#Oregon bound

[erkmurray]

A quiet spot on the creek, where they filmed the movie Homeward Bound

erkmurray on Instagram

#originalphotographers #photography #bendoregon #centraloregon #oregon #backcountry #original photography blog #lensblr #photographers directory #forest #mountains #pnwonderland #campvibes #volcano #homeward bound #disney

[curseofkolyana]

Turns out that anxiety-induced chronic pain is still chronic pain and my mental health meds keep me 90% stable but that 10% is a killer

which means it's time for me to become a low-level stoner

#this was bound to happen to me eventually #i did move to oregon #rocky rambles #self medicating ftw

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Antitrust is a labor issue

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

This is huge: yesterday, the FTC finalized a rule banning noncompete agreements for every American worker. That means that the person working the register at a Wendy's can switch to the fry-trap at McD's for an extra $0.25/hour, without their boss suing them:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-announces-rule-banning-noncompetes

The median worker laboring under a noncompete is a fast-food worker making close to minimum wage. You know who doesn't have to worry about noncompetes? High tech workers in Silicon Valley, because California already banned noncompetes, as did Colorado, Illinois, Maine, Maryland, New Hampshire, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Oregon, Rhode Island, Virginia and Washington.

The fact that the country's largest economies, encompassing the most "knowledge-intensive" industries, could operate without shitty bosses being able to shackle their best workers to their stupid workplaces for years after those workers told them to shove it shows you what a goddamned lie noncompetes are based on. The idea that companies can't raise capital or thrive if their know-how can walk out the door, secreted away in the skulls of their ungrateful workers, is bullshit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

Remember when OpenAI's board briefly fired founder Sam Altman and Microsoft offered to hire him and 700 of his techies? If "noncompetes block investments" was true, you'd think they'd have a hard time raising money, but no, they're still pulling in billions in investor capital (primarily from Microsoft itself!). This is likewise true of Anthropic, the company's major rival, which was founded by (wait for it), two former OpenAI employees.

Indeed, Silicon Valley couldn't have come into existence without California's ban on noncompetes – the first silicon company, Shockley Semiconductors, was founded by a malignant, delusional eugenicist who also couldn't manage a lemonade stand. His eight most senior employees (the "Traitorous Eight") quit his shitty company to found Fairchild Semiconductor, a rather successful chip shop – but not nearly so successful as the company that two of Fairchild's top employees founded after they quit: Intel:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/24/the-traitorous-eight-and-the-battle-of-germanium-valley/

Likewise a lie: the tale that noncompetes raise wages. This theory – beloved of people whose skulls are so filled with Efficient Market Hypothesis Brain-Worms that they've got worms dangling out of their nostrils and eye-sockets – holds that the right to sign a noncompete is an asset that workers can trade to their employers in exchange for better pay. This is absolutely true, provided you ignore reality.

Remember: the median noncompete-bound worker is a fast food employee making near minimum wage. The major application of noncompetes is preventing that worker from getting a raise from a rival fast-food franchisee. Those workers are losing wages due to noncompetes. Meanwhile, the highest paid workers in the country are all clustered in a a couple of cities in northern California, pulling down sky-high salaries in a state where noncompetes have been illegal since the gold rush.

If a capitalist wants to retain their workers, they can compete. Offer your workers get better treatment and better wages. That's how capitalism's alchemy is supposed to work: competition transmogrifies the base metal of a capitalist's greed into the noble gold of public benefit by making success contingent on offering better products to your customers than your rivals – and better jobs to your workers than those rivals are willing to pay. However, capitalists hate capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/18/in-extremis-veritas/#the-winnah

Capitalists hate capitalism so much that they're suing the FTC, in MAGA's beloved Fifth Circuit, before a Trump-appointed judge. The case was brought by Trump's financial advisors, Ryan LLC, who are using it to drum up business from corporations that hate Biden's new taxes on the wealthy and stepped up IRS enforcement on rich tax-cheats.

Will they win? It's hard to say. Despite what you may have heard, the case against the FTC order is very weak, as Matt Stoller explains here:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/ftc-enrages-corporate-america-by

The FTC's statutory authority to block noncompetes comes from Section 5 of the FTC Act, which bans "unfair methods of competition" (hard to imagine a less fair method than indenturing your workers). Section 6(g) of the Act lets the FTC make rules to enforce Section 5's ban on unfairness. Both are good law – 6(g) has been used many times (26 times in the five years from 1968-73 alone!).

The DC Circuit court upheld the FTC's right to "promulgate rules defining the meaning of the statutory standards of the illegality the Commission is empowered to prevent" in 1973, and in 1974, Congress changed the FTC Act, but left this rulemaking power intact.

The lawyer suing the FTC – Anton Scalia's larvum, a pismire named Eugene Scalia – has some wild theories as to why none of this matters. He says that because the law hasn't been enforced since the ancient days of the (checks notes) 1970s, it no longer applies. He says that the mountain of precedent supporting the FTC's authority "hasn't aged well." He says that other antitrust statutes don't work the same as the FTC Act. Finally, he says that this rule is a big economic move and that it should be up to Congress to make it.

Stoller makes short work of these arguments. The thing that tells you whether a law is good is its text and precedent, "not whether a lawyer thinks a precedent is old and bad." Likewise, the fact that other antitrust laws is irrelevant "because, well, they are other antitrust laws, not this antitrust law." And as to whether this is Congress's job because it's economically significant, "so what?" Congress gave the FTC this power.

Now, none of this matters if the Supreme Court strikes down the rule, and what's more, if they do, they might also neuter the FTC's rulemaking power in the bargain. But again: so what? How is it better for the FTC to do nothing, and preserve a power that it never uses, than it is for the Commission to free the 35-40 million American workers whose bosses get to use the US court system to force them to do a job they hate?

The FTC's rule doesn't just ban noncompetes – it also bans TRAPs ("training repayment agreement provisions"), which require employees to pay their bosses thousands of dollars if they quit, get laid off, or are fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

The FTC's job is to protect Americans from businesses that cheat. This is them, doing their job. If the Supreme Court strikes this down, it further delegitimizes the court, and spells out exactly who the GOP works for.

This is part of the long history of antitrust and labor. From its earliest days, antitrust law was "aimed at dollars, not men" – in other words, antitrust law was always designed to smash corporate power in order to protect workers. But over and over again, the courts refused to believe that Congress truly wanted American workers to get legal protection from the wealthy predators who had fastened their mouth-parts on those workers' throats. So over and over – and over and over – Congress passed new antitrust laws that clarified the purpose of antitrust, using words so small that even federal judges could understand them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

After decades of comatose inaction, Biden's FTC has restored its role as a protector of labor, explicitly tackling competition through a worker protection lens. This week, the Commission blocked the merger of Capri Holdings and Tapestry Inc, a pair of giant conglomerates that have, between them, bought up nearly every "affordable luxury" brand (Versace, Jimmy Choo, Michael Kors, Kate Spade, Coach, Stuart Weitzman, etc).

You may not care about "affordable luxury" handbags, but you should care about the basis on which the FTC blocked this merger. As David Dayen explains for The American Prospect: 33,000 workers employed by these two companies would lose the wage-competition that drives them to pay skilled sales-clerks more to cross the mall floor and switch stores:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-04-24-challenge-fashion-merger-new-antitrust-philosophy/

In other words, the FTC is blocking a $8.5b merger that would turn an oligopoly into a monopoly explicitly to protect workers from the power of bosses to suppress their wages. What's more, the vote was unanimous, include the Commission's freshly appointed (and frankly, pretty terrible) Republican commissioners:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-moves-block-tapestrys-acquisition-capri

A lot of people are (understandably) worried that if Biden doesn't survive the coming election that the raft of excellent rules enacted by his agencies will die along with his presidency. Here we have evidence that the Biden administration's anti-corporate agenda has become institutionalized, acquiring a bipartisan durability.

And while there hasn't been a lot of press about that anti-corporate agenda, it's pretty goddamned huge. Back in 2021, Tim Wu (then working in the White wrote an executive order on competition that identified 72 actions the agencies could take to blunt the power of corporations to harm everyday Americans:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Biden's agency heads took that plan and ran with it, demonstrating the revolutionary power of technical administrative competence and proving that being good at your job is praxis:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

In just the past week, there's been a storm of astoundingly good new rules finalized by the agencies:

A minimum staffing ratio for nursing homes;

The founding of the American Climate Corps;

A guarantee of overtime benefits;

A ban on financial advisors cheating retirement savers;

Medical privacy rules that protect out-of-state abortions;

A ban on junk fees in mortgage servicing;

Conservation for 13m Arctic acres in Alaska;

Classifying "forever chemicals" as hazardous substances;

A requirement for federal agencies to buy sustainable products;

Closing the gun-show loophole.

That's just a partial list, and it's only Thursday.

Why the rush? As Gerard Edic writes for The American Prospect, finalizing these rules now protects them from the Congressional Review Act, a gimmick created by Newt Gingrich in 1996 that lets the next Senate wipe out administrative rules created in the months before a federal election:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-04-23-biden-administration-regulations-congressional-review-act/

In other words, this is more dazzling administrative competence from the technically brilliant agencies that have labored quietly and effectively since 2020. Even laggards like Pete Buttigieg have gotten in on the act, despite a very poor showing in the early years of the Biden administration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

Despite those unpromising beginnings, the DOT has gotten onboard the trains it regulates, and passed a great rule that forces airlines to refund your money if they charge you for services they don't deliver:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/04/24/fact-sheet-biden-harris-administration-announces-rules-to-deliver-automatic-refunds-and-protect-consumers-from-surprise-junk-fees-in-air-travel/

The rule also bans junk fees and forces airlines to compensate you for late flights, finally giving American travelers the same rights their European cousins have enjoyed for two decades.

It's the latest in a string of muscular actions taken by the DOT, a period that coincides with the transfer of Jen Howard from her role as chief of staff to FTC chair Lina Khan to a new gig as the DOT's chief of competition enforcement:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-25-transportation-departments-new-path/

Under Howard's stewardship, the DOT blocked the merger of Spirit and Jetblue, and presided over the lowest flight cancellation rate in more than decade:

https://www.transportation.gov/briefing-room/2023-numbers-more-flights-fewer-cancellations-more-consumer-protections

All that, along with a suite of protections for fliers, mark a huge turning point in the US aviation industry's long and worsening abusive relationship with the American public. There's more in the offing, too including a ban on charging families extra for adjacent seats, rules to make flying with wheelchairs easier, and a ban on airlines selling passenger's private information to data brokers.

There's plenty going on in the world – and in the Biden administration – that you have every right to be furious and/or depressed about. But these expert agencies, staffed by experts, have brought on a tsunami of rules that will make every working American better off in a myriad of ways. Those material improvements in our lives will, in turn, free us up to fight the bigger, existential fights for a livable planet, free from genocide.

It may not be a good time to be alive, but it's a much better time than it was just last week.

And it's only Thursday.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/25/capri-v-tapestry/#aiming-at-dollars-not-men

#pluralistic #labor #antitrust #trustbusting #noncompetes #indenture #ftc #matt stoller #david dayen #tapestry #luxury fashion #capri

[gaysails]

"When the first contingents of U.S. troops were being sent to Saudi Arabia, in August of 1990, Corporal Jeff Paterson, a twenty-two-year-old Marine stationed in Hawaii, sat down on the runway of the airfield and refused to board a plane bound for Saudi Arabia. He asked to be discharged from the Marine Corps:

'I have come to believe that there are no justified wars. . . . I began to question exactly what I was doing in the Marine Corps about the time I began to read about history. I began to read up on America's support for the murderous regimes of Guatemala, Iran under the Shah, and El Salvador. . . . I object to the use of military force against any people, anywhere, any time.'

Fourteen Marine Corps reservists at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, filed for conscientious objector status, despite the prospect of a court-martial for desertion. A lance corporal in the Marines, Erik Larsen, issued a statement:

'I declare myself a conscientious objector. Here is my sea bag full of personal gear. Here is my gas mask. I no longer need them. I am no longer a Marine. . . . It, to me, is embarrassing to fight for a way of life in which basic human needs, like a place to sleep, one hot meal a day and some medical attention, cannot even be met in our nation's capital.'

