#( ANITA IS TOO PRECIOUS FOR MY HEART )

[buhtercups]

The Alphabet with Ollie Ramses (Dislyte)

(Disclosure: These are mainly my headcanons; they are not canon as of the date of publication; Any canon notations will be noted.)

A = Affection

Yeah...about that... 😅

Ollie has a cactus personality, prickly and harsh...so he doesn't have a clue about being affectionate and doesn't have a desire to be affectionate.

He will show you how he truly feels through his actions. Acts of service are his love language. He doesn't need to be physically affectionate to show he cares.

Accepting affection? If he knows you like it, he will accept the affection even if it feels weird to him...

"Ollie may appear to be arrogant to some, but that's just a façade he puts up to hide his real feelings. His walls are intentionally high to protect himself."- Dislyte Official Canon

B = Babies

"Ironically, he himself does not like children because of their self-centeredness and their inability to communicate rationally." - Dislyte Official Canon

Ollie doesn't believe he is good with kids and doesn't seem to have a desire to have any. But his older sister notices how well he does with their adopted sibling(?) Anita...

C = Cuddles

When first getting to know someone, he would cringe at the idea of cuddling since he's not the most affectionate person (as just mentioned).

Once he gets to know his romantic partner and trusts them, he would be willing to make them happy with cuddles if that's what they would want.

He would prefer for his partner to initiate cuddles because it just feels so awkward to him...but that could change! It could?

D = Domestic

Aquarians, like Ollie, have close relationships with their family members. Family members are very precious to them, but they don't show it openly. People they spend time with, including family members, are expected to be intelligent and trustworthy.

If Ollie trusts his lover enough, he will welcome them into his family...After all, his ideal partner will become his refuge (he has a whole song about this).

E = Ending

If he decided that things weren't working out, Ollie would be honest and say that he doesn't love you anymore. He would be willing to try and make things work if you wanted to, however.

If you break up with him, he would try to understand but he would beg you to try and work things out with him. If you didn't want to, he would accept your decision but would be heartbroken.

If his partner cheated on him, he would immediately want to end things and it would be a very long time before trusting someone again with his heart...He would never forgive his ex for the betrayal and would want nothing more to do with them.

He would never cheat in a committed relationship. He would rather be honest and end things than betray someone he loves/loved.

F = Fiance(e)

Ollie would be anxious in deciding on the right time to propose. He would seek the advice of his friends and family to decide what to do.

It would take a long time for him to open himself enough to want to settle down with the right partner...

G = Gentle

Gentle with children because he views them as fragile and delicate. Anyone else, no he is not. He is respectful and slightly gentle with elderly people, however.

H = Hugs

No. He isn't big on them. Will tolerate hugs and/or cuddles if it's family or his partner...

He would hug someone in his family or his partner who was in great distress or upset...

I = Issue(s)

Ollie very likely has PTSD. He was kidnapped as a child (this was discussed in the original storyline) and he saw his father assassinated by Leon (either he saw the murder or he found his dead father?).

J = Jealousy

If he isn't in a committed relationship, he doesn't care. He is undecided about you anyways...

If he's in a committed relationship, he absolutely gets jealous if you or the other person are a little too friendly or flirtatious with each other and will openly let the other person know to back off.

K = Kisses

Despite not being experienced, kisses from Ollie are one of a kind. His soft green lips will transport you to heaven...

L = Love

Ollie doesn't fall in love that easily. Once he decides to fully trust over time, then he can make a decision about loving someone.

When Ollie decides that someone is going to be his romantic partner, he will view them as his escape from the world; his refuge. He will put them on a pedestal above everyone else.

M = Morning

Ollie isn't a morning person. But he will wake up in the morning if he needs to (work, breakfast, morning sex, etc.)

N = Night

Ollie is more of a night person so he will be more active in the afternoon and night...he can also dress in disguise and go out more when it's night than in the daytime.

O = Open

Once again, no way. Ollie is not an open person. He is very reserved and defensive. He has a prickly personality like a cactus.

He will only open up to those he knows and trusts. And it takes a lot to get him to open up.

P = Patience

He can be patient, but he does get frustrated at times with waiting or by how long something takes...

Q = Quizzes

According to Drew, Ollie is very bright and excelled at school. He would pass any quiz with flying colors. He demonstrates a profound knowledge of chemistry during the original story arc...

R = Remember

Ollie remembers everything...

S = Sugar

Ollie likes sweet things but isn't obsessed by them or anything...

T = Talk

Ollie isn't talkative unless it's someone he knows and trusts.

U = Usual

He is usually reserved and keeps to himself. He likes to wear disguises to stay as anonymous as possible despite who he is...

V = Vanity

Ollie is aware of his good looks, but isn't bothered about it. He isn't vain in the slightest.

W = Wonder

"Ollie habitually adjusts his glasses when he's deep in thought." - Dislyte canon

Occasionally, when Ollie is alone with his thoughts, his mind will wonder many things ...why things happened, what could have been, why he was born, etc...

He tries to resist the urge since he'd rather be productive than be stuck in his thoughts.

X = X-Rated

Ollie does have X-Rated thoughts and dreams but he will only share them with a partner he truly loves and trusts...

He is a 20 year old man of course he has wet dreams and the like...*Cough cough*

Y = Yuck

"Ollie has always hated how the members of the upper class in Debia treated those they employed. He himself treats everyone as an equal, including staff members in his household. No matter your upbringing, one should always treat others with respect.

Ollie did not have many friends growing up. His family’s status led to a small social circle, and many of his peers did not meet his moral standards. He was often shunned for his eccentricity." - Official Dislyte canon

Ollie doesn't like arrogant or condescending people. He was from one of the wealthiest families in Debia but believed everyone was equal and didn't treat anyone differently because of status. He judges people by character.

Z = Zodiac

"The Aquarius-born people are humanitarians to the core. They are a progressive and modern... Broad-minded and creative, they are the real truth-seekers."

(^ source)

#dislyte #fan post #alphabet #ollie dislyte #dislyte ollie #ollie ramses #unofficial #should I do more of these with other fandom characters?

[waterfallofspace]

HI!! same anon who asked about vnc here. i feel like your answer is enough of a go-ahead for me to be a bit more unhinged so first of all PLEASE SHARE YOUR VNC THOUGHTS. at some point. you must be the change you want to see in the world and whatnot. ive been on a skk kick but my bimonthly vnc rewatch is my sanitys single saving grace. vanitas is such a pathetic worm and he deserved to get stomped painfully into the ground /aff

also just letting you know that a second season is unlikely bc the anime adapted 55 out of 61 chapter (WHICH ON THE BRIGHT SIDE easy to catch up!!! :"D) the only time ive seen an anime get THAT close is with... bsd. which. well. sure was something. but i doubt theyd go that route with vnc

i have... alot of opinions on the ships. but its ALOT. however i will disclose that vanoe <3 SO JUST KNOW THAT IF YOU DO POST ANYTHING VNC/VANOE RELATED.... there will be at least one person (ME!!) screaming about it FHDJDJSJ

Oh it's completely a go-ahead, I'd love the chance to be deranged about them!!! Gonna stick it under a cut because it's gonna be long ahahaha~ (possible V/anitas no Carte spoilers under cut, so be warned!)

Augh I know, I mean look at this man!!!! He deserves to be wrecked in the most gorgeously affectionate painful whumpening <3 I want to bite him (and we know he'd like it LMAO)

I adore skk and satosugu, but Vanoe will always have such a sweet place in my heart~ gah tragic beloveds (that are at times, not tragic) are my bread and butter.

Yeahhhh, I did hear about thatttt, but I'm still hopeful that after... idk... 5-6 years... we might get more.... I just!!! They can't end it like that!!!! I mean it's an ending I can live with, but god I crave so much more!!!!

Omg if you ever wanna discuss the opinions I'd be so happy to listen!!! I have some opinions about dif ships in there too (Olivier and Roland are In Love and you cannot convince me otherwise).

So I adore Vanitas like I mentioned, but um... Olivier also owns my heart. We don't get enough of him I love him- the way he gets a headache every time Roland is there???? ICONIC OF HIM <333

He's just... he's so gorgeous. He has the aethetics that I adore, and a personality I find intriguing and fun~ Gahhh now I need to rewatch again hahahaha~

(also love Roland but in the same way I love Noe, just lil sweethearts <3 also also Chloé and Jean-Jacques <3 are so precious <3 to me and each other <3 )

Aaaand a little snippet as a 'thank you' and 'congrats' for making it to the end of this way-too-long response, here's a lil taste of what I had headcanoned for Vanoe

Vanitas: Soft, little rapid ones, 'iHh'tchiew! hiH'tchhue!' and he is so. mad about it. Will often try to stifle so no one hears them, orrrr add a yell/growl to try and unsuccessfully make them sound more 'fitting'. Truth is, they fit him better than he'd ever admit~

Noe: Harsh and (fairly) Loud, and it surprises literally everyone, Vanitas most of all (despite hearing it however many times now). Think something like, 'hHRZShh'ieh! ah'yieASHhuh!' You'd think someone this soft-spoken and sweet would have a dainty little sound, but nope~

#waterfallasks #waterfall snzcanons #should be tagging this 'waterfall talks too much' LMAO #can you tell ive been holding thoughts about this in my head for months bc its been MONTHS #genuinely im so happy to talk about them any time like i love them!!!! #im also sorry for how long this was ToT and for the recent spam of ask answering #but god non i love you for asking about them im so!!!!! about them!!!! #i do have more in my lil hc document and i may actually get around to sharing it/writing for them sometime soon #gotta finish a few other projects first (im SOOOO behind on requests im so sorry djsakgl) #and got a lil birthday thing to finish too~ but these are my beloveds and you know what i might need to hc for R and O now too

[sophiechoir]

Books Read in 2022

In 2021, I aimed to finish 12 books and finished only 10. In 2022, I once again aimed to finish 12 books - and this year, I surpassed my goal and finished a full 30! :)

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Rilke's Book of Hours translated by Anita Barrow and Joanna Macy

The Fantastic Four by John Byrne - Vol. 2 Omnibus

Siuil, a Run - The Girl from the Other Side - Vol. 1 by Nagabe

Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe by John Boswell

A Collection of Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

War is a Racket by Brigadier General Smedley D. Butley

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

To See a World in a Grain of Sand (a present)

6 assorted vintage comic books (WW, Conan, Vault of Evil, House of Mystery)

The Me You Love in the Dark by Skottie Young and Jorge Corona

Love Me, Love Me Not #1 by Io Sakisaka

The Celtic Twilight: Faerie and Folklore by W.B. Yeats

Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion

Ms. Koizumi Loves Ramen Noodles #1 by Naru Narumi

Face by Rosario Villajos

Seeing the Getty Center

Ms. Koizumi Loves Ramen Noodles #2 by Naru Narumi

Howl and Other Poems by Allen Ginsburg

Rainbook by Claire Wendling

The Cathedral is Dying by Auguste Rodin

Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Life (Vol. 1) by Bryan Lee O'Malley

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (Vol. 2) by Bryan Lee O'Malley

Rain Like Hammers #4 by Brandon Graham & The Sandman Convergence #39 by Neil Gaiman and John Watkiss

The $12 Million Stuffed Shark: The Curious Economics of Contemporary Art by Don Thompson

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

The Epic of Gilgamesh

To be fair, some of the comic books that I bundled together were very slim, so I'm probably inflating my final count... but I remember and enjoyed every one of them, so they count to me >:)

Looking back, there are so many books here associated with distinct memories. I remember reading Howl on the plane from LA. I remember exactly where I sat at the kitchen counter reading Rodin's Facebook-style rant about cathedrals (and thoroughly enjoying it, it felt like sitting in his studio!). I dragged my boyfriend to the local ramen place after reading Ms. Koizumi. I still get angry about the translator's note at the end of the Rilke book that I picked up in Beloit lol (okay those translators LITERALLY deleted multiple lines from a poem that they translated because THEY DIDN'T LIKE THE CONCEPT THAT RILKE HAD ADDED THERE. I understand translation can require some creative interpretation but they COMPLETELY ALTERED the poem to better suit their taste, deliberately denying Rilke's intent, and called it translation. UGHHH)

I want to read a lot more Virginia Woolf - To the Lighthouse was a vision! She's a genius and has stolen my heart.

I also want to return to Proust; finally check out Eliot, Shelley, Byron, Milton, etc beyond Tumblr snippets; conquer The Ambassadors; continue to pursue Dostoevsky, Yeats, LeGuin - I've got a taste and I want more!

Last year I was afraid of taking on too much. Now I'm afraid to take on too little :) I suppose I'll still aim for at least 12 books finished in 2023, but with the intent of matching/surpassing 30.

Right now I'm reading Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides, translated by Anne Carson. Just finished crying over Herakles. It wasn't the tragedy but Theseus' love that made me break.

I can't wait for what 2023 will bring! Happy New Year, everyone! <3

#booklr #happy new year #new years eve

[tashakay]

What I think of as Chapter One

At 11:11 am, on a day that would forever change my life, the world seemed to stand still. I had just given birth to a baby girl, a dream I had only conceived of weeks before her arrival. They tell me she was born gray, her first breath a moment of pure vulnerability. Meanwhile, I had a gaping hole in my midsection, a surgical necessity. The surgeon, in a hurry to close me up, lost count of the gauze he used after slicing me open. I was awake through this ordeal, yet my memory of it remains hazy.

In the recovery room, they finally brought her to me, this tiny new life that was now my responsibility. I remember scribbling in the paper journal my dear friend Anita had given me, "I still don't feel like a mom." It was there, in those early moments, that my journey into motherhood truly began.

Learning to breastfeed in the hospital was a learning curve, and during those five days of stay, I reveled in the attention and the feeling of being heard. But as I held my newborn daughter, I wondered, "So now what?" How would I navigate this new role? I was determined to be a good mother and build a wonderful life with her father. However, little did I know that our desires for that life would diverge.

I often describe myself as a builder, an employee who thrives on creating and moving on to the next new thing. It's a trait that may have been born from my years working temp jobs, which, looking back, I now appreciate. At the time, though, I yearned for the stability of a traditional college education and a long-term job like everyone else.

In those early days, I would often take my daughter for photoshoots, capturing every moment of her growing up. She was, and still is, a physically beautiful person with her sparkling eyes, plump cheeks, and luscious lips. She didn't intend to be my best friend, but she became just that. There were times when I couldn't adequately care for her, like when we had to move back in with my mother and stepfather for her first nine months. I longed for single motherhood, where I could work and care for us both, free from the judgment of others.

Despite the challenges, I cherished those moments with her, reading to her whatever I could find, from food labels to billboards. I remember the day she recognized the letter A on a billboard that read "TAILOR" when she was just two years old. Those small, precious moments bonded us further.

Our friendship deepened as she grew into a woman. Separations due to travel, school, and work often brought tears, and I feared missing something crucial. Our bond was evident, especially when she cried real tears for me after dropping her off at college. Knowing that I was her first love, and that she still loved me with all her heart, brought me immeasurable comfort.

I've witnessed other mothers of Black girls who were too hard on their daughters. I knew that society and culture would try to harden my girls, so I resolved not to contribute to that. In recent years, reflecting on my choices as their caregiver, I've acknowledged moments of regrettable behavior. But I'm grateful for the gifts of forgiveness and repentance, and my children's resilience astounds me.

I believe that as they journey toward healing, I must be a part of that process, offering support in whatever way they desire. It's a stark contrast to parents who defensively claim, "I did the best I could." I reject that notion. We, as parents, have a universal responsibility to guide and protect our children. They exist for us, not the other way around.

Instead of seeking validation for our shortcomings, we must acknowledge our role in shaping their lives, understanding that "doing our best" doesn't excuse harm or neglect. I set early goals to raise my children as happy, healthy, well-rounded citizens of the world, guided by my faith and the principles of the Bible.

I hope this revision captures the essence of your story while enhancing its readability and flow. If you have specific sections you'd like further refinement on or if you'd like to continue the narrative, please feel free to let me know.

[lunalyt]

@xamassed​ "How, uh — you got — your lips are kind'a, uh..." Between her awkward stammering and backtracking, Anita pointed towards Rosa's lips. "They're shiny! How do you get 'em like that? I want mine like that." A little, self-conscious pout. Please, don't laugh. Please, don't laugh.

         Her  lips?  Does  she  have  something  on  them?  The  initial  wording  has  the  shy  little  bird  feeling  quite  self  conscious  and  reflexively  a  single  digit  lifts  to  touch  of  her  own  lips  intending  to  wipe  whatever  it  is  that  is  there.

         That  is,  until  her  friend  clarifies  what  it  is  exactly  Rosa  has  on  her  lips  that  prompted  this.  ❝Oh..❞  is  the  first  reply,  realization  sinking  in,  then  there’s  a  soft  shy  smile  —  happy  Anita  wants  hers  to  look  the  same  too.  

         ❝It’s  just  my  lip  gloss  —❞  and  without  further  ado,  the  musician  searches  her  purse  for  said  item  to  showcase  to  her  friend,  all  too  eager  to  share  this  information.

