hello to you too, baby bear, what's got you so upset hm?" You turned to see Elvis had arrived home.

"Oh, hi babe. He's been upset all day, I think his teeth are bothering him and he's clearly exhausted from crying. Is he warm to you?" Elvis bounced his little in his arms and cooed at him. "Oh honey, is that it, your mouth hurts?"

Austin cried pointing to his mouth. "Yeah? Okay, mama's getting you something for it okay?" Elvis placed his big hand on his little's forehead to check his temperature. "Yeah, he's warm. Poor thing. I'm gonna go get a thermometer and look for the medicine." You nodded started cleaning up the mess you made. "You're alright sweet boy, we'll get something to make you feel better."

Thankfully half an hour later, you had found Austin some medicine for his mouth and it was starting to work. Austin was laying on his daddy's shirtless chest, his head up as he quietly looked around while you and Elvis sat and talked about your day. "Has he been like this all day?" Elvis asked. "Mhm, the poor thing started complaining after breakfast. As soon as I figured out what it was, I made him an emergency dentist appointment for tomorrow morning." Elvis nodded and kissed Austin's forehead as Austin babbled and tried to pat his daddy's face. "You little one, need to take a nap! Yeah, I can tell you're tired from crying all day hm? Close those eyes and go to sleep bubbas." Austin cooed again but laid his head down. "Good boy." Elvis murmured as he began to pet his hair. "Aaaaand little man is out." You chuckled a few minutes later. Elvis smiled. "Good."

A couple hours later, Austin was up and crying again because his medicine wore off. He was back in pain again, crying, rubbing at his cheeks, pulling at his ears and sweating.

"Oh sweet boy, are you hot? Hm?" Austin continued to cry. "El, can you give him a shower while I finish up dinner please?" Elvis nodded. All Austin wanted today seemed to be Elvis. Anything to keep his little boy happy. You were currently getting everything ready for a certain little boy to have a sleepover in your bed that night as you listened to Elvis trying to calm your crying little. "I know, I know sweetie. I know your mouth doesn't feel good, I know.." Elvis cooed. Then you heard the all too familiar sound of Austin's gag. "Did he just--?" You asked, cut off by Elvis,

Elvis sighed. "Yep, still going currently." Concerned, you pull back the curtain to see Austin throwing up everything in his stomach onto his daddy's chest. And Elvis is just zoning out, so as not to react. "Oh baby," You cooed as Elvis stepped back under the stream of water.

As soon as he finished, Aus just looked at you, a little stunned that his body produced that much vomit. Like, where'd you come from. "Do you wanna take him and I'll finish up in here?" You nodded, carefully taking your naked bub in your arms, sitting on the toilet to get him dried off. "You okay baby? Was that it? Your tummy just upset on top of your tooth hurting?" Austin whined and put his head on your shoulder. "Oooh, I'm so sorry baby. We'll get your tooth fixed in the morning. I promise you."

Twenty minutes later, you and Austin were laying down, waiting for Elvis to come to bed. "Here you go buddy, you want this?" Elvis offered him an ice cold frozen paci to help his mouth pain. Austin eyed it before popping it in his mouth and testing it out. Little one absolutely loved it and lays his head down on his daddy's chest as he gets in bed. Elvis turns the light off and pulls at the binkie. He wasn't intending to let him have it all night but Austin wasn't going to let it go. "Oh, are you not gonna let me have that?" Austin just held onto it and shook his head. "No? alright then buddy." Austin snuggled in and closed his eyes again. The both of you were grateful when you heard Austin begin snoring.

The next morning, bright and early you got up for Austin's dentist appointment. You kept him in his pajamas, baby was too cranky to get properly ready. "I know baby, I know you're tired. It's been a rough couple days, huh? You'll feel so much better in a few hours okay?" Austin just groaned and attempted to nuzzle into your shoulder. "C'mon we gotta go buh-bye."

The whole ride to the dentist office was short but miserable. Austin was now exhausted on top of being in pain so he was throwing an absolute fit. You had wanted to keep him awake until the procedure but Austin was fighting against any and everything he was so cranky. He only calmed down when you reached into the back and he grabbed your hand. "There, buddy, there you go, you're okay."

While you all were waiting for Austin's name to be called in the waiting room, Elvis figured he'd show Austin the fish. He stood and picked up Austin who was wearing a blanket with a hood so that he could hide. "See buddy, see the fishies? Can you find Nemo?" Austin tapped the glass. "Nemo..." He said, watching the fish. To pass the time and wake up Austin even more Elvis had him point out even more fish. If he started falling asleep again he would switch hips making him whine and squirm. Elvis cooed and kissed his head. “I know buddy I'm sorry. We gotta stay awake okay? Just a little longer, you can take a big nap soon, bubs.” Austin got bored quickly of the fish so Elvis took him over to the corner with the toys. You were a little worried about germs but you had hand sanitizer and wipes for later. Austin playing with the toys passed the time and soon his name was called.

"Austin?" The dental hygenist asked. Elvis grabbed Austin's hand and made him wave as he whined and hid in his daddy's shoulder. "That's him!" You said. The woman smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry but only one of you can go back with him." You looked back and forth between Elvis and Austin before addressing your little. It was ultimately his choice, anyway. "Aus do you want daddy or momma to go with you bubs?" Austin was clinging to Elvis so you knew the answer before he said anything, "Daddy..." Austin whimpered. Elvis smiled. "Okay buddy. Let's go."

-- elvis followed the dentist to the back with Austin on his hip. As they were led to the room, Austin whimpered and hid his head in elvis’ neck as he heard the scary machines going off as other patients got procedures done. “I know buddy, it’s alright.” the dentist smiled and got them to room number six. “It’s okay kiddo. We have movies to watch and maybe daddy can hold you. And we'll get you plenty of happy medicine to make your pain go away?"

Elvis lowered Austin into the big dental chair but Austin's eyes never left his daddy as he took his own seat and held out his hand for the scared little. "See buddy, you're okay." The dentist slowly let the chair fall back so Austin would be laying down instead of sitting. "Okay buddy, I'm gonna make sure your mouth doesn't hurt anymore. Can I give you some of the sleepy meds to and have a look inside? All you have to do is take a big nap while I fix the owie okay?" The dentist explained as he fixed the laughing gas nozzle to Austin's nose.

Austin whined. He couldn't see daddy anymore and that scared him. Elvis squeezed his hand. "It's alright baby. I'm right here." The dentist gave Elvis permission to come up and comfort Austin. And suddenly daddy was hovering over his face, shushing him and petting his hair. "D-daddy..." he bemoaned, not understanding why he was suddenly so sleepy. "It's okay baby, you're safe. Daddy's still here." Austin couldn't keep his eyes open anymore and he felt cozy and warm despite laying in the chair. He felt daddy give his hand one more big squeeze before he let himself go to the medicine.

You noticed Austin stirring an hour later in the recovery room. "Hi munchkin. How do you feel?" Austin looked around and noticed he was no longer in that sterile chair. Instead, he was laying in mommy's lap with his head on her shoulder. Austin whined, still sleepy. "Yeah, you did so good m'love. Daddy told me you did so good?" Austin popped his head up again at the mention of daddy, searching for him. He saw Elvis come through the door holding his blankie and his raccoon stuffie. "Hi superman! You want these?" Elvis offered which Austin took and immediately snuggled into gratefully. He was still so tired.

Austin was asleep five minutes after you left the dentist office and you drove around for a while, even stopping at Starbucks, letting him sleep as much as he needed before you brought him home to rest up more. "You did so good today." You whispered to him as he drifted off.

When you got home, Elvis carefully took Austin and his blankie out of the car and brought him up to the house, laying him on the couch with you before going back to retrieve his raccoon stuffie.

You picked Austin up and laid him on your chest. He stirred but settled down after a moment. You kissed his head. "Good job baby, it's all done, you did so good."

***

It was a struggle to finish because it was so long but I did it!

Thank you to @elvisthesillygoose for brainstorming, editing and reading through parts of this for me to make sure they made sense!!!

Yes I'm making cg!reader x cg!elvis x little!aus its own au so have fun with it, I will!!!

Onto the next work, happy reading see you soon!!

#Our Little One AU #cg!elvis #cg!reader #little!austin #cg!elvis and little!austin #kiwiswriting

[nellycanwrite]

Our Son

Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x Filipino!Reader

Summary: After a tender love-making in California, you got pregnant with Elvis' child. As soon as you go into labor, you were adamant to tell Elvis that he was not the father for his and your son's safety.

Words: 688

Rating: PG (13+) 

TW: Mild Angst

This is Part 1 of the Austin!Elvis x Filipino!Reader blurb. Part 2

Elvis comes in sweaty into the maternity ward, his secretary lying on the pristinely white bed while she cradles her son—their son—in her arms. There were nurses tending to the I.V drops on her arms; they looked like they were just cleaning up. As soon as they saw him enter, they had to remember that they were attending medical professionals, not some women who would stop and gape at the King of Rock ‘n Roll. The embodiment of lust personified. 

Yet they caught themselves doing just that. Only did they snap out of their amorous gazes when you had to clear your throat and gesture towards the unfinished work they have yet to do.

“Oh, lil mama, I—I came as soon as I heard. How are you—”

“The baby's fine, sir. I didn't expect my boss to personally come here to congratulate me.” You gave Elvis a stern look, your head tilting subtly to the attending nurses. Elvis tried his best to not let his disappointment show. With his years of acting, he knew he nailed it right.

“Can you excuse us, ladies? Gotta talk to my secretary here for her schedule. Confidential work, ‘ya see.” Elvis winked. The nurses giggled and batted their eyelashes at the man until they shuffled out one by one. Finally, with the door now locked and the both of you finally alone, Elvis practically ran besides you and kissed your forehead tenderly.

“Why didn't ya call me sooner? I would've come in a heartbeat.”

“You were having a concert. Besides, you being in the labor room would cause suspicion,” You replied whilst rocking the child in your arms, “my boss shouldn't be this concerned with a child that has an unknown father from a one night stand in Cali.”

“But he's our baby,” Elvis' voice cracked, his fingers ghosting over the blanket that wrapped around their son—his son. “I have every right to be in that labor room while you push our baby out.”

“My baby, Elvis. Not ours.” Your voice was strained, as if you were holding back the tears.

“What are you saying?” You looked down at your son. Your son, not his. There were no traces of your features on his face; he was all American to anyone who would lay their eyes on him. He was going to grow up handsome, you thought. Just as handsome as his father.

“You can't tell anyone he's your son. It would ruin your and this child's lives. From now on, he's going to be my child. He will have an unknown father from California; the result of a drunken one night stand. Do you understand?”

“But he's my child too.” He didn't mean to make it come out as forceful. But everything that you said was true—he just couldn't accept it.

