Closed hand or open fist
the joker x reader
TW : massive trigger warning for most things in this story. implied non-con. male masturbation. blood kink. extreme violence. trauma kink. stockholm syndrome development. glorified abuse. cutting/stabbing. branding in a sense. im sure there’s more im forgetting but please proceed with caution! minors dni, 18+ please.
part 1/?
word count : 2709
The breath caught in your throat, chest heaving with enough force to send you to the ground if you hadn’t been strapped painfully tight to the freezing metal chair. What was just a normal night shift at the hospital turned into everyone in Gotham's worst nightmare, as you clocked out and headed out to your car- you were chloroformed and stuffed into the trunk of a nearby Cadillac. Which brought you into the moment now, half aware and half filled with terror at the sight of the man in front of you. You knew of him, seeing as his men had hired you for a job and by hired, you meant that they threatened to kill your family if you didn’t follow through with his orders. That being said, you had never actually seen the man. As you took him in, your eyes lingered on the harsh protruding scars around his mouth. No amount of describing would ever be able to properly illuminate the aura of darkness that shrouded the man, from head to toe he exuded terror.
His voice carried through the desolate room, devoid of all signs of human life. You'd have thought this was hell if you didn’t know any better. The smell of standing water and moss filled your nostrils as the door swung closed behind him. Well, well, well.” He licked his lips, giving a rugged smile as he bent down to your height momentarily. “I thought... No, I know... I told you.” tsk, tsk, tsk. In the same fashion a parent would scold a child, his words were filled with something more than disappointment, regret if you didn’t know any better.
“Please, I messed up. I’m sorry.” You whispered, words hanging helplessly in the dim light of the nearby window. From the island, you could hear the noise from the city. Honking, sirens, things you'd probably never hear again. It had been your one job, to get your hands on the interface for WayneTech. The interface would’ve given his men the ability to find the signals The Batman was working off of and take him down, that was if they could even get their hands on it. That's why it was your job, from the outside you were just a nurse- but over the past couple of years, you had begun to secure a gig as a house call nurse for Bruce Wayne himself. That gave you the access, you just had to manage to pull it off. Obviously, you had failed.
The Joker was known for his thin patience, which only made sense now as you finished your sentence his fist made contact with your jaw, sending the chair and yourself teetering backward. He managed to snag it before it fell, jerking you upright at a nauseating speed. “Nuh-uh, nope. Not this time, doll.” He chuckled, cracking his knuckles as he stretched his fingers out. They were covered in bruises and dried blood, his movements opening recent cuts. He didn’t seem to care, his eyes focused on the blood that had begun to pour from your mouth. It was an unnatural red, like the red he painted his lips searching for the dopamine rush that followed fresh blood.
You felt dazed, in all honesty- you’d never been hit before and god, it was much worse than you could’ve imagined. Your head spun, the iron leaving a sickening feeling on your tongue as it fell from your lips to stain your scrubs. “Pl..-” You tried to form words but the ache in your jaw was too painful, sending shooting pain as you opened and closed your mouth. Was he going to kill you? Maybe. He was known for playing with his food and toying with his victims before finding the worst possible way to end their lives. You could only imagine the horror awaiting you as he paced back and forth, his eyes never leaving your mouth.
He bent down close to your face, hand grabbing a chunk of your hair and yanking back to make you look him in the eye. He inched closer and closer until you could feel his breath fan against your face. The proximity made your stomach churn, moving your eyes from his in an attempt to distance yourself. “You…” He muttered, barely audible as his tongue flattened out against your jawline, lapping up a stream of blood that trailed to the corner of your lips. A guttural sound left his lips as he pulled away, now tinted a darker red than normal. “You taste almost too good to kill.” He smirked, using the pad of his thumb to smudge the blood along your obviously broken jaw. It hung bruised and limp, trembling slightly due to your anxiety.
“Do you know what you’ve cost me?” The man prodded, moving to grip your chin roughly. That itself prompted a painful scream to fall from your lips, the striking ache in your jaw magnified by ten times. It was enough to make you begin to cry, the tears had been fought off for so long because of the shock of it all but as the pain sank in, that all changed. There were streams of hot tears running down your face as the man watched in pure delight. Your pain was a drug to him. Every scream, every whimper, every tear. It was orgasmic.
You gave him a feeble nod, spitting blood out of your mouth to avoid choking on it. “I’ll.. fix.. It.” You manage, shuttering as you feel the blood run down your neck. It was a disgusting feeling, even though it was your own blood. It was thick and hot, mixed with saliva to some degree. It just felt violating to be marinating in your own bodily fluids. “I… I swear.” You meant it, if he let you live, you’d do whatever it took to get the interface. Hell, you’d even sleep with Bruce if that's what had to happen.
The Joker licked his lips, smirking lightly as he jostled your face slightly before jerking his hand away. Soaking up the look that crossed your face as you bit back another scream. “Oh yeah? You mean that?” He took a step back from you, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you. A disheveled mess, but not nearly as black and blue as he liked his women. What a shame, he could surely fix that with no problem, right? Before you could even suck in a breath, his fist made a home in your eye socket with the force of god himself.
The pressure was enough to make you almost vomit, the chair shaking erratically on two legs as it fought to stay upright. Your vision went in and out, blurring due to what you could only assume were a couple of broken blood vessels in your eye. Ragged gasps left your mouth, your body trembling as the throbbing began. It took only a few seconds for your eye to swell up enough to make it impossible to open or close. Your hands pulled at the restraints, wanting badly to curl up in a ball and comfort yourself.
“Look at me.” He demanded, wiping away some sweat from his brow that in turn wiped away some of his face paint.
Barely able to lift your head, you looked at him. One eye was swollen shut and turning a sicky blue, your jaw hanging limply with a bruise the size of a peach blossoming, you were covered in a thick layer of sweat and blood that stained your work scrubs and tinted your skin. If he’d hit you anymore than he had, you’d probably look like a walking corpse. The thought almost made him giggle, that was, if he wasn’t thinking about the way your blood had tasted on his tongue. His thoughts had strayed from pure torture to his own form of torture porn. His brain was developing sick fantasies of ways he could utilize you. With a broken jaw, he thought of just how wide your mouth could open. Of the pain you’d feel as he throat fucked you as rough as he could, getting off at the sound of your cries as his cock hit the joint that had cracked under his pressure.
The man pushed your shirt up, until it rested on your chest- uncovering your stomach only. The exposure made you shiver slightly, goosebumps rising on your skin as you watched his movements. From his pocket, he pulled something silver that glinted in the light the window provided. “Have you ever wondered how farmers figure out which cattle are theirs when they share communal fields with other farmers?” He asked, the question seeming completely random at such a time.
“No?”
“Well, they use something to mark their cattle. Some farmers like brands, others use tags. Understand? It’s not about making the cattle comfortable, but making them noticeable. You have to know it as soon as you see them or else it's a failure.” The man was so close you could feel the way his hands shook, and telling from his expression it wasn’t out of fear or pain, but out of excitement. Pure adrenaline coated joy was the source of his tremors, which didn’t make sense until you felt something sharp and cold press into your ribcage.
The tip of a knife.
From his pocket, he had drawn a switchblade which he now held to your warm skin- a nagging temptation to just end it now. The ache in his hands begged him to plunge the knife in, to watch the horror on your face as life drained from your body. The idea made his body tense up, blood flooding his cock as it grew in his dusty slacks. The images flashed through his head, fucking into you as you slowly bled to death. Your last living memory of being used by The Joker himself felt like the ultimate sin, it was something he could barely get his mind off of as he pushed the tip of the knife into your skin.
A feral groan left his mouth as blood began to pour from the open wound. It was so fresh, the warm liquid coating his fingers as he tore through the flesh. Every movement made you cry out, adding to his mental store of mastubation material. Your body shook under his touch, cringing away from the pain as he kept going. He was taking his time, going slowly to draw out the raw ecstasy he felt listening to your pathetic whimpering. “You are my cattle now, doll. Understand?” He grunted, chest heaving as he pulled the knife away. On your ribcage sat a capital ‘J’ as a claiming brand, you now belonged to The Joker. One of his many pets, someone he was going to manipulate for the rest of your days on this earth. God help you.
“Y-yes.” You sputtered, taking shallow breaths as the blood loss began to set in. Black spots clouded your vision as you swayed in and out of consciousness. On the floor around you was a large puddle of your blood, more than the amount that was healthy to lose in one sitting- you knew that for sure. Even if you weren’t a nurse, that was still way too much. If you could look in a mirror, you were more than sure that you looked like death itself. A walking reminder of who ran this city.
A sinister smile took to his lips as he nodded gently, “That’s a good girl.” He praised the faux care in his voice causing a knot to form in your stomach. You hated him but you were made to worship him. From the moment you’d begun to work for him, all other things dissolved away. Your life revolved around him now. “Oh boys!~” He sang out, his voice echoing through the empty halls of the old Arkham Asylum.
Was it over?
Two large men in masks came through the door, guns strapped to their hips. They said nothing as they moved across the room, avoiding eye contact with their boss as they unstrapped your arms from the chair. They were the same men from earlier tonight, the two that had haphazardly tossed you into the trunk of a car to bring you to this hellhole. They brought you to your feet, hoisting you up as they drug you out of the room. The ache had begun to settle in your bones, exhaustion coated terror clouding your mind as your slipped from consciousness- left to the mercy of two masked goons.