. . . When President Bush attacked Iraq in 1991, claiming that he was acting to end the Iraqi occupation of Kuwait, a group of Native Americans in Oregon distributed a biting and ironic 'open letter':

'Dear President Bush. Please send your assistance in freeing our small nation from occupation. This foreign force occupied our lands to steal our rich resources. They used biological warfare and deceit, killing thousands of elders, children and women in the process. As they overwhelmed our land, they deposed our leaders and people of our own government, and in its place, they installed their own government systems that yet today control our daily lives in many ways. As in your own words, the occupation and overthrow of one small nation . . . is one too many. Sincerely, An American Indian.'"

-Howard Zinn, A People's History of the United States

[from-memphis-with-love]

1849 - an Elvis Presley One-Shot

Summary: It's 1849 and the height of the Oregon Trail. Pearl, an innocent and inexperienced young woman, is plucked from the prairie and into a marriage with rough and tumble rancher Elvis Presley. She's practically paralyzed with fear on her wedding night. But all is not what it seems: he is actually loving and kind with her, and, with a little gentle coaxing, she soon comes to find out the true meaning of what her husband affectionately calls his "manly duties."

Beneath a velvet sky embroidered with stars, the sweeping prairie of the Willamette Valley undulated endlessly, its breezy grasses frosted silver in the gentle moonlight, swaying like the swells of a wheat-colored sea. The air, redolent with sagebrush and wildflower nectar, whispered tales yet untold. 

A weathered log cabin, sturdy as an old oak, nestled harmoniously amid the untamed expanse. Inside, flickering candlelight danced upon the rough-hewn walls, casting writhing shadows that capered about. This humble abode was far more than a shelter; it housed two hearts newly joined in matrimony's sacred covenant. 

Upon a mattress of timber and homespun linens lay the newlyweds. The sounds of crickets and distant animals floated on the night air, a natural lullaby straight from the land itself. They reveled in the hushed serenity of their nascent life together.

A stillness Pearl finally punctured with a question. 

"Elvis?" she pouted, her reedy voice not fully her own. "You've stolen the blanket." Mistaking her complaint for invitation, Elvis sidled closer, his sturdy frame a barrier against the cool night air. He slipped his hand atop her opposite side, ensconcing her between his bare chest and muscular arm. "Might I perhaps have them back, please?"

He nuzzled nearer, his tone playful. "Chilly? Lemme warm you up, then."

Now, with mere inches between them, his radiant skin-heat seemed to flow directly into her own, quickening her heartbeat. She swallowed, her voice quavering slightly. "Do you... have a nightshirt, perhaps?"

"A night-what?" His confusion, genuine or feigned, hung in the air between them, charged with the unspoken energy of their touch.

Pearl closed her eyes, seeking refuge in inky darkness, away from the maelstrom roiling within. She wished to be anywhere but perched on the precipice of her wedding night, an apprehensive innocent bound to a man whose depths were only just beginning to unfurl before her. 

Her thoughts meandered to distant places: endless prairies beneath boundless skies, their splendor unfettered and raw. She pictured the wind's caress, laden with wildflower perfume, conveying whispers of age-old tales. How she yearned for freedom, to roam unconstrained by society's fetters!

Her heart ached for the unknown, the thrill of novel faces and locales. Perhaps in a bustling metropolis, pulsating with a mosaic of sounds, she could vanish into the crowd, shedding her naïve bride skin. Or on a lonely mountain peak, inhaling the crisp air, losing herself in nature's majesty, finding peace in its seclusion. 

No, she banished the thought, Elvis Presley never feels fear, and I'm a fool to think otherwise. 

Somehow, this realization lent her the strength to open her eyes, letting curiosity temper her fears. Yet, the echoes of a strict upbringing whispered doubts, and she might feel more at ease about it all if Elvis kept some of his clothes on—at least for the night. She broached the subject of modesty. “A nightshirt. If you have one in that chest over there, I’d appreciate you wearing it,” she ventured.

Unlike Pearl, Elvis had no such compunctions about their intimacy, nor was he concerned with modesty. His hands, calloused from the laborious toil of ranch work, possessed an innate understanding of the contours that ignited pleasure. His lips held secrets of countless stolen kisses and whispered promises. He cocked a sly smile at her request.

“Honey, you know I don’t own no nightshirt. The closest I come is wearing my long johns in the winter, and now that I got you to keep me warm, I reckon I won’t wear ‘em anymore.”

“Then what, pray tell, shall you wear?”

In one smooth motion, Elvis lifted her until she sat upright before him, noticing with some relief that his trousers remained in place. Strong fingers carded through her hair, treating the auburn strands as delicately as silk. 

"Y’know, the first time I laid eyes on you, you know I imagined you wearin’ nothin’ but your beautiful hair?”

Pearl froze, stunned by the vulnerability his words implied. To be so exposed, with only her hair for modesty, sparked an instinctual alarm...yet also fascination. Like a deer in a rife’s sight, she wrestled with the storm of fear and curiosity Elvis's revelation provoked. 

Firelight danced in his eyes, flecks of gold glittering in that captivating blue. With care, Elvis gathered her hair over her breasts. Though clothed, Pearl shivered at the suggestive act, a blush creeping up her neck. 

"Just like that," he murmured admiringly. "Sweet little rosebuds begging to be kissed. Peekin’ out to me and all."

Sitting there, Pearl felt Elvis's gaze wash over her like sunlight piercing through fog. His words stirred something deep within, blossoming warmth that spread from her cheeks down through her chest. But it didn't stop there. A swirling eddy gripped her belly, intensifying into a molten pull that sunk her deeper into this newfound swell of feeling. No one had told her a wedding night could feel like this. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing away the betrayal of her body's response. 

Noticing her blush, Elvis leaned back, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Seems I might be pushing my luck tonight," he mused, his mouth settling into a bashful grin. He caressed her cheek, his calloused thumb rubbing soothing circles into her skin. “My God, you are so lovely.” Though his touch was gentle, she tensed. "Little Pearly, are you really that nervous?"

Pearl's heart raced, her cheeks burning with a mix of fear and longing as she took in the sight of Elvis's bare chest. The raw exposure of his skin, the dance of muscles beneath, stirred a whirlwind of emotions—curiosity, vulnerability. Fear. An evil desire she wouldn’t dare name. The way he looked stirred a terrible hunger deep within, and she couldn’t help but long for a barrier between them, a shield to temper the intensity of their connection.

With a voice touched by nerves, she mustered the courage to voice her yearning. "I would probably feel better if you put on a shirt," she ventured softly, unaware of the intoxicating effect her request had on Elvis, who looked back at her with a mix of amusement and reverence. "Are you sure you don't have one, Elvis?"

"I can do it with a shirt on, but I reckon I’ll have to take my trousers off sooner or later," he quipped, then caught himself, noting the joke wasn’t helping. "Is there anything else troubling you, darlin'?"

Pearl straightened, clearing her throat. "I’d really appreciate it if you just get on with it, please. I want to get this over with. We can talk afterward, alright?"

Elvis's smile faded, his thumb stilling on her cheek. "Ah, honey, I’m so sorry. I need a good whuppin’, that’s what I need," he said, nudging his nose against hers playfully. He twirled one of her curls around his finger, breathing in her scent. "I’m just a big ole oaf, is what I am. Here I am jokin’ my head off and you’re as nervous as a fawn. I should be making you feel good instead. Makin’ you forget what it is you’re so scared about.” 

Pearl’s eyes crossed trying to peer into his, so she let them flutter closed.

Cupping her face in his rough palms, Elvis lifted his forehead from hers, leaving a ghost of warmth behind. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the tip of her nose. Pearl's heart fluttered at the gentle gesture, her grip tightening on his broad wrists as he guided her back onto the bed. Sinking into the mattress, she felt a mix of trepidation and trust as Elvis settled above her, forearms bracketing her shoulders.

“My wife,” he whispered, chest grazing her breasts as he bent close. “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” he murmured, full lips barely brushing hers in a whisper-soft caress. “I’ll make it real nice for you. Pearl, I will never intentionally hurt you. I swear it.”

“Elvis...” She parted her lips to speak, but his mouth stole the words. His breath was warm and sweet with a hint of black coffee as she sucked it in. Soft lips trailed over the contours of her mouth, leaving desire in their wake. But when his probing tongue intruded, Pearl recoiled in shock and apprehension, questioning the unfamiliar invasion. 

Pearl's world narrowed to the feel of his lips. They ignited longings within her, each touch kindling dormant desires. 

Her racing heart stumbled over itself as his tongue gently challenged her limited experience. Fingers digging into his arms, climbing to the solid assurance of his shoulders, she wondered, silently pleading, What's happening to me?

Desire, raw and unbidden, surged within her. Yet a shadow of doubt whispered too, questioning her boldness. Still, as they kissed, warmth bloomed inside her, promising pleasure, promising connection. Though separated by her thin nightgown, his touch blazed lines of fire over her skin, pulling her into a dance between longing and hesitation. 

For the first time, Pearl reveled in the forbidden delight of passionate kisses, a realm unknown to her sheltered life. The caress of his mouth on hers was a dance, each movement stirring longing she hadn't known existed. Every press and yielding response painted a portrait of contradictions—firm yet molten, unyielding yet accommodating. She prayed they would do this part of it frequently, whatever came next.

Catching her lower lip, he rolled it tenderly beneath his tongue, gently nibbling. Oh yes, she adored kissing. Their kisses grew bolder, back and forth, until his chest pressed firmly against hers. Her pounding heartbeat drowned out the owl's hoot outside. Arching against him, she dug her nails into his shoulders, overwhelmed by urgent, indescribable desire. She pressed into his rippling heat with greater intensity, seeking solace in his muscular frame.

Again, he delicately caught her lower lip between his teeth, rolling it tenderly beneath his tongue and gently nibbling on it.

Oh, yes.

She adored kissing him. Their kisses escalated until she was deaf to everything but her pounding heart. Arching into him, nails digging into his shoulders, she was overwhelmed with desire, seeking solace in his heat.

He relinquished his hold on her hair, breaking the kiss to embark on a tantalizing exploration of her face. His lips traced a path along her cheek, leaving a trail of teasing nips and touches that sent delightful shivers coursing through her body. With deliberate intent, he traveled upward, caressing her temple before retracing his path down to her eyelids.

Oh, what sensations!

His mouth against her sensitive skin was pure ecstasy. Venturing to her ear, his breath resonated as he nibbled her earlobe, flicking his tongue along the tender hollow beneath. A soft moan escaped her. Descending to her neck, his kisses made her tremble, breath hitching. She adored his skillful, desiring mouth. His presence enveloped her, intensifying the longing within, and she felt a curious pooling in her lap that startled her. Their hips pressed together, moving slowly, heightening the achingly sweet yearning in her veins. Lost in the moment, she faintly registered his trembling hands worrying the buttons of her gown, finally easing the fabric open. A gentle breeze brushed her bare breasts, sending delicious shivers down her spine - an unfamiliar yet delightful sensation.

A faint whisper of caution echoed in Pearl's mind, a remnant of scriptures urging caution against such intoxicating desire. Yet the allure was too powerful to resist. She surrendered to cascading waves of pleasure, losing herself in the intensity of their connection, exploring the passion dormant within her. The world fell away. All that mattered was the electric current drawing them closer in a dance of yearning and surrender. 

"Good Lord," he rasped, voice thick with desire. "I can’t even breathe, I want you so bad.” 

His scorching tongue blazed a path over her taut, yearning nipple. A jolting shock seized her, stealing her breath, causing her heart to falter. His mouth enveloped her with fervent intensity, sensations reverberating to her toes. Wide-eyed, she glanced down to see his flawless face nestled against her breast. Gradually he retreated, teasingly tugging her nipple, teeth capturing the pulsating bud before releasing, only to repeat the exquisite torment. 

Shock rippled through her, leaving her gasping in disbelief. Yet he drew her back into his mouth, swallowing her essence with unyielding passion. Panic gripped her and she screamed, pushing against him with all her might, cries echoing. What is happening? What unspeakable act is this? Oh mercy!

She felt betrayed. His audacious promises were deceitful lies! He personified sinful, impure yearning. This pleasure was too good to be true. 

As Pearl's piercing screams reverberated through the air, the sound struck Elvis like a lightning bolt, jolting him from his haze. Fear and concern etched his face as he sprang up, heart pounding. Reaching out with trembling hands, he gripped her shoulders urgently, as if to anchor them both. 