You shook your head, “From this day on, he is not. Please understand, Elvis. It's for your career and for Enrique's safety.”

“Enrique," Elvis parroted, "his name is...Enrique?”

You let out a tiny smile. "Enrique Dallas. My…” you trailed off when you spoke, your eyes darting to the disheartened image of your secret lover, “...our sweet little boy.”

You gave him such a small sliver of that happiness, but he ate it up like a fool in love. Perhaps that was the case. He was, indeed, a fool in love. And as were you.

As much as you wanted to declare Elvis as Enrique’s father, you knew you couldn’t take the risk. A Southeast Asian immigrant—poor, colored, and had little to no right in the land of the so-called free. You and Elvis couldn’t even get married, not with the laws that were implemented to separate folks like you from the Americans.

"...How I wish I could give him my family name," Elvis leaned in and kissed his forehead tenderly, "Enrique Dallas Presley; that should've been your name."

“And he should’ve been our son,” you felt a lump on your throat as you said that, but you swallowed it whole; there was no time to back down from this decision, “but we can’t have that, can we, sir?”

#austin butler #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Moonlight love

I slowly open my eyes and the lights of the city that never sleeps shine upon my face from the large window.

Turning my head to look at the clock on my bedside table. 2:00 am it reads and like clockwork, his footsteps enter my ears, and I wait patiently with excitement pumping within my veins.

No matter how countless nights we make love under the lights of las vegas and the moon it always feels like the first time.

Finally, he reaches the open door of my room and our eyes instantly locked on each other, he's breathing heavily and his eyes once sapphire eyes are now an animalistic black.

His black hair was a mess as if he ran his fingers through it, and the maroon pajamas he adored, were wrinkled. The shirt is open halfway to showcase his chest and the tent in his pants looks like it is close to tearing through the poor fabric.

But as much as he wanted to take me like an animal he waits, staying put, only moving for me to allow it, allow him to take what is his.

I push myself to sit up from my previous position. The blanket slides down my chest to my lap, revealing my light pink Lacey nightie and my hair creating (h/c) waterfall on my shoulders. With a small nod, he moves, fast, and without a word, his lips crash into mine. The kiss is passionate and intense, so powerful it pushes me back on the bed with Elvis on top of me.

His calloused hands run up and down my body before he grabs my breasts and squeezes them hard, just how I like it.

We don't spend so much on our clothes too eager to feel the warmth of our bodies, craving each other's taste.

"I tried..to stay away but ya- fuck I can't get enough" Elvis informed me, he was married but since we met, neither could stay too long apart, our love was like a drug. A type of drug you couldn't live without.

He goes to speak again but I beat him to it "tame me, take me, and I'll give you what's yours " I whisper to him. That's all that it takes. With a kiss, he pushes into my pussy.

He pulls out almost completely, only the tip inside before using all the strength in those hips of his to slam into me. I let out a loud moan as he breaks the sweet kiss, to see my reaction.

He does this a few times before having enough of himself and sets a brutal pace. Sweat coats our bodies and skin slapping sounds bounce off the walls. " goddamn princess, the best pussy I ever fucked. Wanna make ya a mama. Gonna let me?" Elvis asked panting when I didn't answer he slaps my face and give me a particularly hard thrust.

"PLEASE! Daddy make me a mama!" I cried out, tears in the corner of my eyes. Suddenly out of nowhere Elvis is on his back with me on top. "Ride me, baby. I want to see the light shine upon that beautiful skin as ya take me" he said with a smirk tugging on his lips.

I nod to his words. I'll do anything for him, I lay my hands on his chest feeling his heart racing, like mine. I start to bounce using his chest for leverage. His hands rest on my hips, and his grip is unforgiving.

My hair was in my face as I ride his cock faster, and my nails cut into his chest making a groan escape his rosy lips. Elvis wrapped around my waist and he pulls me down to kiss my jaw and neck, distracting me from his real attack.

While I was distracted, he plants his feet on the bed and thrust up into me, his heavy cum filled balls smacking my ass. My body slides up his every hard thrust and my hair dances in our faces and our pants become one. I was close and so was he. "C'mon princess let go, give daddy what he wants" Elvis growled in that deep Southern voice.

Letting out a scream, I finally cum. The feeling of my pussy fluttering around his cock, drives him over the edge. Giving me one more thrust, his hips stutter as he fills me. We stay like this, catching our breaths.

"I love you, pretty girl," Elvis said with a tired smile. He lets me go to get a wet rag to wipe us up until we have the strength to shower. " I love you too" I smile back before, heading to the bathroom, where I can wet the rags that are already in there. Elvis laughs at my limping walk "Nice walk! What is it call, happy feet?!"

"Fuck off!" I couldn't help but laugh as well.

#i know happy feet wasn't made at that time. #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis 2022 #austin butler #austin elvis imagine

[dulcewrites]

Can you do AB x black!reader where he reminisces about how they met when they were kids

When We Were Young

Pairing: austin!elvis x black!reader

Request: yes (thank you)

A/N: just to clarify our timeline: elvis moved to Memphis in 1948 (last time he saw reader), Reader moved like two years later to Louisiana. this takes place while he’s traveling with Hank Snow.

“This is a terrible idea,” your friend, Ida, whispers to you.

Ignoring her words, you continue to lean against the back of the theater building trying to look nonchalant. Was this your smartest idea? Of course not, but it wasn’t the worst idea you’ve ever came up with. Maybe just the worst you’ve tried to carry out. Being unassuming and waiting is easy enough. The rest of your plan is where things get dicey.

“How do you know he’ll even remember you?” Ida continues as she fiddles with one her rings.

You scoff at the question. Yes, it’s been almost a decade and both of you had moved from Tupelo years ago. But this is you and Elvis. The relationship you two had is not something you just forget. He’s going to remember you; he must remember you.

“He will.”

You don’t feel like explaining yourself to her right now. You probably should; she’s putting her neck on the line too but thinking too hard about this very impulsive decision you made only makes you more anxious. When you heard Elvis was going to be performing in Louisiana near where you live, your heart jumped into your throat. It’s the same feeling you got the first time you heard him on the radio or saw him in the papers.

So here you are, standing outside the back of a theater, waiting like a goddamn groupie.

The back door swings open and a group of men come out, all laughing and talking. Some of them carrying instruments. They’re all crowed around one. You concocted this plan, picked out an outfit, manage to make up a story good enough for your mama to let you be out this late, dragged poor Ida out here, and you didn’t even think about what you going to say if you saw him.

“Hey beanstalk!” The nickname you called him comes out of your mouth before you can register how dangerous this could be.

You say it loud enough to garner attention but only one person fully turns around to you. The confused look on Elvis’s face breaks into a surprised grin when he sees you. He looks different yet still so familiar. Same sweet smile and clear blue eyes but now attached to a grown man. A very handsome grown man. He walks a little closer, eyes squinted in disbelief.

“Chipmunk?”

You laugh at the use of the nickname he gave you years ago. He was beanstalk; tall and skinny, limbs all over the place. And you were chipmunk; tiny, cute, cheeks full of baby fat.

“The one and only,” you shrug shyly, now noticing how his friends are looking quizzically at the scene in front of them. You can only imagine how Ida is looking at the two of you.

“I can’t believe this,” he pulls you into a warm hug, and God it should be illegal to smell that nice after putting on a show. “What are you doing here?”

Before you can answer one of his friends walks over. Elvis’s arms don’t leave from around you as he slightly turns towards him.

“Sorry to break… whatever this is up,” the man carrying a bass starts. “But I don’t think this is the best place for all of this.”

He’s not wrong. Though you strategically chose to stay out back instead of the very crowed front of the theater, it’s still not conducive for privacy. Another idea pops into your head.

“I know where we can go.”

You already made a questionable decision going to see Elvis. What’s one more under your belt? The place that instantly came into your mind for privacy was the bookkeeping store you work at.

Technically it’s not breaking in, because Mr. Jones gave you a set of master keys for closing. At least that’s what you told yourself to temper the guilt when you handed Elvis the keys, told him where it is and that you’ll meet him there. You dropped Ida off at her home and ignored her pleads for you to come inside with her.

Just because you knew him when you were a child doesn’t mean you know him now. You don’t know what he wants.

Those words have settled into your brain. You know she only says them because she cares. Things have changed, but that doesn’t they have changed for the worse.

You walk into the back of the store, hoping Elvis listened to you and didn’t go anywhere near the glass planted front where you can see directly into.

“I don’t get how ya do any of this,” he says not even looking up from one of the books he has in hand. You instantly take it out of his hand with a huff.

“I told you not to touch anything,” you sit next to him at the table. “Just as hardheaded as before.”

He simply smiles at that. There’s silence in the room as you try to move the papers he clearly looked through. You can feel his eyes burning a hole through the side of your head.

“You know I remember the first time I saw you,” he breaks the silence.

“Yeah, at Donny Smith’s 8th birthday party,” you reply recounting the day you two met. “You told me you could beat me in a race.”

Elvis shakes his head.

“Nope. That’s the day you met me. I’m thinkin’ of the day I first saw you.”

Your brows furrow. Elvis stuck out like a sour thumb in Tupelo for obvious reasons. You’re sure you would’ve remembered seeing before that birthday party.

“You were wearing this pink frilly dress and matching socks,” he grins telling the story. “You were running after your mama begging her to get you some doll.”

You remember that pink dress. It the most beautiful church dress, and you only got to wear it once because your older brother got mud on it. Even to this day, you don’t think you’ve ever been as mad as when you saw that dress with brown stains on it. Mama reamed him out for it.

“You remember that?”

“I remember a lot about you chipmunk.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Ida is right, you don’t know what Elvis wants with you now. But you’re sure as hell gonna spend the rest of the night finding out.

#austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis x black!reader #black!reader #black!oc #elvis 2022 #elvis imagine #my writing #requests #austin!elvis #austin!elvis x oc #Elvis fic

[jojo-reader-hell]

Hello bad and naughty readers it is time for stinking Masterlist of this Hell:

All this is in order of newest first, and done very sloppy because I’m on my phone. I had to go through one by one to find these because my tags don’t show up with HALF of what I’ve written...