The Joker watched them take you away, jaw clenching as he saw the way you slumped into their arms. As the door closed, he released a shaky breath. He was alone now, the building had only occupied him and his two men he’d requested to work tonight as his sole goons. Usually, he’d have his entire group here, but he was beyond happy for the solitary confinement of it all. It gave him time to think, it was disgusting- he knew that. That’s why he liked it so much, he was much more of a sicko than most of Gotham knew. He knew one thing for sure, he couldn’t stop fantasizing about the way your blood would coat his cock like a makeshift lubricant. How he could fuck your throat no problem with how much blood had collected in your cheeks, how he didn’t even have to get you wet to take his cock. All he had to do was rub your blood down the shaft and force it in. You’d loosen up eventually for him. You’d grow accustomed to his size and the pain would subside, though he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. He was dying to hear the cries for help that would leave your lips as he bent you over the window seal- pushing you dangerously close to the edge as he took advantage of you. So far from the city that no one could hear you, but so close you could hear the distant sounds of life.
He stepped toward the chair you had been taken from, sitting down in the puddle of your blood that had begun to dry on the metal surface. It seeped into the material of his pants, the now cooled liquid dripping down his thighs as it searched for its home on the floor. His hand trailed down to his crotch, his slacks painfully tight. The man pulled his belt off, discarding it absentmindedly as he made haste to pull his cock free from its restraints. The cool air made him tense up, goosebumps arising on his exposed skin. A deep groan left his mouth as he spread the precum that accumulated on the tip, the sensation sending a jolt through his body. His hand dropped down onto the floor, fingers dipping into the puddle of blood before reconnecting with his stiff cock. The dark red liquid dripped down the shaft, the sight itself enough to make him come unraveled.
His free hand searched his front pocket, pulling out his phone. He turned the camera around on himself, hitting record as he began to pleasure himself. Hand pumping up and down on his cock, elicitng the most erotic noises he’d ever made. The blood was so slick, he could almost imagine how fresh blood would feel. His stomach contracted, head falling back as he recalled those noises he drew out of you earlier. Every whimper you’d let out from his touch, the way your screams sent a thrill throughout his body. He wanted that again, he wanted you back. If he didn’t stop himself, he probably would male his men bring you right back. The idea of locking you up here with him, no escape and no way to say no. A moan slipped through his lips, abs tensing as strings of hot cum shot from his cock. He kept stroking himself, milking every ounce of cum he could. The phone trembled in his hands slightly as he stopped the video, letting himself slump back against the chair. He looked no better than you did, coated in cum and blood as he thought about his next moves.
“Fuck.”
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you saved me
pairings: austin!elvis x reader
summary: elvis comforts his baby while suffering the guilt of almost allowing the worst thing to happen to a girl.
warnings: heavy topics including the aftermath of sexual assault and rape, mentions of elvis’ bloody hands (due to beating the reader’s abuser half to death) angst, comfort)
rating: M (for allusions of sexual abuse)
word count: 704
note: this is not a light read. as the reader, you may experience things you really don’t want to with this scenario. please read with caution and a sound mind. this is a warning for people who are sensitive to the topic of sexual assault or rape. i want the reader to know that rape or domestic violence is absolutely disgusting. although i did not write specifically about domestic violence, i want the audience to read this and see the ugliness that can come with such related topics.
elvis ran towards you faster than lightning. he dropped to his knees on the hard cement and held you. “no no no doll look at me.. baby, baby, oh my god i’m so sorry i couldn’t-” tears began to form in his eyes. he quickly removed his coat and wrapped it around you like a blanket to keep you from freezing. you were so relieved to see him that you basically fainted into his arms. elvis started to sob against your cheek. “i’m so, so sorry baby doll.”
your body was bruised and positioned in an uncomfortable angle, so with extreme care, elvis gently moved your body so that he could pick you up bridal style. his tears never stopped falling as he cradled you in his arms towards his cadillac. your eyes fluttered open and closed with exhaustion.
elvis placed you softly in the backseat. he stared at you, contemplating what he ought to do. to stay with you in the back and hold you? that’s what he wanted to do the most. but his logic demanded he do otherwise. he knew he should take you to the hospital. with so many scrapes, scratches and bruises, he knew that it would be better to take you to the hospital to be treated. but elvis wanted to make them go away himself; he wanted to lament. he wanted to stay on his knees and beg you to forgive him, and be denied. but now was not the time. he thought you were knocked out, so he wiped his soaked cheeks and got out to get to the driver’s seat to take you to the hospital, but you grabbed onto your boyfriend’s lace shirt weakly before he could close to door. “please don’t leave me,” you muttered.
“doll!” elvis immediately picked you up again and sat in the back, cradling you against his chest. he rested his face against your head, his arms and hands wrapped around you protectively, tightly, but gently. he felt a pang of extreme guilt that he couldn’t rescue you, but he was relieved that you were not in worse condition. still, he would never be able to forgive himself for not being there for you when you needed him to protect you the most.
“i’m..so..” he whimpered, “sorry i couldn’t protect you, baby.”
“don’t cry…” you whispered as you weakly attempted to wipe the tears off his face. this only made him sob harder. this wasn’t like elvis. he never cried like this. he’s never felt so defeated in his entire life. but he’s here, and he’s sobbing now because you’ve been wounded so badly. “you did save me…you saved me from…the worst thing that could ever happen to a girl.”
“but he still touched you, doll. i can’t - i can’t believe that bastard - i can’t believe i - god damn it..” he sniffled and couldn’t finish his sentence. it pained you more to see elvis suffering this much more than the pain that horrific events gave to you. he picked up his phone with shaking bloodied hands and dialed a number. “jerry. i need ya to come get me. come right now. y/n…she’s…ugh…her friends said she was at this party but she suddenly disappeared, so i came and she’s hurt, someone hurt my little girl. i need ya to come drive. hurry.” after elvis hung up, he buried his face against you, rounding his whole body around you protectively.
“you saved me, elvis,” you whispered into his ear. “i love you. thank you for saving me.”
“i love you more than anything in this world.” he looked into your eyes with a thousand years worth of apologies before leaving a kiss on your forehead. he carefully stroked your hair away from your face as he continued staring into your eyes. “i’ll protect you with my life. i’ll give you my life if it’ll keep you breathing. i’ll never let you get hurt like this again baby,” he whispered against your forehead. elvis held you until you fell asleep in his arms. time passed, and you later heard familiar young male voices, and you remembered the feeling of soft warmth and comfort protecting your body the whole night through.
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Elias laughs and the sound of it isn't unkind. Jon isn't sure why he expects it to be. It's somewhat pleasant, actually, to see his shoulders shake undone, forehead pressed to the roof of the car.
"Did I say something wrong?"
Elias waves him off and straightens up with a smile that gets his face all crinkled up. It's a lot of fine lines, a lot more under the unforgiving streetlights than what Jon is used to. It makes him seem more articulated, somehow. Less of a, what is it that Sasha keeps calling him, Walt Disney's frozen head?
"Not at all. You are one peculiar man, Jonathan."
Jon, he wants to correct, but doesn't know if it's appropriate — they're not really on the first name basis, are they. Elias is, sure. Was, from the very start, but the "Elias" in question never actually slips past Jon's head. So, instead, he finds the logo on the bumper very noteworthy.
"Cadillac," Elias suggests and now Jon scoffs himself.
"Are you showing off?"
Elias bops his head in a touché kind of way and scratches at his brow with a thumb carefully stuck away from the burning cigarette. "You looked like you were about to ask."
"It's just my face."
"Oh, I know."
Jon buries his freezing fingers into the coat's pockets and joins him, pressing a hip to the cold metal. Elias offers his portsigar in that sickeningly polite manner of his and Jon grabs a smoke for himself without thinking it through, mainly because he feels awkward standing empty handed. Something about them and the deserted Tesco parking lot does feel extremely inappropriate, now that he thinks about it with a cold cleared head.
Elias squints at his scrambling. "Are you uncomfortable?"
As he pockets for his lighter, Jon actually contemplates his answer. Elias doesn't rush, but does, however, mirror his stance so they end up face-to-face.
"No, I suppose," Jon clicks the wheel and takes a drag. "Are you uncomfortable?"
Cranks his head a bit and tries to roll something on his tongue along with the smoke. "Do I make you uncomfortable, Elias?"
He looks at him then, really looks at him, so prolonged and heated Jon feels like he might break sweat. But then the gaze slips somewhere above his shoulder and Elias smiles to himself as if remembering a joke.
"Somewhat, yes."
"Unfortunate."
"Not at all."
When Elias reaches out to him after a moment of silence, Jon isn't really surprised. He's not good at this but god knows he isn't entirely lost in clues, not when it comes to someone as blunt as Elias. It leaves him soured, really, the momentary rush of anxiety and disappointment. He takes a deep breath, preparing to say his best collected good-byes.
Elias runs his fingers gently along his clenched fist, so much so that Jon trails off with a stupidly hanging mouth. The nails, somewhat long and polished, scrape his dry skin up the sleeve and slip to the underside, following the veins with just their pointy tips. Jon makes a noise he's terrified to hear as his hand opens involuntarily. Elias holds it like he has held Jon's hand a million times before, like he watched it weather through the years just alongside his own, like he pressed kisses and whispered prayers into his palms. He holds it like he knows it, turning it over towards the dimm light above them.
Jon stares at his own clipper laying now cradled. Elias points a finger, connects the moles on his wrist and draws a thoughtful line to the cheap plastic, eventually tracing the pixelated design. The eye stares back at them.
"Let me drive you home, Jon."
Jon can't breathe for some reason.
"Wha..."
"You seem tired."