"Darlin', what's the matter? Did I hurt you?"

She screamed again, scrambling away and hastily closing her gown with trembling hands, desperately trying to conceal herself - a raw, vulnerable moment, reminding them both of past wounds. 

"Leave me be! Don't you lay a hand on me! You deceived me, you lied!" she cried, anguished.

In the corner, Get Lo, the loyal hound, rose with a mournful howl as footsteps and voices neared the cabin. Fists pounded the sturdy door, causing it to tremble. 

"Boss!" Red's voice echoed. "Hey, boss!" More commotion. "Stand back! I'll kick it down if I have to!"

"No!" Elvis shouted. "It's alright, Red! Don't break down the door!" 

"Show yourself then, damn it! How do I know someone ain't holdin' a gun on ya?"

"God damnit, I'll be right there!" Elvis shot an anxious look at his bride, now wedged into the corner between the headboard and wall. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. One second and I’ll be right back, alright?" 

But she appeared more inclined to a tooth extraction than entertaining that idea. Elvis muttered an oath and went to the door, lifting the bolt and cracking it open to let Red glimpse him in the flickering candlelight. "We're alright. Weren’t nothing, Red. Just a misunderstanding, is all." 

Red's eyes blazed with desert-sun intensity. "A misunderstanding? She nearly shook the soul out of me, Elvis!" His voice held the edge of a man ready to face a nest of rattlers. "A misunderstanding?" 

Elvis bowed his head, a shadow of remorse etching across his face. "I’m sorry, Red. This is my doing, not hers." 

Red shot a knowing look and without a word, Elvis eased the door closed, his hand lingering on the bolt before it fell into place with a gentle thud. He turned slowly, his gaze drawn to the bed. 

Pearl clung to a pillow, her eyes wide pools of darkness against her pale face. Fear and disbelief swirled within those inky depths. 

"You lied!" Her shrill cry pierced the heavy air. 

Brows furrowed, Elvis sank onto the mattress. "Sweetheart, I swear I didn't deceive you. Please, tell me what I did wrong."

She wrapped her arms around herself, clutching her shoulders with trembling hands. "You lied! You gave me your word!" Her voice broke on the accusation.

Elvis leaned forward, elbows on knees, straining to read her face in the dim firelight. Though just minutes ago passion had flowed between them, now she recoiled from his touch. Her chin jutted out defiantly. "Why did you lie?"

Steady but tinged with desperation, his voice cut through the tense silence. "What lie?" His eyes searched hers for any glimmer of understanding. He fought to remain calm amidst the storm raging within the room. "Sweetheart, please, tell me what you believe I lied about."

Her lips twisted in bitter disbelief. "Don't play dumb. You said you conducted yourself righteously, like the brethren." She spat out a harsh laugh. "None of them would ever behave as you did. You lied, plain and simple. And I was foolish enough to believe it." 

Elvis ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, frustration creeping into his voice. "I did not lie."

"You most certainly did!" she shrieked, the words piercing the air. "You claimed to be free of impious inclinations!"

Elvis replayed his actions in his mind, struggling to pinpoint his misstep. He could only surmise he had unintentionally caused her harm. "Did I hurt your breasts when I kissed them? I didn't mean to come on too strong." 

She let out a scream, shielding her face with her hands. "Do not speak such vulgar words! I am not married to you! Do you hear me? I am not!"

"Pearl, you’re not talkin’ sense. People don’t marry and unmarry over a misunderstanding. They engage in con-ver-sa-tion," he implored, sounding out the word slowly. “We need to talk this through.”

"Well, I did not enter into a marriage. I was deceived!" 

Elvis sighed, running his fingers through his hair again. "Deceived, married...we have to talk. Please, tell me what I've done."

She persisted in hiding her face behind trembling fingers, oblivious to her gaping gown and the exposed breast it revealed. The nipple he had showered with affection remained erect, illuminated by the flickering fire. It seemed to beckon for more—a request he would gladly oblige if only she were more receptive. 

"You know perfectly well why I'm upset," she accused, voice muffled.

"No, I truly do not," he confessed. Shifting to all fours, he moved closer, examining her tender nipple. Pink and raw, it stood erect, pulsating with her quickened heartbeat. He was too rough, he concluded with regret. 

Grasping her knees, he gently unfolded her legs before straddling her thighs. Palms planted on either side, he focused on her quivering hands. "Pearl, please lower your hands and look at me." 

"No!"

"I promise I won't do it again. Alright? I'm truly sorry. From now on, you hold the reins. Whatever pleases you is exactly how I'll do things, I swear. You just have to tell me what feels nice and what doesn't." 

"Well, that certainly wasn't nice!" 

"Then, you guide me on how you want it, and I'll follow your lead." 

Pearl jerked away, a sob catching in her throat. Swirling emotions tightened her chest. "How can I trust you're not lying?" 

Elvis sighed, the sound resonating deep within his broad chest. "Have I ever lied to you?"

The faint scent of leather and tobacco enveloped her as he leaned closer. She inhaled sharply. "Yes." 

He raked a hand through his dark locks. "Sweetheart, let me show you the truth." 

His warm breath grazed her ear, evoking memories of his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh. Goosebumps prickled her arms. "Was it nice at first?" His deep timbre reverberated through her.

"Yes." 

"Well then, we'll only do what feels nice. I promise." His voice was like rich honey, urging her to taste its sweetness. 

She peered at him through splayed fingers. "Do you swear it?"

His eyes smoldered like blue flames. "Honey, I don't just swear it. I'll prove it to you."

His head dipped lower, warm lips finding her breast. She jerked back with a shriek, her elbow catching his ear. 

Elvis recoiled, clutching his head. "Damn it, Pearl Marie! Now I know I didn't hurt you that time!" 

“Scoundrel!” Shame flooded her cheeks. She scrambled to escape, but her nightgown snagged beneath his knees. Strong hands grasped her shoulders. She balled her fists. "Don't touch me! If you do, I won't be responsible. I'll fight like you taught me and I’ll break your nose this time!" 

"Why are you fighting me?" Hurt and frustration etched his rugged features. 

She trembled, anger and confusion swirling within. "Why? You do a thing like that and you ask me why? You lied! You promised to do things proper, but you didn't!"

"A thing like what?" Elvis began to grasp the situation, though he struggled to believe he had it right. "Kissing your breast, you mean?" 

She covered her face again, trembling. "Stop saying things like that!" 

"Like what? Breast? Nipples? Titties? Yer cans?" he started to laugh. She made a keening sound. Get Lo joined in, throwing back his head and emitting a playful bark. 

"Shut up!" Elvis yelled, his frustration mounting. Get Lo continued to howl, but Pearl jumped in surprise and began holding her breath. "Not you, honey." Elvis shot a fierce glare at the howling hound. "Get Lo! I don't need you interfering none!" The hound fell silent and grumbled. 

Elvis figured he had his answer regarding the matter of the breast. He rubbed his face wearily and blinked. "Pearl, do you believe that kissing you there is ungodly?" 

She removed her hands from her face, gaping at him in astonishment. "Of course it is! You promised to do things the regular way, and you lied!"

Realization washed over him. So that’s what this was about. “Well, what is the regular way, Pearl Marie? I guess maybe I ain’t real clear on that.” 

The fire’s amber glow illuminated her face, but darkness still shrouded her eyes. She perched on the edge of the roughhewn log bed, hands folded primly in her lap. 

"You're just supposed to do your... thing!" she insisted, biting her lower lip. 

Elvis cocked his head, his brow furrowing. "My thing? What exactly is my thing?"

She shrank back against the headboard. "Just... you know. And nothing else!" Her words came out in a nervous rush.

Elvis sank back on his heels, disbelief etched on his face. "Is that what your mother told you? Honey, I think there's been a misunderstanding here."

"No, there hasn't!" She sat up straight, her voice sharp. "She spelled it out plain and clear!"

Elvis's mind raced, recalling the tales he'd heard about the strict sects with their restrictive ways. The kinds of places that squeezed the lifeblood out of a man. His gaze drifted to the plain black dresses and gray undergarments piled against the wall. A hollow feeling settled in his gut. 

"Pearl Marie, are you saying the men in your church never touch a woman? They just...do it and leave it at that?"

She turned her face away, her chin quivering. "Yes. And Ma said I should just lie there and meditate, ignore the... goings-on while it happened." 

A laugh burst from Elvis's lips before he could stop it. Hazel eyes flashed accusingly at him and he threw up his hands. "Honey, I ain't laughing at you. I swear it." He struggled to compose himself, leaning back against the sturdy log footboard. Maybe he should change the subject, but he couldn't help it. Laughter shook his body until he had to clutch his stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

"I ain't making fun, truly," he managed between fits. "Just had a funny thought is all."

He wiped his eyes, regaining a shred of control until he pictured himself in a black suit and hat, dutifully making sterile love. That image shattered his restraint. He laughed again until his sides ached, finally going limp against the footboard. 

"Well, damn," he muttered, wondering what had set him off in the first place. Wasn't funny at all. The woman he loved wanted to recite psalms while he moved inside her. Heaven forbid he disrupt her concentration. 

"Are you finished?" she asked crisply, buttoning her dress up to her throat once more. 

Elvis looked up at her. "Reckon I am."

"Then let me take this opportunity to inform you that I don't believe we are compatible. Our marriage would be a disaster unless you abandon your sinful desires."

He sat up and met her gaze directly. "That just ain’t gonna happen. Ain’t nothin’ sinful about a man makin’ his woman feel good.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, dropping her eyes. Longing pierced his chest, for he did love her. But he wouldn't surrender his principles to appease her church's notions of marital duties. There was nothing unholy about wanting to worship every inch of her. If she believed otherwise, well, she was just as confused as the rest of them. He knew she'd be happier once he showed her the truth.

"Remember when I said we're coming at this from different angles?" he began gently. "That it might take some time to find middle ground?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Well, I was righter’n I thought." He gave her a tender look. "But that don't mean we ain't meant for each other. Just means we gotta compromise, both of us."

"I won't compromise my beliefs." 

"Honey, I ain’t concerned with your beliefs. It's your body I got my sights set on," he said, throwing her an innocent look, although looking harmless wasn't one of his natural talents. "We can work this out."

"How? I won't permit the things you did earlier. I won't!"

“Well, tell me something you will allow, and we’ll take it from there.” He leaned forward, propping his arms on his knees. With effort, he kept his mind off the image of himself in a suit. "What do the church men do exactly?"

She looked down at him from the side of the bed. "My mother told me that on my wedding night and every night thereafter, I should lie still on my back. She told me that my husband would come to me at night and join me in the darkness under the quilts. He would lift my gown to my hips and fulfill his manly duty swiftly. And there wasn’t much more to it than that," she gulped, her voice trembling. "And if I wished, I think of something else like prayer or meditation until he finished."

Elvis suppressed a chuckle. One stray laugh and she'd never forgive him. Instead he stroked his chin, hiding his smile. 

"Well, now, you see? We already got half of it licked. At least now I know what I can and can’t do," he said. 

Wary hazel eyes searched his face. He realized he'd shaken her world more than he’d thought. It was no laughing matter.

"So you might be willing to compromise?" Hope tinged her voice.

"Well, now..." Elvis considered swiftly."Is kissing like we did before allowed?" 

"Yes," she answered.

He stroked his chin. "Let's see if I got this right. From your collarbone down to your hips, that area's off limits."

"Correct," she nodded.

"But from your hipbones down, that's free territory?" 

"Correct," she confirmed.

"And in the area that’s mine, is there any rules?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

She appeared bewildered. "Rules?"

"Your ma told you their rules. So what do the church men do when they fulfill their duty? Tell me plain so I'm clear."

She shook her head. "She didn't say. They just... do it." She waved her hand dismissively. 

Bingo.

"So, there ain’t no rules how I do my manly business."

"Not that I know of. That’s your business. A wife does not concern herself with such matters," she responded.

Elvis raised an eyebrow. "So, I can do my business as I please?"

She hesitated, sensing a trap but unable to grasp it. In her innocence, she couldn't fathom his motive. Guilt pricked Elvis, but experience had taught him that sometimes conscience was a man's worst enemy. 

"I suppose you can," she finally answered. "It’s your business, after all."