         ❝Does  Annie  want  to  try  it  too?  I  am  sure  it  will  suit  you!!❞  although,  Rosa  doesn’t  feel  this  is  enough  and  she  wants  to  help,  especially  when  Anita  trusted  her  with  this  —  so  she’s  quick  to  offer  ❝You  can  have  this  one!!  I  have  others  on  the  ship  —  It  tastes  like  strawberry❞  a  giggle,  at  the  latter  addition. 

#xamassed #xamassed ; anita #( ANITA IS TOO PRECIOUS FOR MY HEART ) #( MUST PROTECT ) #( rosa the kind of girl to spray you with her perfume if you tell her it smells nice ) #( she's just so happy and excited to share ;u; ) #･ﾟ ♪ angel with cotton candy dreams ( rosa ; muse. ) #･ﾟ ♪ whispers of the wind ( rosa ; ic. ) #･ﾟ ♪ verse : you showed up just in time ( rosa ; postskip. ) #･ﾟ ♪ verse : clear blue water ( rosa ; grandline. ) #･ﾟ ☽ letters in a bottle ( ask. )

[cynical-sprite]

Apex Legends Preferences: Their Pet Names For their significant other

Elliott Witt/Mirage💛: sweetie, honey, babe

I feel like Elliott would also sometimes use silly pet names with the sole purpose of making his significant other either laugh or get flustered, names like: sweet cheeks, baby cakes

Renee Blasey/Wraith💜: probably wouldn't call her s/o pet names, but if she did, it'd be something simple and not too mushy like 'babe', or a shortened version of her s/o's name

Octavio Silva/Octane💚: babe, baby, baby girl, sexy mama, mamacita

Obi Edolasim/Seer💜: dearest, my love, my heart, ifunanya m ("my love")

Dr. Mary Somers/Horizon❤: dear, dearest, mo leannan ("my lover", "my sweetheart"), m'eudail ("my darling", "my dear")

Tae Joon Park/Crypto💚: Nae sarang (“My Love”), Aein (“Sweetheart”), Gongjunim (“Princess”), Yeobo (“Honey” or “Darling”)

(I feel like he would lean towards using pet names from/in his language😊)

Ajay Che/Lifeline❤: baby, sweetheart, bebe ("baby"), amou ("lover"), Cheri ("sweetheart"), Mon kè ("my heart")

Loba Andrade❤: darling, dear/my dear, beautiful/handsome/gorgeous, baby, angel, Amor / Meu amor ("love"/"my love"), Bebê ("baby"), Meu bem ("my dear"), Coração (“heart”), Anjo ("angel"), Querido / Querida ("dear" m/f)

Makoa Gibraltar💙: baby, honey, dear, Ma’asoama ("darling"/"sweetheart"), La’u Pele ("dearest")

Natalie Paquette/Wattson💛: darling, sweetheart, Mon amour ("my love"), mon bijou ("my jewelry"), Mon cœur ("my heart"/"my sweetheart"), Mon trésor ("my treasure"/"my precious"), mon ange ("my angel"), Mon chéri / ma chérie (“my dear”)

Ramya Parekh/Rampart💜: I can't see her being too into pet names since she's not exactly the romantic type, so, if she did, it'd probably be something simple and not too mushy like love or dear

She would most certainly name one the guns she creates after her significant other though

Kairi Imahara/Valkyrie💙: baby, babe

Other than that, she'd probably just call her significant other by her name or a shortened version of it, maybe a special nickname she'd come up with for her

Bloth Hundr/Bloodhound💚: any pet names/terms of endearment they give their significant other would definitely be in their native language, and would likely usually only be when their alone with their s/o since they're a rather private person

elskan min ("my love"), kærasti/kærasta ("darling" m/f)

Anita Williams/Bangalore💙: I can't see Anita using pet names/terms of endearment for her significant other; she'd probably just call them by their name most of the time. If she did though, it would probably be something short, simple and direct like baby/babe or a shortened version of their name

Walter Fitzroy/Fuse🧡: princess, darlin', baby, sweetheart, he'd probably come up with some special nickname for his significant other probably relating to their name or a shortened version of it

Kaleb Cross/Revenant🖤: Revenant would definitely not call his significant other by any pet names or terms of endearment; his way of showing endearment would be that he'd never call them things like 'skinsuit', 'skinbag', or 'girlie' as he does everyone else

____

If I got any of the ones in other languages wrong, I apologize in advance; I don't speak any of those languages, so the internet was my source😅. I have no intention of offending anyone, so if I got any of those wrong, please feel free to tell me nicely

@werewolfgirl1995

#my work #mirage self ship🃏💛 #wraith self ship🔮💜 #revenant self ship🤖☠❤ #fuse self ship🔥❤ #seer self ship 👁❤ #emily x bloodhound🐾❤ #emily x wattson💡💗 #emily x lifeline⚕💗 #emily x octane⏱🤘🏼💚 #emily x valkyrie☁️✈ #apex legends x reader #elliott witt x reader #apex mirage x reader #renee blasey x reader #apex wraith x reader #octavio silva x reader #octane x reader #revenant x reader #ramya parekh x reader #rampart x reader #kairi imahara x reader #valkyrie x reader #bloodhound x reader #bloth hoondr x reader #natalie paquette x reader #wattson x reader #loba andrade x reader #apex loba x reader #horizon x reader

[yourstrulylightstar283]

I’m Sorry I Couldn’t Keep You Safe

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Mrs. Michelle Moreno (My OFC (Original female character), Marcus’ second wife, Missy’s stepmom and Anita’s second daughter-in-law)

This fic contains:

· Marcus Moreno whump (Both physical and emotional one)

· Violence

· Blood

· Injuries

· Threats

· Deaths

· Hospital

· Angst

· Sadness

· Grief

· Loss

· Guilt

· Sad ending with some hurt/comfort

Author’s Note 1: mishasminion360, thank you very much for your help, I really appreciate it. ^^

Author’s Note 2: This fic has Marcus Moreno’s point-of-view.

Author’s Note 3: This fic is also setting in an alternate universe where Marcus has no superpowers but is still a master swordsman, martial artist and hand-to-hand combatant.

Author’s Note 4: The song recommendation for this fic – Hurts Likes Hell by Fleurie

Taglist: @mishasminion360 @pascalpanic @fentimochi @moralesispunk @bison-writes @honestly-shite @javi-djarins @waywardimpalawriter @tobealostwanderer @radiowallet @metalarmsandmanbuns @novemberrain221 @mudhorn-djarin19 @honey-dewey @littlemisspascal @poenariuniverse @nobodys-baby-now

Disclaimer:

I don’t own Marcus, Missy, Anita (Marcus’ mom) and We Can Be Heroes.

The fic, the concept of the fic and Mrs. Michelle Moreno (My OFC) (c) bat25wonder32super (Me)

Hurts Like Hell © Fleurie

I’m having a difficult battle against my enemy (My enemy doesn’t have any superpowers but she is a deadly martial artist, hand-to-hand combatant and knife fighter). I fight the best I can but my enemy manages to overpower me and kick me viciously in left side of my ribs, bruising and breaking two ribs in left side of my ribs. I cough up red blood and try to push myself up shakily as I groan in pain but I don’t have enough strength to.

I have bruises and cuts all over my face and body with one of my cheeks being swollen with a cut on it and one of my eyes being bruised and swollen half closed with my lips split and bleeding. Luckily, my nose and teeth are not broken. She prepares to finish me off with her knife, but my beloved, precious second wife and the second love of my life Michelle (Who witnessed my fight with worry, shock and horror) comes to save me and manages to beat her with a few punches and kicks. Michelle rushes to my side out of concern for me. Unfazed by her injuries, my enemy is ready to kill me with her knife again but Michelle bravely stands in front of her.

My enemy sadistically threatens Michelle. “Stay out of my way, if you don’t want to die painfully.” “I won’t let you hurt my precious, beloved husband anymore!” Michelle courageously stands up to her. Then Michelle turns to me and says with a sad smile, “Marcus, I love you so much. You, Missy and your mom were the best presents I had. Take care of Missy and your mom for me.” Then Michelle closes her eyes and my enemy stabs Michelle in the heart with her knife, killing her instantly, much to my shock, horror and grief.

“Michelle, no!” I scream Michelle’s name in grief. With the little strength I can muster, I get up and stab my enemy in the heart with one of my dual katanas, killing her. Then I collapse and crawl to Michelle and hold her hand. “M-Michelle, please don’t leave me… I love you… Please wake up, please come back…” I say tearfully to her with tears falling down my cheeks but she’s already dead. “A-After we married each other, we spent a wonderful time. You were kind, sweet, loving, cheerful and caring. You were also protective of me and you were always worried and afraid of losing me. Whenever I get hurt, you always took care of me and you were the best nurse to me. We made pizza with Missy and had it for dinner together. After that, we had our homemade brownies with ice cream on the top. We shared our love for flowers and you loved both healthy and unhealthy foods and were a sweet tooth who also loved cooking and baking. You liked your coffee sweet consisting a regular coffee with extra cream and extra sugar. My first wife and Missy’s first mom holds a special place in my heart and she always does. But she would’ve wanted me, Missy and my mom to move on. You came into our lives and made it the best one. But now you’re gone. You’re not coming back. Now I can’t see your kind and pretty eyes again, I can’t see your warm and beautiful smile again, I can’t hear your loving and sweet voice again and I-I even can’t fall asleep next to you ever again, it hurts so much and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry… I-I’m going to miss you so much… I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe… I’m sorry I couldn’t you keep you safe just like I couldn’t keep my first wife safe… I-I love you… I’m so sorry…” I continue to say tearfully as I cry softly. After saying these, I sob softly until I fall unconscious as help finally arrive and I’m rushed to the regular hospital where Michelle worked that is closed to the Heroics HQ while the coroners mournfully cover Michelle’s dead body with a white sheet and take her to the same hospital.

It’s been four days since I’m hospitalized. Even though the wounds are still here and there on my face and body, they’re mended and healing and even my bruised and broken two ribs are healing. I’m wearing nasal cannula under my nose to make myself to breathe easier, an IV on one of my forearms and the wires on my body.

I’m still grieving Michelle and I’m still feeling guilty for her death. My daughter Missy, despite her eyes being filled with tears, gently hug me with my mom hugging me gently too with both of them being careful not to hug him too tightly, knowing that I would still be hurt.

“Dad, I miss my moms both too and I’ll always miss them. But it’s not your fault and both of my moms wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” Missy reassures me with a kind voice.

“Missy’s right, dear. I miss them and I’ll always miss them too. But you shouldn’t blame yourself because it’s not your fault. It’s okay to miss them, it’s okay to cry. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” My mom gently comforts me.

“But it hurts, it hurts so much.” I tearfully confess with full of the emotional pain in my voice.

“We know, Marcus, dear. It’s okay to let it out.” My mom warmly says with patting my head gently.

I finally allow myself to shed silent tears as they fall down my cheeks and I let my feelings come out as I hug them back softly.

“You still have both of us, dad. You don’t have to face anything alone. We love you.” Missy whispers to me quietly but warmly.

All I can do is to say a quiet but tearful whisper, “Thank you, Missy, mom, I love you both too.”

I miss you, Michelle. I’m gonna take care of Missy and my mom for you, I promise. I love you.

The End.

#marcus x michelle #marcus moreno #michelle moreno #my oc #my original character #marcus moreno x ofc #marcus moreno x oc #marcus moreno angst #wcbh #we can be heroes #netflix we can be heroes #marcus moreno whump #cw whump #cw blood #cw violence #cw injury #cw threats #cw death #tw death of a loved one #cw grief #cw loss #cw sadness #cw guilt #cw hospital #cw angst #angst #angst with a sad ending #hurt/comfort #with my friend's help #my fic

[xamassed]

｢ meme  ｣

@koderror /  youre a sweetheart and i love your threads ; w; i wish we talked more!! plus i love rowan she is a precious baby!!

@shrapnelsong /  /anon?whoneedsanon you're one of the absolute sweetest, most wonderful people i've had the fortune of meeting in this hellhole of a site! i adore writing with you, but what i love the most is getting to just chat with you and have you be such an important part of my life. waking up and seeing a message from you brightens my day like nothing else. i love you so so much! thank you for everything, sweetie!

anon /  Its been at least 5 years since I've felt such an instant connection with an rp partner. You made me remember how wonderful it feels to plot with someone and ship with someone. You are so wonderful and it brightens my day when you message me. I adore you

@lunalyt​ /  ANONYMOUSLY TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME — we don't do anon in this house vuv but here goes: You are legit one of the sweetest people I ever knew, you're so so kind to everyone and so warm and welcoming. I admire your ability to take on so many muses and write them all so intricately and beautifully. I even find myself enjoying some of your replies for muses I legit have no idea who they are or what they're from but you bring them to life in such a wonderful way I can't help but enjoy and be in awe of it all!! The way you can get so much writing done is also so inspiring to me like — give me your patience plz. Anyway I love you, and though we may not talk much, I really consider you a very dear friend of mine. Thank you for being you! ♡ Also I love all your babies??? Anita holds a special place in all my muses' hearts!! (well she gotta meet aurelia still but we can always get to that vuv ) and we all adore big bro thatch too! (i also gotta bug him more) but anyway thank you for writing with me and being my friend v///v

@petalsbloomed​ /  lol not gonna go on anon for this but i just wanna say i love like. ALL of our interactions together, ic & ooc, like you're just a really chill soul who i think writes really well and is super fun to interact with <3

@ghostlyanon​ /  Ariel, through all of her blogs through the years, remains one of the sweetest people to interact with. She's always enthusiastic in her writing and her ability to truly make the voice of her muses ( even if some may be too different from each other in personality ) be heard always amazes me!! Interacting with Ariel and her muses is always a delight, and even just reading her writing is the greatest gift. LOVE ARIEL!! 💕♥️💕

@mcmcntomorii​ /  // you are super sweet!!! and fun to talk to!!!! ;v ; I always love interacting w/ you both ic and ooc even wayy back on my one piece oc lol - i ran shibanomi if you remember ovo! but you're so so so sweet and i love your writing and i love seein you on my dash ❤❤❤

#「 ( ooc ) 」 #「 ( keep ) 」 #( I KNOW IT SAYS NOT TO REPLAY BUT !! ) #( all I'm gonna say : I'm emotional and I love you all and I needed this ) #( I never reblog mun memes because I feel selfish when I do but ) #( just this once I did and now I have something to look back on if I'm feeling down ) #( you all get huge pieces of my heart )

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, Angst.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: This was painful to write. If you don’t do well with angst, I recommend skipping this chapter. BUT - there is a happy ending!

Chapter 30

  “Ah, there you are. We’ve been waiting. Now, before you try anything, I have fail-safes in place in case you try and stop me, and they all end in tragedy. Like this nasty little explosive underneath their chairs, for instance.”

  You stood frozen to the spot, trembling with fear, and not an inkling of it for yourself.

  “Don’t… Don’t do this.”

  “Not to worry, my sweet. With the help of your data, I’ve been able to streamline the process. Theoretically, I should be able to directly transfer powered cells from Marcus into his daughter. The familial DNA should help alleviate any foreign-cell attacks. Though, I’m afraid it will still be painful.”

  “My data? Someone’s been feeding you my medical information?”

  “Oh, yes. I don’t think you realise just how many people in this world are interested in levelling the playing-field. I mean, how’d you think I got out of prison?”

  While he spoke, he made the final calculations to start his experiment, and as the machines started whirring and clicking, your fear escalated into full-blown panic.   They were both unconscious, for the time being, but you knew that once the pain started, they’d be forced awake. You didn’t actually remember that from your own experience with this experiment, but you still knew that it was true.   You sneaked a ghost hand towards one of the machines and unhooked a tube that was connected to Missy’s arm, at the other end, trying to buy time.   The machine started beeping to indicate that something was wrong.

  “Now, now, sweetie. Don’t go sabotaging this, or your precious family might not come out of it quite as alright as both of us would like.”

  As he walked over to reconnect the tube, he tapped on something on his belt, and you recognised an identical device to what the Inventor had used to protect himself against powers. Someone in HQ had betrayed you all, and the feeling burned through you with an aftertaste of hate.

  “My family are not your fucking toys!”

  The room shook significantly, and he looked around with real wonder in his eyes.

  “That’s impressive. See, didn’t I give you a wonderful gift?”

  “No. I would’ve preferred to stay ordinary and dull for the rest of my life if it had meant not having to live through that shit.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that? Look at where you are. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t taken you. You should be more grateful.”

  “I do see where I am, and I would rather have never met them at all, if it meant they were spared from this.”

  “People are inherently selfish, which is why I don’t believe you. Now, let’s get started. And a word of warning, my dear – if you disrupt the process once it’s already started, you’ll kill them both. And I doubt if you could bring both of them back from the dead without killing yourself.”