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my silly little kai headcanons
because the urge to make this finally overwhelmed me o7 let's see how many I can actually come up with
starting with my favorite: Kai's body temperature is higher than the average human. he runs at least above 102 at all times, as if he has hyperpyrexia/hyperthermia constantly
since he has a high body temperature, the average body temp is cold to him, so when he loses his powers in s11 he feels like he's freezing all the time. he gets very clingy when he's cold
he started smoking when Nya turned into the sea. he still does it on and off during the rest of the show, especially when he feels like he doesn't have control. he plays it off to the others by saying it won't affect him since his element is fire, but it's really the dependency on it that ruins him, not the damage to his lungs
he gets sun freckles in the summer, especially on his face, but they can completely disappear once winter comes around
he's not that great of a singer in the first place, but Kai strikes me as the kind of guy who would belt out songs purposefully off-key (secretly he tries hard to sing to Lloyd to sleep when the kid has nightmares)
he has extremely sensitive hearing so the buzzing that comes from some of the tech the ninja use drives him crazy. Jay also gives off the buzzing noise which is part of the reason Kai takes any chance he can get to deck him
he has some ratty stuffed animal, maybe a dog or a sheep, that he kept from when he and Nya lived alone. it's sort of falling apart but he tries so hard to wash it and keep it in good condition that he cries when its leg falls off. Zane has to help him sew it back together and Kai makes him swear not to tell anyone
he's more lean than beefy and it makes him self conscious because he doesn't think he adds anything to the team except physical strength but his body type doesn't show that. basically he wants to be a tank but he's more of a cadillac or something if that makes sense
he is an S tier hoarder !!!! this is so important to me !!!! he cannot throw anything away because he's scared he will need it later or someone will be angry that he threw a present away, etc etc. he has boxes and boxes of things hidden in his closet and under his bed so that people can't really tell he's that bad of a hoarder
he nicknames everything he can see, and usually uses silly or teasing ones, but for special occasions every single one of the ninja has a very sweet, endearing nickname. Lloyd's is sunshine
okay that's all for now, peace out ppl :P
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Death wish (Part 1)
Summary:you were a troubled, depressed 15 year old girl. You had met a certain man that lit a spark in you.
Elvis x female reader.
Warnings: reader is depressed, su1cide, drugs, alcohol, abusive parents, reader is a minor that is doing illegal things, body dismorphia, insecurities, mention of failed su1cide attempts. Lmk if I missed anything.
Note: extremely dark, this is aimed for a mature audience. Like this whole series is probably gonna be dark, I'm not sure yet.
I was born in 1956 into a foster home. My name was Adriana Johnson. I had a bad childhood, and my foster parents didn't care for me one bit. They only took me in so they could claim the child benefits. They were mean and cruel and sometimes even violent. My mother would scream at me over the smallest things, and so would my father. One time, I had forgotten to do the dishes. My mother walked right up to me before slapping me across the face, I had a red handprint indented into my cheek. But having unloving foster parents came with pros and cons. I could do anything I wanted, I could stay out until whatever time, I spent many nights at my freinds house or somewhere in an alleyway, my parents didn't give a shit about me, not that I liked them anyway. I started becoming a troubled child from the age of 11. I had shit friend who urged me to do things I deeply regret till this day. I was manipulated into drinking, smoking, and even stealing with them. They were the reason I had started turning into a bitch. I was sassy, moody, and I was a rebel. From 14 I already had a smoking addiction, I smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. I was drinking at parties, doing all sorts of drugs just to escape my homelife. I was apart of a troubled group of teens. We broke atleats 15 laws in one night, we even robbed a car once. It was a light blue cadillac, it had cream lever seats and shiny silver wheels. I knew how to commit every crime without getting caught. You want drugs? Come to me. You want liquor? Come to me. You want cigarettes? I was the right person to come to. All of the other parents would keep there young ones away from me since I was a terrible influence. I spent my nights grinding on men in clubs just for a free drink and a pack of cigarettes. I was basically selling my body to grown men. Every man and boy wanted me, I was sexy, I had long blonde hair, I had an hourglass body, I was perfect. My freckles came out when the sunlight hit my face, my blue eyes shimmered. I was the dream girl for everyone. I was only 15 and I had already made a shit reputation for myself. I didn't work since I could just steal the money from other kids, I never worked for anything, I either used my body or I would shoplift. I would approach men, get real close to em, bat my eyelashes a few times before swaying my hips and asking them to buy me things. I manipulated grown men just by using my looks. I have to admit I was a gorgeous girl.
I was at the local club one night with my friends. I was heavily drunk. We were in the corner smoking and drinking, laughing loudly and dancing. I got up as I notified my friends where I was going.
"Guys, I'm gonna go have a smoke outside, save my seat." they nodded as I walked off, swaying side to side as I struggled to maintain balance, one of my girlfriend's slapped my ass playfully as I walked past. I strutted past all of the older men who cat-called and whistled. I looked at them all in the eyes, giving them a wink as I walked out of the door. I stepped outside onto the dark wet road. It was freezing. I was wearing a tight mini dress that was gold, a short furr jacket and some black tall heels. I leaned against the brick wall as I pulled out a piece of paper and a small bag of weed from the pocket in my jacket. I placed the piece of paper flat out on my hand before placing some of the weed onto it. I carefully rolled it up into a cigarette like shape. I put the piece of paper to my red lips as I grabbed a lighter from my jacket. I flicked the lighter until I saw the orange flame, I brought it up to the end of the paper as it made contact. I inhaled deeply before breathing clouds of smoke out. This was my escape. Drugs, alcohol and cigarettes made me feel alive. I forgot about all of my troubles. I was in another world. Even though I was cocky and arrogant, I wasn't very fond of the concept of life. My life was shit. I was a troubled teen with parents that hit me. I never really liked my body, my voice, my personality or anything about myself. I hated myself. Others saw a beutifull girl when they looked at me, I saw a suicidal bitch who was on the edge of reality. I would stand infont of the mirror thinking I was to fat, thinking I was to thin, thinking I was not worth anything. I was a girl with lots of thoughts, bad thoughts. I was suicidal. No one ever knew this because I was always trying to make people laugh and smile. It was my biggest wish to just be dead, i had never got the courage to leave this terrible life i was in, but i got pretty close to it a few times. I would sit in my room, hand full of pills that were ready to be digested whilst i would rethink my whole life.
I stood there smoking weed outside of a random club at the ripe age of 15. I was disgusted with myself, but it was too late to turn back now.
I inhaled into the splif as I felt a large hand on my shoulder. I turned to see who it was. It was a grown man that looked in his late twenties. He was handsome, had dark hair, blue eyes and he was tall. He was a dream. But I didn't know this man.
"What?" I said in a tone as I furrowed my brows. The man smiled before replying.
"I don't think a girl your age should be smokin on that"
"Oh fuck off" I scoffed.
"Don't talk to me like that lil girl." He raised his voice as he pointed his long finger in my face. I was a brave girl, but I hadn't had a man tower over me and shout except my shitty father. I just stood there in shock and slight fear until he said something.
"Now, take that shit out of your mouth." He said as he remover the paper from my lips before throwing it on the floor.
"What the fuck! I paid for that!" I yelled.
"What with your drug money?" He asked whilst giggling.
"Yes, I did, so what!" I pushed him away from me as I made my way inside the club, grabbing the wall for balnce. He followed me inside. I had noticed this, I turned to him as I tripped over my own feet.
"If you want sex or money just say that!" I snapped at him, slightly slurring my words. He didn't take this to kindly. He grabbed my wrist as he pulled me outside. He brought me to his car. It was a pink cadillac. He opened the passenger door before shoving me in. He got into the drivers seat as he started the car.
"You have a major attitude problem, and imma fix it for ya!" I just furrowed my brows and crossed my arms as we drove off. I wasn't too fazed by an unknown man driving me somewhere since I would do anything to be drove somewhere except my 'home'.
We had arrived at a massive building, it was gorgeous. We stepped out of the car, his hand rapped around my arm tightly. I was losing my balance.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"My house" he grunted as he dragged me inside.
"You kidnapping me or what, I don't mind being kidnapped by a rich guy." I said with a flirtatious smile across my smug face. He just rolled his eyes. Once we were inside my jaw dropped, it was beautiful. It was luxurious. It was everything I ever dreamed of. He led me up to his room as he tightly clung onto my hand. I didn't even care that a man much older than me had took me to his house, I had nothing to lose, I didn't care. I was high and drunk, I stumbled up the stairs as he dragged me to his room. My eyes bloodshot red, dress shorter than a belt, liquor spilled down my dress. I was a mess. He placed me on the edge of his large bed, it was cosy and comfy. He stood up infront of me, I looked up to him as I tried to keep my eyelids from closing. The world was spinning, it felt good, the weed was kicking in, I was in heaven. The man saw that I was high, he bent down to my level and tilted my chin up to look at his handsome face.
"How old are ya?" He asked in a demanding tone.
"Th-thifteen" I said.
The man's face dropped.
"Where is ya mother, ya can't be actin' like this at your age." My eyes filled with tears before I could reply.
"She's, sh- I don't know."
"What do ya mean my love?" The man's tone was much softer and welcoming.
"I have foster parents, i- I don't wanna talk about th- this" I said as I was slowly losing consciousness. I had never been this effected by drugs, what was in that weed?, why am I acting like this?. That was the last thoughts I could remember before everything went black.
I opened my eyes, I was in a lavish room, in a luxurious bed, and it was the morning. Where am I?. It took a few seconds for all of my thoughts to come running back to me. I remembered the man that took me here, took me to his house.