"And you ain’t gonna protest? ‘Cept if I hurt you which I’ll try my damnest not to do." he asked. "Do I have your word? You just gonna think about scripture and let me do my thing? Let me conduct my manly duties as I see fit?”

She blinked at him warily. "You swear you won't engage in vulgar acts above my hips?"

"Honey, not unless you ask," he assured her.

"Why would I ever ask such a thing?" Incredulity filled her voice.

"Just leaving it on the table is all. Do I have your word?"

"Yes, you have my word," she replied.

Elvis suppressed a grin. "One more thing. How much time do I get?" 

She gaped at him, eyes wide. "Well, I don't know. How long does it take?"

"Well, that's the thing. Sometimes longer than others. Can I have all the time I need?" he proposed.

"I... suppose so," she hesitated. 

Elvis raised his hands. "Well, there you go. A com-pro-mise, just like you said. You promise you’re okay with this?"

She eyed the rumpled quilts where she had lain just moments before. A crease formed between her brows. Reluctantly, she nodded, though her pursed lips revealed lingering doubts. 

"I promise," she replied, sounding skeptical. "On the condition that you swear to be content with the brethren's way of conducting ourselves, forever."

Elvis lifted his right hand. "I swear on my mama's grave, I won't lay a hand or lip on you from hips to collar—'less you ask me to."

“Shall I lie back down then?”

“I reckon.” 

With a resigned sigh, she slid back onto the feather mattress. Stiff as a plank, she squeezed her eyes shut and folded her hands over her chest, bracing herself. In a small voice she called out, "Elvis?"

“Yes, darlin’?”

"Don't forget the quilts." 

In response, Elvis reached behind, his fingers brushing against the rough woven quilts. Gripping the edges, he rose to his knees and gently peeled back the layers of fabric. 

"Covered up to your chin?" he asked, his voice a tender whisper. 

She nestled into the quilts' warmth, squeezing her eyes shut as if blocking out the world around her. "Please."

Elvis tugged the quilts up to her chin and slipped underneath beside her. "I can lay my arm over you, can't I? I've done it a million times already," he whispered, his warm breath caressing her cheek.

"Yes. That should be fine.”

With a feather-light touch, Elvis curved his hand around her waist, fingertips pressing into her soft flesh as he drew her closer. "Come here, sweetheart. You're still scared." Propping himself up on his elbow, he gazed down at her closed eyes, placing gentle kisses on each delicate eyelid. "I'm sorry for how I acted before, for shocking you. You know I would never do it on purpose."

She turned her cheek toward his lips, savoring their tender brush against her skin. "And... I'm sorry for hurting your ear. Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," he reassured, his voice low and soothing. 

Elvis started to tenderly brush her hair away from her face, tucking back silken strands behind her ear. "You’re so beautiful it breaks my heart. Have I ever told you that?"

She lifted her lashes, a smile gracing her lips. "Oh, Elvis." She embraced his neck tightly, inhaling his familiar scent. "I apologize for all the cruel things I said."

He held her close, pressing his face against her hair that smelled of waterlilies, feeling as though he possessed all the world's riches in his arms. "It ain’t nothing, I know you didn’t mean it." She pressed her body closer to his, molding her curves against his hard contours. He couldn't help but smile, a spark of desire igniting within.

Kissing. 

Pearl's lips melded with his, sparking an electric current that coursed through every nerve. The celestial stars themselves seemed to pale in comparison to the heavenly sensation surging within her. She yearned for more, quivering in anticipation of his touch. He claimed her mouth once again, exceeding her loftiest expectations. With torturous slowness, he traced her lips, exploring their delicate curves and coaxing soft sighs from her throat. As their bodies pressed together, his chest grazing hers sent delicious shivers dancing across her skin. She dismissed the friction as accidental, though an aching need stirred within her. 

Each kiss scattered her thoughts, shattering her inhibitions. Clinging to him fiercely, she sought to draw him closer still, desperate to merge their souls. Her nails dug crescents into his shoulders, stinging pain he appeared oblivious to. His lips blazed a trail down her neck, igniting an inferno beneath her skin. 

"Oh, Elvis..." she breathed, the words trailing off as emotion choked her voice. 

“What, darlin’? Am I wanderin’ too close to your collar?” 

Sensing the question hanging in the air, tears pricked her eyes. With a single word, she could end this exquisite torture. His taut muscles revealed his readiness to comply. Yet the thought of halting him brought inexplicable sorrow. Her fingertips glided over his shoulders, feeling the power coiled within him—power that belonged to her. 

She recalled his sudden embrace the night before, his body pressing down, dominating yet tender. He could have taken anything, but treated her like fragile glass. Always in control, yet somehow still hers to command.

Last night, when she'd elbowed him in the ear, he'd instinctively withdrawn, putting needed space between them. The irony was not lost on her; she had become a threat to him. But it was his tenderness that stirred her emotions, now bringing tears to her eyes. She was deeply moved by his unwavering care and protective nature. Oh, how she adored him, her heart overflowing with immeasurable love.

"Sweetheart, you're crying. Did I do something wrong?" His words were laced with concern, a genuine desire to understand and make amends. Pearl found herself unable to form a response, emotions rendering her speechless.

"Should I stop?" he asked gently, his voice conveying both worry and willingness to fulfill her wishes. 

“Oh, Elvis!” she finally managed.

His hand slid from her waist, slipping between her and the mattress, pulling her closer against his solid chest. "What's the matter, darlin'? Are you scared? I promise, I'll be gentle with you. Don't be afraid," he whispered in a soothing tone.

"I love you!" she exclaimed, clinging to him, seeking solace in his embrace. "I'm not afraid. It's just... oh, Elvis, I love you so much it hurts." 

He tensed, her words both balm and challenge to his heart. "I love you," she said again, conviction ringing in her voice. "I love you more than words can express."

A tremor rippled through his sturdy frame. His rough, calloused hand were splayed across her back, yet he treated her like the most precious treasure. Despite his strength, his touch remained gentle and caring. "Oh, darlin’," he whispered, voice quivering. "I love you too. With all that I am and all that I’ve got. But it shouldn't make you sad."

"I'm not sad! I'm happy!" she insisted.

He pressed tender kisses to her other cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. "Well, damn..." Frustration and bewilderment colored his tone, making her giggle uncontrollably. She felt his lips curve into a crooked grin against her skin as he continued trailing kisses along her ear. "Pearl Marie, will I ever understand you? Crying because you're happy. Darlin’, sometimes I swear you’re just plum crazy. You don’t make a lick of sense!"

She tilted her head, surrendering to his kiss, the word "lick" igniting a fervent desire for him to tease her sensitive spots with his tongue once more. As if sensing her need, he found a delectably vulnerable spot just below her ear, eliciting a soft gasp as she melted into his touch. 

"Yes, right there. Just like that. Oh, yes..." she whispered huskily. Her gown began to shift as he tugged it up, initially causing a spike of fear. But then his palm caressed her bare thigh, sending waves of pleasure washing over her.

Each touch felt like butterfly kisses, leaving her skin tingling with anticipation. Her heart pounded against her chest, and her breath turned shallow and unsteady. With feather-light fingertips, he traced a path to the very core of her being, teasing and tantalizing her with every stroke, only to trail away and trace maddeningly sweet patterns along her knees. It was as if her very essence had turned into a molten syrup, yearning to flow and merge with his touch. The quilts shifted, and suddenly she felt the moist, silken press of his lips against her thigh. Startled, she opened her eyes wide and stiffened with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. 

"Elvis, what are you..." Her words faded to a breathless moan as his tongue flickered, tracing delicate spirals that kindled liquid heat low in her belly. 

Through the quilts, his muffled voice vibrated against sensitive flesh. "Just relax, darlin'. I'm tending to business." 

"But, I don't know if..." She clamped her knees together, but his broad shoulders gently eased them apart. 

Pearl clutched the rough-hewn headboard, pulse racing. Was he really going to...? Oh Lord, the man aimed to kiss her there. Shock paralyzed her even as exquisite sensations spread like wildfire across her skin, urging her to surrender. 

"This ain't proper," she managed, but her resolve wavered under the intoxicating caress of his lips. 

He lazily circled her inner thigh, tongue painting glistening trails that seared like summer sun on bare skin. "Hush now, you're sweeter than cherry pie." His warm breath raised gooseflesh. "Let me take care of you."

"Darlin', reckon this here's how it's done?" 

"Elvis, are you sure 'bout this? I... I can't rightly tell."

"Start meditatin’, sweetheart. This here's my territory, not yours. Got it?" 

She closed her eyes, her voice quivering. "Mediating?" she repeated, sounding mighty puzzled. Drawing nearer, he raised his shoulders, leaning in closer to her. "No need to fret, darlin'. Remember what your ma told ya. Jus' lay still and don’t pay me no nevermind." 

He continued his tantalizing journey upwards. She twitched, tightening her grip on the headboard, her gaze fixed on the heavens. 

"I'll holler when I'm done, alright?" 

Done? Pearl felt an intense longing surge through her core. Close her eyes, that's what she was supposed to do. But... oh, dear heavens. "How long will it... will it take?" she managed to inquire. 

Rough palms grasped her backside. Pearl's eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping her parted lips. Merciful heavens, he meant to... 

"Just as..." he trailed his tongue along her inner thigh, sending shivers of pleasure with every teasing lick, "just as long as it needs to, darlin'." 

The first slow lap of his tongue drew a shuddering moan. Fingers clutching the sheets, she stared skyward. This couldn't be real. But the wet heat enveloping her dispelled all doubts. 

When he found that one exquisitely sensitive spot, her body jolted as if struck by lightning. "Elvis, I can't..."

"You can, darlin'," he purred before capturing her swollen flesh. 

"E-Elvis?" she stammered, her voice vibrating as if it traveled through her vocal cords on a wild bronco.

"Darlin', this part ain't your concern. Jus' lie still and let me handle my business, ya hear?" 

"Oh God, please..." She twisted handfuls of his hair, no longer caring what was proper. 

His low chuckle vibrated through her very core. "That's my girl. That's the rule," he drawled firmly. "This here's mine to do as I please, without your fussin', right?" 

"Y-yes." 

"Well then? You lie still and quit your worryin'." 

With that declaration, he resumed his gentle lapping, causing her to arch upward uncontrollably. Small, high-pitched sounds escaped her lips. She clung to the headboard, her body rising higher and higher. "Oh my... oh my... mercy, mercy!"

“There’s a girl. Give it to me, darlin’.” 

"Yes. Oh, yes," she breathed out, her hands digging into his scalp. "Oh, my God! Oh, dear heaven. Oh, pardon me! I'm meddling again." 

He chuckled again, the deep rumble shattering her thoughts as his mouth claimed her sensitive flesh. His tongue swirled and flicked, sparking a blaze that raced through her veins. Digging her heels into the mattress, she arched up, surrendering completely as her hips moved with his. Muscles twitching to his rhythm, the pressure built sharper and sharper within her. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, his mouth surged, fiercely pulling until she fractured with a cry, sensations bursting in a kaleidoscope of colors. 

She was precious to him. 

Throughout his life, Elvis had longed for a woman to love and make his bride, but only now did he truly grasp the meaning. She was his salvation, a woman woven from delicate lace and sunbeams, with eyes as vast as the summer fields. She was warmth and radiance, the tender blossoms of spring. A beautiful and perfect gift. It felt as if he were discovering love for the first time. And in a way, it was. For Elvis Presley was a tough man with an untouched heart. Until now. 

This girl held his heart in her hands, capable of making it sing with joy or bleed with sorrow. With a single arch of her spine and a lift of her slender hips, she could ignite him with bliss. He adored her. Her guileless urgency and unwavering trust nearly moved him to tears. No reservations. Just pure vulnerability. And as she shattered in climax, he tasted the rhythm of her heartbeats in the sweet throbbing of her flesh. Afterward, he tenderly caressed and kissed her, soothing her delicate sensitivity, easing the ache that lingered. 

When her breaths steadied, he hovered right over her. With her eyelids drooping low and a dreamy smile on her lips, she looked up at him. "Are you done?" 

Elvis leaned in for a kiss. "Nah, sweetheart. I'm just lettin' ya catch yer breath afore we go at it again." 

Her eyes widened. "Again?" 