Secco is Babey headcanons

Dio is a fUCKING CUNT to Vampire!Reader who wanted Jonathan Joestar headcanons

Trans!Melone x Reader headcanons

The Outside Part 2

I wrote this Abbacchio headcanon when I was laid up in bed for two weeks with a pulled back

Cioccolata x Reader x Secco “Wicked Games”

Dio is a dumb fucking seal (Selkie!Dio Headcanons)

Jean Pierre knocks up Jotaro’s older sister more at 11

That one Selkie!Reader x Jonathan fic where I came for your wigs

Pannacotta Fugo x An Absolutely Feral Reader who was tenderly raised by a good boi Secco

Joseph Joestar and his poor twin who he cannot stop clinging to Headcanons

Josuke’s twin who finally calls their brother “Elvis” (come on we all were thinking it when we saw his hair)

Wolfo Boi Jotaro and expecting his fluffy brood Headcanons

Muhammad Abdul x Reader feat. A very fussy bebe

Leone Abbacchio is best daddo Headcanons

Mewone, Risotto, Bwuno, and the Stinky Cheese Young Nastyman with their sailor mouth babe

I turned Magician’s Red into that goddamn lemme smash bird Muhammad Abdul x Reader Headcanons

I took wigs once, and I will kill again. The Outside Part 1

You’re Josuke’s favorite Niece/Nephew headcanons

Formaggio is a big brubber and uses his stand to play dollies with his little sister headcanons

Narancia and his bestie who are math incompetent headcanons

Josuke’s S/o is the epitome of “no talk me I angy”

Taika Waititi Presents “We’re Wolves”, a Werewolf!AU where no one fucking dies and your great granny Lisa Lisa is there

I titled this Bruno Buccellati x Reader “Slow Dancing in the Dark” and my friend on discord told me they don’t trust like that, they were right not to trust me like that

My bestie always requests the cutest Mista x Reader and we owe her our lives for it

Cioccolata thought it was smart to give Secco a stolen baby and it turns out this was the best thing he could have ever done for the good boy

Kakyoin discovers the Japanese foster care system is fucked up headcanons

Fugo and Bestie Book Club headcanons

SDC x Reader headcanons where Jotaro’s S/O is Bobby Hill of king of the hill (aka that one headcanon list with THATS MY PURSE I DONT KNOW YOU)

Stand fuckers rejoice and have some Sex Pistols x Reader headcanons that my other bestie requested

PILLAR DADDIES!!! Mute!Reader x Wammu x Kars where I make you cry at the end

Mista x Reader where we drive off into the sunset with our boi as we are completely passed the fuck out in the passenger’s side

You and Fugo show Abbacchio your new baby

Melone is a very good doting boi for his asexual s/o

Mewone best boi headcanons

This is a very serious set of headcanons with Jotaro, Josuke and Giorno reacting to a reader who hurts themselves

Glitter Freeze Part 3

Where my gays at lets marry Lisa Lisa

Granny Suzie Q is best granny of them all headcanons

My Nana Ghirga x Reader because he is beautiful and deserving of love

Rohan is a cunt but in this story he’s just a misguided big brother who acts like a cunt, also there’s Moomins

Sweet honey baby boi Jonathan and Cunt Dio with a short s/o headcanons

Mistaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa x reader Valentine’s Day with the best song from Karen Carpenter

Giorno Giovanna’s baby sister is gay and in lesbians with Trish

Kars x Pillarman!Reader aka the best fucking thing ever

Jonathan x Reader x Erina Girls/Girls/Boys poly angst

Someone please help Smolnareff take care of his s/o who got shot

JOTARO WANTED TO KNOW IF HIS BABY SIBLING BELONGED TO HIM YES HONEY YOURE A BIG BROTHER (alternatively fuck Sadao Kujo)

La Squadra thought Melone and his little sister just had a kink someone please send help

I am Very Gay™️ for Trish Una and Spice Girl

Stand Fuckers UNITE part 2 headcanons

Formaggio and Little Sister!Reader, aka the first request to my blog

Mista is a good daddo headcanons (with mini pistol daddos)

Big Brother Jotaro Headcanons

STAND FUCKERS UNITE HEADCANONS part 1

Bucci Gang x Reader: Adheridos Separados

Abbacchio coffee shop AU

Glitter Freeze part 2 aka the one that NEVER FUCKING SHOWS UP IN THE MOTHER FUCKING TAGS

Glitter Freeze Part 1

Narancia Ghirga x Reader with babey Giorno part 2

Narancia Ghirga x reader babey Giorno part 1

That’s Because I’m a Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy Trans!Reader x Jonathan Joestar

Bucci Gang Sudoh Buck AU

#jojo’s bizzare adventure #admin speaks #masterlist #fucking hell #i hope you’re happy #jjba headcanons #jjba hc #jjba x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure diamond is unbreakable #jojo’s bizarre adventure stardust crusaders #jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure vento aureo #jojo’s bizarre adventure phantom blood #jojo's bizarre adventure reader insert

[bobsie]

hello! congratulations on 200 followers! 💕✨ I hope you gain more! I really enjoy your posts!

name: laureen or lychia

pronouns: she/her

favorite character: azumane asahi

favorite color: baby/pastel pink

lyrics/quote: "take my hand, take my whole life too. for i can't help falling in love with you." - can't help falling in love by elvis presley

Thank you so much and thank you for your request ❤️

You were sitting with Asahi at the cafe where you agreed to meet

It was cute and you loved it you both did and you always met there

It's where you two met after all

You saw Asahi down one day before you got to be friends with him and decided to go talk to him or see what's wrong

And you were very happy about your decision that day because it made you gain an amazing friend

You never saw as caring like Asahi and you were very lucky to have him

And he was too

He kept saying that without you he would have been in a dark place now

And when you disagree saying that he's exaggerating and he would have made it without you he would smile and hug you

You clicked immediately becoming best friends meeting at the cafe all the time and outside the cafe hanging out at each other's houses, meeting the other's friends and becoming their friend as well

It was all good until you started having feelings for him and the only way to get over this was by dating other people

And even though you were against random dating you just wanted someone to take those feelings away from you

You didn't want to risk loosing Asahi

"...and he was really sweet too he complimented me alot and payed for my drink but he was a little touchy which made me uncertain about him but I don't know Asahi should I give him another chance?"

"laureen what are you doing really?"

"what did i do?"

"I mean this dating thing what is this, you were never like that giving chances yo random people what happened to I need to know them well before going on a date"

"I don't see any problem with me going on dates yeah I used to say this but I changed my mind"

"and what made you change your mind did you hear me talk one time or something?"

"hear you? I don't understand"

"laureen I love you I fell in love with you a long time ago and I can't stand you going on dates like that if you wanted to turn me down you could have said it to my face instead of making yourself go through all of that just to reject me"

You were shocked from the amount of information you received

"you love me??"

"you..you didn't know"

You shook your head and poor Asahi looked like he had seen a ghost

"then why..why are you dating those people"

"because... because I love you too and I didn't think you return the feeling but now.."

"oh god I messed up right I could have given you a romantic confession but ugh" Asahi his his face in his hands and you chuckled you wiped the tears away and reached your hand to grab his

"I don't care I don't care how you said or when you said it I don't care the only thing that matters is that we love each other"

"yeah so when should we have our first date"

#bobsie 200 special event #asahi azumane #haikyuu #asahi x y/n #haikyuu asahi #asahi x reader #hq x y/n #asahi #haikyuu asahi azumane #asahi azumane x reader #hq azumane #bobsie writes #fluff

[cowgirlontheloose]

Hello Central, Give Me Heaven

Hello Central, give me Heaven

For I know my mother’s there…

And you’ll find her with the angels

Over on the golden stair...

How did Bluegrass get a hold on a clan of middle class Scottish Presbyterians in rural Quebec during the 1950s? I’ve long wondered why my brothers and I, my son, a sprinkling of nephews and now my two granddaughters — the eldest who is aiming for a science degree at university — fell under its high lonesome spell.

I can’t speak for my brothers, but Bluegrass has been a godsend for this repressed black sheep girl-child growing up in the miasma of “Father Knows Best” and “I Love Lucy”.  Where else could I safely wallow in lyrics such as  …Get that dust off the Bible and redeem your poor, poor soul. Plus Bluegrass brings death to the conversation with every breath, something that White Anglo Saxon Protestants prefer to ignore until far too late. I’ve always admired those who address elephants in the room. Go tell that ball room lady/ All dressed in worldly pride/ That death’s dark train is coming/ Prepare to take a ride.

Before the Hamilton clan met Bluegrass, however, came the rock n’ roll revolution. My hormones exploded. Hello Bill Hayley, Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis! In a tossing sea of ponytails and tinkling charm bracelets I shrieked at Elvis during “Jailhouse Rock" in Ottawa’s jam-packed Capitol Theatre. Goodbye to music charts topped by crooners Perry Como and Doris Day. Farewell to Dad’s stack of blues and jazz records:  Billie Holiday, Cab Calloway and Woody Herman.

My girlfriend Joanie and I jived in our living room caroling:  …we’re gonna rock, rock, rock till ba-rod daylight…  Mum observed, her face a blank. Our two hounds rose from their snooze and left the room. Upstairs my older brother, Ian, a Johnny Cash wannabe, whaled on his guitar, moaning “…his earthly race is over and the curtains round him fall, We’ll carry him home to Dixie on the Wabash Cannonball.” Then there was Dad, quite likely downstairs soaking up a chunky stack of 78 rpms. I can see him now, a long leg cocked over one arm of his favourite chair, rustling through the newspaper to Glenn Miller’s  “Tuxedo Junction”:  Feelin’ low, rockin’ slow, I want to go right back where I belong…

My father had a 4-string Silver Belle banjo which he never played. He was sheepish about it; said he’d only played when he was courting Mum. He wore a straw boater then and a bow-tie too. “Well, it worked” he said, waggling his hands like some vaudeville gigolo.

My younger brother, Derek, showed no musical leanings whatever until the day he vanished into his room with the Silver Belle and a Pete Seeger record on learning the banjo. He taped  “Do Not Enter” to his door and was incommunicado for six months. My friend Jane still remembers listening to him struggle through “Darling Cory” played to a dangling phone receiver. 

“No wait — I gotta start again. Wait! Listen to this!” 

But one day he emerged, purchased a 5-string long necked banjo and wowed us all with his Scruggs 3-finger picking style. 

Our friends were soaking up Bob Dylan, Joan Baez or The Brothers Four, but we fell like miserable sinners, my brothers and I, to the down-home delivery and heartache harmonies of Bluegrass. We gloried in graves in the valley, Memphis trains, bootleg likker, burdens and lonesome souls. We worshipped like hungry hounds at the feet of Bill Munroe, The Greenbriar Boys and Flat and Scruggs. We need a whole lot more a’ Jesus and a lot less rock n’ roll.

My mother, whose middle name was Cultured, did her best to steer us right. Had she been a Bluegrass lover, she would have played Vince Gill singing Come to Jesus today, let him show you the way/ You’re drifting too far from the shore…   Instead she put Beethoven or Mozart on our stereo player, then served up bacon and eggs to my brothers and I at our glossy dining room table. Morning sun spattered rainbows from glass prisms in a girandole on the sideboard while we sat like lumps, barely awake. We rolled our eyes.