  He hit a button on the computer keypad, and the Machine connected to Marcus came alive, and started siphoning out powered cells from his blood-stream.   He woke up after just a few seconds, unable to move at all, and you could see the pain in his eyes.   Helpless to do anything else, you reached out to him with your ghost energy, trying to let him know that you were there and that you were trying to save him. You could feel him trying to use his powers, but the machine disrupted it, and caused him even more pain.

  “Please, stop!”

  The second machine, the one connected to Missy, started whirring and moving, and your blood instantly flipped from freezing to boiling.   You couldn’t stand the thought of her even knowing this amount of pain, much less being forced to suffer it, for god knows how long.   And as she woke up, and that pain became visible in her eyes, something old and sure and endlessly powerful took over your mind.   There wasn’t a single thought, not so much as an echo of anything rational or logical or sensible. The maternal instinct was all-powerful in a way that nothing else could compare to. And the power it created together with your abilities, was beyond belief.   The house disappeared, and so did Dr. Prince and all of his equipment, and you could feel the moment that both Marcus and Missy’s hearts stopped beating.   But it didn’t frighten you, because you were a healer.   Moving up to crouch in between them, where they now laid on the bare ground, you took one of their hands in each one of yours, and exchanged your life for theirs.   You had hoped to be able to stay alive long enough to see their faces one last time, but the energy required to heal them, combined with what you’d already spent, was too much, and you needed the single grain you had left, for one last thing. One small, but so very important thing.   You fell away without seeing anything but the blue sky above you.

  It was okay, though. They were worth it.

 ***

  Marcus was working in his office when Missy came to find him. It had been a long day, and he was so tired he could have fallen asleep sitting up.   But he knew that even if he were to lay down in a soft and cool bed right then, he still wouldn’t have succumbed to that blissful nothingness.   He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time, since the incident, and he was long past exhausted.

  “Dad, are you coming?”

  She came to get him every day after school. She had for the past month, and he didn’t have the heart to ask her not to.

  “Yeah. I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”

  She turned and headed off to medical, and he got up to follow her. A part of him wanted to turn around and run in the opposite direction. A part of him wanted to never have to set foot in that fucking room again.   But that was just the fear. The love was so much stronger, and it relentlessly dragged him back there, day and night, no matter how badly it hurt.

  Missy was already hopped up on the bed, sitting cross-legged by your feet, when he walked in. She was so hopeful still. So positive. All Marcus could feel was pain.   Every time he saw you, he saw those moments. Those short, few seconds that had taken everything away.   He’d seen it in your eyes just before your power erupted. The complete lack of thought as your mind reverted to pure instinct, to protect your daughter. His daughter.   He’d seen how you’d dispatched the entire house, and everything that threatened your family, into one of the dimensions that you had access to, a feat that had almost completely drained you.   Then, he’d woken up to seeing you fall, and in his heart, he’d known that you couldn’t be saved. Not this time. But he’d still tried. He’d tried so hard that Missy had eventually been forced to be the one to beg him to stop before she lost him too.   He’d never screamed so loud for so long before.   And yet, somehow, that still hadn’t been the worst part.   That had come the next morning, when medical had informed him that you’d been examined that day because of nausea, and that they’d discovered that you were pregnant. The timeframe had matched that day in his office, when your bodies had reacted so differently, and you’d cried out of pure love for him.   It had broken parts of him that he had never even known before.

  He walked silently to your side, and took your burned right hand between his. He tried not to look at your face, and the tube that disappeared down your throat, the slight blue tinge to your eyelids, and the way your skin hugged your collarbones.   When the team had reached the disappeared house, they’d wasted no time in getting the three of you back to HQ, and you’d been rushed here immediately. They’d found residual brain-activity, and the decision had been made to keep you alive artificially, in case your powers had somehow been able to protect you. In case you could have found a way to cling to some thread of life and hold on until your strength could be returned.   There had been no change in your condition since that day, and if it hadn’t been for Missy, he would’ve already asked them to just let you rest in peace.

  “Hey, alma. We’re here. So, today’s story comes from Noodles. He managed to get out-witted by a squirrel, and it is too funny not to share.”

  She told you one story every day. Something that had happened during her day that she knew you would’ve wanted to hear about, and would’ve listened animatedly to, before enthusiastically sharing your thoughts about it.   Marcus didn’t hear the stories. He came and sat with her while she talked, because that’s what she’d asked him to do, but for him, being there wasn’t about hope. It was about survival. He didn’t want to hope, didn’t want to give himself that potentially crushing second wave of loss. But he also needed to see you. He needed you, and no amount of pain could crush that feeling.   Since they didn’t have a home anymore, they were living at HQ during the weeks, because it was closer to Missy’s school than Anita’s house. But they still stayed with her over the weekends.   Marcus made Missy dinner every evening, and sat with her to help her with homework or watch some show before she went to sleep, trying to keep her life as close to normal as these circumstances would permit.   But as soon as she fell asleep, he came right back here, curled up next to you on the bed and cried until there were no more tears, and sleep forced itself over him.

  This night was no exception. He walked in on legs that were impossibly heavy, refusing to look at the machines and the tubes, focusing on your hands and the parts of your skin that were bare and unbroken by needles.   It was so strange that your body was unharmed, that there wasn’t a mark on you to signify the violence and destructive nature of that incident. You were still perfect, even in death.   Wrapping one arm over your chest, careful not to disturb the breathing apparatus, he took his usual place on your left side, burrowed his face into your neck and breathed in the familiar scent of your shampoo.   He was so tired that the tears fell without the laboured breathing, or shockwaves of grief rocking his body, the way it usually did. He just laid there, completely drained of will and hope and desire, waiting for the restless, nightmarish sleep that would inevitably drag him under.   A sudden incessive beeping of one of the machines, tried to gripe at his attention. He closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into your neck, certain that if he turned his head towards it, all it would tell him would be that the time had come. That your body had finally weakened to the point where not even artificially sustained organs was enough to keep you there.   He hadn’t wanted to hope, and he’d thought that he didn’t have any left, but as he laid there and waited for the machines to declare your final departure – he realised that he had. A small part of him had clung to some imagined scenario where you could’ve somehow clawed your way back, and now that part was dying with you.   It felt as though someone had shrunk his lungs. He struggled to draw in more than tiny gulps of air, and his arm involuntarily tightened around you, pulling you into his chest, as though your lifeless body could somehow free him.

  A hand found his arm, and held it lightly, but he didn’t look up to see who it was that was trying to soothe him. He didn’t want to be soothed, he wanted to drift off into the nothingness with you.   But then the doors to the room opened, and he could hear it. So, why hadn’t he heard the person that was holding his arm, when they entered?

  “Oh, my god… Marcus, look.”

  It was one of the twins, and the tone of her voice made something inside of him wake up.   He pulled his head away from your neck, and the first thing he saw was your hand, holding his arm. The touch was light because it was weak, not soothing.   Not daring to believe it, he moved his arm, so he could take your hand, and when you squeezed it, ever so faintly, he fell apart.   He sobbed and hugged you, and tried to tell you how much he loved you and how grateful he was, but the shudders and trembles that kept coursing through him made it all garbled up and unintelligible.   He never heard the twins working around you, never felt them change the equipment, after they’d removed the breathing machine, and made sure that you could breathe on your own, before pulling the tubes out of your throat.   He didn’t notice Anita and Missy walk in, however much time later, but he felt them hug him, and he wanted to thank them, to tell them how much he loved them too, but the relief was so overwhelming that all he could manage was grunts and sobs.

  They let him cry himself into absolute exhaustion. He was so tired that it didn’t take long. He fell asleep still cradling you to his chest, and they didn’t have the heart to lift him out of the bed.

***

  A couple of days later, Marcus was sitting on the side of your bed, just staring at you while you ate.   You had to eat carefully and slowly, since your throat was still sore from the tube, but you were already strong enough to sit up in the bed, and eat by yourself.   You’d been expressly forbidden from trying to speak, until your throat was less swollen and irritated, or you might permanently damage your vocal cords. But it didn’t bother you. You and Marcus knew each other so well that your eyes and expressions were enough to let you know what the other was thinking. And Missy was enjoying getting the opportunity to blab incessantly without you being able to stop her with a well-placed quip.   You knew that big conversations would have to be had, in the near future, and while you could feel how nervous and anxious Marcus was about that, you really weren’t. There were things you needed to tell him, things you needed to try and help him understand, but none of it was bad. Not from your perspective, at least.

  You finished eating, and took a few long and slow sips of water. You could tell that there was something on Marcus’ mind, and when you put the glass down, you shot him a look to say ‘tell me’, and he sighed.

  “It’s not… I don’t wanna talk about it until you can actually talk to me.”

  You just kept giving him the same look, crossing your arms in front of your chest to let him know that you weren’t leaving the subject alone any time soon. Whatever this was, it was causing the wrinkle in between his eyebrows to deepen, a clear sign that it was something that hurt him, and he’d been hurting for so long already, it was time for him to start getting some of it out.   He saw your persistence, and he knew you weren’t gonna let it go. His eyes dropped to his own hands in his lap, and he took a minute to consider how to phrase it.

  “They told me… about the… baby.”

  His eyes were still downcast, so he didn’t see your face soften, or your eyes turn warm. But you wanted him to keep talking, so you made no effort to get his attention yet.

  “And I know that you did what you did to save us, and that you couldn’t have made it a priority right then, and I don’t blame you for doing what you had to. I just can’t help but think… what if that was it?”

  His hands were trembling slightly, but you couldn’t tell if it was with sadness or fear. His voice seemed so small.

  “What if that was our only chance? I’ve never felt the kind of… loss… that I felt when they told me that. The loss of what could have been, of the possibility. And I just…”

  He took a deep breath.

  “I had no idea how much I wanted that baby, until it was already gone.”

  He finally looked up at you, and blinked a couple of times with confusion as he took in your expression. Because you weren’t sad. You were smiling.   You picked up the notepad Amaire had left you for answering medical questions, and scribbled down the few words required to explain yourself, before turning it around to show him.

  --The baby is safe—

  You watched his eyes as he read those words, staring at them for several seconds as though he couldn’t understand them. And then his eyes snapped back to yours and there were a million questions in them, but he had no idea where to start or probably even what most of those questions were yet.   So, he just kissed you instead, and the depth of emotion that he poured into that kiss, had you both in tears.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[miss-choco-chips]

YJ College au: Zatara

Zachary Zatara is both a myth and their housemate.

In which Bart has a cryptic-buddy, Tim is stressed because cute boy insists on being annoying, and everyone else just rolls with it.

Tagging @animemangasoul and @marudny-robot cause I know you guys like this au

--.--.--.--

As usual after pulling an all-week-er (he had left the ‘nighters well behind at this point), Tim was up late that saturday. The window had been left open last night, so a soft streak of sunlight wamed his bed, waking him up slowly and peacefully. Yeah, he would have liked a few more hours, but sunbathing in his sheets for a while wasn’t all that bad either. What would make this half-awake-half-dreaming experience would be some chill music.

Muddled mind made, he rolled in his bed, hand patting the mattress for his phone, squinting his eyes open when he hit something different instead.

He found himself to be almost nose to nose with a dark haired, grey eyed boy.

Tim started that fine morning screaming himself hoarse.

-.-.-.-.-

Sitting at the kitchen’s table, getting everything ready for a late sunday breakfast, Kon raised his head when he heard the strong sound of a scream, followed by… yeah, that was a body hitting the ground. It was unmistakable, in this house. 

“Oh, hey guys”, he called to the attention of the rest of his housemates, all in equals states of zombie-ness, with not as good hearing as his. “Zachary is here.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“The fuck, Zach? My bed? Did you HAVE to crash on my bed? Why are you even here?”

Tim, four coffee cups after his pseudo heart attack half an hour ago, was ready to face the day and their intruder.

“Dude I live here as well, you know. Also your bed is literally the softest thing I ever slept on, you rich bastard. Learn to share.”

“I’ll buy you your own fucking mattress if you swear to never crawl on my bed uninvited again.”

The boy’s eyebrows rose, suggestively. “What was that about an invitation?”

Distressed and not feeling awake enough (he was still two cups away from that) to deal with bi thoughts this early in the morning, he turned his most helpless look to Conner.

Because he was the best friend ever, he threw a pillow to Zachary. And because he was a suck up to anyone who brought him food, Bart intercepted the hit and gratefully accepted the candy bag he got in thanks.

“But actually, Zat, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Berlin?” interjected Cassie, her own tea (the heathen) cup warming her hands as she cuddled with Cissie and Greta on the couch, legs in each other’s laps and generally being the cutest shit ever.

Anita, not very keen on that kind of sweet love, had been wrestling with Slobo for control over the remote for the last fifteen minutes. Miguel was keeping count on their hits for them, though it was mostly assured he would rig the whole thing up to whoever had bribed him better before the fight.

Tim just wanted to go back to sleep in his sun-warmed bed.

“C’mon guys, keep up”, moaned Bart, candy bag half empty already, “he was there two weeks ago. He had an exam yesterday so he came back last monday.”

“...come again?”

“I’ve been room-hopping ever since, though none of you seemed to mind. Until I disturbed sleeping beauty over here, at least.”

Miguel’s eyes left the fight to squint suspiciously at them. “We weren’t aware you were doing that. Where did you sleep? How didn’t we notice?”

“I'ma mystery. I also move around a lot when sleeping so I probably ended up under someone’s bed after crashing from studying. Oh, Anita, if you were wondering, your purple bra is under Cissie’s bed.”

Anita slowly let go of the grip she had on Slobo’s neck. Her eyes shone something dangerous. Cissie, the one who was apparently hosting the boy all along, also stood up and frowned.

“How do you even know that bra is mine!!”

“What the fuck were you doing under my bed, you bastard!”

Tim sipped his coffee, bitterly. “At least he was under it, and not sharing it.”

Kon patted his back.

-.-.-.-.-..- 

“I swear, Jay, he thrives on making me lose my shit. He just… comes and goes whenever, leaving no proof he was ever there, or acting like he was always around. Drives me nuts. I’m not sure he even attends classes, and I only know he actually has a right to enter our house because his rent money always appears on the kitchen table a day before its due. He doesn’t even have a room, why does he even pay? To have an excuse to scare the shit out of the rest of us. Except Bart. The little shit lives for our suffering.”

Jason arches an eyebrow, sipping his beer as he carefully examines his brother. Tim looked less tired than the last time they saw each other, and the modifications done by his psychiatrist had done wonders to the shadows in his eyes. But he seemed somehow… frazzled.

“And he was just there when you woke up?”

“His nose was touching mine.”

“I bet your little bi heart couldn't take that, huh? Is he cute? Maybe you invited him to share your bed the night before and just don’t remember. You know how you get after a week of disregarding your general wellbeing.”

“Oh, shush you. I take care of myself. When was the last time you went to your check in with Patricia?”

Jason scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I missed one session, because I have exams too you know? But I’m up to date with Silvio, and we are working on slowly easing me off the medication.” He noticed the way Tim looked at his drink, expression screaming bullshit, and he scowled in response. “Fuck off, it’s alcohol-free. Kori and Artemis would have my head if they caught me mixing my dosage with anything stronger than tea, and I can’t deal with Biz and Roy’s disappointed eyes.” 

Tim thought of the last time he refused to see his therapist, and the look in everyone’s  (specially Kon’s) eyes, and had to agree. Having friends sucked when one wanted to wallow in self destructive conducts.

“Whatever, all I’m saying is, he’s not cute enough for me to forgive his weirdness. You know the people I roll with, so this is saying a lot. And I would remember inviting him to my bed, if anything for the mortification of it. I’m also…”

The ring of the doorbell distracted them both of whatever Tim was gonna say next. Waving his brother off, Jason got up to pay for their pizza.

When he returned to his living room, Tim was no longer alone.

“Who the fuck are you?” He exclaimed, eyes going back to the hallway at his back, then again at the black haired, grey eyed kid sitting next to Tim. “And how did you get in? We are on the sixth floor and I was just at the only door I have.”

Tim raised his eyes at him, and he seemed equal parts resigned and frazzled. ‘Told ya’, he seemed to say.

“Yo, the food’s finally here. I’m starving. The name’s Zachary Zatarra, by the way. Tim’s friend and housemate.”

“Allegedly” mumbled the other under his breath, earning himself a smile and pat on the back. “Don’t question it, Jay. He’ll be gone after a while when none of us are paying attention. Just let it be.”

“But while I’m here”, the other boy continued, grinning devilishly as he looked at Tim and then Jason, “instead of questioning how did I get in, what about I tell you all about your lil bro’s crush? It 's adorable.”

Tim raised an eyebrow “I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“Like I said, adorable. He’s so oblivious, it’s precious.”

Decision made, Jason left the pizzas at the coffee table and went to fetch a soda for their guest. Gossip, especially about his siblings, was the best way to gain his immediate cooperation. And he could always force the answers about Zatara out of Bart; the brat was terrified of him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey, who has to cook tonight? Because I’m craving chicken nuggets.”

Cassie raised her eyes from her magazine, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Uhm… Zach, I think?”

Miguel nodded. “Okay, thanks, where can I find him to suggest my dinner idea?”