He grinned and shifted to lie beside her, propping himself up on one arm to get a good look at her face. How beautiful she was, basking in the afterglow of the pleasures he brought to her for the first time! 

Beneath him, she gasped as his finger delved deep into her slick heat, back arching, breasts straining against her thin nightgown. He watched each expression dance across her features - surprise, wonder, rising urgency. Teasing and pulling back, he brought her to the edge again and again. When she arched, nipple grazing his chin, he flicked it lightly. 

She cried out, quivering, "Oh yes!" 

Another deep stroke had her whimpering, begging for more. 

Grinning, he met her gaze. "Want me to show 'em some lovin'?"

"Oh, Elvis. Do it again. Please." 

Elvis lowered his head, gripping her nightgown with his teeth, and pulled it up her slender frame, exposing her bosom. 

Elvis' fingers trembled as he grasped the thin fabric of her nightgown, the white cotton soft like a wisp of cloud between his teeth. With a gentle tug, he peeled back the garment, exposing her bare breasts to the fire's amber glow. Rosy peaks puckered in the chill night air, beckoning his touch.

"Ask me nice, darlin'," he murmured, breath warm against her chest. 

Frustration flared in her eyes. Snatching a fistful of his hair, she wrenched him downward. "Just do it already!"

That sure as shootin' had "please" beat to hell. And he reckoned he had every right to tease her mercilessly before giving her what she desired. 

Elvis swept his tongue slowly around one taut nipple, tracing its shape, feeling it swell beneath the caress of his mouth. A flick of his tongue made her gasp, then he returned to circling, building anticipation. When he finally closed his lips over the bud, its softness overwhelmed him. He suckled gently and was rewarded with the honeyed taste of her skin. 

To his surprise, her body began to writhe, hips undulating, fingers twisting the sheets. The telltale pulsing against his palm revealed she was cresting that peak of ultimate pleasure. Twenty-one years without a lover's intimate touch, and now she came undone in his arms. 

He savored each tremor that wracked her slender frame, the way she arched and cried out with abandon. Elvis brought her to that precipice two more times, worshiping her with his mouth until his own need could be denied no longer.

Rising above her, he gripped her legs behind the knees and nestled against slick, molten heat. Still lost in rapture's haze, she gazed up with heavy-lidded eyes, oblivious to the pain that awaited. The primal urge to plunge ahead warred with his vow to cherish her. 

"This'll hurt just once, darlin'," he whispered, hating himself. "I wish to God it weren't so." 

She blinked, her gaze fixed on his face, her eyes shimmering in the warm glow of the fire. "I understand. Just hold me close through it all," she implored softly. "With you beside me, it won't hurt as much. I won't feel afraid."

Tears blurred his vision. Elvis gathered her in his arms, surrounding her with his strength. She wrapped both arms about his neck, clinging tight. "I'm not scared anymore," she breathed against his cheek.

Though brave in word, her body tensed as he positioned himself at her entrance. In that moment, he would have given all he owned to spare her even the slightest twinge. The not knowing tormented him—how much agony she might suffer as he forged ahead. With infinite care, he nudged inside, felt her passage resist and then give way as she flinched in his embrace. The small cry that escaped her lips shredded his heart.

He buried his face in the silken veil of her hair, cursing the merciless act love demanded of him. To harm the one person who mattered most gutted his soul. 

But the cabin cocooned them in its embrace—the familiar smells of woodsmoke and pine, the fire's soothing crackle, the handcrafted furnishings whispering of shared memories. Their sanctuary through so many storms past would shelter them through this too. 

"Do it," she insisted, though her body still trembled with fear.

Panic jolted through him like lightning. "Jesus, I can't! I'm hurting you!" He started to withdraw, terrified of damaging her delicate frame. She was far smaller and tighter than any woman before. The risk of forcing himself deeper made his blood run cold. "You're too small, sweetheart," he choked out.

But before he could pull away, she lifted her hips, impaling herself upon him in one swift motion. 

Elvis' heart stopped mid-beat. He felt her tight channel give way as she took him fully inside. Fear for her clouded his mind. 

"Oh, God damn," he uttered, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. A soft, fragile laugh escaped her lips, and he felt the tension gradually dissipate from her body. With a tenderness that matched the love he held in his heart, she pressed her damp cheek against his neck. The touch of her wet skin against his sent shivers down his spine. In a hushed whisper, she reassured him, her words carrying a profound truth. "It’s all right now," she murmured. "It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought." 

Pearl gasped, her back arching off the rumpled sheets. Elvis hovered above, his elbows planted on either side of her shoulders, beads of sweat trailing down his furrowed brow. His hips rocked in a steady rhythm, eliciting soft mewls and whimpers from his wife. 

"Is this okay?" His voice was gruff, laced with restraint. Pearl's eyes fluttered open, pupils blown wide with desire. She nodded, breathless.

Elvis maintained his pace, relishing the slide of skin against skin. Pearl's nails raked down his back, leaving angry red trails in their wake. Her thighs tightened around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

"Oh!" she cried out, the sound sharp in the quiet cabin. "Don't stop, please..."

Elvis complied, quickening his thrusts as Pearl's moans grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked to meet his, the bed frame creaking in protest. The musky scent of their lovemaking permeated the air. 

Pearl's inner walls clenched around him as her climax crashed over her. The sensation tipped Elvis over the edge, his own release pulsing through him in waves. He collapsed on top of his wife, their hearts hammering against each other. 

As their breathing slowed, Elvis nuzzled Pearl's neck, inhaling her familiar floral scent. Her fingers lazily combed through his hair. He pressed a tender kiss to her collarbone, overcome with gratitude and awe. 

No longer was he a lonesome wanderer. Pearl had become his sanctuary, a beacon guiding him home. Elvis held his wife close as sleep overtook them. The distant howl of coyotes echoed outside their cabin, but they felt no fear in each others’ arms. Here, tangled together, they had found their own private heaven.

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[deepsix-writing]

i’m cold, dad.

the young boy with tattered shorts and a t-shirt two sizes too big held an ax with clumsy hands. as giant as he was for his age, he was still dwarfed by the shadow of his father looming behind him.

you’ll outgrow a jacket the minute we buy one. when i was your age, i was runnin’ around shirtless in the snow.

the boy said nothing. his father polished off the bottle in his hand and tossed it to the side of the stump in front of them both. a thick chunk of wood rested on top of it, waiting to be split into firewood.

do it again. the right way. don’t make me repeat myself.

the oregon winter tore through the boy’s t-shirt like paper as he hesitantly adjusted his grip on the ax. it was a heavy thing, and no amount of fidgeting made the worn, splintered wood any kinder to his hands. he reeled it back the same way he did for his little league baseball games, then-

no, damnit. remember what i said!

the boy’s father swatted the back of his head, and the boy quickly corrected himself. he let the blade rest on the edge of the stump instead, and his hands slid over to the back of the handle. backpedaling, he tried to lift the blade up into the air.

it didn’t get far. the blade wasn’t balanced the same as his plastic bats, and he couldn’t lift it high enough over his shoulders to swing at the chunk of wood on the stump. he kept trying to raise it, but the ax began to shake.

swing, damn it!

the boy tensed, and the blade swung down, but it didn’t catch the wood. instead, it wedged itself in the roots at the base of the stump. startled, the boy’s grip loosened, and he let go of the ax.

what are you doing, kid? pick it back up.

the boy stumbles forwards, but his feet are clumsy too. he is downward-bound, and scrapes his knee against the scraps of wood around the stump. his palms plant firmly into the ground on either side of himself, and he seethes. tears threaten to dot his eyes.

rub some dirt on it, thomas. get up.

thomas doesn’t move.

i don’t wanna do this anymore.

but his father’s shadow looms over him.

i don’t care. you’ll learn to use that damn thing if it kills you.

#creepedverse #creepedverse au #crv tommie #deep6 #creepypasta #creepypasta oc #creepypasta art

[chronic-escapixt]

His Rose ~ Part 2

(Kai Parker x Bennett OC fanfiction)

content warnings/tags ~ Dark fiction, (eventual) CNC, dubcon, non-con, yandere, murder, abuse, trauma, smut, innocence kink, mutual attraction, slow burn, manipulation, childhood trauma mentioned. Minors DNI

I don't claim ownership of The Vampire Diaries or its characters. All credits go to the rightful owner(s). I only own my original character(s).

Word count: 1.7k

K.P. Masterlist

Burning candles lined each side of the table where Rose and Kai sat across from each other with a map between them. He suggested they use Portland, Oregon as a starting point to locate the ascendant. He told her it was the hometown of the Gemini leader. He lifted the dagger and dragged the jagged edge across his palm to draw blood before dripping it on the map. In turn, Rose started the incantation: “Phasmatos Tribum, Nas Ex Veras, Sequitas Sanguinem…”

He watched, waiting for the location to reveal itself but nothing happened. Even the flames kept a consistent burn, failing to rise as they should in reaction to magical energy. She continued the chant, her voice wavering until he stopped her. “What are you thinking about right now?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know… I just don’t want to mess this up.” 

“That’s your problem. If you keep imagining yourself failing, then that’s what will manifest in your spells. Magic draws on your energy and emotions.” She nodded and took a deep breath to settle her nerves before beginning again. The crimson droplets twitched before they conjoined into one surging arrow as the candle fire erupted into a light roar. Rose peaked down at the map. “Keep going. You’re almost there.”

She continued until the blood gathered in one spot, the candle flames dying out in unison. “Oh my god, it worked…” she whispered as soon as her eyes opened.

“Don’t sound so shocked. You’re a Bennett witch. You know, my coven has a long history with Bennetts. Your magic is one of the most powerful of any coven, that’s why they seal prison worlds with your blood magic.” He searched her eyes, detecting insecurity, “you doubt yourself too much.”

Her face warmed, but she didn’t avert her eyes from his. “Thank you for the advice.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

Without wasting time, they got on the road to Oregon, with Kai taking the first turn behind the wheel. After only half an hour on the road the silence unnerved him, prompting him to strike up a conversation.

“You never told me how you ended up here.” He glanced at her.

“The truth is, my sister Bonnie was supposed to, not me. Her life was bound to the Other Side but it was falling apart and I couldn’t sit back and let her die... again.”

“So, you sacrificed yourself for her?”

“Yeah.. I guess I did. I was looking for any way to help, then this spell practically fell into my lap. It let me switch places with her and time was running out so… I just did it.”

Confusion contorted his face “But why?”

She turned sharply, “Because she’s my sister and she always puts everyone before herself, especially me. But more than that, she’s the smartest and most beautiful person I know. If anyone deserves life, it's her,” she frowned, “if I had more time, I would have told her that.”

He wanted to ask more questions because truthfully, the idea of loving someone, let alone a sibling that much was.. puzzling, but he saw how emotional it made her, so he went the reassuring route. "You can tell her everything you need to when we get you back home."

She nodded.

After a day and a half, it neared midnight when they arrived in Portland. Rose snored softly beside him having been asleep for the better part of an hour. Kai took over the last stretch of driving, glad that she was asleep so he wouldn’t have to pretend to follow the map. He didn’t need the locator spell in the first place. The ascendant was exactly where he left it. The spell was a test that showed him she had the ability to do magic. Her low confidence and inconsistency could be an obstacle but he hoped that wouldn't be an issue come the eclipse.

They pulled up to a large white house at the end of a gravel road surrounded by a modest expanse of field and woodland. He nudged her awake before they got out and approached the house.

“The ascendant is here?” she asked, staring back at the facade.

“The spell led us to this address,” he confirmed.

An odd feeling took hold of her. Maybe it was dread, but she couldn’t quite place it. Whatever it was left her feet stationary at the cobblestone just before the porch steps. “Rose… Roseee, are you.. coming?”

She nodded and followed him, pushing down the indiscernible feeling.

Little did she know, this place had unpleasant memories for many, especially those familiar with its bloody history. Having grew to befriend his demons, Kai found a twisted comfort with the place that nurtured them through a childhood of abuse and depravation.

They searched the house together, starting with the ground floor and moving deeper until they reached the study. Her eyes locked onto the brown trunk against the far wall. She removed the heavy grimoires stacked on top and fumbled with the lock.

“I have a feeling it’s in here but the trunk is locked,” she stated. Kai searched the desk, opening drawers until he found a small key. He crouched down beside her and put the key in the lock, turning until the subtle click sounded. She reached inside, pulling out a circular piece of metal with a small reflective crystal in the center. 