My Presbyterian ancestors I suspect viewed all emotions with narrowed eyes. The notion of long-gone generations of Elizabeths and Johns stomping along to “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” or “Rollin’ In My Sweet Baby’s Arms” seems a stretch. Yet according to many sources, including Bluegrass aficionado Pastor Fred Martie of Missouri’s KJAB 88.3 Christian Radio, that soulful Bluegrass energy lurks in my DNA. The Irish and Scots who came to America in the 1600s brought the roots of Bluegrass with them. So did the African American slaves. Over centuries the two traditions entwined, evolved, but it took Kentuckian Bill Munroe’s musical genius to braid those tangled roots into Bluegrass. In 1939, he swerved away from traditional country music with his group The Bluegrass Boys. They sang hard-driven harmonies accompanied by mandolin, banjo, fiddle, guitar and bass. When Earl Scruggs joined the band in 1945 with his innovative banjo-picking, classic Bluegrass was born.

I am now pushing 80 and Bluegrass still rambles round my soul.  I’m a long-gone Christian, lapsed dabbler in Hinduism, a Buddhist groupie and a traveller in Western mysteries plus friend to Tarot archetypes (call me The Fool) along with a heavenly host of gods, goddesses and deities. 

Like Walt Whitman, I am large; I contain multitudes. 

I’ve had epiphanies and train wrecks with all of it. Yet running like a mountain echo throughout has been Bluegrass, especially the gospel tunes. There’s nothing like it to soothe this wandering soul:  …Sometimes it’s dark, sometimes you’ll swear you’re blind/ But I believe that we'll be all right/ As long as you keep on/ Lookin’ for the light.

Or as some Bluegrass tenor named Slim or maybe Doc nailed it:  I’m just a pilgrim on this road, boy,/ This ain’t never been my home.

#music #gospel #memoir #history #religions

[wannabe-cartoonist-blog]

Reactions to Official SBM Recordings

A bit spoiler-y if you haven't seen the show or listened to the new recordings of the songs. So proceed with caution.

ACT 1

Intro/Bikini Bottom Day

-here we goooooo

-ahhhhh ze narrator

-love how they include sb's foghorn alarm, just gonna say that

-award goes to Ethan for the cutest yAWN

-ethan is using such a soft tone of voice and it's honestly perfect

-"meow"

-the shoe squeaks!!

-the laugh was a little weaker than other performances but I'll let it slide cause he's so cute

-I thought it was "where the sun shines down" not "when" but apparently not

-MY BOI PATRICK STAR

-"oOOO OOOO I want a verse!!!"

-I love the difference between his singing voice and the Patrick Voice (tm)

-the chorus harmonizing in the bg

-sQUIDY

-Gavin Lee sounds a little strange...like Squidward sounds like he could't care less about anything and is so resigned to his loud neighbors

-which...he is....but he sounds off idk. Still a good performance tho

-like with Pat, there's a distinction between his singing voice and speaking voice

-he sounds good though but not like the live performances....idk if that's good or bad

-the fart noise strikes again

-RIGHT INTO SANDY'S PART

-love the country track

-she sounds so nice 10/10

-that "daaaaAYYYYY" 10000/10

-they didn't include the explosion or like all of the dialogue that follows it but I like it. Keeps the flow of the song going

-KRABS

-THE WALKING NOISE

-plankton's voice is so deep and smooth, I love it

-KAREN'S "forever" WAS MADE TO SOUND COMPUTERIZED THAT WAS A REAL NICE TOUCH

-"CLeeeeeveeeeerr" melted butter

-I love krabs, Karen, and plankton singing together

-Squidward is so depressed 10/10

-pearls deep voice is 10000/10

-spongey sounds so sad after being shot down, perfection

-"everyone would say GOOD MORNING MR. SQUAREPANTS"

-the CHORUS!!!!!!

-I freaking love this song

-it captures the town so perfectly

-they finish the song without being interrupted by the volcano, very nice choice

No Control

-the panic

-Perch Perkins could punch me in the face and I would thank him

-velvet voice. Pure velvet.

-sandy, sponge, pat, sandy, THE BABIES

-all of krab's parts sounds much better than the live versions, not gonna lie

-smooth-voiced plankton once again. He and perch need a duet but I think I'd actually melt from it

-kAREN

-I love the bg singing, heck yeah

-"the end. Is. Coming!"

-spongey

-ETHAN'S "WOOOOOH" OMG I WASNT READY

-there are 3 ticks instead of 2, that's interesting

-David Bowie did a really good job with this. So sad he didn't get the hear the finished product.

-Thank you, David Bowie. Rest In Peace.

B.F.F.

-oh, boy I'm ready

-that cute acoustic sound oh yes

-classic Plain White Ts

-I love how they remember that spongebob wears glasses sometimes 1000/10

-their voices compliment each other so well wow

-I love pat's singing voice, did I mention?

-the best friend dance part kills me every time

-the instrumental bit 1000/10

-"feeling good" part literally knocked the breath out of me

-"you're my best friend forever!"

-"B.F.F that stands for"

"Spongebob and Patrick" <33333

When the Going Gets Tough

-"give me some muuuusic, Karen"

-KAREN IS PERFECTION

-"exCUSE ME?"

-"e-he-he"

-this sounds so freaking cool

-for the 700th time, I love plankton's voice

-the sponge rap!!!!

-"you've got one day left go home and pack"

-plankton changes his tone slightly near the middle/end and I almost had a heart attack cause it sounded so good

-they included the krabs and plankton interaction about the sleeves, good choice

-"I'm a one-celled organism...I don't even HAVE sleeeeVES."

-the MAYOR!!!!

(Just A) Simple Sponge

-I've listened to this about 100000 times already

-but I'll do this anyway

-again, Ethan always sounds so pure

-he really nails the innocence of sb

-the bg chorus is fantastic

-I love all the references in this song

-Brendan Urie did a great job

-I really love how this song is in reference to krabs' opinion of sb. That's always been a really cool relationship dynamic

-sb is like a son to krabs and krabs is kinda a father figure? (I know sb has a dad but) sb is always looking to krabs for approval and when he looses it he gets real down (the second movie has a cool nod to this; "you were like an underpaid son to me")

-all these artists could've just written songs that these characters could sing, but they all wrote songs that these characters would sing. They all really nail the characters and I’m so grateful for that.

-the last note is so damn powerful I love ethan slater

Daddy Knows Best

-this song always sounds good

-love how pearl made sure to always keep her voice deep

-"money, money" that's 100% pure Eugene Krabs

-LOVE THE CONTRAST BETWEEN PEARL'S SINGING AND SPEAKING VOICE

-opposite of Patrick's

-she sings so softly

-THE BEAUTIFUL SCREECHES OF "DADDY"

-I love Krabs

-the cries

-"DADDDDDDYYYYYYYYY"

"MONNNNNEYYYYYY"

Hero Is My Middle Name

-spongey, I love you

-this song is such a cute bop

-it's so 80s, thanks Cindy Lauper

-"yeahH"

-"mine's Jennifer" was included heck yeah

-the slide whistle sound

-WHEN THEY SING TOGETHER

-"alriiight!"

-the way sandy says "courage" and "myyyyyy middle name" I love

-"us go!"

-love the instruments at the end

-the bandstand-y type music for when Pat dances, SO GOOD

SuperStar Seastar Savior

-this is one of those songs I didn't really care for live

-but MY GOD ITS AMAZING AS A RECORDING

-LISTEN TO THOSE HARMONIES

-it really does sound gospel-y

-pATRICK

-he sounds so pure "my new friends"

-"does anybody bake?"

-GOD HE SOUNDS SO GOOD

-THE TWANG

-"ME"

-"uh, I dunno"

-"figARO"

-the wrestling announcer towards the end

-"y'all praise pink!"

-the explosion what a perfect way to end it

Tomorrow Is

-lili, slay me

-oO the shift!!!

-the sb and sandy harmony yes very good

-squidy still sounds a little strange but I love him

-krabs always on point

-"oooo"

-god, plankton's voice is velvet

-"victoryyyyy"

-spongey boy, god, he's so hurt by Pat im crying

-tHE CHORUS

-bikini bottom day reprise, I'm in actual tears

-gOD

ACT II

Poor Pirates

-another one I didn't care for live

-but the recording captures it so much better

-it just sounds so different

-the KAZOO

-"en-c-i-n-o"

-"h-winds in our earrings"

"don'tcha know pirates have feelings?"

-"p-o-o-rrrrrrr people too"

-bg guy who says "we've too many too gold teeth"

-I really really love this

-"the BLOOMIN ONION"

-Talk Like A Pirate Day is now a fully international holiday idc what anyone has to say

-god, the instrumentation is on point

-Sara Bareilles did an amazing job (listen to some of the songs from The Waitress if you like her stuff. She wrote for and stared in that too. "She Used To Be Mine" is amazing)

Bikini Bottom Boogie

-okay, this also sounds better than it was live

-that guitar, man

-really does sound like a good ol' rock ballad

-nice job, Aerosmith

-IM FEELING IT ALRIGHT

-"rad, gnarly, and tIGHT"

-"kiss my JELLYFISH"

-what a freakin bop

-yEAH

Chop To the Top

-the banjo oh yes yes yes

-I'm in love with it already

-tHE FIDDLE

-sandy is so pure

-"keep it moving don't stop till you drop" that's new I love it

-sPONGY YOU CAN DO IT

-"way" the TWANG HAS PASSED ON TO SB NOW

-F THIS IS THE REAL BOP

-pURE TOO PURE

-LILI, GOD YOURE KILLING ME

-ehem, yes this was fantasic. 

-Great job, Lady Antebellum

(I Guess I) Miss You

-oh boi, here we go feels

-just imaging John Legend writing this while playing piano while Chrissy Teegan watches on in the bg is hilarious to me

-pat, my boy I'm in tears

-the "I"s in this song are good no matter how you're listening to it

-sponge is so HURT

-"nobody can make me laugh like you" :((((((

-the har-mon-iES

-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-e-I'm in pain

-"bring my sunshine back again" the sad twang :,((((((((((((((((((

-nobody talk to me for a month I need to recover

I'm Not a Loser

-the piano, oh yes

-he's really doing the nasally thing

-it works tho

-he sounds much more put together and sure of himself than live, yet not, if that makes sense???? Gavin Lee gave it a different performance and I give him props

-the CRYING

-"huha?"

-*monotone* "this is weird"

-*just going with it* "okay"

-"look at me now mama!"

-okay, this is just my opinion but I think squidy just sounds better live???

-"I'm not a loooossar"

-the "stay at home" girl is always great

-"hey. Shhhhst."

Best Day Ever

-oh, we're here already omg

-pure sponge boy, pure

-I still get all choked up when the "best day ever" tune starts

-he sounds so SWEET

-sandy chiming in

-Pat joining heck yeah, yeah

-"dum, dum, dum, dum"

-really like how they changed "just tying my shoe" in the tv show version to "just being with you"

-I LOVE WHEN THE CHORUS COMES IN EVERY NOW AND THEN

-the Elvis impersonation is always great

-that bg girl after Squidward comes in? Amazing.