"What a fucking creep." I scoffed to myself as I got up. I was still in my party dress from the other night, my breath smelled of alcohol and my clothes smelled of weed. I reached for my bag and grabbed a cigarette. I lit it and inhaled it. All of my stress left my body after I blew out the smoke, it was like an escape. I put my mini bag on my shoulder as I walked down the grand stairs. I was eager to get out, I didn't know why I let a grown man take me to his house, what was I thinking. I opened the door, I was met with a large gust of wind, I ran out into the front garden. I needed to go home, my home. I didn't know where I was but all I saw was a car and a road. I ran up to the pink Cadillac and started the engine. I drove into the road, as I was about to drive off I looked into the mirror just to see that same man shouting for me to come back. I didn't think twice as I sped off.
I had been driving for a good 30 minutes when I found my house, I parked the car outside. I took a moment to think about what had just happened, I basically got kidnapped and I stole a car. I lit a cigarette as I stepped out of the car. I looked at my disgusting house, it was old and broken. Nothing good ever happened here, nothing. I stepped into the small house, it was like walking into hell, again. I quietly kicked off my heels, I wasn't quiet enough. I heard loud steps that gradually made their way towards me. I knew what was coming, I just accepted it. My 'father' walked up to me with anger in his eyes, he was drunk as usual. I looked up to him, all I could see was a burning ball of anger that was ready to be unleashed.
When my 'parents' took me In to 'care' for me they promised to cure my ills, make my frown into a smile. But they didn't and they never will.
He stepped closer to me, he pushed me against the wall,
"Where have you been!?" He yelled. I was confused as to why he was mad about where I was since he never cared what I did. I didn't reply, I just looked up into his empty eyes.
The hell started now.
He grabbed my hair, hit me, slapped me, and even kicked me.
I was on the dusty floor, tears in my eyes, whole body bruised. I was powerless, literally. I was a rotting peice of shit to him and his wife. My vision was blurry and the room was slowly spinning. I watched his large figure walk off like nothing happened.
I layed there for atleast an hour rethinking my whole life, why was I even here?
"I wish I was dead already." I whispered to my self as I slowly got up off the cold floor.
I struggled to gain my balance. I grabbed my cigarettes, my heels and a pain killer. I ran straight out of the door. I got back into the pink cadillac and drove off.
I drove until I got to my local club. Before I got out of the car, I brushed my long blonde hair with my fingers, I opened my handbag. I pulled out red lipstick, I applied it over the large cut on my lips in hopes of hiding it. I fixed my dress and stepped out of the car. I lit a cigarette and placed it in between my red lips. The bruise on my face was obvious, but I didn't know that. I walked into the club. I saw my friends in a big group in the corner, and I walked over to them.
"Hi guy's, hope yall didn't miss me too much!" I said cheerfully. They all looked at me with betrayal in their eyes.
"You left, you said you were gonna go for a smoke and then you left." My freind said in a cold icey tone.
"Oh, I can expla-"
"Just fuck off ya loser." She said as she flipped me off. All of them started hysterically laughing. My face lit up red, I was hurt and embarrassed. The tears in my eyes ran down my face and along the bruise on my cheek. I speed walked away, right into him. The man from last night. He had watched the whole scene play out. He knew that I stole his car but he also knew what I was going through. He instantly hugged me with his large arms. It felt like home. He bent down to whisper,
"They ain't your real friends, come with me, I'll take care of ya." His deep voice sent chills down my spine, but it was comforting and sexy. He walked me out of the club and into his pink Cadillac that I stole. We drove to his house, his mansion.
He brought me inside, the same warmth and comfort filled up inside of me when I felt his large hand rub my back. He walked me up to his room, he took my clothes off and put new, clean ones on. He was so kind when he wanted to be.
"Tell me about yourself darlin'" he said as he sat next to me on the bed. I looked into his loving blue eyes.
"Well my name is Adriana" I said.
"That's beautiful" the man said as he smiled.
"My name is Elvis, Elvis Presley." I smiled and nodded.
"Well I can tell your a troubled teen, I wanna help you, no one your age should be living the life you live." He said in a comforting tone. His face quickly dropped when he looked at my cheek, my bruised cheek. He lifted his hand to touch the bruise. I yelped as I moved his hand away.
"Sorry I didn't mean to hurt ya." Evis said.
"But who did this to you?" My face lit up red in embarrassment.
"Oh I-I just fell"
"Tell me the truth." He said in a slightly demanding voice.
"It was my father" Elvis's eyes were filled with rage.
"Elvis, thankyou for helping me but I really gotta go home now." I said as I attempted to get up but his large hand cupped mine and pulled me back down.
"Ya ain't going back to your home, not with your parents in there." He ran his hands through my hair.
I nodded at his sentence.
This was the second time that I was in Elvis's house. And the last time that I was gonna be in mine.
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Secrets to Hide - also on AO3
~
"Be very careful who you lie to" is advice Claudio Castagnoli should have taken before he married Jon Moxley, and before he started sleeping with Wheeler Yuta on the side.
Warnings: Major character death, infidelity, murder, graphic depictions of violence (see AO3 for more details)
~
This is very loosely inspired by Two Black Cadillacs and Sarah's prompt, but I went the Sara route and Schrodinger's Prompt-ed this bitch. Tis a dark one, folks!
~
+6 months, 12 hours, 24 minutes, 5 seconds
Mox slings his arms around Wheeler’s shoulders. “I mean, it’s one of those things you can’t explain, right?” He gazes at Wheeler, feeling something too close to love bloom in his chest. “Sometimes people are brought together by grief. Memory of the loved ones lost, you know.”
Wheeler beams at Mox. “It’s weird, but it works for us.”
Eddie snickers from where he’s head first in a bowl of soup.
“What?” Wheeler asks. “Not a fan of love?”
“You guys are terrible,” Eddie laughs. “Jesus.”
Mox and Wheeler share a knowing glance, then turn back to the group.
Ruby laughs into her soda. “Eddie’s just jealous because Mox promoted Wheeler over him.”
“He wasn’t even working there at the time,” Mox says, taking his arm back. He turns to Wheeler. “And Claudio, rest his soul, rated you highly in your performance reviews. You were the only reasonable person to become the gym manager.”
Eddie shrugs. “He’s right, Roo. I’m just glad I got a steady job again. Beauty in tragedy, right?”
Mox nods. “Beauty in tragedy.”
Wheeler leans over and kisses Mox’s cheek. “I gotta get home, baby, but I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
Mox kisses Wheeler gently, still reeling from how different this is from before. From who he used to kiss. “Okay,” he murmurs against Wheeler’s lips. “I’ll see you later.”
He watches Wheeler walk off and turns to Eddie, who has the most knowing of smiles. “You two sure are a picture,” he says.
Mox shrugs. “You find love in the weirdest ways.”
~
+7 days
Mox gets home from the service past midnight to see the door cracked open, just the slightest. He pulls out his pocket knife, wishing he’d listened to Eddie years back telling him to grab something bigger, and slowly walks into the house, locking the door behind him. There was no car out front, no bike, nothing.
“Hello?” he calls. “I just came home from my fuckin’ husband’s funeral, so if you wanna die, now’s a good time to show yourself.”
He recognizes the chuckle as the figure slides out from behind the door. “Hey,” Wheeler says, smiling. “I had the Uber drop me off at Kroger, then walked here.”
Mox freezes. “Shit, did I awaken some sort of serial killer shit in you?” He holds out the pocket knife. “It’d be great if you didn’t kill me.”
Wheeler laughs a little as he shakes his head, a glint in his eye that intrigues and worries Mox. “Not my plan,” he says. His steps are slow and deliberate as he comes up to Mox. “What do you say to a little celebration?”
Mox raises an eyebrow. “That’s – that is not where I saw you going with this.”
Wheeler drops to his knees in front of Mox, and his brain starts to scream in a combination of his blood zooming southward and the alarm bells of fucking the guy who just helped kill your husband. “Come on,” Wheeler says, and he begins to see how easily Claudio was seduced by those eyes and that smile. “I can’t be the only one who felt it.”
His hands settle on Mox’s belt buckle.
Mox should refuse. Mox should kick him out, not even pay for the cab, and send this kid packing. He should go back on the promise, should make sure Wheeler Yuta can’t set foot in this town again without getting his ass beat.
“Fuck, yeah,” Mox says, and Wheeler’s hands undo his belt.
Wheeler’s smile feels like heaven around his cock, and it’s only a few moments before he’s in this, fully. Good decisions be damned. He’s at worst a murderer – this doesn’t even make the list of bad things he’s done.
“Get up,” Mox says. “Gotta – there’s no bed in the main bedroom, obviously, but the guest –”
Wheeler stands and wipes his mouth, nodding. “I, uh. I know where that is.” He shrugs, apologetic eyes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Mox says. “It’s all mine now.” He grins at Wheeler. “Including you, I guess.”
Wheeler laughs as they tug each other into the guest bedroom, bite marks and scratches blooming as Wheeler fucks him into the mattress without a care in the world.
“Surprised,” Mox gasps, scrabbling for purchase against the cheap mattress and bedspread. “When I walked in on you and Claudio, you were bent over for him.”
Wheeler laughs, hands gripping Mox’s hips tighter to drive into him. Mox whimpers. “Yeah, well, Claudio always liked to be on top, didn’t he?”
“He always did.” Mox groans as Wheeler wraps a hand around his cock, unrelenting thrusts meeting focused, concentrated strokes. It’s strangely easy to speak of Claudio in the past tense. He’d expected it to take longer. “Liked his – oh, god – liked his men on his knees for him.”