Before the night ended, Kai brought her down to the nearby caverns which he said would be an ideal location to access direct moonlight for the spell. Rose followed in silent awe, tracing her fingers along the granite walls that glistened in hues of blue. They stopped below the skylight which granted direct access to the moon above. “It’s beautiful,” she remarked breathlessly. He turned to her, immediately noticing the way her eyes sparkled, taking on a silvery color in place of their usual hazel hue. Her gaze met his just before he could look away and pretend he wasn’t staring.

“We should head back and get some rest. It’s been a long day,” he finished with a stretch and a yawn. 

Bubbles rose to the surface as he topped her glass with Pinot Grigio. Kai insisted she relax while he made dinner in exchange for the meal she made him the other night. She complied despite her desire to help, not only because she knew her way around a kitchen but also just to be close to him. His energy, his scent, the slightest physical contact gave her full body goosebumps.  

Sip after sip had her inhibitions waning until her eyes shamelessly traced his body, the contour of his back, the ever moving muscles that bulged along his arms as he worked with his hands. He was saying something, but it all faded into the background. His broad shoulders were strained by his tight t-shirt, sleeves clinging to his biceps. She silently thanked him for taking off that hoodie before cooking. He poured some wine into the hot pan before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a generous sip.

She watched with baited breath.

He swallowed then turned to her suddenly, “Do you like shellfish?”

“Yes!” She blurted out loud. If her face could get any hotter it would have, “I mean, yeah… shellfish is fine,” she murmured quietly. Kai turned back to the stove, stifling a chuckle.

They ate a shrimp pasta with a white wine reduction and finished off the bottle of Pinot. Perhaps it was the wine or the way he looked at her like she was the most interesting person alive but she felt open enough to tell him all about her life back in Mystic Falls.

Although he liked to talk, Kai was attentive to her stories, vampires, love-triangles, originals and travelers. He took particular interest when she mentioned a pair of twins, Liv and Luke Parker. “Bonnie met Liv in her occult studies class. She’s really powerful. She gave me a few lessons in channeling.”

Kai looked up from his wine glass, “what about the guy... Luke?”

Rose thought for a second, “Oh, I only met him once. He was nice and I heard he was even more powerful than Liv.”

As the meal wrapped up, he asked if she enjoyed it. “It was delicious. Where did you learn to cook like this?” 

He chuckled. “I’ve had to cook for myself for almost 20 years now, so I’ve picked up a few things along the way.” 

“How did you do it? Spending so many years alone without anyone to talk to must have been difficult,” she inquired.

Kai offered a strained smile, “Loneliness isn’t new to me. I've always been by myself for as long as I can remember.” 

“Why?” she asked. 

“My dad kept me away from my family. He said I was an abomination. In his defense, I’m not like other witches in my coven.. I can’t make my own magic. I can only siphon it from others. Ever since I was little, he forced me to stay away from everyone else or face whatever punishment he felt like doling out. Early on, I wanted to be around them, but I quickly realized it was safer to just stay to myself.”

“Kai, that’s horrible. He couldn't be more wrong about you.”

He raised his hand, “If I touched you right now, I could siphon your magic right out of your body. Doesn’t that scare you?” 

Rose stared back unwavering, “I’m not afraid of you.” She closed the distance between their hands brushing her fingers against his. “I trust you and I’d let you have some if you asked, I'm not that good with magic anyway.” 

For the first time, she did something he didn't expect. He could almost get lost in her soft touch and genuine eyes but couldn’t afford to. Reminding himself of his plan in which her purpose did not include making him vulnerable. His hand slid away and he rose from the table.

“I should get started on the dishes.” 

“I’ll help you,” she chirped after him. 

“No-no, I got it,” he insisted. 

She frowned, suddenly noticing his mood change. Whether she had crossed a boundary she wasn't supposed to or the topic of his childhood made him uncomfortable (or both), she didn't push it any further, hoping that by giving him space, he would feel more at ease and open up to her about his past but clearly, that wouldn't happen tonight. Rose stood up and said goodnight before heading upstairs.

#kai parker #bennett oc #bonnie bennett #tvdu #tvd fanfiction #vampire diaries #the vampire diaries smut #kai parker smut #kai parker fanfiction #kai parker x oc #kai parker x poc reader #tvd kai #dark!fic #dark kai parker #kai parker x y/n #kai parker x reader smut #tvd oc #tw dubcon #tw yandere

[fruitbasketball]

thoughts on the bracket?

Y’ALL KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS

okay so i might be him bc my final four is still the same i got:

UConn

UCLA

South Carolina

Texas

ALBANY 1 - i think obviously albany 1 is the hardest to get through. you’re looking at a bracket with south carolina, who is absolutely untouchable - but we know that from last march, that might not stay true.

that being said, i don’t see south carolina experiencing an upset before the final four. dawn run that shit like that navy bro - that is a team whose talent and discipline run deep.

that being said, notre dame has been tough this season, even without olivia miles. oregon state has recently been really holding their own, but my teams to watch are oklahoma and fairfield for upsets. i honestly do see indiana making an early exit from the tournament, but who knows!

ALBANY 2 - rebecca lobo might be onto smth here saying this is the hardest region. if you’re not iowa, ucla, or lsu, this region is a fucking nightmare. even if you are one of those teams, this region is a fucking nightmare.

the reason i have ucla in the final 4 is because both lsu and iowa have the huge potential to choke. ucla has also just been a very good fundamental team this year. they’re just a more polished team than lsu, and while i don’t think they’re more polished than iowa, i think they have the power to shut them down defensively in the way ohio state did their first matchup. they have very solid pieces in charisma osborne, kiki rice, and of course, lauren betts.

obviously, i’d still keep an eye on kansas state, but i would also look out for princeton with a great court presence in kaitlyn chen, as well as wvu, who had a really strong start to the season.

PORTLAND 3 - this vanderbilt columbia play in is going to be the most interesting thing to me in the beginning stages of the tournament. vandy isn’t a perennial powerhouse by any means, but they’re housing a slam? all american in justine pissott, but i haven’t heard from them at all this year. columbia’s got a serious threat in abbey hsu, so that should be a really nice matchup to watch.

y’all already know who i’m riding for out of here, but i’m serious when i say march madness p is a whole different beast. for those of y’all who just started watching, you’re not fuckin ready bro. you’re not ready. that’s why i have such confidence that they can beat socal.

y’all remember 2021 baylor right? yo that was a STACKED ASS TEAM. didi richards, dijonai carrington, nalyssa smith, queen egbo - and paige made the bubble her bitch. that sweet 16 rematch is definitely scary, but paige doesn’t like to make a habit of losing to the same team twice in a row (unless that team is south carolina). ohio state only beat us without paige. they’re not fuckin ready for this shit bro.

PORTLAND 4 - TEXAS FUCKING FIGHT BABY Y’ALLLLLLLLLLL TALK TO ME SO FUCKING NICE BRO. Y’ALL SEE THAT 1 SEED RIGHT?? Y’ALL SEE THAT SHIT TOO??? yeah stanny WIN YOUR CONFERENCE AND MAYBE YOU’D GET A 1 SEED TOO LMFAOOOOOOO

nah but real talk we just cannot stop making stanford our bitch

lemme brag on my school real quick: we had a team in the cfp, BACK TO BACK vball nattys, and both our teams in the ncaa tourn - and one of them is a 1 seed.

and because we’re just so good at making stanford our bitch? i’m not fuckin worried about a fuckin pine tree bro fuck outta here

that said, i’d keep my eyes on nc state and tennessee in this region, they’re bound to stir some shit up for sure

anyway, that’s it for now!!!! i’ll see y’all soon, and happy march 😈😈😈😈😈

#wbb #wcbb #ncaaw #ncaa march madness #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa tournament #bracket #march madness #welcome to the madness 😈 #uconn wbb #texas wbb #south carolina wbb #ucla wbb #ask

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

Eden

TW: kidnapping, captivity, creepy/intimate whumper, pet whumpee, referenced drugging, referenced stalking, emotional manipulation, referenced depression

As he roused from a deep sleep, Ezra found himself curled up on the sofa in his living room.

He racked his brain as his senses slowly reaserted themselves, but found no recollection of where he had been the previous night, or how he had gotten home.

The cloying smell of lavender perfume overwhelmed him. Ezra didn't wear perfume.

As more sensations flooded his body, he realized his head way laying on someone's lap.

Someone who was running their fingers through his hair.

None of his friends were this affectionate. They all knew him to be severely touch averse. They wouldn't try something like this.

Trying to sit up, he found his arms to be bound behind him with soft, but tight strips of fabric.

This finally spiraled Ezra into panic. He thrashed, struggling to get away from whoever was with him, putting his full strength into breaking his bindings.

Despite his best efforts, his sluggish body couldn't move enough to fall off the stranger's lap, let alone escape.

The stranger had no problem pushing Ezra down by the shoulders and holding him in place.

"No," they said in a deep voice, firm but gentle. "Stay still."

Ezra scanned the room. The clean beige carpet, new looking brown sofa, and sea scape paintings certainly weren't his.

"Where am I?"

Ezra's heart raced, fuelled with fear and andrenaline, pounding against his ribcage in a mockery of a ceremonial drum.

"I didn't give you permission to speak," his captor said.

Ezra stayed silent. The humiliation of being treated like a lap dog wasn't enough to render him stupid.

His captor could have a gun or some other sort of weapon. Fighting back simply wasn't worth the risk.

Ezra needed answers before he could decide what to do. There wasn't any point in getting himself killed.

Music played softly in the backround, the melody much too pleasant for such an occasion. A woman sang softly from the spinning record, but was not loudly enough for Ezra to make out her words.

Turning his head slightly, Ezra got a look at his captor. He looked to be in his thirties, fair skinned with mousy brown hair, wearing wire framed glasses and a small smile.

He tucked a lock of hair behind his captive's ear, before leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

Ezra flinched and tried to pull away.

"Tsk tsk," his captor said. "That is no way to treat your master. I'm just being friendly."

Ezra opened his mouth to retort, but swallowed his complaint before it could escape his lips.

"You're being such a good pet," his captor continued, petting Ezra's curly hair. "Now, if you had something you wanted to ask me, you may. So long as you're respectful about it."

"Where am I?"

"Call me sir."

"No way in-" he broke off, remembering his position. "Yes, sir."

He tried his best to sound vaguely ticked off, but still compliant. Judging by the look on his supposed master's face, he succeeded in only the second part.

"You may ask that again."

"Where am I, sir?"

"My home. You are still in the United States, but I took you over state lines."

None of this was helpful in the slightest, but Ezra figured it was the best he was going to get.

He lived near enough to the borders of Idaho, Oregon, and even Montana that he could have easily been taken to any of them.

"Why am I here, sir?"

"Because I thought you would make a good pet."

Ezra's stomach dropped.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It isn't anything horrid. I'm not going to hurt you, unless you harm me or attempt escape. You should be grateful, really. I'm a lot kinder than most of the masters you could have gotten stuck with."

The term human trafficking sprung to Ezra's mind. He had never thought to worry about such a thing happening to him. It always seemed so removed from his normal suburban life.

"Can you tell me what happened, sir?"

Sir. How he loathed that word. It was meant to refer to a person he respected, and his captor sure as hell didn't qualify.

But he needed information. And he needed a plan. Faked respect was his best bet, and he would use it to its fullest extent.

"Well, let me see..." His captor considered for a moment how best to explain. "I saw you at that shopping mall. Do you remember?"

Of course he remembered. Ezra hung out in that concrete, capitalistic place of congregation every week.

It had always seemed so...pleasant.

Graphic t-shirts, warm pretzels, loose change jangling in pockets, luke warm carbonated drinks, bad hair dye, and casual socialization.

Sure, it was only a way to cope with the dreaded outside world. Spend five bucks on a drink to pretend you aren't in credit card debt, buy a fun piece of clothing to make yourself feel better, avoid becoming an alcoholic by gorging on salty pretzels that only ever seemed to make you hungrier.

The mall was routine. It seemed safe.

What he didn't remember was being kidnapped.

"I don't remember you," he said. "I mean sir," he hastily added. "The last thing I remember was feeling ill from a bit of food poisoning in the food court and walking out to the parking lot."