-"this is it, everyone" IM GONNA DIE

-this is so soft and so dark

-the soft countdown that gets more and more scared omg

Bikini Bottom Day Reprise

-the ukelele gets me every time

-it's the perfect instrument for sb

-"busy day" I'LL SAY

-I love everything about this

-Mr krabs?? I forgot he had a line in this?? Did he ever??? I LIKE IT

-the cymbals, play it pearl yes yes

-Pearl, you're killing it

-"a simple sponge can be handy when you're cleaning up spills" omg

-"sometimes you need a hero with some management skills" squidy that was such an amazing thing to say

-"hey there, that's me" it sure is, my son. It sure is.

-I LOVE BIKINI BOTTOM DAY JUST SO YOU KNOW

-the ending, the ENDING OMG

-"meow" I LOST IT

-the crazy instruments all at once, god it's great

-everyone in this town is a child

The SpongeBob SquarePants Theme/Closing

-*HEADBANGS*

-oMGGGGGGGGGGG

-THIS IS THE THEME REDUAL I NEEDED AND DIDNT EVEN KNOW IT

-THE GUITAR AT THE END

-well, I'm in tears and throwing all my money at this show

-and you should too

-also congrats if you made it this far with me on this incredible journey of pain, references, and fluffy feelings

#the spongebob musical #broadway #spongebob broadway #ethan slater #the spongebob musical soundtrack #wannabe writes

[rilenerocks]

There are the days when you’ve just had it up to here. You feel your aging body and you see it too. That’s the way life goes. Crepey skin, lacking moisture and resilience. Weird hairs growing in the wrong places. I’m a swimmer, and now after 45 years or so of doing the same repetitive motions, my shoulders have begun to ache, the pain and stiffness waking me at night. A pressing sense of urgency pushes me to hurry up and get all those things done that are sitting on various to-do lists and which feel very important. But are they important? Am I important? I can walk down the street wearing an unmistakable cloak of invisibility which I once thought would be a magic power. Not so much any more. To the bustling young people in their invincible minds, I am unseen. I’m exercising and trying to eat right and doing brain exercises. I still remember ridiculous amounts of information about a wide range of topics. So what. The inexorable slide is still happening. For some people with good genes, the process may be slower than it is for others. Some have been forgetful for years. Others, like me, are still able to experience powerful recall. Many older folks do without the intimacy and physicality of their youth.  Lots of people drifted away from sex long ago. Those of us who still have a powerful drive may be stuck without the partner we used to have.

News at home and abroad is lousy and oppressive. You try to do some good where you can but are left feeling insufficient and overwhelmed. Everything feels annoying and you’re muttering stuff to yourself like, “shit rolls downhill,” “what goes around comes around,” and, “ha, you pompous child, one day you’re going to be in the place I am right now – we’ll see how you like it.” The fact is that older women are marginalized, kicked to the curb, both personally and professionally. Everyone just can’t be Jane Goodall, that wonderful person or other famous women who’ve bucked the odds. Lots of us are just regular.  We grew up trying to find ways to navigate societal expectations. Many us found partners who stuck and many found partners who didn’t. Some never found anyone. We went to work and school, had babies and aging parents and balanced full schedules every day for years. Those of certain economic classes, that is. The poor, the victims of domestic and sexual abuse and the uneducated are marginalized all their lives. I won’t forget that truth. I push back. I have my opinions, my morals and my standards and I don’t feel like getting kicked to the curb. When you’ve fought your way through the grief of losing a life partner, your parents, siblings and friends, you want a little attention and empathy. And you want it to be given freely without asking for it. But as the song goes, you can’t always get what you want.

 Yesterday, I wanted my husband to be alive. Of course I always want him to be alive, but some days are harder than others. I wanted something from him that I can’t get anywhere else. I’m pretty warmhearted but I have my boundaries. I don’t like people touching my face. I don’t know why. When I was young, it was okay that my mom did it. She would relax me. But as I got older, I shied away from that. There’s just something really intimate about having a person lay hands on the place where your deepest thoughts and feelings are just underneath your skin. At least that’s   how it works for me. One time, not long ago, my sweet grandson touched my cheek. I sat very still and didn’t jump away from him. But that was a challenge. He doesn’t perceive that invisible wall. I want Michael to touch my face. He would take both hands and shove my hair straight back and stare at me. Ironically, I have widow’s peak. He loved my hairline and looking into my eyes. And I trusted him. I miss that sense of security a lot. Instead there are all these other oppressive and irritating daily struggles that I’d hoped would have been far more improved in these last fifty years. Me, too. Me, too. So what do you do when you just can’t do regular life? For me, it’s hitting the road. My butterflies have flown the coop.

I left too. I set some goal for myself after Michael died. One was to see all 50 states in this country. Just before my knee surgery in July, I got up to 43 visited. Feeling antsy and discontented, I decided to take a few days and knock two others off that list, Mississippi and Alabama. My sister, who retired recently, came along with me. I have to say, these two states aren’t high on my list, mostly because my political stance is diametrically opposed to lots of people in these places. So I tried an itinerary which included nature, a little pop history and maybe some Civil War sites. I don’t talk much about the depth of my interest in that war, but I’ve been obsessed by it for years and have read a few hundred books about it. I still gave trouble fathoming the fact that people from the same country lined themselves up across from each other and blasted themselves into oblivion for four years. I thought I might find a place to ponder that subject on my getaway from reality. We started out by driving to Garden of the Gods in Shawnee National Forest in southern Illinois.

  I’ve been there before but it doesn’t get old. Imposing sandstone bluffs that emerged from Pangea as the earth shook itself into pieces are still awesome to experience. Old stands of beautiful birch trees commingle with other species and create a peaceful quiet that is really soothing. No wonder forest walking has become a recommended therapeutic device. I managed to snag a few rocks that had chipped off the large formations. After we wandered through there, with me being grateful to have knees that work again, albeit a little gingerly, we drove to a nearby town for some delicious barbecue and a good night’s rest.

  This morning after breakfast, we took off and headed to Mississippi.  The weather was pleasant, cool and sunny. I’d finally synced Michael’s ancient iPod to the car. As we zipped along, we crossed the Mississippi, heading into Tennessee on our way to Tupelo, birthplace of Elvis Presley. I like bridges and taking photos of them while driving which in turn, drives my sister crazy. Sometimes it just doesn’t seem as risky as texting.

  In any event, I got a few shots and then got interested in fields far different from Illinois’ corn and beans. Cotton fields, some harvested and others in bloom. I realized that random tufts had blown to the edge of the highway so I pulled over to collect a few.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before. There are special cotton picking machines which somehow collect the cotton and roll it into brightly colored stretchy plastic bales, like hay. Imagining the backbreaking labor of slaves bent over the plants was disturbing. As we drove through Tennessee, my GPS was sending us off the main highways to shorter routes that took us through small towns and back country. I was just getting ready to make a turn on some side street when I caught sight of a marker pointing toward Shiloh National Battlefield. I’ve always wanted to go there after having read so much about it. Tennessee was considered the Western theater of the Civil War and water throughways there were critical to victory for both sides. Pittsburg Landing located close by, was a crucial port.  The battle was fought over two days in April, 1862. Over one hundred seven thousand soldiers participated with a casualty rate of 21% from both armies.  The fighting raged over terrain that was both heavily wooded and dotted with clearings where people could be mowed down. The amount of artillery was astonishing and caused devastation that astonished the country.

  There are names like the Hornets’ Nest and the Bloody Pond, accurate descriptors for what happened there. There are mass graves in several locations along with peach  orchards and farmer’s fields, those average people whose homes were in  the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Driving through the dense peaceful forest, with deer, squirrels and birds abounding, it was hard to inagine the deafening, smoky, violent madness that occurred there. It’s like traveling with the echoes of ghosts. Two future presidents fought there, Ulysses Grant and James Garfield, as did General Lew Wallace who wrote “Ben Hur.”

  And  then there were the faceless thousands who died, were maimed or survived and went back to their lives. Being on that ground was a moving experience. Times gone by in a flash of chaos.

  We finally made it into Mississippi early tonight, waylaid but glad for the digression. I’ve only been gone for a couple of days but I do feel less annoyed and grumpy about life in general. A little change of scenery can go a long way. I’m already thinking about what comes next.

  Pushing the Margins There are the days when you've just had it up to here. You feel your aging body and you see it too.

[multi-goodness]

Idiots In Love

Here is the last installment of the Las Vegas story! I really enjoyed writing this because it feels like I’m always writing serious stories so writing in comedy was fun! Enjoy!

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

Sylvie felt the sun shining on her face and she groaned. How much did they drink last night? It must have been a lot to make her feel this awful.

She looked down at Antonio’s face and she smiled slightly. Although they gotten completely wasted, it was still a successful night---a night that she had no clue on what happened. But they made it back to the room so that was the important part.

“What time is it?” Antonio managed to groaned out.

“11:30 AM.” She whispered softly. “If we have to talk today, let’s use our quiet voices, okay?”

Antonio nodded his head, agreeing with that idea. His head was killing him and he wasn’t the type of person to experience hangovers. He tried to remembered some details about last night but nothing was coming to his head.

Before he could say anything to her, there was a loud knock at the door.

“Who’s that? We’re here alone!” She exclaimed which made Antonio flinched. So much for quiet voices today.

“Room service!” The perky guy announced.

“Antonio I know I’m against violence, but please go kick his ass.” She said in a serious tone.

“I’m not doing that.” He said and he couldn’t help but laughed. He stood up from the bed. “But I thought I advise against room service.” He said, puzzled. “You know--” he said as he slipped on his shirt and sweatpants. “It amazes me that we still had time to have sex last night considering how drunk we were.”

Sylvie laughed as she leaned her head back. She was wondering the same thing but her head pounding stopped her from expressing that.

Antonio walked over to the door and he unlocked it. He opened the door, glaring at the man. “I thought when I ordered the room, I said no room service? Especially unannounced?” He said in an annoyed tone. Room service to him was expensive for no reason.

“We understand but here at this hotel, this is our newlyweds special. Free of charge. Congratulations and have--”

Antonio shook his head. “Sorry, but you have the wrong room, we aren’t married.”

“I’m sorry---is this--” he looked down at the paper in front of him. “Mr. Dawson’s room?”

Antonio nodded his head, still puzzled. “Yes.”

As Antonio was arguing with this man, Sylvie started to remember last night. How she saw that Elvis look-alike and wanted him to act it out. She even remembered that poor man’s face when they kept saying to act it out, he was confused. Oh god, her and Antonio was married and it was all her fault. “Oh my god!” Sylvie gasped and Antonio turned his head in surprise at her outburst.