Cissie, legs on Cassie’s lap, dropped her head over the couch’s armrest. “Ask Tim? Wasn’t he crashing with him this week?”

That same moment, said boy entered the room, shaking his head. “No, he was sharing with Anita and Cassie.”

“No, he wasn’t… Slobo?”

“Not with us either”, denied Miguel, sharing a look with his roommate to confirm just in case.

“Conner?”

“Didn’t Bart say yesterday he was driving him to the airport?”

“Wait, he left the country again?”

“More importantly, can Bart drive?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

When Tim came back home from class, Damian was in his living room. Using a laptop. Sitting side by side with Zatarra.

This couldn't be good.

“Hey, Timbo, welcome back.”

“Drake.”

Not uttering a single word, Tim turned around and walked out of there. Sleeping on a park bench seemed like a preferable choice, compared to finding out exactly why the two banes of his life were sitting together. It was healthier, good for his peace of mind.

Something something self care? His therapist would be so proud.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey dude.”

“Zatara. Your presence here disrupts my room’s feng shui. Please remove yourself from the premises.”

“This disaster zone is the farthest thing from armonious. If anything, I’m improving it.”

Tim raised his eyes from the computer screen. He could always kick the other man out, but that would require leaving the nest he made out of blankets and snacks on his bed. Perhaps a more civilized option would be better. Besides, as boundary-less as the dude was, he didn’t step into the room, just remaining on the doorstep, so whatever he was here for, he most likely needed Tim’s willful compliance.

“If I listen to what you have to say, will you leave?”

Zatara smiled angelically, like butter wouldn’t melt on his mouth, but the look behind his eyes was nothing short of devious. “That’s actually what I came to speak with you about. I have a show…”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“A magic show. Dude, you do know I’m a magician, right?”

Tim didn’t, in fact, know that, besides baseless suppositions about his disappearing-and-appearing abilities. But he had an all knowing facade to maintain, so he grunted in acknowledgement.

“Right, so, I have a show scheduled for tomorrow, but I took Bart out to dinner yesterday so I’m all dried up, and I need to buy a plane ticket asap.”

“Are you asking me for a loan?” he inquired, incredulous. As a general rule, all their housemates refrained from that. Something about not wanting to take advantage of their billionaire friend…

“No, no. I’m offering you a…. service.”

“Look, Zach, no offense? But you ain’t cute enough for me to stoop that low and pay for the… pleasure of your company. I can just give you the money and you pay me back whenever, dude.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that! You wish I was offering something  of the sort” he laughed, arms crossed and side leaning against the doorframe, chest and arm muscles perfectly visible. Tim kept his eyes carefully above neck-level. No need to give any weakness away.

“Then?”

“I know you love me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make you miserable, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“Are you familiar with the ‘Buy my silence, $8.000 a month’ meme? Then get ready for a ‘pay for my absence’, my good bitch. I thought maybe you’d like...”

“Sold. I buy it. Take my credit card and go, be free, roam the world. Just get out of my room and fucking text once in a while so I know you’re alive.”

#My writing #college au #Young justice #Tim drake #conner kent #zachary zatara #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #slobo #miguel #anita fite #Cissie King-Jones #Greta Hayes #jason todd #Jason is a TA at college #Tim despairs #Zachary loves fucking with him #it's more than a pastime at this point #more of a career #my writting #mental health discussed #IN THIS HOUSE WE GIVE CHARACTERS THE THERAPY THEY NEED #housemates au

[natamoko]

UNEARTHED by @nakamoto

for @11thsense (3.7K)

(There is a reason why Aidonsvalley stands alone, makes its own decisions, attracts and denies, takes and leaves. There is a reason why it has a heart of its own.)

On the door of the Church of St. Agnes, a page was stamped: “1 PETER 2:4-6 — As you come to him, the living Stone - rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him - you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says: See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.”

A crimson thumbprint was displayed alongside the words, and Raheem didn’t know whether to take it as some extremely obvious omen or something that should be ignored. He shrugged and went on his way. He had things to do. Nothing necessary, of course.

Aidonsvalley attracted a healthy amount of tourists due to its strange nature. The sun appeared at dawn and left at dusk just like it did everywhere else in the world. Everything worked as it should, but evidently something was amiss. The land chose what it acquired and what it discarded. It chose what it claimed and what it dismissed. And if you did everything right, (and you had to—those who didn’t could never die, those who didn’t would wander and lead a life of toil forever) then the land embraced you warmly enough and you would never get to leave. Raheem had been claimed not too long ago. Partially because of his transformation when he was fifteen, partially for a reason he had not yet understood. That knowledge was long overdue.

Aidonsvalley loved the supernatural, he knew that much.

Despite the wonders it did for the town’s tourism, he couldn’t help but mess with the newcomers everytime they arrived. They marvelled at the aging billboards (“Look, honey, this is the ‘56 ad! From the D’Arcy era; you know I love my beverage trivia—”) and the churches at every corner, more churches than convenience stores. They usually arrived in the evening times when it was cooler, because that was when the neon electronic advertisements would light up. No one ever donated their used dreams, but they sure loved staring at it.

Raheem, from a folding chair situated near a rhododendron bush, noted that these particular tourists looked alike, but not so much that you could mistake them for siblings. They were both wiry and tall, limp blonde hair; one was pulled back in almost identical ponytails, while the other was closely and badly shaven. Diligently poring over the maps in their hands.

The couple peered at the statue before them—Edmund Aidon, the founder of the town. His image was said to be greatly exaggerated, as his biceps were larger than what seemed humanly possible, and his canines were unusually blunt. Still, he looked important, so tourists adored him.

The woman, the one with a fascination for old Coca Cola television advertisements, tapped lightly against Aidon’s thigh. Her partner asked, “Isn’t it magnificent?”

“I’m not too sure,” she said, giving it another light knock before straightening and snapping a photo. “Smile, Edmund Aidon. 1834 to 1911. Timor dei in terra. I think that’s his own personal motto, or maybe something for the town. You studied Latin in school, Geoff, what does that say?”

“All I got was ‘terra’,” he said with a shrug, “Land. And are you okay? Why are you obsessed with that thing?”

Raheem had never offered the statue anything other than a sidewards glance. The tourists in the area generally camped near the lake, hoping to catch sight of the legendary local siren (or something close to that—there wasn’t a word to accurately describe her). Or sometimes they lingered near one of the many churches, over-analysing the scripts hung to the doorposts or trying to catch a word or two from one of the sermons. A rumour had started spreading amongst the tourists a while ago of demons being summoned in church, the house of God being used as a cover. As a demon himself, Raheem knew that was untrue. But its unlikeliness didn’t stop the persistent, eager tourists.

If they were going to remain here, poking at the statue and conversing, they should spend some money on him and make themselves useful. Raheem continued listening to their conversation, considering whether he should use his influence. But unfortunately, he wasn’t really in the mood to make them both walk off the pier, hand in hand, and become April’s supper, or cause them to develop a sudden intense fascination with his father’s restaurant.

The woman turned to her partner. Raheem could see her face from here, all sunburned skin and worry in her eyes. She scratched at her crooked nose and gave the statue one last tap. “I don’t know. It feels hollow, almost. Forgive me for this, but slightly corrugated, even.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” ‘Geoff’ said, not even bothering to check for himself. Idiot. “The guide says it’s made of marble. Marble doesn’t echo.”

“This does.” She sighed and stood up. “Whatever. We should head to the hotel now. I’m starving.”

• • •

It started with Alex losing sleep. Then his jaw would begin to grind against itself while he was both sleeping and awake. His eyes would redden and become sore, the skin on the tips of his fingers would begin ache before breaking and bleed in preparation of what would happen next.

It did not matter whether he was indoors or out, visible to the moon or hidden, awake or asleep. It was an inevitable part of his life. There would be a chanting in his head (run run run), the urge to find someone and pull them apart. Then there would be prey underneath his fingernails and between his teeth, blood would taste more like fear than copper, and the ground would move beneath his feet so quickly it would hear but beneath him. When the sun would rise he would become still and straighten and look eastwards, then shortly find himself waking on the forest floor. That was routine.

This moon was particularly awful. Coffee severely worsened things, made the readjusting of bones so much more painful, and he had been drinking it no less than ten hours ago in order to stay awake and supervise his younger sister’s recent dressmaking project. His parents were not pleased with him being left in charge, especially since the moon was so close, but there had been no one else.

Alex picked a piece of bone from between his teeth, imagining it came from his father’s femur or his mother’s skull. They were the more harmless Aidonsvalley folk—or, at least, the sort that believed themselves to be harmless when they were just weak—and he despised them for it. They were related to him but were not his family.

He suddenly felt around for his glasses’ case. He was not especially helpless without them, but they were the key to looking relatively normal. Only a select few people knew who he was. His moon-addled mind had concluded that his glasses were the key to stopping the residents of Aidonsvalley from looking too closely at him and figuring out exactly what was wrong.

Alex gave up and struggled to his feet, holding a tree for support. Within the forest stood an oak, with the beginnings of a treehouse balanced atop it.

He grinned. It’ll never be finished. Aidonsvalley chose what to keep and what to throw away, and buildings would never be included in the former. The most recent home that hadn’t been destroyed by the town had been built in the mid-twentieth century. It was just another strange part of the town that Alex was simply not particularly interested in solving. However he did like to reminisce about Anita Darlington’s attempt to build a windmill when Alex was younger. She was his aging neighbour, and spent an entire season constructing her windmill, which stood next to her vegetable garden.

It was struck by lightning less than an hour after it’s completion. Alex had been riding his bicycle next to her house when the incident occurred. He still remembered the flash in the sky moving downwards, his hammering heart, the smell of burning wood. He remembered the fright in his chest and Umi’s terrified face. He remembered how pleasant of a day it had been beforehand: warm, but not overbearingly so. Not a single rain-cloud had been sighted.

•••

“I’m telling you,” Raheem insisted, his hand holding onto Umi’s upper arm. “I’ve never seen someone stare at it for so long. You have a good eye—”

“So do you,” said Umi. He gave the statue a gentle knock and frowned. “It feels cheap. Too light. It’s almost like sandpaper. I’ve felt something like this before.”

A week had passed since the incident with the tourists, and Raheem had spent it scamming them by selling useless trinkets and completely fake stories about the origin of the town’s strangeness. He usually undertook little projects throughout the year, but it was summer and he deserved somewhat of a break. The ancient Coca Cola bottle he found buried in his garden and had subsequently sold to the blonde, observant woman would support his expensive lifestyle for at least a week at most.

If Raheem scraped the top layer of the soil in his garden, he could find enough things to set up his own museum. It was not a phenomena exclusive to him, and additionally, no one knew where all those things came from originally. Once, when uprooting weeds, one of the townsfolk, Amara, had discovered that her front garden was soaked in blood, not water. That explained why she couldn’t grow anything more demanding than cress.

Kel took Umi’s hand. He had sort of forced himself into this boring excuse of an adventure, but Raheem didn’t mind because he didn’t mind Kel. He was quite fond of anyone who sought out an entertaining experience.

“Never knew a tourist would work you up this much,” said Kel cheerfully, before pointing to a mark behind Edmund Aidon’s knee. “Hey, what’s this?”

“Looks like a square,” said Umi, leaning forward to see it clearer. “How did you spot this anyway?”

“Not sure,” answered Kel, despite obviously knowing that the mark had shifted itself, working up towards their line of sight so it could be seen. Those sort of things were ignored here. Everything had a life, and its own motives and ambitions. “In my opinion, it looks like a jackhammer, a bit. If you turn your head and squint.”

“No it does not,” said Raheem, annoyed. “It’s a cradle.”

Yes, it did appear to be a cradle the longer he looked at it. The thin bars grew clearer. Somehow he could tell it was wooden. But something about it all wasn’t right—it didn’t look like something carved into the statue. Rather, something that had been a part of it ever since it was constructed. Aidonsvalley didn’t have a symbol, official or unofficial. Something strange was certainly going on. Raheem wasn’t sure if he wanted to dig deeper.

“This is odd,” remarked Umi. “This is the only thing that survives Aidon—no other records as far as I know, and there’s something carved here. Should we look into it?”

“Maybe,” said Kel. “This isn’t very strange for this town, but it’ll be fun to investigate. But where? The library won’t be much help. They don’t keep records there.”

The only library in Aidonsvalley was this stuffy building from the early twentieth century that held absolutely nothing of value. Investigative material couldn’t be brought in for some reason or the other. It was all rejected in some form. The town archives had to be kept elsewhere because of it. As a demonstration of this fact, once, the mayor's niece Stephanie Murray attempted to trace the nearby lake’s history. Her paper had promptly burst into flames, and she decided to complete her project in a café maybe an hour or two away from the town. Really, the only thing the library had going for it was its complete Toni Morrison collection.

“They keep the town’s archive in the church on main street,” said Umi. “You know the one: St. Agnes. Apparently there’s a cellar underneath the altar, but I can’t be too sure.” He turned to Raheem, expressionless. Unsure. “Look, if you can find a way to get in, I’ll help you out. You know I’m not too certain.”

“I know,” replied Raheem brightly. “Doubting Thomas. Do you even think there’s something strange afoot?”

“Well there’s always something going on here,” said Umi, affronted. “If we get caught, it’s your fault. I’ll get Alex in on this as well, it’ll make things easier, I think.” Pause. “Do you want to get ice-cream with us?”

He waved a dismissive hand and turned back to Aidon. “Sure. Go ahead, I just need to check something.”

The two waved—Umi visibly confused but still sure in his own decision, Kel apprehensive and glancing around—and made their way to the nearby parlour.

Raheem placed his hand flat against the statue. Something shifted beneath his touch, he heard a faint noise like a beating drum, and he frowned.

Half an hour later on the other side of town, Alex stood at the lakeside. The lake beside Aidonsvalley (still technically within the town but somewhat shoved to the side) was the subject of many rumours. The tourists all cleared out before the sun had fully set, interested in what apparently went down beside the lake, but still in possession of some sense of self-preservation. Unfortunately, Alex did not have the aforementioned sense of self-preservation.

The only harm that could possibly befall him was if he lost his balance and fell down into the lake. There were pointed rocks below, carefully sharpened at dawn and at dusk, and if he pierced any part of his body, he most certainly would not survive that experience.

There was someone standing on the jetty above the lake. Alex recognised him as one of the Fallow brothers, three siblings from a family of mechanics. They handled the people who “washed up at the town’s shores,” fixed their cars, cleared their memories and sent them away. He was a high school student. Perfectly average. Nearly unnoticed. Graduating this fall.

And April was also below him, treading the water. Her hair floated on the surface. Alex averted his gaze, half out of respect and half to avoid her hypnotic technique. But he still saw her from the corner of his eyes, saw the way she unhinged her jaw and said the Fallow boy’s name: Matthew, in a voice she didn’t possess.

The boy moved closer to the ledge. He crouched and peered through the water. April’s power was clouding the air, turning it green. Matthew moved slowly, as if he were running through a lime cloud as if in a trance. Or a dream. Then he called for his mother and April responded in kind. He, foolishly, reached for the water, looking at her face and seeing his late mother instead of what she truly was. April grabbed his wrist and pulled.

He toppled over easily, and didn’t struggle until April sank her teeth into his neck. He flailed desperately and cried out from under the water. His movements slowed with every second until he finally fell still.

April emerged from the lake a moment later, her upper half collapsing on the ledge. She looked up at Alex and grinned. “It’s rude to watch a siren eat, you know.”

“Really?”

“No,” she said, “But it is an indicator that you’re the main entrée.” Her smile widened. “Kidding, I love you.”

Alex continued to watch the water. “He wasn’t claimed, you know. He can’t die until he gets things right. I’d expect to find him in the sewers. Or in the church.”

“Why’d you think I chose him?” April questioned. 

They stared at each other for a moment before Alex reminded her of the time he saved her from these ‘low-quality’ whalers, as he dubbed it. She owed him, she even said that earlier. Then he told her that he needed her help breaking into her uncle’s church. Her hand shot out so fast, tightening around his earlobe, that he shouted and wobbled perilously on the edge.

“Idiot,” she chastised, “Why’d you wanna do that?”

April had this unfortunate habit of being constantly hesitant. It was not a con, for sure, but it certainly hindered any interesting activities Alex thought up. This was the wrong time to be careful, he reckoned, because if there was a mystery surrounding Aidonsvalley, then it was bound to be serious. She should know this.

“Something weird is happening,” said Alex, separating her fingers from around his ear and trying to keep his tone light. If he appeared to be desperate, she might decline just to fuck with him. “Raheem told me.”

“Raheem is a compulsive liar.”

“Not to me.”

He belatedly realised that it was the wrong thing to say.

“No,” April answered with a grin. “Not to you.”

Sensing a serious change of subject, Alex quickly arranged himself to a sitting position further up on the ledge. He balanced his chin against his palm and gave her a long look. She raised her brows in turn.

“Do you not have the stomach for this, April?”

“Of course I have the stomach for this,” she snapped. “I’m just careful, unlike you lot.” She paused. “I’ll help you plan your little heist, but don’t tell me what it’s for.” Despite herself, April grinned at him. “If that happens, I’ll get really interested. Things will all go down from there.”