“Now you’re on your knees for me,” Wheeler growls, and Mox comes without warning.
~
+6 days
The funniest thing about how the memorial service was set up, Mox thinks, is that there’s a massive area specifically for former colleagues. There’s about a dozen of them, and Mox has only met around half. He wonders if Claudio was fucking anybody else in this group, if anyone else should have been in on the plan.
If Claudio lied to everybody about who Mox was.
“Mox?” says a small, blonde woman. “Are you – you were Claudio’s husband right?”
Mox nods. “I was.”
She takes his hands and smiles at him. “He was a wonderful man,” she says gently. “I’m sure you miss him dearly.” Mox tries his best to smile back at her. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Did everyone know about me?” he asks.
“Some, yes,” she says. “But we were all quite focused on the work. You know how it is.”
Mox doesn’t. In his line of work, you often learn who people are before you join them in the ring. “I know,” he lies. “Thank you.”
The line of people stretches far, and Mox is wondering if he should have just had Claudio be cremated with how long this is taking.
And then a familiar pair of eyes meet his further down the line, and he nods once.
He braces himself to meet Wheeler for the first time officially, talking aimlessly for a moment with one of Claudio’s aunts, who weeps into his shoulder until she moves down to Claudio’s mother.
“Hi,” says Wheeler, smiling sadly. “I’m Wheeler Yuta – I worked with Claudio.”
Mox nods, holding his hand out to shake. Wheeler does, and it’s a completely different shake than the first one: meek, gentle. As much as a show as everything else the two of them are doing. “Oh?”
Wheeler nods. “He was a good man.”
“Yes,” Mox says, the lie sparkling between the two of them like a firework, “he was.”
Wheeler joins Claudio’s work friends in throwing roses into the casket, bumping the back of Mox’s hand with his as they pass wordlessly on the path. Mox knees in front of the casket, hearing the weeping of Claudio’s family behind him. His eyes are dry but red.
“Good riddance,” he murmurs, so quiet he can barely hear himself. “Until we meet on the other side.”
He exhales and stands, and meets Wheeler’s eyes one last time.
~
0
“Babe?” Mox yells, throwing open the door. He drops the groceries on the ground. He hopes it’s not suspicious he only got things that don’t need the freezer.
His heart is already racing, expecting to see Claudio tidying the bathroom or making dinner. Maybe half alive on the floor of the bathroom, puking up every last ounce of life in his body. “Claudio, where are you?”
His hands shake as he walks through the rooms of their house. The kitchen, where they’d cooked countless meals: empty. The living room, where Claudio had fallen asleep in Mox’s lap more times than any one man could count: empty. The bathroom: empty. The guest room: empty.
Mox takes a deep breath before pushing open the door to their bedroom.
Claudio lay in the bed, color wrong, completely still.
“Claudio?!” Mox shrieks. He runs to him. Despite how much he wanted this, despite the fact that this was the ultimate outcome, the panic of a dead body in front of him, of his husband’s dead body in front of him, sends shocks of adrenaline and fear through him. He shakes Claudio’s shoulders, frantic, trying to see if there’s anything left in him. His head shakes around violently, and Mox realizes the chill against his fingers is Claudio’s skin.
He makes the strangest wailing noise as he fumbles in his pocket for his phone, dialing 9-1-1 with shaking hands. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“I – I came home, and he was in bed – he’s so cold.”
“Who is, sir?”
Mox takes a deep breath, voice shaking. He’d thought he’d have to act this part. He didn’t think his reaction would be genuine. “My husband.”
The next hours are a blur – police officers, EMTs, the phrase, “Dead on arrival,” the bedroom blocked off. He doesn’t stop shaking the whole time.
“Sir, is there anyone you can call?” The police officer – Mox thinks her name was Grant – asks gently.
He nods. “I – my friend Eddie.” He fumbles for his phone. “I – I’ll stay with him.”
She slides him her card. “If you need anything, or have an idea of who may have done this.”
Mox nods absently, putting his phone to his ear as it rings. “Eddie,” he says. “Claudio’s gone.”
~
-5 days
“Alright,” Eddie says. “I got the stuff. All I gotta do is get Ruby to give it to her friend Toni, Toni drops it off for the DoorDash order, and we’re in the clear.”
Mox fidgets, glancing down to the phone, where Wheeler is on the other line. “Are you sure we can pull this off? If they can trace it back to us, we’re all fucked.”
Eddie shakes his head. “This shit’s fast acting and it can’t be detected after four hours, so, as long as you’re out of the house while it takes effect…”
“I’ll be out of there,” Mox assures him. “I’ll run errands or something, be somewhere with lots of cameras.” He turns to the phone on the table and leans in. “Wheeler, your job is to make sure he takes his ass home the second he starts showing symptoms. If he doesn’t get home, the plan doesn’t work.”
“I can make that happen,” Wheeler says through gritted teeth. “He…he listens to me. Trusts me with the gym.”
Mox holds back a laugh. “Course he does. But, Wheeler. You have to make sure he drinks that specific coffee,” Mox says in a low voice over the phone. “If he doesn’t, or if it gets into somebody else’s hands…”
“He’ll drink it,” Wheeler assures Mox. “He always chugs the coffee when Door Dash brings it at 9:45. Like clockwork.”
“Is it the same person every time?” Mox asks. “Because if it is…”
Wheeler shakes his head. “Different people, and he never interacts with them.”
“Okay,” Mox says, exhaling. “Okay, this is gonna work. It’ll work.”
~
-10 days
“You want to what?!”
Mox glances around the sports bar. He’d never be caught dead in here, is the thing, which is why it works so well for cover. People all around them are screaming about some hockey game. They’re completely drowned out, and no security cameras in the place makes for the perfect hidden spot. “He’s gonna keep doing this shit if we don’t stop him,” he says quietly. “And if I leave him, I’m left with nothing, and so are you.” He glances around again. “The only way out of this is killing him.”
“That seems extreme,” Wheeler says, dark eyes panicked. “Mox, I know we both hate him, but – is murder the answer?”
“Legally?” Mox says, stretching out. Wheeler’s eyes slide to his tattoos, and Mox decides not to be too much of a dick about that. “No. Logically? Rationally? Hell, morally? Yeah. Yeah it fucking is.” He focuses his eyes on Wheeler’s. “You’ll lose your job at the gym if you tell him. His next of kin might promote you to manager if you kill him.”
Wheeler’s eyes widen. “You – really?”
Mox nods. “And nobody would suspect it. Not for a fuckin’ second. If I knew about you, I’d hate you, right? That’s what everybody would think. But if it’s you and me behind the scenes and everybody else thinks I’m just a grieving husband promoting my late husband’s best reviewed employee, nobody’ll look twice.”
Wheeler stares at a knot on the sticky wood table for a few minutes. “Okay.” He lifts his head, finally, to meet Mox’s eyes. “If you take care of the – of the logistics, I’ll do what I need to do to help.” He nods. “You swear I get the gym after this?”
“I’ll be owner in name only,” Mox says, sticking out his hand. “I mean, I need a little cash flow to pay the bills, but, other than that? It’s all you.”
Wheeler nods, shaking Mox’s hand without an ounce of hesitance. His grip is strong, which Mox should have expected, but then there’s a fascinating fire in his eyes that Mox wants to get to know better. “Okay,” Wheeler decides, nodding. “Okay.”
~
-12 days
The text comes at 7:30 before his match, when Mox is backstage smoking a cigarette.
“The fuck is that?” Eddie asks, leaning over to check his phone. “Everybody you know is either here or – well, wherever the fuck Claudio’s at.” He shakes his head and scoffs as he takes another drag of his cigarette. “Not here, I’m guessing.”
Mox exhales. “If I tell you something, your ass better shut the fuck up for the rest of your life about it, you hear?”
Eddie pauses. “Oh. That sounds interesting. Lay it on me.”
“He’s been fucking one of his employees. Told the kid I was dead.”
Eddie’s jaw drops, and Mox allows himself a moment to be pleased, because it’s hard to rattle Eddie with something as simple as words. “No fuckin’ shit.”
“None,” Mox replies. “You were right about him.”
“Yeah, but I’m not happy about it!” Eddie says. He chucks his cigarette to the ground and stops on it with the heel of his boots. “The fuck you gonna do about it?”
Mox wiggles his phone. “Answer this text, first.”
“You gonna give me, like, an ounce of detail for what that’s about?”
“This is Wheeler Yuta,” Mox says, shoving the phone to Eddie. “The sidepiece. The other man. The –”
“Fuck, I get it,” Eddie grumbles. He scans the text. “You guys are gonna meet up?”
Mox takes the phone back and nods. “Kid seemed pretty pissed about the whole thing. Didn’t like how he was sympathetic for a widower who was actually a sleazebag.” He looks at Eddie. “What’s with that look?”
“Just,” Eddie exhales and drops his head against the wall. “He fucked me around at the gym, then he cheats on you and pretends you’re dead?” He looks at Mox, eyes bright with anger. “This fucker deserves more than just a consequence.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Eddie says, “that you have a decision to make.”
~
-13 days
Mox is fidgety and panicked outside the Starbucks. It’s probably a terrible decision, harassing this kid at work. But a more terrible decision was fucking his husband, and the kid did that first. So.
He shoves open the door once the rest of the customers have left and the kid, Wheeler Yuta, looks up at him, almost bored.
“Are you here to rob us?” he asks cooly. “We’ve been watching you pace back and forth outside for, like, an hour.”
“Actually I’m here to ask why you’re fucking my husband.”