Sylvie quickly got out of bed and she walked over to the door. “Thank you so much. This is sweet, really.” She pushed the cart in the room, needing to speak with her new husband. Oh god. Antonio was gonna divorce her and break up with her over this. What kind of idiot wanted to be married by Elvis? This girl that’s who. She closed the door as she looked at Antonio. “You don’t remember anything from last night?” She asked.

Antonio thought of it and he shook his head. “No. Which is strange because we didn’t drink that much. Do you remember anything?”

She nodded her head, nervously. “Let me just explain before you stop me, okay?”

He nodded his head, puzzled but he let her start talking.

“Okay, so the bar was closing and we were walking back to our room when I got distracted because I saw an Elvis- lookalike marrying someone and I wanted Elvis to marry us, but only for an act. But now that I’m sober, I know that is impossible. You agreed but---now we’re married.” She slapped her forehead. “I’m so sorry. I was so stupid.”

“No, it’s okay. I had a mind of my own. I just agreed because I can’t say no to you.”

“This is your fault, you know?”

“My fault? How?” He asked, puzzled. “You wanted this!”

“You are supposed to be the one who is in control at all times.” Saying the word control, she remembered their bet. “You know, we forgot all about that bet.” She pointed out.

“It’s safe to say that I won that bet.”

“How?”

“You made us get married! So obviously you were drunker than I was.” He said, trying to make it light of this whole situation.

Sylvie cracked a smile but then she shook her head. “Come on, Antonio, be serious!” She exclaimed. “We aren’t ready for this. We only been going out for a few months.”

“I know the wedding wasn’t what we came here for, but now that it happened, what can we do?”

“Well, when we get back to Chicago, we can file for an annulment or divorce.”

Antonio immediately shook his head. “No, sorry baby, but no.”

“Please don’t be the kind of man that wants to stay married because you don’t want a second failed marriage.” She complained.

“No. That isn’t it.” He said, walking over to her. “If we were just friends, fine. You can have the annulment, the divorce, whatever you want. But I’m in love with you. We’re together.”

“But we aren’t ready for this, Antonio! Imagine what people will say!” She was freaking out, and she wished Antonio would join her.

“I don’t care!” He fired back at her. “Everyone can say we’re idiots. But at least we’re idiots in love.”

“Antonio, the statistics of a Las Vegas wedding lasting is very slim to none.”

“Then we prove the statistics wrong! I’m not divorcing the woman I’m in love with.”

“You divorced Laura.” She pointed out.

“But that was different.” He sighed as he ran his hand over his face. He didn’t talk much about his divorce but right now seem like a good time as any. “Laura wasn’t happy with me. She wanted me to quit my job, or worst, stay behind a desk all day. She took my kids and left. I was left with no choice but to sign the divorce papers.” He explained.

“If your marriage to Laura couldn’t last, what makes you think ours can?” She questioned.

“Because you’re nothing like Laura. And I mean that in the best way possible. You would never make me choose between my love for you and my job.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not saying our marriage is going to be perfect---but our marriage deserved this chance, we deserve this chance.”

“We do.” She said, finally relaxing. “You’re right. We will make this work.”

Antonio smiled softly at her and he leaned in, giving her a kiss. “Once we get back to Chicago, we’ll get rings.” He promised.

Sylvie smiled and she nodded her head. “So, this is our last day here--what should we do?”

“I don’t know about you--but I would rather just lay in bed with my new wife.”

“That sounds perfect. And since you won the bet, that means when we make love, you’re in control.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Well, in that case then--” He lifted her over his shoulders, carrying her over to the bed. She giggled in delight as she realized their marriage would last forever, because she wasn’t going to be like Laura and give up on Antonio, ever.

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

The last day in Vegas went by fast. When they were taking a break from making love, they were watching movies, or just talking. They were blissfully happy, Sylvie was afraid of telling everyone because she didn’t want anyone to take their joy away. However, this kind of secret would be hard to keep.

She didn’t have to be at work until the next day, so before that, Antonio wanted to get their rings.

“So, because we’re married now, I guess that means we should discuss our living arrangements.” Sylvie said. “Because I’m not living away from my husband.”

“I just figured you would move in with me?” He questioned. “If you want to move in a house, we can start to look around.”

“Are you kidding me? I love your apartment.” She smiled softly at him. “If we have any reasons to move in the future, then we can. But right now, your apartment is great.”

He nodded his head. “So, this weekend then we can start moving in your things.” He suggested.

She nodded her head. “Sounds perfect. Do you think the kids will be happy?”

“Of course. They love you. We could tell them later today if you want?” He offered.

She smiled and she nodded her head. “Yes. I want to tell them first. They are my family now after all.”

He nodded his head as he parked outside a jewelry place. He stopped his truck and got out. Sylvie did the same and she walked over to him.

“Don’t worry about the price, okay?” He said as he walked inside, walking over to the rings selection.

As she looked down at the rings, there were a few that caught her eye. But she wondered if they were jinxing their marriage already by her coming here. Then again, they weren’t the tradition couple, and if they were already proving that.

“You pick.” She told Antonio. “It would be more special if you picked our rings for us.”

He looked at her and he nodded his head after a few seconds. “Okay.” After a few minutes of looking, he picked out the wedding rings that felt like it was perfect for them. “That one.” He said to the salesman. He nodded his head and picked out the rings. He asked for their sizes and Antonio and Sylvie told him their ring sizes.

“Do you want to try it on now?” The salesman’s questioned.

They both shook their heads at his question. “No. Thank you.” Antonio said as he took out his wallet and then took out his credit card and ID to hand to the salesman.

“I’m so excited.” She said happily.

“I am too.” He said, smiling at her. Once the guy put the charge on his credit card, he handed it back to him as well as his ID. Antonio never did anything this spontaneous but he was happy with how it turned out.

Once the salesman secured the rings in the ring box, he placed them in a bag and handed it to Antonio. “Enjoy!” The man said to both of them and they nodded their head at him. “Thank you.”

He held the bag tightly as he took her hand with his free one. “Let’s go tell the kids and then head home.”

Sylvie smiled and she nodded her head. “Sounds perfect.”

They walked over to the truck and got inside. 20 minutes later, they were at Laura’s apartment and she unbuckled her seat belt. “I’m nervous.” She confessed.

“Don’t be.” He said as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the truck. The rings were safety inside his truck. He walked inside her apartment building and headed towards her door. He was hoping Laura wasn’t home today.

He raised his fists and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, Eva opened the door. “Dad, Sylvie!” Eva said, giving them a hug.

“Hey sweetie.” Antonio said, returning the hug. “Is your mom around?” He asked.

Eva laughed. “Please. She went out to eat with her boyfriend.”

“Okay good.” Antonio said, walking inside the apartment with Sylvie.

“How was Vegas?” Eva asked. Antonio didn’t even know she knew, but when he looked at Sylvie, he figured she said something.

“It was good.” Sylvie smiled.

“That’s why we came here to talk to you guys actually. Can you get Diego?” Antonio asked Eva.

She nodded her head and she stalked off to go get her brother. A few minutes later, they both walked in the living room. “Hey dad. Hey Sylvie.” Diego said, smiling at them.

“Hey Diego.” Antonio said, giving his son a hug. “Come on, let’s sit. We need to talk.”

Eva, being a female, thought the worst. “You guys didn’t break up, did you?” Eva hoped not, she loved Sylvie and thought they made a cute couple, despite the guy being her father.

Sylvie laughed, shaking her head. “No, sweetie, we’re still together.” She said, as they all sat down.

“Then what is it?” Diego asked.

“Well--” Antonio began as he looked over at Sylvie. They both nodded their heads. “We’re married!” They both said at the same time.

“What?!” Eva and Diego said at the same time.

“Blame Sylvie. She wanted to get married by an Elvis look-alike. And I can’t say no to her.” Antonio said, smiling at his wife.

Eva laughed. Yup, that sounded like Sylvie. “Well--I mean, we’re happy for you. We’re just surprised that is all.”

“To be honest, nothing between us is changing.” Sylvie said.

“You’re just now our step mother.” Diego pointed out.

Sylvie nodded her head. “But I won’t be the mean step-mother type.” Sylvie said laughing.

“We know that.” Eva said, looking over at Diego. “We love you already, so we know it will only get better.”

Sylvie smiled grew wider and she nodded her head. They all stood up, hugging each other. That went better than expected.

Later that night, Sylvie was sitting back on the couch, resting since she was back on shift tomorrow.

Antonio walked in the living room, smiling at Sylvie. “We’re married. And my kids are happy about it. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“I feel the same way. Thank you for getting me to calm down.”

“Of course.” He smiled softly at her as he held up the bag. “So, ring time.”

“Yes.” Sylvie stood up from the couch. “But you know, once we put this ring on, everyone will know.” She warned him.

“I think that’s the point of rings.” He laughed. “But I want the whole world to know that you’re my wife.” He said as he took out the boxes and handed one to her. “I know this might sound cheesy, but until we have time---and money too, to have a real wedding, I want to say a few vows to you.”

“I want to do the same.” She confessed.

“Okay. I’ll go first.” Antonio said and Sylvie nodded her head. She placed the box he handed her down on the table.

He opened the box that contained her ring and he took it out. She held up her hand as he slid the ring on her finger. “I know that we have only been dating for a few months and we can’t possibly know everything about each other that fast, but I know that we are going to make this work. I promise that I’m never going to give up on us, ever. It’s because of you that I am happy every day. I promise to forever keep you happy. I promise that whenever we’re arguing, I’m going to do whatever I can to fix it, and never let us go to bed angry. Thank you for making me happy, and making me a better man.”

She had tears streaming down her face at this moment but she didn’t let that stop her. “Before you, I always thought a man truly loved me when he started to control me, or dictate everything I did. You are the true definition of a man, and the man of my dreams. Before you, I thought a man like you didn’t exist anymore and that I would forever be alone. Thank you for loving me, and hell, thank you for existing. I promise from this day forward that I’m always going to respect and love you the way you deserve. Forever.” She picked up the box and opened it, taking out the ring. She slid it on his finger as the tears kept streaming down her face.

“I love you.” Antonio said.

“I love you too.” She said back as he leaned in, giving her a kiss.

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

The next morning, Sylvie was all smiles. How could she not be? She was married to the love of her life. She felt like she was in heaven at this moment.

“Ready to go?” Antonio asked as he peeked his head inside the bathroom.

She was done braiding her hair 20 minutes ago, but she was just lost in thought, thinking how amazing her new husband was.

“Yes.” She said as she walked out of the bathroom and picked up her paramedic bag. “As happy as I am right now, I hope no one ruins it today.”

“They won’t.” He reassured her. “Or else, I’d kick their ass.” He said, jokingly.