•••

Raheem sat on the stone steps of St. Agnes, a book in hand. It was in French, a language he didn’t recall ever learning, but he could understand it perfectly. Strange. Even stranger was the fact that he could not walk past the altar for some reason, so Alex and Umi were the ones who had to retrieve the appropriate town records. Raheem was not pleased. He started this adventure, but had been forced to play whistleblower instead.

“How annoying,” he said as his phone began to ring.

“Found something about the town’s origins,” said Umi, breathing hard. From a distance, Raheem heard Alex laugh. “None about Edmund Aidon himself, though. I’m beginning to doubt his existence.”

“Tell me more. Is it interesting?”

A sharp inhale. “Oh, very.”

And it went like this:

The Preston’s were a family known for their hatred for supernatural creatures and how they exercised the aforementioned hatred. Once they were a few generations into the family practice of murder, several other families joined together with them to help achieve their shared goals. They called themselves The Cradle. Soon enough a town was founded for the five thousand or so members, and its name was unpronounceable.

About a century after the town’s creation, someone received word of a counterattack. In just a matter of days, vampires, werewolves and other supernaturals would band together and burn the town to the ground. Fearing something a little worse than death, the townsfolk hypocritically sought out a method to save them. They selected a random person in the town and made them live forever. The exact method, Umi stated, was not stated. Then the other townsfolk transformed themselves into the town—they knocked down the church and all the homes and created new walls out of their own flesh. The altar was made of bone. They drained the lake and replaced it with their own blood. The grass and the trees were fertilised with people, and the person they left behind was meant to bring them back once the danger had been averted, but they didn’t.

With a chill creeping down his spine, Raheem noted that the person might still be in Aidonsvalley. He glanced around in worry for a moment, as if the person might just be standing at his shoulder. Thankfully no such thing existed, but something else attracted his attention.

A porcelain statue near the church’s pillar, of a mother holding its child. It could be mistaken for Mary and the baby Jesus, but its features were hauntingly realistic and unlike the usual paintings of the Madonna and child. Beneath the porcelain was flesh, presumably. Raheem stared at the child holding his mother’s finger, sat in her lap, and felt a feeling both strong and indescribable.

“So presumably Aidon came across an already furnished yet empty town, then re-established it,” said Raheem, “But if that’s the case, wouldn’t there be anything about him? It’s like he just sprouted here.”

Things in this town tended to do that, he reminded himself. He was used to everything here. The tourist had described the statue in a strange manner. Slightly corrugated. That could mean skin, but it was hollow—

“There’s a chance that he was the person left behind,” said Umi slowly, “and no one ever thought to write it down since he’s a constant. You wouldn’t take note of the colour of the sky everyday? It’s either blue, red and sometimes black. We know that.”

They both hung up after Umi agreed to finish up shortly. Kel joined Raheem on the steps, very carefully not meeting his eyes. Perhaps the blue colour was too bright for this time at night, Raheem told himself.

The more Kel touched a stone step with his fingertips, the more it wore away until it revealed a portion of a face. Grey-skinned, open-mouthed, expression trapped somewhere between terror and exhilaration. The person’s eyes, fixed skywards, slowly lolled down to look directly at Kel. If its mouth was visible, Raheem would have received confirmation that it was smiling.

That was two incidents now, he stated privately as his heart jumped. The first was the cradle appearing just as Kel drew near, the second was the face.

When Umi and Alex returned and led the other two away, the stone replaced itself and the face was safely hidden away. As the four followed the path they had followed for well over a decade, Raheem distinctively felt like he was being watched. Perhaps it had always been this way, but now that he knew that Aidonsvalley was a real, living, breathing town, he felt it strongly.

There was one thing he knew for sure, though. When he would eventually sit in his living room, surrounded by relatives that were not family, and press his head against the wall, he would hear breathing. A deep inhale and exhale. It makes the whole world shake, but he’s the only one who feels it. He’s one of the only people that knows this town is made of living stone.

#im taking exams at the moment so if this feels rushed that's why #but anyway i just wanted to write an explanation on why aidonsvalley is Like This to some extent #inspiration came from that one time i heard something breathing in my living room wall while i was praying with my family #my writing

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Five:Sensory Integration 1

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A Friday full of teasing for Shane ends in a steak dinner with a blue-eyed beefcake. If you don’t finish this chapter hungry for one or the other, if not both, I haven’t done my job! Lol! (For inspo on Sy’s date outfit, think back to that one Men’s Health photoshoot Hen did and just imagine his hair shorter. That’s what I did. lol!) 

Click me to catch up on the story and other stuff by Hannah!

Word Count: 4k (This date got away from me! Lol! And it’s only half over!)

Warnings: Mostly this is utter fluffy fluff, but I’m gonna put the following warnings on, anyway. Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, borderline food worship (Shane may have a problem, I definitely do! Lol!) Also, pretty much every Sy fic I’ve read says that his given name is Logan, so...should his given name be used henceforth, that’s what I’m going with because it seems the most cannon and I like it and if it’s good enough for Wolverine...

Author’s Note: So, guys, this is crazy. First off, the reaction and love Sy and Shane’s story has been getting has taken me completely off guard and utterly made my day/week. (I’m serious. Every note makes my heart do a happy dance. A like, a reblog, a comment. It all means the world to me. Thank you for your feedback and for sharing this story.) Second, YOUR FEEDBACK MATTERS TO ME! Because initially, idk what I was thinking. I was going to skim over their first date and like…not write it…and I kept getting notes as I worked on further chapters to the tune of “can’t wait for this date!” and I thought…hmm…well, the date must be written! So, here it is, the first half-ish, of Shane and Sy’s first date. I hope it’s all you were expecting…or at least half of all you were expecting! Lol! More to come in part two of Sens Integ! (BTW, fun fact, these chapter titles are all named after treatments that therapists actually use on their patients sometimes! Lol!)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland @speakerforthedead0@tumblnewby @suavechops

Friday morning. She was up with the sun. And a bit before, really. Today was the day. Her first date with Sy. She’d taken extra care in the shower, less clumsy, thank God! She shaved her legs because she had chosen to wear a knee-length blue dress with a scoop neck and cap sleeves in wrinkle-proof Jersey knit since it would be in her tote bag all day. She was not shaving because she thought anything would happen tonight with Sy. She didn’t think she was ready.

That is, she was ready, but, only physically. Emotionally, mentally, she would need to prepare for him a bit longer before taking him as a lover. She hoped he was on the same page.

He had an appointment in the early afternoon. He greeted her with his warm “Hello, sunshine.” Following it up by telling her how pretty she looked today, causing blush to burn in her cheeks. She’d reciprocated, even though he was in his typical tee and shorts look. It was still true. They got on their usual bikes to warm up for about 15 minutes, and then took to the leg press to try to advance his strengthening.

“I’m really proud of your progress! You wouldn’t have been able to do this much weight two weeks ago!” She encouraged him.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Now, we are going to do some drills next. Simple ones, but they aren’t going to be fun for you. I’ve chosen to do them on your last day of the week for a reason. You may be sore. Ice and whatever you take OTC if you must. Ibuprofen or acetaminophen. But try the ice first. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Okay.” He conceded, dejected.

“Stretching afterward.” She promised.

“Okay!” He pepped up. She knew he just loved an excuse to have her hands on him.

Later, as he lay on the mat, sweaty from the exertion of the drills, with her up there with him having to use her whole body to leverage the proper stretch out of his hip flexors, she felt the heavy weight of his gaze. She tried to look anywhere but those sapphire eyes below her. They were too vulnerable. She couldn’t handle that right now. Not here.

“Shane?” Dammit, he was gonna make her.

“Hmm?” She looked down at him, smile meeting smile.

“I just…” he couldn’t seem to get out the words. But she thought she understood what he was feeling.

“I know, Sy. I know.” She gently patted his outer thigh where she had been bracing her hand for the stretch, and let his leg back down, while dismounting the mat, as well.

“Well, that’s about the hour. Any questions before I let you go?”

“Are you as excited for tonight as I am?” He asked. She chuckled. She couldn’t imagine him being more excited than she was!

“Yes! Hehe! But I still kinda meant about therapy, Sy.”

“Oh, right. Are you excited to finish up with your therapy patients at therapy today so I can pick you up from the therapy clinic and take you on our date?”

“Just because you say therapy 20 times doesn’t make it about therapy.” She laughed.

“Okay, I do have a question for you, since I’m here.”

“Shoot.” She encouraged.

He stood and held her face, taking it into a kiss so devastatingly and painfully tender, she could not process what to do next. She was leaning toward fainting. But then tackling him onto the mat again seemed an attractive option. She settled for placing her hands on his waist, ready to control the situation as need arose. But after a brief moment of slight deepening, he broke away, still holding her face in his large strong hands.

“Ahem. That’s a good question. Why don’t I have you a reply later this evening?”

“Sounds good to me, sunshine.” He grinned widely, and waved a quiet goodby to her.

She walked to the doorway of the small room to watch him walk out…his gait still uneven from his injury but improving enough that she could tell he once took very…confident strides. She could almost picture it. She sighed, forgetting herself for a moment until Anita came up behind her walking her elderly patient with a gait belt and front wheeled walker.

"Is that a bit of drool on your chin, Shane?" she said quietly, but still startling the younger therapist from her reverie.

"Oh, uh, hey." she checked her chin, absentmindedly, late in getting the joke, and rolled her eyes. "Funny, Nita. Do you need anything?"

"Nope, Gladys and I are just headed to the gym for a few minutes on the NuStep to round out her treatment." Nita grinned at Shane.

"Who was that handsome young man that just left, Shane?" Gladys asked her, as women of her…demographic tended to do.

"He's just one of our patient's Miss Gladys. But I can't tell you his name. It's against the privacy policy." She explained.

"Oh, okay. Well, if I was a few years younger, I'd let ya give him MY name…and my telephone number." she smirked with pride in herself. All three ladies giggled.

"I'm pretty sure he's spoken for, Gladys." Anita broke the news to her randy patient, smirking at her coworker.

"Shame! Well, that's one lucky young lady!" Gladys hobbled on with the walker as Anita cued her not to let the device get too far ahead of her feet. Shane was beet red from the whole interaction. At least she wouldn't have to wear blush tonight.

Her day finally finished, notes done, and final communications sent,  the most important (in her opinion, probably not her employer's) message of them all was next. The text to Sy that he could head toward the clinic to pick her up.

She touched up her eye makeup, applied another coat of mascara, and dabbed on some of her favorite lipstick in a deep red that complimented her skin tone. She also spritzed on a bit of her favorite Armani perfume before slipping on her dress and black ballet flats and sliding on a pair of simple hoop earrings. She'd had her hair pulled up all day in a clip, so it should be pleasantly wavy when she took it down…and with a bit of flipping, shaking out, and finger diffusing, it was.

She looked in the mirror. She was ready.

Was she ready? She examined herself in the full length mirror in the empty locker room at the clinic. The dress and the shoes suddenly seemed all wrong, both together and as individual pieces for the occasion. She looked great, it wasn't that…but…was it right for tonight? Should she cancel? Was she being ridiculous? Clearly she was, as she'd already sent the message telling Sy he could come get her. But the closer she got to being ready to go, the less ready she felt. Those butterflies were suddenly clawing at her esophagus, disrupting the bile in her stomach, and threatening to choke off her air supply. They were no longer pleasantly fluttering. She felt like she had a boot against her windpipe.

She was snapped out of the panic attack when she heard her phone go off. A message from Sy.

Your chariot, m'lady. Should I come in and get ya?

She grinned like a lunatic. How could she have considered calling tonight off?

Nay, m'lord, verily the gates be locked. I shall use the rear exit and meet thee around yonder forsooth.

Wow, you ran with that one. *laughing in tears emoji*

I have that tendency. Lol. *monocle wearing emoji*

She grabbed her bags, walked out the back door, and tossed the one that wasn't her purse into her vehicle, which was parked nearby and walked around to the front. He was standing on the sidewalk near that edge of the building.

The sun was just setting, and the light from it hit him so bewitchingly that it took away her breath. Not in the frightening way of the panic attack she'd just had, but in the nice way, like right before you surface from a deep dive and you know the sweet relief of oxygen is imminent. She assessed his ensemble with approval. Black books, sleek dark blue jeans, and a sapphire v-neck polo that even in the low light of near dusk made his blue eyes dance with vibrant intensity against his fading tan. His hair was starting to grow out ever so slightly, but it was still very close cropped. His beard, she could tell, had been finely groomed, combed, and styled. He looked…well, she'd never looked up the word "handsome" in the dictionary, but she imagined it would describe the image before her quite succinctly. And alternatively, Sy's image could be used as an illustration in the reference book, itself.

The best part, though, was the look on his face when he saw her.

She felt like he'd never properly looked at her, perhaps. Maybe he wasn't expecting a dress, or loose hair, or red lips. Or maybe it was a combo of the whole Date Shane package he was seeing before him. As his eyes beheld her, he almost looked confused. As if she was a stand-in. Or maybe an alien. Some body-snatcher. Only he wasn't frightened. She was having a hard time working out his expression as she'd really never seen it before, and particularly, never aimed in her direction. He said one word.

"Wow." It was reverent. Not a whisper. But barely a decibel above.

Again, her cheeks required no artificial pigmentation.

"Hey. You look…you certainly scrub up good, mister." she giggled nervously, feeling immensely awkward at her inability to properly compliment the chiseled image of Adonis before her. His every muscle hugged to perfection by the fabric covering it. How did you even begin to tell such perfection how perfect it was?

"You…Shane, I don't remember the last time I saw anyone look so beautiful." he frowned, as if trying to recall, then giving up with a smile, and leaning in to kiss her cheek. He lingered a moment to hug her, hold her as the day faded, breathe her in. She did the same. He was freshly showered and wearing cologne, as he often did, but it rarely hit her so solidly as it did tonight. She loved this scent. Woody, but earthy, with notes of bergamot, a kind of musky scent similar to amber, but more masculine, and something spicy that she loved. The combination exploded like an olfactory fireworks display.

The shirt was an unthinkably soft cotton (blended she thought perhaps with kitten, she could not stop touching it.) and the warmth of him radiated into her as his chest rose and fell over the course of his numerous breaths as they stood there holding each other and enjoying this feast for the senses.

"You ready for supper?" he asked, a faint but distinct rumble from his abdomen indicating that he most certainly was.

"Yes." she smiled up at him as he took her hand in his and led her to his truck. A Ford F150, the same sapphire blue as his shirt and his eyes. She was sensing a pattern, here. It wasn't the newest vehicle, but he had taken immaculate care of it. She felt shame for her own treatment of her Explorer, Bessie, which often functioned as storage shed, trash can, and sometimes, hotel, when she felt like a road trip on a shoestring budget. He walked her to the passenger side, opened the door for her, and helped her in, as the truck sat a bit higher than what she was used to.

"So, I have us a table saved at this great steakhouse just down the road. And then, it's supposed to be a nice night, I thought we could take a walk by the lake?"

It sounded perfect to her. Quiet and simple.

"Amazing. As long as your knee is up for a walk?"

"I've got all weekend to rest before getting tortured again." he smirked at her as he pulled the truck out of the parking lot and on the main road toward the interstate. "B'sides, who better to have with me if I start hurtin' than my PT?"

The emphasis he placed on the possessive pronoun, claiming her as HIS PT sent a delighted shiver through her that she blamed on the AC, which he promptly turned down.

He had his Spotify shuffling Kings of Leon at a low volume as they conversed lightly and pleasantly. Since it was an earlier model, even well equipped as it was, it wasn't quite ready for auxiliary or Bluetooth sound, so he'd bought one of those radio receivers that tune into an unused frequency and connect to your phone or iPod. She'd retrofitted her 2003 Ford Explorer in a similar fashion.

They were both caught a bit off guard when "Sex on Fire" came on, and tried valiantly to keep talking. But it was hard to hear anything but those lyrics. Singing of exhibitionism and dangerous sex acts that were definitely moving violations…and simply the sex being on fire. She was thankful, for once, that this song that she'd always found catchy without paying much attention to the actual lyrics, was now fading into the night as they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

She remembered to wait for him to get the door for her, even though it had been ages since she'd been on a date or had any kind of romance whatsoever. He helped her down from her perch, giving her a gentlemanly moment to adjust her skirt before taking her hand and leading her into the building.

He opened the door and led her in by that lumbar lordosis that made everyone tremble and swoon. She was no exception just because she knew that part of your back was not actually called "the small" and she got perturbed when she heard it referred to as such.

"Welcome to Mark's, how can we help you?" the host greeted warmly.

"Reservation for Syverson." Sy piped up. She was used to being the voice in these situations. She was thankful not to have to for once. It was a small thing, but it was still nice.

"Right this way, folks." he grabbed two large menus, a mid sized one, and a small one, and led them to a cozy but still spacious two-top in a quiet corner of the dining area. The warm light was low and ambient, and there were real kerosene lamps on the tables, which she loved. It had the rustic ambiance of a cabin with all the refinement of any four+ star restaurant she'd ever been to. Not that she'd been to many.