Dead silence.
The girl behind Yuta, one with brown and blue hair and admittedly impressive galaxy makeup on her face, steps away. “I’m gonna make the guess this doesn’t have to do with me,” she says, backing out of the situation, “but yell cantaloupe if you need help, Wheels.”
“It’s not me either,” Wheeler says. “I’m not fucking anybody married.”
Mox boils with rage.
“Oh, really?” Mox asks. He whips out the framed photo of he and Claudio kissing at their wedding in navy suits with matching floral patterned ties, then the one of the two of them showing off their rings in front of the courthouse. “You didn’t have this guy’s dick in your ass yesterday?”
Mox watches the kid – confusion, recognition, horror. He’s either the actor of a generation, or something far more insidious is happening here. “You’re – Claudio’s still married?” he asks, voice pinched. He braces himself on the counter. “This – no. He said he – he said…” He trails off. “Are you Jon?”
Mox nods slowly, unsure of where this is going. “Uh. Yeah. Jon Moxley. Formally Jon Castagnoli.”
Wheeler shakes his head, then barks out the coldest laugh Mox has ever heard. “He told me you died,” Wheeler mutters. He finally looks up at Mox. “He said he was a widower, that you died in some weird – I think he said incident with a table?”
Mox exhales long at that. “Of course. I’m a wrestler – I had a rough table spot a few years back, but it sure as shit didn’t kill me.” He clenches his fists, then realizes he’s mirroring the kid in front of him. Hunched over the counter, bearing the weight of life changing news.
“We should meet up and – and go over this more,” Mox says. He scrawls his number on a napkin and shoves it across to Wheeler. “A place you’re not at work.”
Wheeler nods, holding the paper in his hands. “Yeah. I’ll, uh. I’ll text you.”
“Hold that thought.” Mox pulls out his phone and changes his Pin number. Now it’s the date Claudio has been claiming Mox had “died.” “Alright. Text me any time. And please don’t fuck my husband again.”
Wheeler laughs, a little panicked. “I don’t plan on it.”
~
-14 days
“How was work?”
Mox does his best to keep a mild, disinterested look on his face as Claudio saunters into their kitchen. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat. Mox doesn’t want to know from what.
“Lovely, darling.” He leans in to kiss Mox, who makes the mistake of flinching. “Everything alright?”
“You’re sweaty,” Mox says, forcing a laugh. “As hot as you are, armpits are armpits.”
Claudio laughs, easy and jovial, and Mox wonders if this is how he feels after nailing the client. “Alright, alright, I’ll take a shower. Then dinner?”
Mox nods. “Was thinking we could order in – I’m feeling something Italian.”
“Hmm,” Claudio says. “I was thinking sushi.”
Mox refuses to let out the scathing remark that pops into his mind. “We could do sushi.”
Claudio empties his pockets onto the kitchen table, as always, and Mox does everything he can not to snap up the phone right now and demand an explanation. Claudio leans in and kisses his forehead. “After my shower, we’ll order.”
Mox nods and follows Claudio with his eyes until the water starts. He takes note of where everything on the table sits, then snatches the phone up. Long ago Claudio had admitted to using his birthday for every four-digit password, and it works in Mox’s favor. He scrolls through the messages as quickly as he can – everything is innocuous, other than his communications with Claudio, of course. Nothing’s in the texts, in the phone log.
At every noise, Mox’s head snaps up and he checks the hallway, ensures he can still hear the water running and Claudio’s warble of whatever pop song is popular right now.
Mox is taken back to a few weeks ago, when the gym had shifted from an 80s playlist to something more modern, and he’s horrified to realize it’s probably on the recommendation of Claudio’s boy toy.
His entire body goes cold.
“Playlists,” he mutters, opening Claudio’s Spotify app. He checks – and there it is. His heart races as he pulls up a playlist called Gym Songs. There’s only one collaborator, and Mox can’t help himself from smiling cruelly. These stupid Gen Zers not knowing basic internet safety. His entire name is there.
Wheeler Yuta.
“Stupid fuckin’ name,” Mox mutters. He opens the Facebook profile attached to the Spotify account and memorizes every detail he can. The kid is 26, works at the gym and a Starbucks around the corner from where Mox and Claudio live. Mox is disgusted even further – Claudio should know better than to fuck a employee. The kid’s got a degree in kinesiology, which Mox will have to google later, from some fancy private school. It stings.
He sets Claudio’s phone down after deleting the search history from Claudio’s Facebook and clearing the Spotify screen back to the home page.
He grabs his own phone, scrolling through random car videos on Instagram just for something to do.
“There we are,” Claudio says, beaming as he saunters back into the kitchen. He smells like the body wash Mox bought him for their anniversary a few weeks before, smoky sweet. Mox wants to squirt it into Claudio’s eyes. “Sushi, yes?”
Mox nods, holding up his phone. “Already got DoorDash ready.”
~
-14 days, 19 hours, 42 minutes, 8 seconds
Mox had expected this to be a sweet little surprise – grab the Swiss chocolates, put the pretty flowers in a vase, hold the card awkwardly so he can push open the door to his husband’s gym. It should have been flawless.
So why the fuck is Claudio bent over a twink-adjacent, too hot for his own good client in the owner’s office, railing him into oblivion?
Both grateful and infuriated by the small door window, Mox hightails it out of there and chucks the gifts in the trash.
“On our fuckin’ anniversary,” Mox grumbles, slamming the car door shut. He can’t decide if he wants Claudio to know he walked in on him, and instead drives himself home to stare at the bed he’s shared with a man he thought he knew.
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50 Ways To Say Goodbye [Parody ft. The 3 E's]
My heart is paralyzed [Emilia]
My head was oversized [Evan]
I'll take the high road like I should [Erika]
You said it's meant to be [Emilia]
That it's not you, it's me [Evan]
You're leaving now for my own good [Erika]
That's cool, but if my friends ask where you are I'm gonna say [All]
He went down in an heli [Emilia]
Fried from a flamethrower [Evan]
Fell in a trap made by Adler [Erika]
Help me, help me, I'm no good at goodbyes! [All]
He met a mine in Afghan [Emilia]
Fell and no one caught him [Evan]
I returned everything I ever bought him [Erika]
Help me, help me, I'm all out of lies
And ways to say you died [All]
My pride still feels the sting [Evan]
You were my everything [Emilia]
Some day I'll find a love like yours (a love like yours) [Erika, then Emilia and Evan]
He'll think I'm Perseus [Emilia]
Not some person [Erika]
How could you leave on the end of the world? [Evan]
That's cool, but if my friends ask where you are I'm gonna say [All]
He was caught by the enemy [Emilia]
Eaten by a cobra [Evan]
Got run over by a crappy Cadillac Cimarron [Erika]
Help me, help me, I'm no good at goodbyes! [All]
He freezed up in the Arctic [Emilia]
Drowned escaping Ruskies [Evan]
Fought to death in Eastern Europe [Erika]
Help me, help me, I'm all out of lies
And ways to say you died [All]
I wanna live a thousand lives with you [Emilia]
I wanna be the one you're dying to [Evan]
Love, but you don't want to [Erika]
That's cool, but if my friends ask where you are I'm gonna say
That's cool, but if my friends ask where you are I'm gonna say [All]
He went down in an heli [Emilia]
Fried from a flamethrower [Evan]
Fell in a trap made by Adler [Erika]
Help me, help me, I'm no good at goodbyes! [Evan]
He met a mine in Afghan [Emilia]
Fell and no one caught him [Erika]
I returned everything I ever bought him [Evan]
Help me, help me, I'm all out of lies [Emilia]
He was caught by the enemy [Erika]
Eaten by a cobra [Evan]
Got run over by a crappy Cadillac Cimarron [Emilia]
Help me, help me, I'm no good at goodbyes! [Evan and Erika]
He freezed up in the Arctic [Emilia]
Drowned escaping Ruskies [Evan]
Fought to death in Esstern Europe [Erika]
Help me, help me, I'm all out of lies
And ways to say goodbye [All]
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I never do this but I haven't written anything in weeks and today after work I was able to start this Daniel fic and I need to share SOMETHING with y'all or I will implode. First 500ish words after the cut, no content warnings, enjoy. Feel free to theorize about where this is going in the comments/tags
The Drifters were crooning out of the old transistor radio when I came into the garage. He had it up on the roof of the Cadillac convertible he was working on. Lemon yellow with red leather interior. 1952. Older than me by a few years. His baby.
“Hey, dad,” I said as I came up to the other side of the open hood. “You got a minute?”
He didn’t come up for air. Still all grease-stained elbows and bald patch.
“Dad!” said it a little louder, that time.
“What?” He lifted one arm, craned his neck to peek under it without letting go of whatever he was fiddling with. “Oh, Daniel. Thought you were taking Vicky to a movie today.”
“It’s not until one.” I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets. It was January, just after winter break. “It’s freezing out here, dad. Why don’t you turn on that space heater mom got you for Christmas?”
“Nah, don’t need it. I told her she might as well return the thing. I could work up a sweat in the middle-”
“-middle of a blizzard, I know,” I finished with him. “Look, couldn’t you at least try it out? She really thought you were gonna love it.”
He lost his grip on something and it clinked and clattered on its way to the concrete. He muttered an indistinct curse and fished his penlight out of his shirt pocket.
“Now’s not the best time, Dan. Let’s take a rain check, ok?”
“Is that it over there?” I walked over to the corner where he’d put it next to the trash can. “C’mon, dad, you didn’t even take it out of the box.” I pulled out my pocket knife and set to it myself.