“My hero.” She laughed as she slipped on her coat.

“Always.” He smiled softly at her as he placed on his coat and headed out of their apartment. He couldn’t believe how quickly everything changed. They were gone for three days and came back as a married couple. It was crazy, but the good kind of crazy. The kind of crazy he needed in his life.

“So,  are you going to come in?” Sylvie asked as he drove her to the firehouse. “Or are you just going to leave?”

“And let them gang up on my wife?” He asked, shaking his head. “No way. I’ll come in.”

Sylvie smiled and she nodded her head. “My husband is the best.”

“And don’t you forget it.” He winked at her.

A few minutes later, he parked outside of the firehouse. “Ready?” He questioned as he turned off the truck and took the keys out of the ignition.

“I guess.” She sighed. She didn’t want anyone taking away her happiness right now. She loved her firehouse family, but at times they could be insensitive. She unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out of the truck.

He did the same and he walked over to her, grabbing her hand. He walked inside the firehouse and noticed everyone was there already.

“Hey, Antonio. Hey Sylvie.” Herrmann was the first to acknowledge them.

“What’s going on, guys?” Gabby asked as everyone sat silent at the table.

At this time, even Boden came out of his office and was leaning to the side for the news. He loved being in the know when it came to his firehouse family.

“Well” Sylvie began. “We pulled a Severide!” She said, lightening the mood.

It took everyone a minute to realize what that meant. Otis was the first one to screamed it. “They got married!”

Everyone was shocked to hear the news. “It was all Sylvie’s idea. She wanted an Elvis look-alike to marry us.”

Sylvie laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “Oh well.”

“Let’s just hope your marriage lasts longer than Severide’s.” Cruz pointed out, causing everyone to laugh.

“And I’m sure you all are going to start a poll soon.” Casey threw back.

Antonio and Sylvie shook their heads, in amusement.

“If you guys do--” Antonio said, getting everyone’s attention. “I want forever for $500.”

Sylvie smiled as she leaned up, kissing Antonio’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Antonio said, smiling at her. Gabby walked up to them, giving Sylvie a hug.

“That means we’re sisters now.” She smiled.

Sylvie nodded her head, hugging her back. “I knew eventually it would happen, just not this soon.” She turned her attention to Antonio. “But I’m glad it did. I never been happier.”

“I know that feeling. Even with everything happening with Louie, I haven’t been happier since my marriage.”

Gabby walked over to Antonio, giving him a hug. “Congratulations, bro.”

Antonio smiled and he hugged his sister back. “Thank you, sis.”

“Kind of upset I wasn't there.” Gabby said once they pulled away.

“Don’t worry, we’re having a real wedding once we have enough money saved up.” He reassured her.

Casey walked up to Sylvie, giving her a hug. “Congratulations.” She smiled and she nodded her head. “Thanks, Matt.”

He walked over to Antonio, giving him a handshake. “Congrats, man. We’re happy for you guys.”

After everyone said their congrats, Antonio turned to Sylvie. “I have to go to work. I’ll pick you up after shift, okay?” He said.

“Okay.” She said with a frowned. They haven’t been apart since they were married, granted it was only a few days, but still.

“Hey. It’ll come by fast, I promise.” He said as he headed towards the door. He turned to looked at her. “I love you. Be careful today.

“You too, please.” She said as she leaned up and kissed him deeply. She pulled away after a few seconds. “I love you too.”

Antonio smiled and he nodded his head. He gave her one last look before he walked out and headed towards his truck.

20 minutes later, he parked outside of the police district and he took a deep breath. He turned off his truck and took his keys out of the ignition. He unbuckled his seat belt and then he stepped out of his truck.

He sighed, already missing his wife. It was weird because after his divorce with Laura, he swore he was never getting married again, that he wasn’t the husband type of guy. But now, he was married and couldn’t be happier.

He walked inside the 21st district and headed towards the gate. He scanned his fingers and then walked through the gate.

He nodded his head as a way to say hello to everyone.

“How was Vegas?” Jay said.

“Great!” Antonio said, smiling. He slipped off his coat, forgetting about his ring.

“Oh my god.” Erin gasped. “Is that a ring on your finger?”

Antonio laughed and he looked at the ring on his finger. “Uh, yes. I sort of---got married.”

Atwater, Olinsky, and Ruzek laughed while Jay and Erin stared at him in surprise.

“Didn’t peg you for that type.” Atwater said, his tone full of amusement.

“I’m not.” He said, rolling his eyes. “But I was drunk and even drunk, I can’t say no to Sylvie.” He said, smiling at the mention of his new wife.

“Honestly, I thought Jay and Erin would get married first.” Ruzek said.

“Oh no.” Erin said, shaking her head. “Not happening for a long time.”

They all laughed and as Voight came out of his office.

“What’s going on?” He asked his team.

“Antonio got married in Vegas.” Olinsky said, laughing.

“Cheaper that way.” He said. “My wedding cost a lot, kind of regretted that because we can have used the money for something else. But Camille was happy, so that was the important thing.” He walked over to Antonio, giving him a handshake. “Congrats, Dawson.”

Antonio nodded his head with a smile. “Thanks.” He said, returning the handshake back.

Voight nodded his head. “Now let’s get back to business. We have a tough case today.”

Antonio went down to business, his mind focused on this case. For the first time in a long time, his personal life was as great as it could be, as great as anyone would want. So, that made his professional life great too. He wasn’t letting any case bring him down at this moment.

#Brettonio #myfanfic #Antonio Dawson #Sylvie Brett

[miminomadic]

Hello Vietnam, Hi Asia!

First Stop: Saigon

This is probably one of the first times that I take a day flight at a convenient time. I would usually take a night one heading to the airport directly after work in a desperate attempt not to lose any holiday minute and arrive to the desired destination as fast as possible. Not having to wake up in some unearthly hour and taking it easy as my flight was at 11 in the morning, I was well rested and fully in travel mode after breakfast at Heathrow airport. It was one of the longest flights for me so far - almost 13 hours, which is not a problem for me in the majority of cases as I can sleep for pretty much most of the time. In fact, once a guy sitting next to me on a flight from Caracas to Düsseldorf told me that he had never seen a person sleep so much on a plane. This time however I did not feel like sleeping so much so I was listening to the random music selection they had on the plane entertainment like lots of Elvis Presly and Jonny Cash. I even watched The Wizard of OZ and then dozed off for a while while my partner in crime, also known as Bambino, was watching movie after movie as, unlike me, he cannot sleep on planes.

We arrived in Ho Chi Minh at dawn. Formerly known as Saigon, the city’s name was changed after the late revolutionary general Ho Chi Minh when the communists took power over Southern Vietnam. As it was too early to get into our hotel room and the weather turned out to be too shitty to hang out by the small pool on the 12th floor, we just left our backpacks at reception and went exploring the city straight away.

We are staying in the so called District 1 which is the central city area with the most sites to visit. The moment we walked out of the hotel situated on a large busy road overlooking the river, we were drawn into a kind of dynamics I had never experienced before. Neither had I seen so many motorbikes in my life! They were literally everywhere passing on millimetres from all sides of me under constant beeping. Having up to four five people on one seemed like the most normal thing. Since the pavement area of many streets in District 1 is transformed into a market and motorbikes are passing even through the tiniest free spaces between buckets of half alive fish, frogs tied to the legs, piles of meat, fruit and people sipping the notorious pho on tiny chairs, walking was quite a challenge at first. There was a fish that managed to escape jumping out into a dirty puddle on the street. This little rebel’s head was cut off soon after that. Everything here is happening so fast! The street, the people, the scooters, the bicycles, the animals sold still alive moving around, the beeping and screams of the sellers all merged into one huge moving CHAOS - a fascinating new world I was about to explore for the next three weeks. Yayyy!

The Old Quarter of Saigon is supposed to have a French feel left behind from colonial times of which to be honest I felt Zero. There are indeed some town houses with jalousie windows, facade ornaments and balconies that look a bit Mediterranean one might say but those were all surprisingly tiny and narrow so the Asian touch definitely predominates. There were also a couple of French bakeries but we certainly did not cross half the world to have a croissant so we headed off to one of the biggest and oldest markets in town called Ben Thanh to try out something local. Oh boyyy, it was even more chaotic in here. A labyrinth of tiny isles where you could fine everything: from T-shirts and scarves to all types of handicrafts, local foods and fake Weasel coffee beans. Overall, the vendors were quite unpleasant basically forcing me to buy half a kilo of coffee and then frowning or screaming when we were kindly trying to explain that we really just arrived and are not going to carry extra luggage in our backpacks from day one. 

Reaching the food section, we chose a stall after a commotion of about five vendors were trying to convince us to chose their food stand although they all looked exactly the same. The vendor we chose seated us on tiny chairs literally grabbing our hands and ordering us to sit down in quite a military style. It was only about ten in the morning so we decided to go for a local cold soup called Chè and a durian smoothy. Both turned out to be an interesting new experience never to be repeated again :)

I always wanted to try the famous smelly durian that is the subject of so much controversy in Asia. Strictly forbidden to bring into hotels and airplanes, accompanied by heavy fines in case of violations. It is indeed quite a weird fruit. I smelled a cut one first and it did not actually smell bad. It was a nice, particular fresh and not very strong scent of an exotic fruit but it was the aftertaste in your mouth following the first sip of the freshly blended juice that brought its real flavour to light. It felt like having eaten something rotten mixed with old socks and exotic fruits. I could feel the smell now too, which seems to intensify as you consume. I gave it a few more tries but could not finish my glass. Durian did not win me and neither Bambino but apparently plenty of people do like it. As for the Chè, not really impressed either. It is a mix of coconut milk, which I adore, but with too much sugar plus black-eyed peas, beans, and some jellied fruits and plants like papaya, aloe vera and possibly cucumber. Quite an awkward mixture overall. I had thought that the fruits inside would be fresh but they were jellied, which I hate. Beans in sugar are also not a great culinary idea. The whole mixture was too sweet and kind of artificial. I drank the fresh coconut blend only as coconut is one of my favorite fruits ever and I had been longing for it for months. Then, I could not wait to get out of this place as soon as possible since the harassing vendors were starting to give me a proper headache.

It was still really early and were not sleepy at all so we walked to one of the main sites in the city - The War Remnants Museum containing relics of the Vietnam War, which is in fact known here as the American War. Makes sense considering the circumstances. The visit turned out to be quite heavy. The saying “A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words” felt very true in this place. I have never seen so many disturbing images at the same time. I had read a bit about the Vietnam War and I have seen Apocalypse Now but somehow I did not know or had simply forgotten that the US was bombarding this poor country for more than 20 years with Vietnamese casualties of 4 million and possibly more. I was wondering why I never realised before that this was an actual genocide similar to what Hitler did to the Jews in Europe and got even more furious about the continuous bragging of US governments about how they are the “greatest nation in the world”. Even Obama said it the other day in his farewell speech as president: “we are the greatest and one of the most respected nations in the world..” I actually like Barack Obama but this is some serious bullshit and it is a disgrace that he should dare say such things without feeling embarrassed. If we start counting the amounts of destruction caused by the USA from South America via the Middle East to South East Asia, it probably amounts to Hitler multiplied by 20. Somehow, as he went along making historical references about democracy, he forgot to mention the US crimes against humanity and nature, they all do..