"Here you are, the table you requested, and your menus. Have a look at them, and Katie will be out soon to answer questions and take your orders."

As he walked away, Sy pulled her chair out for her, and aided her sitting. His gentility was so refreshing to her, because it was so sincere and kind, and in no way oppressive or domineering, as some men seemed to use such gestures. Wielding them like a club rather than a feather. She was just used to seeing a certain side of him, teasing and silly as he was in therapy that this side of Captain Syverson, or as she may end up calling him one day, Logan, his given first name, if it pleased him, had taken her off guard.

"Nice place." she approved, looking around at he exposed beams of the ceiling and the iron and copper chandeliers and light fixtures on the wall. She also noticed quite curiously a copy of American Gothic by Grant Wood on one wall and The Kiss by Gustav Klimt on another. Such different styles to be displayed in one room. She really liked it though.

"It's one of my favorites. I try to come in every couple weeks or so." The fact that he liked steak on the regular was definitely a point in his favor. She loved it but rarely went out for it on her own. Eating out alone wasn't so bad, but it was hard to enjoy a steak dinner by one's self.

"What's your favorite cut?"

"Oh, I've tried most of them, and you can't go wrong." He assured her.

They had a crazy selection. Ribeyes, filets, sirloins, prime rib, all seasoned, smoked, topped and wrapped in every way you could imagine…it was like staring at the Netflix menu of steak. And much like she tended to do with Netflix, she relied on a classic favorite. After all, who goes for an obscure choice their first time at a new steak house?

"I'm keeping it simple and going for their prime rib and a baked potato."

"Ah, that's a perfect choice. We're getting some of their lobster mac and cheese to start, though. Unless you're allergic or something?" he added the disclaimer when he saw her eyes widen.

"Not at all, that sounds…"she was thinking "sexual," but decided instead on "heavenly."

Soon, Katie, a peppy, slender young redhead in black jeans she'd been poured into and a white T-shirt she had outgrown some time ago, descended upon their table with gusto.

"Howdy, I'm Katie and I get to take care of you fine folks this evening. What drinks and appetizers can I start y'all off with?"

Sy looked at Shane to prompt her to start.

"Sweet tea?" she half stated, half inquired. Katie nodded and jotted.

"Sure thing! Sir?" she thought her eyes sparkled when she looked at Sy…she couldn't blame her. But…she thought she could take her if she tried anything. She was certain there was a very sharp knife in the black napkin set-up at her right hand.

"Same for me, Katie. And we are also gonna need an order of your lobster mac to start and a bottle of your house cab."