"It wasn't food poisoning. I drugged you. It was so easy too. You kept leaving your drink unattended. I noticed that habit in you for weeks."

This remark set off a phantom cascade of crushed ice falling under Ezra's shirt collar and sliding down his back.

"You always seemed like such a sweet thing. Tipping cashiers and complimenting every other person. Such a sunny disposition too. I am very surprised that I was the first person to sink my teeth into you, so to speak."

Was that it then? He had seemed "sweet," so some stranger decided to drug and kidnap him? Had every good deed only brought him closer to this insane fate?

No. This was not going to be his fate. He was going to cooperate, and then, when his captor finally trusted him enough to let his gaurd down, he would make his escape.

There was no point in rushing, not if his captor wasn't going to hurt him. He just had to bide his time.

"And you're so pretty too," his captor continued. "I know a few men who would wear your face as a mask sooner than saying hello. No, no, you're much better off with me. I'll take care of that pretty face of yours."

He trailed his fingers down his captive's cheek.

"I've admired your smile from afar for much too long. Waiting for my golden opportunity was simply torturous."

Ezra wasn't smiling.

"I was so paranoid that someone else would find you. I considered taking you from your bed, of course. But I didn't want to leave any evidence. So many people go to the mall, a few of my stray hairs won't mean anything to an investigation. And I didn't take you until you were already in the parking lot. No security footage. I checked."

Hot tears pricked the corners of Ezra's eyes. Despite all his pragmatic reasoning, he still found himself overwhelmed by the enormity of his situation.

He didn't know where he was. There wasn't any evidence of kidnapping. He had ghosted his friends all too often, mostly out of depression. They wouldn't be concerned by him not responding to their messages.

In short, he was completely screwed over by a demented stalker and his own poor social skills.

"Oh, don't cry." His kidnapper pulled Ezra's head up, so that it was resting on his chest.

Despite Ezra's best efforts, hot tears continued to roll down his cheeks. He hated not being able to move his hands and wipe them away.

"Angel," his captor whispered. "I should have realized that this would be too much for you. Oh, I tried so very hard to be kind. To make waking up as easy for you as I could. These first few days are going to be rough. I know that. But you'll learn to be happy with me, just give it time."

Ezra sobbed and melted into his captor's warm embrace, allowing his lavender perfume to smother him.

Despite its obvious falseness, the comfort was pure bliss. He wanted to ignore his troubles for a few hours and cry himself asleep in his captor's arms.

His captor began undoing the knot holding Ezra's arms behind him, pull the strips of fabric off, and drop them on the living room floor.

To his relief, Ezra's sore muscles were finally allowed to move. He fought the urge to run, knowing that it would only cause him more suffering.

Instead, he hugged his captor, still an uncontrollable sobbing mess.

A familar, detached sense of pain overcame him. This all was a dream. It had to be.

But still he wept, unable to bring himself to do anything else.

His captor held him close.

"I love you," he whispered soothingly. "I want you to know that. You will be happy here. I'll keep you clothed, clean, and fed. You won't have to worry about anything. No twenty-four hour news cycle. No war, famine, and disease. No abuse and neglect. I will treat you with all the kindness, affection, and care you have always deserved. And I'm only sorry that I didn't give you the chance to come willingly. I was so afraid of scaring you off."

That sounded like hell and heaven all rolled into one. It reminded Ezra of the best promises weaved by fascism, while it went about ignoring its bloody history.

His captor didn't love him. He couldn't delude himself on that point. All his captor had was obsession and mental health problems. What he needed was serious help, not a human pet.

But it was tempting to stay like this forever. Warm and comfortable. Letting his captor keep his promises. Not having debt and the constant risk of homelessness. Living somewhere his toxic friendships and familial connections could never bother him again.

Ezra felt truly pathetic. Had his depression and anxiety really gotten bad enough that he was considering becoming a pet to his kidnapper? And for what, cuddling and empty promises?

He took control of his breathing and was, at long last, able to wipe the tears from his face with his long sleeve.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"Please what?" his captor asked, his voice drenched with sympathy.

"Please let me go...sir. I know that you mean well. But I can't stay here. I have to leave."

Another sob choked him, and sent him collapsing into his captor's open arms. The act betrayed a nonexistant lie.

"Oh, darling. I'm afraid not." He squeezed his new pet in another suffocating embrace. "I can't lose you. Not after everything I've been through to get this far. You're far too perfect to be damaged and discarded by the outside world. I'm not doing this out of cruelty. I'm doing this because I love you. Just give me time. That's all I want."

"Well, I want to go home."

Ezra's body didn't match his words, clinging desperately to his captor, seeking any semblance of comfort from this torment.

God, maybe he would make a good pet, needy and compliant. Sitting on his master's lap, cradled in his arms.

No. He wasn't going to give up. It would be absolute insanity. He had to stay strong internally, even if he showed his captor every sign of weakness.

"I'll give you everything you need," his captor promised. "Our own little Eden."

Ezra's mind felt like it was stuffed with barbed wire, every wicked point concealed by a cotton ball.

His friends would report him missing eventually, even if it took them a few months to realize he wasn't intentionally ghosting them.

Patience, he simply needed patience.

@elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @devourerofcheesecake

If you want to be added to or removed from the taglist, ask me.

#Whump #Whumpee #Whumper #Creative writing #Pet whump #Pet whumpee #Intimate whumper #Creepy whumper #Kidnapping whump #Captivity whump #Stalking whump #Modern whump #Pathetic whumpee #Compliant whumpee #Fearful whumpee #Manipulative whumper

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

CHICAGO, Illinois  — Pro-Palestinian, anti-Israel demonstrators blocked roadways in Illinois, California, New York and the Pacific Northwest on Monday, temporarily shutting down as part of a coordinated day of action against Israel’s war in Gaza.

In Chicago, protesters linked arms and blocked lanes of Interstate 190 leading into O’Hare International Airport around 7 a.m. in a demonstration they said was part of a global “economic blockade to free Palestine,” according to Rifqa Falaneh, one of the organizers.

Traffic in the San Francisco Bay Area was snarled for hours as demonstrators shut down all vehicle, pedestrian and bike traffic on the Golden Gate Bridge and chained themselves to 55-gallon drums filled with cement across Interstate 880 in Oakland.Kibbutz Nir

Similar protests were held across the United States and around the world, after the group A15 Action called for coordinating a “multi-city blockade… in solidarity with Palestine.”

“In each city, we will identify and blockade major choke points in the economy, focusing on points of production and circulation with the aim of causing the most economic impact,” the group said on its website.

Protesters marching into Brooklyn blocked Manhattan-bound traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge. In Eugene, Oregon, protesters blocked Interstate 5, shutting down traffic on the major highway for about 45 minutes. Protesters also blocked roads Monday in Philadelphia, and anti-Israel rallies were held in Los Angeles and other locations.

Demonstrators chant slogans at an outdoor shopping mall in downtown Los Angeles during a “Strike for Gaza” protest calling for the US to stop funding Israel and for a permanent ceasefire in the Israel-Hamas conflict, on April 15, 2024, in Los Angeles, California. (Robyn Beck / AFP)

Near Seattle, the Washington State Department of Transportation said a demonstration closed the main road to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Social media posts showed people holding a banner and waving Palestinian flags while standing on the highway, which reopened about three hours later.

Protests were also planned in Canada, Italy, South Korea, Colombia and Belgium, while the X account for A15 posted photos of demonstrations in Greece, Spain and Australia.

#protesters #o'hare airport #blocking traffic #closing roads #gaza #hamas

[fictionadventurer]

Hoover?

Herbert Hoover came from a very poor family in Iowa. After his parents died, he moved in with an uncle in Oregon, and worked at his land office. He didn't attend school after grade school, but when a Stanford recruiter came through, Hoover did so well on his tests (except English) that he was admitted to the college.

He met his wife Lou at Standford, where they both got geology degrees. Hoover got hired with a mining company, and he and Lou oversaw mining operations in Australia and Asia. They were both in China during the Boxer Rebellion. They worked together to translate an ancient Roman mining text for the first time, and they'd give bound copies of it to people as gifts. Lou spoke eight languages, and she and Herbert would speak Mandarin when they didn't want people to understand their conversations.

By the time Hoover was 40, he was a self-made millionaire, working with a company with offices on six continents and a headquarters in London, and while in London, he was looking for a way to engage with public life. Then WWI broke out. He and Lou worked together to set up a charity to help provide food and transportation for American stuck in Europe. Then the crisis in Belgium happened, and he worked with the Belgian government to start the Belgian Relief program. He eventually had 600 ships bringing food to the starving citizens of Belgium. He was called things like "the Great Humantarian" and "the Master of Emergencies".

This caught the attention of Woodrow Wilson, who brought him into his administration as a food administrator, encouraging Americans to reduce consumption of certain foods in light of the war effort. Hoover then became Secretary of Commerce under Warren Harding, and he massively grew that department. Calvin Coolidge put him in charge of disaster relief efforts in 1927 to respond to flooding in Mississippi, which increased his reputation of a guy who was great at responding to emergencies.

He was so popular that he was the obvious Republican candidate for president. Unfortunately, the guy who was a great humanitarian didn't have the personality or the experience to navigate the give-and-take of politics. He preferred just going in and getting the job done to having to work as part of the political machine. He alienated Congress before the Depression. After the Depression hit, he was doing a lot more behind the scenes to respond to things than the public realized at the time--and had more success than he was given credit for--but he was villainized for not wanting to start direct government programs to help people. That was something he had done a ton of as a private citizen, but he didn't think it was the role of the president to do things like that--he wanted to leave that kind of thing to private charities--which unfortunately gave him a reputation of being uncaring.

He was extremely active in his post-presidential life. After WWII, he was again put in charge of relief efforts to bring food to Europe. He ran the Hoover Commission that reorganized the executive branch of the government. He wrote tons of books and papers (and this from the guy who did so badly at English in college that he needed special permission to graduate). For a guy who had such a disastrous presidency, he actually had a pretty amazing and successful life, and I wish more people knew about it.

#answered asks #presidential talk

[spookysplatt]

Omg I've been on the way to Oregon all day and I never realized

I'm making it to Oregap. Broadway bound in Oregound even

#haha tto jokes

[vanhelsingapologist]

I am requesting goth country music recs!

You got it! Now, obviously goth is its own thing. Has its own sound. In my post, I meant more than there are gothic themes in country music, so you won’t find like, Sisters of Mercy wearing cowboy hats. Some of this is Southern Gothic, some of this is simply alt-country music with dark themes. You’ll also get bluegrass and Americana (which is sort of where rock and country meet). I tried to keep this mostly country since that’s what you asked, but I overlapped a lot and I tried to keep the sound diverse!

• Old Number Seven by The Devil Makes Three. The Devil Makes Three is a band based out of California but Bluegrass and Country make up a majority of their discography. They also have I Am The Man Thomas.

• Decoration Day by The Drive By Truckers. They’ve also got a great one called Where The Devil Don’t Stay. This is alt-country and rock. This particular one is sung by Jason Isbell, who’s my favorite country/americana artist. He’s from Muscle Shoals, Alabama and has a song that got pretty popular called If We Were Vampires.

• Hypothermic by Goodnight, Texas. I wasn’t sure if I should put this on because they verge on folk, but I’ll be real, there’s so much stylistic overlap that folk, Americana, and country are like triplet sisters by this point. A better example would be Jesse Got Trapped In The Coal Mine, and Tucumcari on account of their twang. They’re from North Carolina.

• E. Watson by the Decemberists. The Decemberists are from Portland, Oregon and are pretty well-known for their indie folk. That being said, E. Watson is a murder ballad and is sort of undeniably a country song.

• Barton Hollow by The Civil Wars. They’re a group out of Nashville, famously collaborated with Taylor Swift. Nice balance of male and female vocals.

• Appalachian Witch by Gallows Bound. Virginia band known for using punk influence to play bluegrass. It’s pretty sick.

• Highwomen by the Highwomen. They’re supergroup of country music singers, all of which have some kickass discography, but this one is darker. My personal favorite in the group is Amanda Shires, who has a great song called Hawk for the Dove. She and Jason Isbell also did a cover of the song I Follow Rivers and made it pretty country!