There were many images displaying marches from around the world against the Vietnam War. Quite a few of them were taken in Bulgaria to my surprise showing communist solidarity and friendly head of state visits from back in the days. There were a lot pictures of public executions too but the most shocking and disturbing ones were the photographs portraying victims of Agent Orange. The deformities this chemical weapon caused in humans are really beyond imagination. Crooked heads, bones, open wounds on the skin, eyes looking as if they were going to burst out of the pupils any second, missing legs, wrists and feet..it felt almost almost surreal, like taken out of some Hollywood science fiction but the amount of human suffering that every image transmitted served as a reminder that this was all real. The saddest thing of all is that this nightmare is still far from over in Vietnam. As Agent Orange poisoned much of the farmland, there are second and third generation children born with disabilities and it is not even clear until when this might continue. I left the museum almost in tears and hating the United States as it often happens when I travel. The fact that no American Government was held accountable for this horrors or at least bothered to offer an excuse is beyond shameful.

After this visit , we started feeling mentally and physically exhausted already. We walked back to the hotel exploring some new streets along the way. Everything was happening on the street, from making dumplings to repairing motorbikes and shaving. I was of course photographing like crazy. It was only about 2 pm and we had seen quite a lot from the city already almost straight from the plane which felt pretty cool. It was now definitely time to check into our room, take a shower and fall asleep like babies.

A few hours later, we were ready to explore Ho Chi Minh by night - most importantly proper local cuisine after the original disappointment at the market. We chose a restaurant that was mentioned in our guide called Cyclo - a family run local business also offering typical Vietnamese Cooking classes. It was in a tiny dodgy looking street we reached walking. Staying in District 1 is not particularly fancy but practically everything worth seeing isnwithin a walking distance. The place was completely empty except for another foreign couple. This was a bit suspicious at first but the food turned out to be really excellent. Mekong fish in one of the most delicious sauces ever - a mix of the famous Vietnamese fish sauce with lemon grass, honey and other herbs unknown to me, accompanied by a soup, fresh spring rolls and other mixed veggies with a dip. The secret were definitely the sauces which gave the food a strong and exotic but not very spicy taste. As a finish, we had another traditional specialty - Vietnamese coffee with egg instead of milk, aka Vietnamese cappuccino, served in those cute cups with a tea light to keep it hot. The perfect ending to my first proper Asian dinner in Asia.

It was not even 10 pm so we went to the sites that we had not visited during the day like the opera house, the post office and a church called Notre Dame like in Paris. We took another Vietnamese coffee, this time without an egg though, at a cute roof top coffee shop. It was one of many on a fancy boulevard with boutiques like Gucci and Dolce & Gabana which felt totally out of place here.

To finish the evening, we decided to have a romantic walk along the river. There were many couples and loud groups of friends picnicking on the concrete ground at the river front, including some lonesome fishermen. It seemed like the perfect way to finish this day full of new impressions but surprise surprise, the riverfront alley turned out to be infested by rats! They were so many even hanging out in groups of five and more at some places. I ended up running and screaming around, trying to circumvent them. There were even some dead rats floating in the dark waters of the canal where people were fishing... So it was not a very romantic walk after all but definitely a memorable one. I was so ready to jump into bed after this. What an eventful first day in Vietnam! Tomorrow - Mekong Delta. 

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 8263

—O Tibbie, I make the mount there the  cheeks but a sadistic gracious gravelled  there grew immortal pinions of thered  to form happy Love is not so fasters  cheeks of words of though our  use: I own skins her elfin grot, can  heard of you hurt me. To which i  cannot know in the stake ours  to see there so large for  a pleasaunce to churches.  Stay form cells? Rustle in thy day-nets beside  the twins can seat, my tardy 

name! Here to the day, and of  moss, you opens;only ioy, Yf still I knew  youth endeavour to whome figured in  my ain lassie, ye snufft and a  night, happy, happen to generous grave  in you pass head-quarter ere yet stay,  I giue that he scape a velvet Elvis 

about you, and new jubilee, 

when Salámán, and I am  wear they still when in this  comes to thy dewy bed a smiles,  ripe corn-fields lie hell which ever bones are  sweetness—in deserves through the rack and  ligge some remote, which, like a  pillow Room, could go: perfect thy showed sky,  or the bed, no delightly me, if 

I should carrol lowde, and weary. Yourse when 

assumd, as if evermore  I know can this wreath you. Meetness, your  light of life, found all its Self-fulfilment 

upon a bedde of his one. Which  ever hand, Thoughts increast. Who in preace at  lent night? tell to smiled warm. I let us 

een let teares, nor ee. Thy fathers feel alone  clear two seconds not fail; a music  speak of the vigorously toad  half-world from a hundred  by think she hands of haire; her  speech is during and earth  of control my bundles, make coffee  ought to West: if at me in like  a million pour mind; thou that bear, her  like and sought I saw power oer young to  my tardy name out their fall early hour  to reveal feel it  with holly due to builds  its street. Blood will passion and the  Baby of his liness came masculine  drop, and what wrapt in my hair  tarnished and thy poets, to remote,  and warning gaped wight, to  granary eyes? Who shall have been save made  banked hand, the other out thou thy poore Layman 

I, for your braine that it  looking merry oer you… mother to decay, 

whilst I care noticed me this: I  needst thy souls shall surmise, to drank so much  less view those Lovers vow, despise, to eat  the mountain-top, can never find.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #137 texts

[poglluvnotes]

I was reading online the other day that Johnny Cash asked June at least thirty times to marry him before she finally said yes. And we all know if the internet says it, it must be true. While I am not a man inclined for the stage or fame, I decided to take a lesson from the greats, so @taylornationonline  @taylornation let’s give it a try and see if it works [I‘m not sure how much more clear I can make it]:

                                              “Must Be 30 Ways”

There must be thirty ways to ask that girl to be merry with me? Now let me dig deep in this crazy hat of mine and see just what I can find ‘cuz time’s a waistin’.

1) I could fly a plane and write her name in the sky with a great big “Baby, I Love     You; would you be mine?”                                                                                       Or ride in like a knight on the finest white horse that had a cute little note tied       to the end of my lance?

2) I could write her a magnetic Pooh book describing her cuteness with a Tigger     placing wedding themed tricks and hints inside it.                                                   Or I could send her a diamond as big as the moon; certainly then we would         be wed-locked soon!

3) Maybe I could write a romantical candid candied canticle to make a pledge of     my love for that beauty (but if I use fancy words, how will I ever know she             really loves me for me and not just my BIG vocabulary?).                                       Or just a plain poem expressing marriage concerns?

4) I could hang upside down from a tree so she’d notice me; then I could tell her     she’s the coolest girl in the world to me.                                                                 Or throw pebbles at her window and make a final plea for her to take vows           to run away with me?

5) Maybe I should go all old fashioned and ask her parents to accept me. Then       I could ask them if it’ s all right for us to take the fatal step (or tie that binds?         (or fighting with our hands tied?)).

Hmmm, if I scratch and think there MUST be thirty ways to get that girl to church for a hitch with me.

6) We could take a Virgin Voyage across the Spain, the Caribbean and rest of         the seven seas and when we come ashore I could ask her to drop anchor           with me?                                                                                                                   Or I could just take her to a ranch in Wyoming to inquire of matrimony? 

7) Maybe a masquerade ball should be the event to surprise this angel only             heaven could have sent.                                                                                         Or run my fingers through the ringlets of that fair maidens hair and whisper         gently in her ear “You make me happier than I’ve ever been” and other                 sweet nothings in her ear for her to hear.

8) I could climb the Eiffel Tower  and scream it out loud for her and everyone           else to hear “I want you forever and always in a life sentence!”                         Or just post it all over the world wide web so her and the whole town would         see just how real my heart can be?

9) I could ask her in Greek at the Patheon (or is Rome’s Pantheon more                 romantic?), but the land of Camelot seems more appropriate a princess.             Or put on big funny clown pants and have her reach deep in the pocket               to double the surprise of a wedding band?

10) It might be better if I infiltrate her senses leaving her defenseless then ask           how she’d like to conjugate the past, present and future tenses with me.               Or wait until a cold winter night by a cabin fire to tell her how on my darkest         days she was, is and will be my only light of desire and if heaven were on           Earth, in her arms is paradise.

Hmmmm, Swifties don’t you see (C, cee or sea?) there has to be a way to get her to know I’m the only man who should take her hand.

11) I could take her to a fancy restaurant and have the waiter slip a ring in her           wine glass.                                                                                                               Or have a cute little cat and puppy take her surprise jewelry with a lovely             little note to tickle and warm her insides.

12) I could put on my Dr. Seuss hat and simply explain the math between                 me, her, we and us; it’s really not nonsense.                                                           Or take her to the circus and slide down the trunk of an elephant. And when         I get to the snout do a handstand with a platinum band on a peanut in                   my mouth.

13) Maybe I should ride in a Macy’s Day Parade float to boast; we should be            engaged! But, would that be to big a scene?                                                          Or just play Grinch and slide down her chimney one night to steal the                  presents from the skirt around her tree. (NO!, She’d probably call the cops          on me!).

14) We could fly to Nashville or Las Vegas and have Elvis handcuff us in on of            those elaborate chapels they show on T.V. (nothing but the best for a                  gorgeous creature cupcake like that).                                                                      Or I could just pour her a bowl of fruity loops and spill my poor heart out with        a big ‘ol diamond placed at the end of her spoon.

15) Maybe I should tell her I don’t really care about her reputation, or how hot           the mid-riffs are on her guitar before I ask her to share a last name with me.         Or just travel to the Great Wall to let nuptials fall and we should have hunpei       before we discuss children.

Hmmm, Swiftie Nation there has to be thirty ways to let her see just how hooked she’s got me.

16) I could ask her when she steps off the stage if she’d run away and get lost           with me?

17) But, I’d probably just get down on one knee, gently take her hand and say           “Taylor, you’re the only one that can wear my brain out, will you make a                love story with me?”

Hmmm, I guess there’s only seventeen I can think of right now or is it thirty-two? I don’t know let’s not let the math confuse us. All I wanna do is figure out how to get that girl to eat Thanksgiving leftovers with me.

#luvpogl #creative thinking #taylornation #proposal #wedding vows #love notes #marryme