Must’ve been a couple minutes or so of companionable silence. He found the wrench he’d dropped and withdrew fully out from under the hood for the first time. Stood up straight and popped his back with a groan.
“Never get old, Dan. It’s not half what it’s cracked up to be.” He watched me lift the heater out of the box, remove the styrofoam padding, unwind the power cord. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”
I felt the tension start to build up in my neck and shoulders. He really had a knack for saying that right before I fucked things up again.
“Not the best, though, right?” I said without looking up.
He moved in my peripheral vision and I was so familiar with the gesture I might as well have been staring right at him; a brusque wave of his hand, a shake of his head, eyes closed in a reflexive grimace.
“Anybody says their kid’s perfect is either lying or delusional.”
He turned back to work on his first born and it took me a second to work up the nerve to keep going.
“We gotta talk about it, dad.”
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Letters I Can Never Send, No. 4
Dear D,
2011 was quite an eventful year. I had my first prom, spent most of the summer at a liberal arts college a couple of hours away for a scholarship program, and started my senior year begrudgingly, wishing that I didn’t have to waste another year in that windowless, freezing-cold, hulking slab of 1970s architecture. My days were occupied with a rigorous courseload of AP classes, college applications, scholarship opportunities, and extracurriculars.
My nights were occupied with you. If we weren’t having one of our 2 a.m. MSN talks, then I was busy listening to all the songs that reminded me of you, writing about you in my journal, or obsessively combing over your Facebook profile for new pictures of you, while at the same time checking for the presence of other girls in your life. Your MSN away messages were another good source of entertainment; I remember one night you had written, “Showering, join?” It drove me crazy, you putting such fantasies into my head like that.
As autumn gave way to winter, I became close friends with Chelsea, a girl who lived down the street from me and who just so happened to be dating Jason, one of your best friends. I told her all about our bizarre friendship as she and I attempted recipes from Pinterest, hiked the secluded trails around our houses, and babysat her two younger brothers. She tried to get information out of Jason on how you really felt about me, but it became evident that guys just don’t talk about those kinds of things.
One morning in mid-December, she rushed up to me in the hallway before classes started and told me with hushed excitement that she had an idea. She wanted to organize a double date for the four of us on New Year’s Eve. I, of course, wholeheartedly agreed to the idea, so Chelsea told Jason, Jason told you, and before we knew it, we had a plan in place.
Chelsea slept over at my house the night before our big date. We woke up late that morning and spent the entire afternoon getting ready. We curled our hair, painted our nails, and together we went through the entire contents of my closet, looking for the outfit that would make you fall in love with me right there in the dingy bowling alley. I finally settled on a pink and white striped shirt, scoop neck, with a lace cami peeking out from the neck and hemlines. I paired it with dark jeans and cowgirl boots. Chelsea’s outfit ended up being almost comically similar.
You and Jason were supposed to pick us up at six o’clock but rolled in fifteen minutes late after sleeping until almost four. We feigned disapproval of your tardiness as we got into your new car - a white Kia Forte. Chelsea and Jason carried the conversation while you focused on the road and I stole glances at you from the corner of my eye. We drove to a slightly larger town about an hour away, our first stop being Applebee’s, and as we turned into the parking lot, we saw that it was absolutely packed. There was exactly one spot left, a tight squeeze between a large SUV and a Cadillac parked on the line. You did it, though, and we carefully nudged our doors open and slid out of the car.
As we approached the restaurant, an older man met us on the sidewalk and demanded to know who had been driving the white car. You stepped forward as he asserted that he saw you hit his Cadillac. We all chimed in at once, stating that no, he did not hit the Cadillac because we were all in the car and would have felt it if we had hit something. The man wasn’t having it, though, and asked that you follow him back to the parked cars. Jason went with you, but it was freezing so you told Chelsea and me to go on in and get us a table.
From our table in the bar area, we could see the scene outside unfolding, the man becoming more agitated and you looking more baffled by the second. Then, the city police showed up, and everyone stood around arguing some more. Chelsea and I sipped our Diet Cokes and speculated on what was being said. After what felt like an eternity, you and Jason came inside and sat down. Nothing had come of it and the man had left. Our waitress bounced up to the table to take our orders, mentioning that they were fresh out of French fries and chicken wings.
The rest of the night went more smoothly; the town had a movie theatre attached to a bowling alley, so we went there after dinner. We saw a bad horror film and then went next door and bowled a couple of games. Chelsea said I should have seen the look on your face - a look of pure adoration - as I jumped up and down with delight after I got a strike.
The clock struck midnight as we were driving home. Chelsea and Jason kissed in the backseat, but since you were watching the road, I just kissed my finger and pressed it to your cheek. You winced, said, “What was that for?” I giggled and whispered that it was your New Year’s kiss. You guffawed and admitted that you thought I had been trying to poke you in the eye. I cringed into my seat, embarrassed that my cute gesture had backfired. When we made it back to my house, I gave you a genuine hug and you pecked me on the cheek. I waved goodnight to everyone as I riffled in my purse for my house key.
The next afternoon, I texted Chelsea, distraught that I hadn’t heard from you yet - completely forgetting the fact that you had slept until four in the afternoon the day before. At the time, however, I was positive that you had decided that I was just a silly little girl, unworthy of the grown-up kind of love I so desperately wanted from you. Chelsea had information, though: she said that after you had dropped us off at home, you and Jason had had a long talk in the car about me. You had told him that you liked me. You liked me a lot, and that was the problem. You liked me so much that you thought I could be the one, and it scared you to death because you didn’t ever want to hurt me. I wasn’t sure I believed that, but neither she nor Jason had any reason to lie, so I carried on with tentative hope that we would have our happy ending.
You did go a bit quiet for a couple of days, but you quickly recovered yourself and started texting me again. I was falling in love. I don’t know if you knew it, but I have a feeling that you did. You continued to keep your distance, which drove me mad, but I was happy enough with the attention that I was getting from you and couldn’t wait until the fall when I would join you at college. This was starting to get good.
Until February 16th brought it all to a screeching halt.
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Bruce Springsteen
July 23, 2013 Cardiff
2024 Columbia
—————————————————
Tracks:
01. This Little Light of Mine
02. Long Walk Home
03. Adam Raised a Cain
04. Prove It All Night
05. TV Movie
06. Cynthia
07. Roulette
08. Death to My Hometown
09. We Take Care of Our Own
10. Wrecking Ball
11. Spirit in the Night
12. Hungry Heart
13. My City of Ruins
14. We’ve Gotta Get out of This Place - with Eric Burdon
15. Boom Boom
16. Cadillac Ranch
17. Summertime Blues
18. You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch)
19. Pay Me My Money Down
20. Shackled and Drawn
21. Waitin’ on a Sunny Day
22. The Rising
23. Badlands
24. Tougher than the Rest
25. Born to Run
26. Ramrod
27. I’m a Rocker
28. Dancing in the Dark
29. Tenth Avenue Freeze Out
30. Shout
31. This Little Light of Mine
32. Janey Don’t You Lose Heart
33. Thunder Road
—————————————————
Roy Bittan
Eric Burdon
Jake Clemons
Charlie Giordano
Nils Lofgren
Tom Morello
Bruce Springsteen
Garry Tallent
Soozie Tyrell
Max Weinberg
* Long Live Rock Archive
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XTOOL D9S Pro Full System Diagnostic Tool vs Xtool D9 Pro
What’s the difference between Xtool D9S Pro and D9 Pro?
D9S Pro is the upgraded version of D9 Pro. Xtool improved the hardware for D9S Pro, and the function supported is still the same.
Differences:
1.Has larger memory and battery capacity.
2.Revampe the connection mode. D9S Pro has built-in WiFi Module – No home WiFi connection required! Simply insert the VCI box into the OBD interface for seamless data transmission, 10X faster than traditional wireless BT Scanner, and extended communication range up to 66 ft.
* While downloading software, an internet connection is still necessary!
3.The DoIP port is now been integrated into the VCI box to make sure the connection and data transfer are more stable. So there is no need for a DoIP port on the diagnostic tablet.
Check the comparison table below.
What’s the function of D9S Pro?
It supports Immo & Key Programming, OE-Level Full System Diagnostics, ECU Programming (Coding), DOIP and CAN FD Functions, Topology Map, 42+ reset function, etc.
1.IMMO & Key Programming with additional accessories
Works with KC100: for general purpose key programming,
Works with KC501: for advanced level all purpose key programming,
Works with EEPROM Adapter: for PIN reading and & EEPROM reading & writing while key programming.
Works with XV100 Inspection Camera: for hard-to-reach spots visual inspection of stains, rusts, wear and tear, like engine cylinders.
Works with KS01(for Toyota all key lost programmer )
Works with KS02 (for Mitsubishi all key lost programmer)
Works with M821 (for Benz all keys lost)
Works with M822 (for Toyota 8A non-smart key all keys lost)
Works with AnyToyo SK1 (for Toyota 8A/4A Smart Key Programming bypass pin)
2.OE-Level Full System Diagnostics
Read/clean DTCs, view live data, freeze frame, ECU info and perform bi-directional control…
3.Bi-Directional Control
4.ECU Programming (Coding)
Support the Online ECU Programmer for Benz/BMW and VW (no need with online account) and Offline ECU Programmer for Ford /Mazda.