• Ain’t No Grave by anyone. I like the Johnny Cash version, but I also like Crooked Still. I think it works best with female vocals, I don’t know! It’s an OLD gospel-blues folk song.

• While we’re on the topic of old folk songs, House of the Rising Sun and all its covers. Gothic as bats. Wayfaring Stranger by Rhiannon Giddens is also fantastic.

• Graves by Whiskey Shivers. They call themselves a ‘trashgrass’ band and they’re based out of Texas. One of the best country bands out there in my opinion. Real dark material, sometimes, too.

• Magnolia Blues by Adia Victoria. Honestly, her entire discography fits that dark gothic country style. She’s one of the more talented artists I’ve heard in a while. You Was Born To Die is great too.

• Up The Devil’s Pay by the Old 97’s. This is an alt-country song by an alt-country band from Texas. They also have a song called Am I Too Late? which is a song about being in love with a corpse. I Don’t Wanna Die In This Town and I’m Good With God is a great contender for this list too.

• Bury Me In Georgia by Kane Brown. Some people miiight categorize this as bro country. I disagree, but it’s definitely more in line with what you’ll hear on the radio. Kane Brown is from Tennessee and he honestly kicks the hell out of any song he’s in.

• Alabama by Bishop Gunn. I think they’re from Natchez, Mississippi. More death, more problems, more religion, more rotting in the South.

I hope this is helpful! It’s mostly modern stuff, but if you want older, I have that too.

#asked and answered #music recs

[gremlinforpresident]

A hunting knife, flashlight, .38 special revolver, canvas rucksack filled with supplies, hatchet, brown flannel shirt, pair of worn-out hiking boots, pair of headphones, satchel, leather-bound journal, enough pens and a ticket to somewhere like oregon or colorado would fix me

#cryptidcore #cryptid academia #nature #goblincore #hiking #country #off on a hike sure hope i don’t get dragged off by an eldritch horror

[kaiwildcr]

・     𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔   . . .   𝐊𝐀𝐈  𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑.

❛ playing with fire in the twilight , wandering home . . . trouble - bound , 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 swept me off my feet . ( i was numb . ) nothing brings me back to life like walking out into the firing line . call it lust or losing sight , nothing brings me back to 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 . . . ❜

・   ⏤   quick  links   :   pinterest   +   playlist   .

・     𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂  𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

name   :   kyle  wilder  .   nicknames   :   kai  .   age   :   twenty - seven  .   gender  /  pronouns   :   cismale  &  he / him  .   hometown   :   lincoln city  ,  oregon  .   career   :  aspiring   pro  skater / extreme  sports  athlete  + freelance .   positive  traits   :   spontaneous  ,  charismatic  ,  curious  ,  free   spirited  &  independent  .   neutral  traits   :   realistic  ,  sarcastic  ,  stubborn  ,  curious  &  impulsive  .   negative  traits   :   destructive  ,  closed  off  ,  manipulative  ,  selfish  &  pessimistic .

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀   ,

𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙  𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑠   ;

hair  color   :   brown   (   will  dye  it  at  any  moment  if  he  gets  bored   )  .   eye  color  :   blue  .   height  :   six  foot  ,  two  inches  .   tattoos  :   currently  25  various  tattoos  .   piercings   :   2  ,  both  lobes   but usually only wears one .   faceclaim  :   drew  starkey  .

𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑐   ;

artists  streamed  :   nirvana  ,  rage  against  the  machine  ,  badflower  ,  soundgarden  ,  alice  in  chains  ,  pearl  jam  ,  led  zeppelin  ,  metallica  ,  audioslave  ,  beastie  boys  ,  boston  manor  ,  cleopatrick  ,  bad  omens  ,  joey  valence  &  brae  ,  bring  me  the  horizon  ,  dead  poet  society  ,  royal  blood  ,  the  pale  white  ,  radiohead  ,  nothing  but  thieves  ,  grandson  ,  system  of  a  down  ,  korn  ,  tool  ,  finger  eleven  ,  foo  fighters  . . .  and  many  many  more  .

・     𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓  𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒.

𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦  𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑐𝑘   …

kai  wilder  ,  more  known  as  an  agent  of  chaos  some  would  say  . . .  that  some  being  me  . . .  i'm  the  one  .  it's  very  hard  for  kai  to  feel  settled  ,  always  needing  some  sort  of  rush  or  adrenaline  .  that  mostly  leading  into  him  getting  himself  into  some  sort  of  trouble  along  the  way  .  he'll  never  admit  to  anything  actually  going  on  with  him  and  claim  he's  just  trying  to  have  a  little  fun  .  even  though  ,  there's  no  doubt  that  he  does  everything  he  does  because  of  the  chaos  that  swarms  inside  his  head  .  always  seeming  unserious  ,  kai  can  flip  around  in  his  moods  easily  .  one  second  he's  joking  around  and  the  next  he's  bored  and  flips  the  script  .  he's  very  unpredictable  in  a  lot  of  ways  . . .  then  again  ,  if  you  really  know  him  ,  you  probably  feel  his  unpredictable  chaotic  behavior  is  to  be  expected  .  underneath  it  all  ,  there's  just  a  very  lost  human  being  but  . . .  that's  a  secret  .  or  ,  he  thinks  so  .  he  could  be  very  high  energy  ,  mainly  because  he  needs  things  to  keep  moving  or  he'll  lose  his  mind  .  then  again  ,  i'm  pretty  sure  that  his  mind  is  already  lost  .  there's  a  lot  to  uncover  but  . . .  is  it  worth  it  ?  maybe  not  . . .  he's  not  a  bad  person  . . .  but  not  exactly  a  good  person  either  .  his  morals  a  little  lost  . 

!!!   𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑  𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐓   !!!   :   drugs  /  addiction     (    there's  a  tiny  mention  !  i  put  a  warning  before  it  starts  and  after  it's  over  !   )

kyle  wilder  or  as  he  likes  to  be  called  ,  kai  wilder  was  born  in  good  ole  lincoln city  ,  oregon  .  growing  up  in  his  small  family  of  four  .  then  again  ,  it  wasn't  much  of  a  family  to  begin  with  .  

kai's  mother  ,  kathy  wilder  felt  as  though  she  wasn't  living  the  life  she  was  meant  to  .  playing  pretend  and  trying  to  fit  in  with  every  other  country  club  wine  mom  .  not  understanding  why  she  couldn't  live  her  dreams  of  sitting  pool  side  gossiping  with  the  ladies  about  her  life  while  her  husband  played  golf  with  the  boys  .  alas  ,  things  didn't  come  that  easily  for  the  woman  .  her  idea  of  country  club  living  was  sitting  at  the  public  pool  with  a  box  of  wine  and  overpriced  sunglasses  .  trying  her  darnedest  to  ignore  the  screams  of  children  around  her  .

daddy  dearest  on  the  other  hand  was  too  distracted  with  his  own  issues  to  ever  really  involve  himself  .          (     TW   :   DRUGS  /  ADDICTION.     )         carter  wilder  wasn't  one  for  the  family  lifestyle  .  which  was  exactly  why  he  didn't  really  entertain  the  idea  .  it  didn't  matter  that  his  on  and  off  girlfriend  became  pregnant  twice  with  his  offspring  .  he  wasn't  interested  in  kids  or  marriage  .  the  only  thing  that  really  interested  him  was  getting  his  next  hit  .  whatever  hard  drug  he  could  get  his  hands  on  ,  that's  where  he  drifted  off  to  .  it  didn't  matter  where  it  took  him  ,  it  didn't  matter  if  he  was  off  the  radar  for  days  ,  months  or  years  . . .  that's  where  he'd  be  .         (      TW  CONCLUDED  !     )

that  left  kai's  brother  ,  christopher  wilder  .  only  older  slightly older  ,  the  two  got  along  relatively  well  for  how  dysfunctional  the  two  became  to  be later on  . but as kids . . . they were thick as thieves . they had to be , they were all each other had .  in  a  lot  of  ways  ,  chris  was  the  one  that  raised  the  both  of  them  .  but  as  life  goes  ,  things  change  and  kai  and  chris'  relationship  fell  apart  .  the  two  brother  not  really  having  anything  to  do  with  each  other  other than chris trying to pick up pieces of a broken family  .

as  for  kai  ,  he'd  never  really  felt  as  though  he  belonged  anywhere  .  never  feeling  as  if  anything  felt  quite  right  .  nowhere  ever  felt  like  home  to  the  male  causing  him  to  run  off  or  jump  from  place  to  place , even at a young age .   never  really  wanting  or  being  able  to  call  one  place  home  . even when chris would come running after him . telling him to come back , kai seemed to have a lot more of the not so great qualities of both their parents . although , if there was one person that could talk kai off the ledge , it was probably chris . . . sometimes .

the  only  thing  that  the  male  really  clicked  with  was  extreme  sports  . skateboarding , bmx , anything that got him flinging through the air or onto the ground .  there  was  something  about  the  adrenaline  and  the  constant  movement  that  kept  him  entertained  and  excited  .  although  ,  his  aspiring  career  hasn't  jet  off  just  yet in current years  ,  it  doesn't  stop  him  from  continuing  to  try  and  be  the  next  tony  hawk  or  big  bmx  guy  .

that  being  said  ,  he  needs  a  way  to  pay  for  the  random  places  he  finds  himself  .  working  any  jobs  he  could  get  his  hands  on  .  nevertheless  ,  most  of  the  poor  people  that  decide  to  hire  him  ,  regret  it  .  never  really  taking  anything  too  seriously  has  it's  downfalls  .

that being said , we're getting off topic . moving back to the day chris went missing . kai ran off , one of the many times . only this time it stuck . thinking he'd never find himself back in oregon . disconnecting from his family after they started their charities . putting up an act of this perfect little family that lost their beloved son . his father even marrying his mother for the looks of a decent father figure . kai didn't want anything to do with it . that and , he knew a lot more than he was letting on .

it wasn't until that dreadful message that kai found himself coming back . as much as kai want's to act like he doesn't care about any of it . . . he does . . . it is his brother after all . maybe he isn't the best person in the world , definitely not . . . but he is human . . .

there's  some  things  missing  ,  i'm  sure  !  but  for  now  ,  this  is  what  i  got  .  going  with  the  flow  as  i  figure  him  out  more  !  please  ,  have  this  trash  as  my  token  of  gratitude  .  and  i'm  sorry  you  had  to  endure  this  struggle  and  ramble  .

・     𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝  :   i  currently  don't  really  have  anything  other  than  just  vibing  and  seeing  what  will  happen  !  but  i'll  update  this  when  things  start  flowing  in  my  head  .  always  down  to  brainstorm and plot  ! i'm always down for the most chaotic things , no limits !

i  do  have  a  section  in  his  pinterest  that  could  be  potential  ideas  for  some  plots  !  if  that  interests  you  !

・ 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 : his brother chris wilder .

#・ ( 𝑘𝑎𝑖𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 ) ¸ introduction.

[bracketsoffear]

TMA The Musical:

Eye

Touch-Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon

Electric Eye by Judas Priest

Lonely

Waving Through A Window from Dear Evan Hansen

Invisible from MLP Equestria Girls: Forgotten Friendship

Vast

Infinitesimal by Mother Mother

Buried

Debt Collector by Jhariah

Dark

Hometown by Twenty One Pilots

Stranger

Mirror Man by Jack Stauber’s Micropop

Faceshopping by Sophie

Spiral

The Mind Electric by Miracle Musical

Slaughter

Culling of the Fold by The Decemberists

This is Why We Fight by The Decemberists

Courage Knows No Bounds by Heather Alexander

Hunt

The Mariner's Revenge Song by The Decemberists

Flesh

Body Terror Song by AJJ

End

The Ballad of Jane Doe from Ride the Cyclone

Leslie Anne Levine by The Decemberists

Dead Girls by Penelope Scott

For The Departed by Shayfer James

Extinction

Feed the Machine by Poor Man’s Poison

Countdown’s Begun by Ozzie Osborn

It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine) by R.E.M

Seed Song by The Mountain Goats

Desolation

Lucky Sevens by The Mechanisms

No Children by The Mountain Goats

Corruption

Dysentery World from The Trail to Oregon

Tongues and Teeth by The Crane Wives

I Love You Like An Alcoholic by The Taxpayers

Web

Candy Store from Heathers the Musical

New Invention by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Wires by The Neighbourhood

.

#asks