"Fantastic. I'll be right back with the teas and wine after I put in for the lobster mac for ya, and then I'll take your meal order." she smiled brightly. Sy looked at Shane, though, as he replied "Wonderful."

~~~~~~~

Her instincts about the lobster mac and cheese had been spot on. She couldn’t contain her yummy noises of enjoyment which amused Sy to no end. She couldn’t imagine the steak any better.

About that, she had been completely wrong. It was so succulent, tender, and flavorful, she debated on whether or not the provided au jus and horseradish were even needed. They were also too good to resist, though.

Her potato, twice baked to the perfect tenderness had a salt brined skin, and a garlicky butter that just sung with the sour cream and chives. She was in food heaven, and even if that meant she was dead, it was fine.

He’d ordered the same entrée as she had, but took his baked potato…a bit differently.

“You don’t like sour cream?” She asked, nonplussed.

“Nah, I mean, I can eat it, but…it feels weird in my mouth. I prefer the au jus and butter, instead. It’s much more tasty.” He said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” She laughed.

“You’re welcome to try mine when I get it all doctored you how I like it!”

She did, right from his fork. And he was right about it being so flavorful, but she preferred the mild, creamier texture of her own side with the savory notes of her steak.

They ate and enjoyed each other’s company and conversation.

“Ya know, Sy, I totally had you pegged as a beer man, instead of a wine guy.” She said, as she brought her own glass of the deep red liquid to her mouth and nose, inhaling the bouquet before she took her sip.

“Normally, you’d be right. With a burger, pizza, sometimes tacos or what not, definitely. But I can’t do beer with steak. It’s gotta be wine. Red. And full-bodied.” He held her gaze as he drank from his own glass. Why did he have to look at her like that when he said those kinds of words? Her cheeks were warm from more than the booze.

For desert, they shared a decadent marbled brownie/blondie a la mode. He’d had the idea to slide his chair so he was sharing a corner of the table with her, rather than looking across it at her. Purely so they didn’t have to keep sliding the dessert…not so their knees would brush against one another now and then, or so they could feel the heat radiating from one another’s bodies…but actually, exactly for those reasons.

“Last bite is to you, Sy.” She set her fork down, full to bursting.

“Are you kiddin’? My mama’d tan my hide if she knew I took the last bite from my date.”

“You’re being gallant, actually! Rescuing me from a certain belly ache.” She patted her small but slightly rounded tummy. She did like her food, and was no gym rat, after all. He didn't seemed to mind. Yet.

“How 'bout we share the last bite?” He suggested.

“Technically that’s not physically possible. Becau…”

He interrupted what was going to be an intellectual explanation of why no matter how small you cut up a bite, the remaining bit was still technically one bite, and couldn’t be shared.

“No. Shh. I know you’re smart. You got nothin’ to prove here. I’m gonna cut what’s left in half until I get a bite you’re willing to take. Okay?” She nodded.

He only had to take the fork to it twice before she conceded, also letting him feed her, feigning paralysis from the food coma. She held the fork tightly between her lips, making him work to pull it from her mouth. She looked innocent, but she was an intentional little shit.

“You're so cute when you eat.”

“Said no one ever!” She held her hand over her face.

“You are, though. You enjoy the food. Experience it. It’s like you’re…getting a story from it, or something. Like it’s…almost like it’s entertaining you, I don’t know. It’s just…beautiful.” He leaned his elbow onto the table, supporting his head in his hand as he looked at her.

"Well, sometimes I think I like food a little TOO much for my own good." she lamented, reaching for the cabernet only to have it snatched by her date. He uncorked it and dispensed a generous pour for her, and topped off his own glass, killing the bottle.

"No such thing. Like I said about the wine, full bodied is the way to go. Nothin' wrong with a little cushion." he winked at her. She could not resist finishing a rhyme she'd always heard about the desirability of curvy girls…for the pushin,' and hoped the flush in her cheeks from the wine was enough to disguise the deepening color from the current blush she was feeling thinking of Sy…pushin' her cushions…but something tipped him off to her distraction.

"What's on yer mind, sunshine?"

"I'm wondering if you're prepared to carry me on this walk we're planning, actually." It was possible to think more than one thing, after all. "I don't know how I'll ever even walk again."

"Ah, give it fifteen minutes. Finish up your sweet tea, and by the time we're done with our walk, you'll want an ice cream cone."

"Ha, doubtful." But she was ashamed to admit, ice cream already didn't sound bad. Vanilla…maybe pistachio….no, coffee! In a waffle cone…with fudge drizzle…and almonds…maybe she had a problem.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded. He flagged down Katie and gave her cash, and what one might call a benevolent tip. They left the warm steakhouse, and entered the breezy late summer evening, the humid air seeming thick with promises.

Up Next: Chapter Six-Sensory Integration 2

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc

[pearlposts]

The Best of Soft Rock: More Than A Feeling

 SONG TITLE                                ARTIST       TIME

Lowdown                                     Boz Scaggs    5:18

Whenever I Call You “Friend”  Kenny Loggins    3:18

Piano Man                                    Billy Joel         5:40

Longer                                     Dan Fogelberg    3:18

Miracles                                Jefferson Starship  3:33

Lost in Love                              Air Supply          3:55

More Than I Can Say              Leo Sayer            3:39

Rosanna                                         Toto              4:03

More Than a Feeling                  Boston              3:26

Take It on the Run               REO Speedwagon  3:37

Make Me Lose Control           Eric Carmen         4:48

Total Eclipse of the Heart       Bonnie Tyler         5:35

Living Inside Myself              Gino Vannelli          4:25

The Flame                            Cheap Trick            4:50

Sara                                        Starship               4:23

SONG TITLE                                  ARTIST                   TIME

Livin’ Thing                         Electric Light Orchestra        3:34

This Is It                                   Kenny Loggins                 3:59

Africa                                                Toto                          4:59

Eye In The Sky                      Alan Parsons Project          4:35

Look What You’ve Done to Me       Boz Scaggs                5:18

You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling Daryl Hall & John Oates  4:36

All Out Of Love                              Air Supply                    4:03

Can’t Fight This Feeling           REO Speedwagon            4:55

The Search Is Over                        Survivor                       4:14

All by Myself                               Eric Carmen                    7:11

Without You                               Harry Nilsson                   3:21

Year of the Cat                           Al Stewart                        6:38

Dust in the Wind                         Kansas                            3:27

Vincent                                    Don McLean                       4:01

Please Come to Boston         David Loggins                     4:09

SONG TITLE                                    ARTIST                                  TIME

Baby I’m-a Want You                           Bread                                   2:32

A Horse with No Name                       America                                 4:09

Diamond Girl                                    Seals & Crofts                          4:04

I Saw the Light                                 Todd Rundgren                         3:01

Blinded by the Light                Manfred Mann's Earth Band              3:51

It Might Be You                               Stephen Bishop                          4:14

She’s Gone/Sara Smile/Rich Girl        Hall & Oates                           3:29

Minute By Minute                         The Doobie Brothers                     3:28

Sentimental Lady                                Bob Welch                              3:46

How Much I Feel                                 Ambrosia                                 4:44

Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime The Korgis                               4:12

If You Leave Me Now                          Chicago                                   3:57

Sailing                                        Christopher Cross                             4:17

Waiting For A Girl Like You             Foreigner                                     4:52

Against All Odds                            Phil Collins                                    3:25

SONG TITLE                                    ARTIST                                              TIME

Ride Like the Wind                        Christopher Cross                                  4:32

Saturday in the Park                          Chicago                                              3:57

Sister Golden Hair                              America                                              3:20

You’re So Vain                                Carly Simon                                            4:18

If                                                          Bread                                                  2:35

Ooh Baby Baby                              Linda Ronstadt                                        2:42

Him                                                Rupert Holmes                                         3:40

You Are the Woman                         Firefall                                                    2:45

All I Need                                       Jack Wagner                                             3:32

Walking In Memphis                       Marc Cohn                                                4:19

Making Love Out Of Nothing At All  Air Supply                                                5:01

I Want to Know What Love Is        Foreigner                                                   5:00

The Living Years                    Mike + the Mechanics                                       5:33

Drive                                               The Cars                                                   3:57

One More Night                           Phil Collins                                                   4:48

I’ll Be There                             The Escape Club                                             4:57

SONG TITLE                                                     ARTIST                                TIME

Summer Breeze                                           Seals & Crofts                             3:26

Key Largo                                                     Bertie Higgins                             3:19

Make It with You                                                 Bread                                    3:12

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?     Chicago                               3:22

Dream Weaver                                           Gary Wright                                  4:18

Hello It’s Me                                            Todd Rundgren                                3:52

Sara Smile                                      Daryl Hall and John Oates                       3:12

Chuck E.’s In Love                             Rickie Lee Jones                                  3:28

Black Water                                  The Doobie Brothers                                 4:16

Still the One                                             Orleans                                           3:56

Hurt So Bad                                      Linda Ronstadt                                      3:18

Cool Change                                  Little River Band                                      4:08

Biggest Part Of Me                            Ambrosia                                              5:27

Never Be the Same                    Christopher Cross                                       4:41

You Can Do Magic                           America                                                 3:57

SONG TITLE                                    ARTIST                                                TIME

The Guitar Man                                 Bread                                                   3:45

Tin Man                                           America                                                  3:27

Wildfire                               Michael Martin Murphey                                     4:50

25 or 6 to 4                                  Chicago                                                     4:52

Lotta Love                               Nicolette Larson                                             2:43

What a Fool Believes         The Doobie Brothers                                          2:27

Steal Away                              Robbie Dupree                                              3:31

You’re the Only Woman              Ambrosia                                                   4:22

Sexy Eyes                                Dr. Hook                                                       3:00

Kiss You All Over                       Exile                                                           3:30

Even the Nights Are Better   Air Supply                                                       3:59

Arthur’s Theme                  Christopher Cross                                             3:55

Dance with Me                       Orleans                                                         3:21

Beautiful in My Eyes            Joshua Kadison                                              4:10

Black Velvet                        Alannah Myles                                                 4:48

SONG TITLE                        ARTIST                                                         TIME

California Dreamin’      The Mamas & The Papas                                       2:54

Kokomo                        The Beach Boys                                                     3:36

Ventura Highway             America                                                               3:32

Listen to the Music      The Doobie Brothers                                               3:27

I Can See Clearly Now     Johnny Nash                                                     2:43

It Never Rains in Southern California  Albert Hammond                             3:38

Thank You For Being A Friend            Andrew Gold                                   4:45

Everything I Own                                    Bread                                           3:07

When Will I Be Loved                     Linda Ronstadt                                     2:10

I Keep Forgettin’                         Michael McDonald                                    3:41

Baby Come Back                               Player                                                2:16

Circle in the Sand                       Belinda Carlisle                                         4:27

Hold On                                     Wilson Phillips                                            3:41

I’ll Be Over You                              Toto                                                        3:50

Just the Way It Is, Baby          The Rembrandts                                           4:09

 SONG TITLE                            ARTIST                                                     TIME

We Don’t Talk Anymore       Cliff Richard                                                      4:13

Baker Street                       Gerry Rafferty                                                     2:13

When Your in Love with a Beautiful Woman  Dr. Hook                                  2:56

Fool (If You Think It’s Over)       Chris Rea                                                     3:33

You’re No Good                     Linda Ronstadt                                                 3:46

Reminiscing                        Little River Band                                                 3:17

The Air That I Breathe           The Hollies                                                       4:12

Sad Eyes                            Robert John                                                        1:55

I Go Crazy                          Paul Davis                                                           5:23

Hearts                                Marty Balin                                                           4:19

These Dreams                     Heart                                                                  4:17

Jessie                           Joshua Kadison                                                         4:22

Release Me                   Wilson Phillips                                                          3:54

The Doctor                 The Doobie Brothers                                                    3:45

SONG TITLE                    ARTIST                                                               TIME

Maggie May                Rod Stewart                                                               5:15

Higher and Higher      Rita Coolidge                                                             4:01

Whatcha Gonna Do?  Pablo Cruise                                                              4:15

I’m in You                   Peter Frampton                                                           4:11

Drift Away                     Dobie Gray                                                              3:56

More Love                   Kim Carnes                                                               3:37

Babe                             Styx                                                                         4:01

Into The Night        Benny Mardones                                                            4:31

It’s a Heartache       Bonnie Tyler                                                                 3:45

While You See a Chance   Steve Winwood                                                 4:06

Show Me the Way       Peter Frampton                                                        2:30

Fooled Around and Fell in Love    Elvin Bishop                                           4:37

Lonesome Loser           Little River Band                                                     3:54

I’m Not in Love                10 CC                                                                    6:07

I Just Wanna Stop         Gino Vannelli                                                           3:37

SONG TITLE                    ARTIST                                                              TIME

Daniel                          Elton John                                                                3:53

I Need You                   America                                                                    3:07

I Can Dream About You    Dan Hartman                                                       4:11

Escape                      Rupert Holmes                                                            3:54

I’d Really Love to See You Tonight  England Dan & John Ford Coley          2:38

On and On                 Stephen Bishop                                                          3:01

Tempted                        Squeeze                                                                  4:01

The Things We Do For Love   10 CC                                                           3:31

The Best of Times           Styx                                                                      4:18

Cry                       Godley and Creme                                                          3:55

Your Wildest Dreams   The Moody Blues                                                    4:51

Higher Love                 Steve Winwood                                                       5:46

More Than Words           Extreme                                                               5:36

I’d Do Anything for Love    Meat Loaf                                                          5:17

Do You Feel Like We Do      Peter Frampton                                              7:20

SONG TITLE                      ARTIST                                                          TIME

So In to You             Atlanta Rhythm Section                                             4:23

Fly, Robin, Fly           Silver Connection                                                     3:50

Sentimental Lady        Bob Welch                                                              3:46

Show And Tell             Al Wilson                                                                 3:29

Wild Flower             The New Birth                                                             3:59

Delta Dawn             Helen Reddy                                                               3:09

American Pie          Don McLean                                                                8:35

Rock Me Gently      Andy Kim                                                                     3:29

Go All The Way      The Raspberries                                                          3:22

Mr. Big Stuff            Jean Knight                                                                 2:49

Oh Babe, What Would You Say     Hurricane Smith                                   3:26

Hooked On A Feeling     Blue Swede                                                         2:53

 Having My Baby           Paul Anka                                                             2:33

Last Song                     Edward Bear                                                          3:13

The Streak                   Ray Stevens                                                           3:18

SONG TITLE                  ARTIST                                                               TIME

Rhinestone Cowboy   Glen Campbell                                                         3:16

Too Late To Turn Back Now  Cornelius Brothers And Sister Rose             3:20

Boogie Fever             The Sylvers                                                              3:30

Reminiscing            Little River Band                                                         3:17

I Just Want To Celebrate    Rare Earth                                                      2:54

One Bad Apple           The Osmonds                                                         2:43

Have You Never Been Mellow   Olivia Newton-John                                 3:33

Magic                            Pilot                                                                      3:05

Boogie Oogie Oogie     A Taste of Honey                                                  3:38

Right Back Where We Started From   Maxine Nightingale                        3:15

Sad Eyes                        Robert John                                                        1:55

Gonna Fly Now                Bill Conti                                                            2:48

My Sharona                  The Knack                                                            4:02

You Sexy Thing          Hot Chocolate                                                        4:05

Puppy Love               Donny Osmond                                                       3:06

SONG TITLE                 ARTIST                                                              TIME

Love Train                  The O'Jays                                                              2:58

Knock Three Times     Dawn                                                                      2:55

Brandy                    Looking Glass                                                             3:04

Little Willy                  Sweet                                                                       3:12

Baby Don’t Get Hooked on Me    Mac Davis                                              3:06

Take Me Home, Country Roads    John Denver                                         3:13

It Never Rains in Southern California   Albert Hammond                           3:38

Brand New Key                Melanie                                                              2:26

Come and Get Your Love       Redbone                                                      3:32

More. More, More (Part 1)      Andrea True Connection                              3:02

I Can See Clearly Now         Johnny Nash                                                  2:43

Everybody Plays the Fool     The Main Ingredient                                       3:22

Indian Reservation             Paul Revere & The Raiders                              2:52

The Cover of “Rolling Stone”   Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show                2:55

When Will I See You Again      The Three Degrees                                     3:00

SONG TITLE                           ARTIST                                                      TIME

Rich Girl                    Daryl Hall and John Oates                                        2:23

Lady Marmalade                    LaBelle                                                         3:21

Best of My Love              The Emotions                                                      3:41

Fire                             The Pointer Sisters                                                  3:28

Miracles                        Jefferson Starship                                                 3:33

You Make Me Feel Like Dancing    Leo Sayer                                            2:51

Here You Come Again         Dolly Parton                                                   2:58

Disco Lady                        Johnnie Taylor                                                  4:25

Saturday Night                Bay City Rollers                                                  2:56

Rock On                           David Essex                                                      3:26

Wildfire                  Michael Martin Murphey                                              4:50

You Take My Breath Away   Rex Smith                                                    3:15

I Go Crazy                      Paul Davis                                                         5:23

Stumblin’ In        Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman                                      3:31

Torn Between Two Lovers    Mary MacGregor                                         3:44

SONG TITLE                      ARTIST                                                          TIME

Bad, Bad Leroy Brown     Jim Croce                                                         3:00

Don’t Pull Your Love     Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds                          2:41

Love Will Keep Us Together  Captain and Tennille with Neil Sedaka        3:24

Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song  B.J. Thomas             3:22

She’s A Lady                 Tom Jones                                                           2:51

How Do You Do?       Mouth & MacNeal                                                   4:07

Black and White        Three Dog Night                                                      3:51

Escape                      Rupert Holmes                                                        3:54

Drift Away                 Dobie Gray                                                              3:56

It’s a Love Beat     The DeFranco Family                                                 3:09

I’m in You               Peter Frampton                                                          4:11

The Candy Man     Sammy Davis, Jr.                                                      3:10

Spiders & Snakes   Jim Stafford                                                              3:05

Billy, Don’t Be A Hero  Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods                       3:40

The Morning After     Maureen McGovern                                                2:20

SONG TITLE                                   ARTIST                                          TIME

Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves          Cher                                               2:36

Maggie May                                Rod Stewart                                         5:15

Baby Come Back                            Player                                              2:16

I Just Wanna Stop                   Gino Vannelli                                           3:37

Jackie Blue                 Ozark Mountain Daredevils                                  3:37

Higher And Higher               Rita Coolidge                                              4:01

I’m Not in Love                           10 CC                                                   6:07

Y.M.C.A.                               Village People                                            3:45

Will It Go Round in Circles     Billy Preston                                              3:46

I Just Want to Be Your Everything   Andy Gibb                                        3:44

Do You Wanna Make Love        Peter McCann                                        4:01

Signs                            Five Man Electrical Band                                    4:02

Disco Duck                              Rick Dees                                                3:14

Montego Bay                       Bobby Bloom                                               2:55

If I Can’t Have You            Yvonne Elliman                                              3:00

SONG TITLE                         ARTIST                                                     TIME

Play That Funky Music      Wild Cherry                                                    3:16

One Toke Over the Line    Brewer & Shipley                                            3:21

Afternoon Delight          Starland Vocal Band                                           3:14

Life is a Rock                      Reunion                                                        3:31

I Can Help                         Billy Swan                                                       2:57

My Maria                       B.W. Stevenson                                                  2:31

Magnet and Steel            Walter Egan                                                     3:25

Beach Baby                    First Class                                                         2:42

The Rapper                   The Jaggerz                                                        2:45

Brother Louie                  Stories                                                               3:57

Precious and Few            Climax                                                              2:46

O-o-h Child               The 5 Stairsteps                                                      3:15

Playground in My Mind    Clint Holmes                                                     2:57

Put Your Hand In The Hand   Ocean                                                        2:53

Please Come to Boston    David Loggins                                                  4:09

SONG TITLE                      ARTIST                                                         TIME

Turn The Beat Around    Vicki Sue Robinson                                            3:24

Ring My Bell                     Anita Ward                                                        3:31

Sometimes When We Touch   Dan Hill                                                      2:22

Rose Garden               Lynn Anderson                                                      2:49

In The Summertime      Mungo Jerry                                                         3:37

Seasons in the Sun      Terry Jacks                                                           3:30

The Night Chicago Died   Paper Lace                                                       3:32

Rock The Boat            Hues Corporation                                                  3:09

Don’t Give Up on Us        David Soul                                                        3:39