Can Programming new ECUs (PCM, ECM)
Module Replacement
Refresh Hidden Features
5.Newest DOIP and CAN FD Functions
Access new communication protocols of CANFD (cover MY2020+ GM models), and DOIP (compatible For BMW E/F/G Chassis, Jaguar, Land Rover vehicle makes)
6.Topology Map
Topology Map compatibility with GM, CHRYSLER, JEEP, DODGE, FORD, TOYOTA, NISSAN, HONDA, BMW, BENZ, HYUNDAI, MAZDA (MORE COMING SOON)
DO NOT available for All Vehicle Makes. Please come to us for compatibility check.
The APP V4.25.4_6.36 onwards supports intelligent topology mapping.
How to get the Newest APP for D9S pro?
Step 1: Reboot the D9S Pro scanner and connect the D9S Pro to the internet
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Step 3: Go “Update” screen and download the newest available software packages.
7.42+ Reset Functions
ECU Configuration, ABS Bleeding, Fuel Trim Reset, IMMO/ Key Programming, Oil Reset, EPB, BMS Match, DPF Regeneration, Injector Coding, SAS Adjustments, Throttle Relearn, Airbag Repair, TPMS Reset, Air Suspension, Gear Learning(Crankshaft Relearn), Gearbox(Transmission) Match, Headlight Adjustment, Window Initialization, Seat Configurations, Power Balance, Electronic Pump Activation, Disable Transportation, Tire Refit, A/F Reset, Start/Stop Reset, Language Change, Transmission Service Fast Relearn, Fuel Injector Balance, Crankshaft Sensors Relearn, Idle Learn, Zero- Point Calibration, Fuel Alcohol Composition Reset, Actuator Calibration Test, WCS Reset, VIN Registration(Write), Injector Balance Rate Programming, etc are all available.
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D9S Pro supports Bluetooth, WiFi, and USB three connection methods, which makes it easier for you to use.
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For ABARTH, For ALFA ROMEO, For AUDI, For BENTLEY, For BMW, For BUGATTI, For CITROEN, For DACIA, For DR, For EUROFORD, For FERRARI, For FIAT, For GAZ, For OPEL (SOUTH AFRICA), For IVECO, For JAGUAR, For LAMBORGHINI, For LANCIA, For LAND ROVER, For MASERATI, For MAYBACH, For MERCEDES, For MINI, For OPEL, For PEUGEOT, For PORSCHE, For RENAULT, For ROLLS-ROYCE, For ROVER, For SAAB, For SEAT, For SKODA, For SMART, For SPRINTER, For VAUXHALL, For VAZ, For VOLVO, For VW, For BORGWARD, For ASTON MARTINA,
For Asian car
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For PROTON, For PROTON (MALAYSIA, For SAMSUNG, For SAIPA,
For SSANGYONG, For SUBARU, For SUZUKI, For TLISUZU, For TOYOTA, For UNITED PAKISTAN, For VINFAST
For Chinese car
For BRILLIANC, For BYD, For CHANGAN, CHANGAN-FORD, For CHANG HE, For CHBUICK, For CHCADILLAC, For CHCHEVRO-KET, For CHERY, For CHSUZUKI, For DFCIROEN, For HONDA(DF), For DFNISSAN, For DFEUGEOT, For ECUAID, For FAW(TIANJIN, For FOTON, For GOLDEN(XIAMEN, For GONOW, For MITSUBISHI(GAC, For GREAT WALL, For HONDA(GAC, For HAFEI, For HAIMA, For HCBMW, For JAC, For JIANGHUAI, For JMC, For JOYLONG, For LIFAN,
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For JETOR, For DFFX, For CHERY EV
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Hot Dj Charts – Picks 165 New Tracks 2023-10-14
DATE CREATED: 2023-10-14
Tracklist :
2MINDSTogether - Forever (Extended Mix).mp3
Adonis FR - Universal Artifice (Original Mix).mp3
Agus Pazos - Purple Cadillac (Original Mix).mp3
Alex Aveiro, Tirik - Solar (Extended Mix).mp3
Amirali - Reborn (Extended Mix).mp3
AN21 - Liquid Gold (Extended Mix).mp3
Andreas Wenz - Bewildered (Original Mix).mp3
Andreas Wenz - Hardwork (Original Mix).mp3
Andrejv - This One (Original Mix).mp3
ANix JAy - Misty.mp3
Antho Decks, Danny Rhys - Yellow Wave (Extended Mix).mp3
Antoine Clamaran - 1 2 3 4 (Extended Mix).mp3
Anton C - Girls and Girls (Original Mix).mp3
Arco, Into The Ether, Lumynesynth - Pull Me Closer (Extended Mix).mp3
Arzenic, Martin Angrisano (ARG) - SECRET (Original Mix).mp3
Audionoble - Megri (Original Mix).mp3
Avis Vox - Freeze! (Extended Mix).mp3
BEAUZ & BIGMOO - Run It Up (Extended Mix).mp3
Biskuwi - Too Far (Original Mix) .mp3
Calacas - Senegal (Monsieur Van Pratt Remix).mp3
CARLEO - In My Veins (Haze-M Remix).
Read the full article
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Hot Dj Charts – Picks 165 New Tracks 2023-10-14
DATE CREATED: 2023-10-14
Tracklist :
2MINDSTogether - Forever (Extended Mix).mp3
Adonis FR - Universal Artifice (Original Mix).mp3
Agus Pazos - Purple Cadillac (Original Mix).mp3
Alex Aveiro, Tirik - Solar (Extended Mix).mp3
Amirali - Reborn (Extended Mix).mp3
AN21 - Liquid Gold (Extended Mix).mp3
Andreas Wenz - Bewildered (Original Mix).mp3
Andreas Wenz - Hardwork (Original Mix).mp3
Andrejv - This One (Original Mix).mp3
ANix JAy - Misty.mp3
Antho Decks, Danny Rhys - Yellow Wave (Extended Mix).mp3
Antoine Clamaran - 1 2 3 4 (Extended Mix).mp3
Anton C - Girls and Girls (Original Mix).mp3
Arco, Into The Ether, Lumynesynth - Pull Me Closer (Extended Mix).mp3
Arzenic, Martin Angrisano (ARG) - SECRET (Original Mix).mp3
Audionoble - Megri (Original Mix).mp3
Avis Vox - Freeze! (Extended Mix).mp3
BEAUZ & BIGMOO - Run It Up (Extended Mix).mp3
Biskuwi - Too Far (Original Mix) .mp3
Calacas - Senegal (Monsieur Van Pratt Remix).mp3
CARLEO - In My Veins (Haze-M Remix).
Read the full article
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The boss aka Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band
Bruce Frederick Joseph Springsteen
born at Monmouth Medical Center
in Long Branch, New Jersey,
on September 23, 1949.
His nationalities include hodgepodge
of Dutch, Irish, and Italian descent.
He grew up Catholic in Freehold, New Jersey.
I dedicate the following poem
to aforementioned musician,
whose figurative guitar finger
kept on the throbbing pulse
resoundingly reverberating
across American heartland.
this cautious man (bobby jean) born in the u.s.a.
grownin’ up in the badlands of atlantic city
bonded with blood brothers
felt born to run along backstreets
in brilliant disguise that did cover me
frequently blinded by the light
of the full moon
casting silhouettes against darkness
on the edge of town
which lunar shafts pierced candy’s room,
while immersed in book of dreams
describing better days on a Cadillac ranch
where devils & dust - visible dancing in the dark
celebrating like calendar showered 4th of july
or other glory days in darlington county
even though I ain’t got you.
livin’ in the future
mine hungry heart hankered
and felt like I’m on fire
for you, this fire in me craved human touch
desire - roaring into the ole factory fire
because I wanna marry you
because the night populated
with girls in their summer clothes
each dazzling like 57 channels (and nothin’ on)
in imagination of my american skin
descended from when adam raised a cain
before last to die forecasting kingdom of days
now dwelling in celestial mansion on the hill.
now rightfully claim status of I’m a rocker/
local hero and I’m goin’ down
meeting across the river
if I should fall behind
on the downbound train as living proof
within light of day magic jungleland
policed by highway patrolman i.e. johnny 99
alias johnny bye bye – held up without a gun
defending this lucky town
established on Matamoras banks
from an incident on 57th street
thus celebrated
as local hero every independence day
when, with murder incorporated
firing point blank out in the street
that staccato new york city serenade
from no surrender outlaw pete
originally from nebraska.
it’s hard to be a saint in the city open all night
within my hometown
once my father’s house, now my city of ruins
where tis moot to ask
does this bus stop at 82nd street?
one step up
into the pink Cadillac
hops the ramrod queen of the supermarket
teasing audio dials sans radio nowhere
a red headed woman
racing in the street toward secret garden
to save my love –
with thee angel rosalita (come out tonight)
offering reason
to believe roll of the dice real world
and to prove it all night
from spare parts – shards of roulette wheel
housing souls of the departed
please save my love and stolen car
for sherry darling – that spirit in the night
she’s the one among souls of the departed
no longer stopped by state trooper
precinct based along streets of philadelphia
some crackling like streets of fire
straight time mandate
for those armed to the teeth
along tenth avenue freeze-out.
requiem per terry’s song – what love can do
accompanied by e street shuffle
performed in somber tones
rumbling down thunder road
for souls of used cars
two hearts crushed
along this hard land
for: the ghost of tom joad
the last carnival homage
to wild billy’s circus story
the price you pay when you’re alone
working on a dream
now wreck on the highway.
we take care of our own from youngstown
when heading of to the promised land
the rising distant mystical eden
where you can look,
(but you’d better not touch)
espying the river of salvation
joining eternally the ties that bind
a tunnel of love
or like the wrestler
pinning opponent tougher than the rest
like laborers working on the highway
chiseled like this hard land!
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