Kung Fu Fighting         Carl Douglas                                                         3:17

Love Grows                Edison Lighthouse                                                  2:51

Sweet Mary              Wadsworth Mansion                                                 2:42

The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia   Vicki Lawrence                     3:36

TSOP             MFSB featuring the Three Degrees                                   3:35

Feelings                    Morris Albert                                                            3:45

#ignore me #manic mania activities #gonna make a playlist later

[anousiemay]

The Angel & The Devil Ch. 1 A Lie Burns Many Bridges

Guardian and The Red Hood are hot on the trail of Black Mask. Trying to find just what he has invested in this time. In an attempt to find answers, The Red Hood does something he instantly regrets, putting his relationship with Guardian on the rocks. Can he salvage their relationship or will he lose another person in his life? Another gorgeous commission by @symeona​ and another fic by yours truly! While the moment I pictured this image doesn’t appear till chapter 4 I thought it’d be a good placeholder hehe. Another Jason x Anita fic cos I’m in love with them being in love. This fic is also on ao3!  https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anousie/ ----- "Are we going to be meeting this 'Angel' you keep mumbling about?" In the little time Jason had spent with his new teammates, he'd learnt that Artemis is not one to beat around the bush. In fact, she'd most likely beat the metaphorical bush to bits if need be.

The long flight back to Qurac had eased Jason's mind but left his body weary. It was the first time in years that Jay had ever felt so tired. Especially after facing his past and stopping a crazed Amazonian from killing hundreds with the Bow of Ra. It could be said this was all in a day's work for someone of his profession. But as the plane’s wheels touched Gotham Airport tarmac, his heart began to ache. For now, he was back in Gotham with his relationship with Anita most definitely on the rocks. "Yes, Princess. You both will, but I'd prefer if I was alone with her first." "Red Him am embarrassed by Red Her and Bizarro?" Oh Bizarro, precious, brutally strong Bizarro. Jason was much more embarrassed in himself. "No of course not, big guy. But Guardian and I probably aren't on the best terms right now." "You are lucky we are in a public place or I would have thrown you fifty yards. Do not call me princess." Artemis spat as she rose from her seat on the plane. Ah yes, he forgot about that. That's what he'd say if he was lying. "Sorry," He really wasn't. "Well, I guess I'll take you guys to one of my safehouses. C'mon, I need a shower." "Oh good, I swear your jacket was becoming a part of your flesh." "Red Him am made of jacket?" "No, Bizarro. I am not."

- - - - The safehouse was surprisingly spacious enough for all three of the Outlaws to occupy. Artemis had placed her axe in the kitchen when they arrived. To which Jason had promptly asked her to leave it in her room. Bizarro on the other hand, was fascinated by the PS4 currently humming and the controller Jason had placed in his hand. "Give it a shot, B. Skyrim's a pretty good game." Then, once sure the two were settled and not putting their weapons in kitchens; Jason grabbed some spare clothes and jumped into the shower. How good it felt to be under hot water. Jason took this moment of solitude to reflect on the past few weeks. Two weeks ago, Anita, known as Guardian to the public, and himself had been hot on the trail of Black Mask's latest investment. The Angel and Devil (aptly named by goons due to her wings and his red helmet) were scaring thugs and opening crates of 'funky techno shit' as Anita had called it nightly. But neither were getting anywhere. Dead end after unconscious thug with no real lead on just what Black Mask was planning. That's when Jason had turned to Bruce, asking him to trust his wayward son with taking down Black Mask himself. "You want me to pretend I know nothing? She won't buy it for a second, Jason." Bruce had been rather shocked by Jason’s latest proposition. "I know, I don't need her to buy it. But if she knows what I’m doing she'll hold back. It's the only way." "Wasn't it a while back you and the others were adamant, we'd be honest with one another?" Bruce uttered as he opened a few files on the Bat Computer. Jason laughed then, Bruce did too. Neither were that good at being honest. "She won't be happy, Jason. She's not like us. It was hard for her to get her around being a meta and now you're doing this?" Jason sighed, how could he forget? Anita had been a mess, he had let her down and couldn't save her in time from the bastard who implanted the meta-gene. But now she was Guardian, a symbol of hope for Gothamites and himself. She was a good person; mask on or off. But Jason well, Jason wasn't always a good person, even if she disagreed. He left soon after, his response dangling in the air. "I have to, Bruce. It's the only way."

- - - It was April 12th and the moon was hung high in the air. No clouds in Gotham meant there'd be a lot of evil out tonight. Guardian peered through her night vision binoculars for the third time in 3 minutes, she was insanely bored. Red Hood had briefed her that The Bowery had seen a lot more foot traffic than usual in the construction site across from the apartment building roof she sat on. They were to watch the place for any unusual activity. At least she had some food to keep her occupied. "So, what do you think of Gina's Kebabs?" She asked through her microphone, trying not to stain her white outfit as she took another bite.

A small crackle from her earpiece, then Red Hood’s deep voice cut through the midnight wind: "I think it's more grease than lamb, Angel. I'd give it a 3 sober. What about you?"

Guardian giggled, "Well my chicken one is actually pretty warm still, so I give it a 5 for its longevity."

"You're definitely the nicer mark out of us two." Red Hood responded, an airy chuckle leaving his throat. "Oh, Red. I'm the nicer everything out of us." "Excuse you? I have a hotter bod than yours." Guardian faked a gasp, but he had played himself into a trap: "That’s not what’cha said last night." "I wasn't sober!" "Exactly, you were drunk on this fine glass of wine." Guardian stood up and shook her hips, knowing the vigilante on the building across from her was watching. "Just shut up and watch the roads."

"Aww, you're precious, babe." Guardian teased but resumed watching the roads below. 30 minutes passed before finally, something happened: a large truck reversed into the opened shutter of a warehouse next to the construction site. 5 minutes later, two men came out on motorbikes and sped off towards Founders Island. Bingo. "Shall we give chase?" Guardian was already extending her wings before Red Hood surprised her. "No, let's see what they've left. Bats can handle them." She spotted his silhouetted figure grapple down from his building. "Are you sure the grease in that kebab didn't poison you? This is our chance to get some info!" Guardian questioned as she flew down to the warehouse, meeting her partner who was already trying to lift the metal door. "Or break some bones for absolutely nothing." He huffed out, Guardian sighed and grabbed the metal door, throwing it up with one hand. "Since when were you against breaking bones?" "Anita." His voice was stern, Red wasn't kidding around. "Jason?" She shot back; this wasn't like him. The tall man sighed and took off his helmet, he only ever did that when he wanted to get a point across. Or make out, but she doubted that was the reason this time. "I just think it'd be better for us to keep our eyes on whatever they've bought here. We can catch up with them another time, but what if what's on this truck is the answer to what Black Mask is up to?" "But why would he leave it here unguarded if it was, Jay? It makes no sense, it'd have to be some dud shipment, right?"

Damnit, she was too smart for her own good. But Jason had one more card up his sleeve.

"Just humour me?"

The two stared at each other for a few beats before Anita finally sighed and walked into the warehouse. "Fine, but you owe me a Banana Split from Freddie's when you see that I'm right." "Yes ma'am." Jason affirmed before clicking his helmet back on. The two waltzed over to the back of the truck and Anita ripped the metal back off, placing it next to them. "Your super strength is getting easier to handle?" Jason questioned, pressing their bodies close as they peered into the trucks back. "Yeah and the wings aren't playing up as much either." Anita admitted, in fact her powers had been functioning well these past few nights. Jason smiled from under his helmet, running a gloved hand along her feathers. "You do look beautiful with them, you know?" Anita blushed at the compliment, still feeling rather insecure about them. "You trying to butter me up, so you don't have to get me a Banana Split?" "No! Maybe… Is it working?" "Tell me I have a better bod than you and I'll reconsider." Anita teased as the two began grabbing crates and opening them on the warehouse floor. "I'd have to perform a full examination to know." He poked back swiftly. "Ugh, men."

After going through all the crates, Anita let out an exasperated sigh. "See? I told you it was a dud shipment. But why would he have one? What do you think Red?" Anita waited a few moments; hearing Jason unlatch one of his guns from its thigh holster. "Red?"

A small click then a loud bang. Guardian fell to the ground in pain, looking at her leg she saw a bullet lodged into her kneecap and blood staining her suit. But Guardian doesn't bleed, she hasn't since she got these wings. Just what the hell was in these bullets? Her head started feeling light but willed herself to look up at the shooter: Red Hood held his pistol at her now sweating forehead. Pulling the chamber back and wrapping his finger tight on the trigger. The only thought that passed through Anita's head was: ‘What the fuck?!’

#Jason Todd #jason todd x oc #red hood #red hood and the outlaws #oc #fic #fanfic #ao3 #dc

[technicallycleverdetective]

Presenting my last OS for Christmas, this one using the prompt “If there’s magic, it’s only because of you” which was my favourite one on the list so I really wanted to do something with it. This is my attempt. I hope it’s a good read :)

“Time for bed” Fabrizio announced, to a reception of sighs and protests. “It's nearly 10pm. Santa won't come if you're not asleep.”

 “Why not?” Anita demanded.

 “Because he's doing his job and he doesn't want children in every house trying to talk to him and holding him back. Getting around the world is one night is a tight schedule” Fabrizio replied wisely.

 Anita thought about that for a moment. “Like you when we go shopping?” she asked. “When the people stare at you and you pretend not to see them?”

 “Um...Yes, I suppose it's like that” he agreed. His daughter nodded in understanding. “Well, I won't talk to him. I just want to see him” she said, and lay down on the sofa.

 “You can't sleep here, sweetheart. He won't come unless you're in bed.”

 Dark brown eyes opened and fixed him with an intelligent glare. “You said he'll come if we're asleep, and I will be,” she said. “And then he'll wake me up and I'll squint so he doesn't realise.”

 He had to admire the amount of thought that had gone into this plan. “Alright love, good luck,” he conceded. “I'll get your pillow and blanket.”

 “Thank you Papa.”

 He turned to the other two people in the room and gestured for them to follow him upstairs. Ermal went directly to Anita's room while Libero stood in the doorway of his, watching curiously as the adults took her pillow, duvet and plush dinosaur back downstairs. Fabrizio tucked his daughter into her makeshift bed and kissed her goodnight, leaving Ermal to do the same and going back up to Libero.

 “Remember when I wanted to stay up and wait for Santa?” his son asked.

 The memory formed as clear as day, Christmas 2012 with his three year old son in his Captain America pyjamas, bouncing with excitement as he waited for Father Christmas to come down the chimney. Within an hour, that excited little boy had fallen asleep in his arms and he'd held onto him for longer than he had to before putting him to bed. It was a precious memory even now.

 “Yes, I remember. I stayed up with you.”

 “Yeah,” Libero smiled. “And then I woke up in my own bed and I don't know how I got there.”

 “The magic of Christmas, I suppose,” his father suggested. “It put me back in my bed too.”

 “Goodnight Dad.” Libero waved, stepped into his room and closed the door.

 “See you in the morning” Fabrizio called through the wood, and went back downstairs. A check in the living room confirmed that Anita was still there, intently watching the fireplace, and he went to the kitchen where Ermal was waiting with two glasses of wine.

 “You're a star,” Fabrizio said gratefully. He took one glass and toasted it gently against Ermal's. “Let's go out to the garden. We can't do any work until she's asleep and we can keep an eye on her through the window.”

 They sat down at the patio table, Fabrizio switching on the heater and turning to see Ermal's smile illuminated by the orange glow. “You look happy” he remarked.

 “I am. Thanks for including me so much” Ermal said. Fabrizio felt more surprised than flattered by the compliment. “Why wouldn't I?” he asked curiously.

 “Well, I'm not really family, am I?” Ermal pointed out. “Even at my sister's house I feel like a guest, so being able to shop for the kids and wrap their gifts and cook means a lot. So thank you.”

 “You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad you're here. You've made the Christmas season so much more enjoyable.”

 “Because you don't have to cook Christmas dinner?”

 Fabrizio chuckled and shook his head, gazing into his wine glass. “Because it's not all about making everything magical for the kids,” he answered. “Christmas these days is just a lot of stress and work, and in the end, the imaginary bearded man gets all of the credit. Is that a really bitter thing to say?”

 Ermal smiled sympathetically and squeezed his hand. “I think it's reasonable. Christmas is for kids and you know that I never celebrated it then.”

 “Papa!”

 They sprang apart guiltily at the sound of Anita's stern voice. She was standing at the back door, arms folded and hair wild on one side. “Go to bed. Santa won't come until everyone's asleep” she scolded.

 “You're right, darling. Let me finish my drink and I'll go right away. You run back to bed and try to sleep.”

 She nodded, satisfied with the answer, and disappeared back inside. Fabrizio glanced at Ermal and pulled a face. His boyfriend raised his eyebrows. “I am suitably chastised” he said. Fabrizio laughed and rubbed his hand affectionately.

 **

 The alarm went off at 2am and Fabrizio groaned, rolling over and grabbing his phone from the table. He blindly jabbed his finger at the screen until he hit the right place to make the sound stop, and then turned onto his back and rubbed his eyes.

 Ermal's groans sounded like a hibernating bear that had been disturbed. Fabrizio reached out and patted his curls which were everywhere on the pillow. “Sorry love, go back to sleep.”

 Another grunt was his answer. Feeling like a corpse attempting to escape its grave, Fabrizio arose and staggered across the room. It took three tries to find the door handle and pull it open. He stepped into a cold, dark and completely silent hallway. As carefully as he could, he descended the stairs and slowly opened the living room door. Anita blended into the dark space, but he could see the shape of her duvet and hear her gentle deep breaths.

 He approached and knelt in front of her, watching her face for any response, but she was deep in the Land of Nod. He picked her up with the duvet still wrapped around her and turned towards the door, seeing Ermal appear there. One hand was rubbing his eye sleepily, the other was already reaching for her pillow. He led the way back upstairs and Anita was safely deposited back in her bed. If anyone asked, Santa was responsible for her movement, and thanks to Ermal she would have no reason to doubt the story.

 It was a treat he'd concocted for his niece a couple of years ago, and apparently her reaction had been worth all the hours of labour. Four bags of sugar had been purchased for this and now the real labour of the night began, making little white patches on the floor and then shaping them into footprints, all the way from the fireplace to the stairs and back to the tree before finally exiting in the place they'd come from. It took two hours to do it all even with two people working together.

 It was with tremendous relief that Fabrizio collapsed back into bed, opening his arms for Ermal to fall in after him. “If we hurry, we can still get three hours of sleep” he muttered.

 “Maybe we’ll get lucky and have four” Ermal suggested. Fabrizio smiled at the ceiling and closed his eyes. “No,” he sighed. “It’ll be three.”

 **

 2 hours and 55 minutes later, Anita came barrelling into the room, grabbing his arm and pulling insistently. “Papa! Come and look at what Santa did!”

 “What did he do?” he asked blearily, genuinely confused for a moment.

 “He brought me back to my bed! Come and see!”

 Fabrizio pulled out of her grip, struggling to sit up without groaning like a piece of old furniture. Finding him too slow for her liking, Anita climbed onto the bed and started shaking Ermal’s shoulder. “Uncle Ermal, you have to see what Santa did!”

 “Okay, okay, I coming…”

 “I’ll be back,” she warned, and jumped off the bed. Fabrizio heard her open the door of the neighbouring bedroom. “Libero, Santa’s been in our house!”

 “Success” Ermal declared wearily. Fabrizio shushed him with a finger on the lips as Anita reappeared in the doorway, frowning at the sight of them still in bed.

 “Get up!” “Alright, Little Miss Bossy. Calm down” her father retorted, throwing the covers aside and going to her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the stairs. Libero had just emerged from his bedroom, rubbing his eye and squinting in confusion. His sister beckoned him to follow. The three of them descended the stairs until, about four steps from the bottom, Anita stopped them and pointed at the line of white footprints striding through the hall to the living room. Libero’s mouth fell open.

 “What is this?” Fabrizio gasped. “Look at what Santa has done to my carpet.”

 “He didn’t mean to” Anita protested.

 Fabrizio huffed in mock-annoyance. “I hope he left the nicest presents in his sack to make up for it. Why don’t you go and check under the tree?”

 Anita grinned and ran to the living room at once. Fabrizio turned to his son. “Maybe he left something for you as well.”

 Libero kept looking between the footprints and his father, obviously not sure what to believe. At last it seemed that Fabrizio’s reputation for being ruthlessly house-proud won out, and he hurried after his sister to see what other evidence Father Christmas had left of his visit. Once they were gone, Fabrizio did a little celebratory dance in the hall and looked upstairs to see if Ermal was following. He was, albeit at a sloth’s pace and with his eyes still half-closed.

 Fabrizio headed for the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine, but was waylaid by his daughter’s shrieks of joy. She rushed out of the living room holding the small jewellery box that contained her necklace. It had a thick silver chain and a heart charm with her name engraved on it.

 “Look what Santa got for me! Can you help me put it on?”

 “Of course, love.”

 He knelt and undid the clasp to put around her neck, sensing Ermal walk behind him just before the bubbling sound of the percolator began. Anita ran away as soon as her new jewellery was on and started sorting through the gifts under the tree. It was always her job on Christmas morning to distribute the gifts to her family. Libero was already sitting in his assigned spot on the sofa, holding a new blue hoodie with Totti’s name and number on the back.

 “Did you find anything interesting?” Fabrizio asked. His son looked at him and gave a brilliant smile, glanced at his sister’s back, and pointed at his father. Fabrizio shook his head and pointed at the kitchen. Libero’s mouth briefly opened in surprise and then he grinned again.

 Ermal was already pouring coffee into two mugs as Fabrizio entered the kitchen. He got some juice from the fridge and poured glasses for his kids, and then threw an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and kissed his cheek.

 “It was worth getting up so early. I wish you could have seen their faces” he said.

 “I could hear them,” Ermal assured him, smiling. “I guess they like the gifts too?”

 “They love them. You would be so popular if your name was on the labels.”

 Ermal shrugged and handed his mug to him. “If their Christmas morning is magical, it doesn’t matter who they believe was responsible. Just call me Father Christmas.”

  Fabrizio shook his head and toasted Ermal’s coffee mug with his own. “I’m not giving the bearded man credit for this one,” he said. “If there’s magic, it’s only because of you.”

#metamoro #prompt #also this takes place during the same christmas as the 'that's my scarf' prompt :)

[motleycrueimagine]

This Ain’t a Love Song - Part Five - Nikki Sixx Fan Fiction

Words count:   2266

Warnings: Language, drrug use

N/A: Okay so i’m not a huge  fan of this chapter, I tried to re.-rwite this a million times but it was still not looking as I had pictured it. I hope you still like it, i can’t wai to go on posting, I have so many ideas for this story. I let you red now, as always taglist is open and feedbacks are really appreciated. xx

Huge thanks to @blonde-shamrock

Summary:

Maya Prescott has done anything possible to fix her life. It was 1977 when she left her groupie life: no more parties, no more concerts, no more drugs, alcohol or casual sex, just to achieve a full standard life. Now it’s 1981 and after a four years disappearance  Maya Prescott unexpectedly shows up to the party of one of the most promising emerging bands of the LA’s rock’n roll scene: Motley Crue. But what should be her last ride is destined to change her life in so many unexpected ways.  

TagList: @motleycrueee  @babygal-babygal@unknownoblivion @sweetshutter

Masterlist

12 December 1981

Music was high and so was I. It was one in the morning and I was working my shift at the club. It was half empty; there weren’t many people around Christmas time, because Christmas made family men feel guilty about spending their free time in a strip club. They felt guilty telling their wives that they were at a business meeting while they were actually here drooling on beautiful young bodies.

“Princesa, can you take some shots to the girls in the privé?” Anita asked me with her super Latino accent. She was amazing, and one of my best friends. She was the one that offered me this job, since the other bar girl was convicted for taking part in drug trafficking.

“Sure, baby.” I filled the shot glasses and brought ‘em in the back of the building were the staffroom was. “Okay girls, here is Ruby’s tequila, whiskey for Molly, rum for Brittany and Britney, vodka the rest of you gurls…” I handed the shot glasses to all the girls that were working in the privé and then kept one for myself.

“Honey I still don’t get why you’re still working as bartender and not on the stage with us,” Andrea said while leaning the empty glass back on the tray. I gave her a side eye while fixing my bra-top in front of the mirror.

“Because I could not stand freaks that stare at me all night long, and I would definitely break too many hearts.” The truth was a bit different but she did not need to know it.  

“Now that you’re drunk, your tits are up and the makeup is done, go make some money.” I gave Ruby a gentle spank before going back to the bar.

“Mi amor! Can you go grab a box of Jack?” Anita asked me, she was in a hurry as she was serving an unusual quantity of customers. I didn’t reply, I just went and grabbed a box of it from the warehouse, going back to help her. There was a little crowd of people, boys and girls that seemed already pretty euphoric and drunk.

“What can I offer you guys?” I asked emptying the box on the counter.

“Three bottles of Jack, and maybe a blowjob?” I looked up at the guy, he had a drunk smile on his face.

“For the Jack I can satisfy you right now, for the blowjob, I’m afraid that you’ll have to wait till the end of my shift.” I smiled. Having to deal with people like that was part of the job.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! The shot girl gives blowjobs? I want one too!” And as I heard that voice, I knew that karma was against me. Again.

“I blew you once already, Vince… You know I don’t like to repeat myself.” I was just as surprised as he looked. I was also surprised that he remembered who I was. The other guy laughed while bringing his three bottles and then he went away.

“Well, hello there,” he smiled with his typical bad boy attitude. He leaned his elbow on the counter and rested his hands on-top of each other. “Let me say I’m kinda surprised to see you here,” he seemed to chuckle, “Where’s Hannah?”

“In jail.” I answered nonchalantly, “What brings the Motley squad over here?” I asked, taking his same position with the elbow on the counter.

“Obviously my birthday.” Nikki’s voice joined the conversation, he mimicked both of us. “Were you telling each other secrets?” His omnipresent sarcastic grin appeared.

“Oh Mr Sixx is getting older,” I started with a wide smile, “I should end my shift soon, if you’re still here I’ll join you guys for a drink.” Nikki got back standing straight, giving me a look as if he was inspecting me. “Are you checking if I’m cool enough to hang out with you guys?” I asked then as if I was challenging him.

“Actually, I was checking if we were cool enough to hang out with you. You know we haven’t seen you in a while.” I opened my arms with a laugh “I’m a busy girl, honey.” And I really had been. Since the disaster in court I had worked my butt off to show to that fucking judge that I could take care of my child without any problem.

“Well busy girl, see you later then.” And after leaning over the counter to grab a bottle he left towards one of the tables to enjoy the girls dancing on the stage.

—

It was three in the morning and still I wasn’t done with my tasks. I was in the back listening to a mix tape that one customer had recorded for one of our strippers: it was a compilation of the best 70’s songs, and right now Brain Damage was playing softly while I was drying out some of the glasses.

“And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon,” I was singing along absent-mindedly.

The music and the repetitive sound of the prehistoric dishwasher washing the last batch of glasses prevented me from hearing the steps that came across the door behind me.

“You raise the blade, you make the change, you re-arrange me’ till I’m sane, you lo-“

“Let me say that singing isn’t exactly your forte.” I jumped in my place as a voice broke in the room, causing me to drop a glass out of scare. Pieces of glass scattered all over the floor.

“Shit! Nikki, don’t you dare doing it again!” I warned him as he chuckled at my reaction.

“Doing what?” He asked walking calmly towards me and leaning his lower back on the counter.

“Not announcing your presence when entering a room.” I specified while picking up the glass pieces. “You scared the fuck out of me,” I kept going, “And you made me break a glass,” I complained while a shard cut my finger. “Oh amazing…” my rant continued. Nikki was still looking at me with an amused grin on his face.

“Why are you having a meltdown over a glass?” he questioned me quietly. I stood going towards the sink to wash my fresh cut. I huffed at his question.

“I’m not having a meltdown. I’m just tired and I need a drink.” I mumbled while water was washing out my blood.

“And a fuck…” he added enjoying my glare… if only looks could kill….

“With you? Surely not. But thanks for the offer, I know you would gladly sacrifice yourself but I’ll pass.” I turned off the tap and dried my hands with paper.

“C’mon you hurt me last time… You fucking fell asleep, that’s not fair!” He protested keeping the conversation on a sarcastic vibe. I got closer to him.

“Poor baby… But now that I think about it the one who left me alone in your room when we were just about to fuck it’s you.” I let him notice with an eloquent glare.

“That’s an insignificant detail.” He mumbled encircling my hips. We were too close for my taste “Plus today is my birthday.” I smiled back as I felt his hands moving from my hips to the back of my bare thighs.

“It was yesterday. But I guess you’re still expecting a gift.” I completed his sentence while his hands ran up to my ass. I stretched my arms over his shoulders “With such a short notice I couldn’t find anything more suitable.” He looked confused when noticed that the reason why I had embraced him was because I wanted to open the cabinet behind his head. I took a tin can from it, with the word “TIPS” written on with a black marker. Once I had opened it, between wrinkled money and coins, I drew a small plastic bag filled with the precious white dust. I waved it in front of his face.

“Powdered sugar for the birthday cake,” I jokingly said while abandoning the can on the counter behind him.

“I think I just caught a nasty girl here.” He squeezed my butt with an enigmatic smile, before letting me free to move to align lines on the metallic counter.

“Just, don’t tell the boys they would be jealous and I would have the duty to offer them some too,” I stated before looking at me “Credit card?” I asked waiting with my hand palm facing up.

“I thought you weren’t doing drugs anymore.” Nikki opened up his wallet handing me a brand-new card.

“Well I’m afraid that I would not be able to handle all my shifts without this,” I explained while starting to prepare the rails.

The last period my life had been more than frantic: I kept working at the music shop as always, but I had also covered Hannah’s shifts here at the club, and every now and then I helped in a restaurant downtown. I was trying to raise money to be able to pay a decent photoshoot in order to get auditions in the modelling industry. You could be the prettiest but if you had bad photos it would be almost impossible to get a real paid job. To have good photos you had to have a good photographer and they were really expensive…

Nikki shrugged “It will be our secret then.” I went first blowing a whole rail by covering my right nostril. I sniffed up one or two times while picking up with my index finger the coke that had remained on the surface to let it dissolve on my tongue.

“Ladies first.” I stated before letting Nikki the access to the blow. Hot Stuff started playing in the background and I started dancing to it while putting the bag of coke in my pocket.

Nikki took my hand and finally we joined the guys to the party.

—

The sun was rising in front of us, I was laying with my back on the sand - I don’t know how but we had ended up in Santa Monica. I was laughing out loud because Nikki had engaged and already lost argument with Mick.

“Yeah keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you’ll find a brain back there, kid.” I already loved that freaking men. After killing the bassist with words Mick stood up and left towards an unknown destination.

I was crying; Nikki was sulking.

“Oh c’mon you were already fucked when you started,” It was my attempt to console him, but instead I started laughing again, hiding my face on his shoulder.

“Yeah keep laughing Maya you’re really supportive.” I shook my head try to recompose myself. I leaned my arm onto his chest, trying to reach the pack of cigarettes that was resting in his left hand, he moved it away from my fingers.

“Hey!” I protested stretching my arm a little more over him to reach my desired nicotine.

“You laughed at me; you lost the right to share this with me.” I raised my brow. “Are we five years old now?” I asked temporarily giving up on my attempt.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged putting the pack in his pants pocket, “Maybe if you were nicer to me I could consider the option of giving you a cigarette.” I rolled my eyes pointing my elbows on the sand. He turned his head to look at me.

“Haven’t I been nice to you? I gave you free blow, you should show a little appreciation for that.” I remarked while putting a little distance between us. Nikki pinched my side playfully causing me to giggle, “Seriously?” I asked amused while raising my brow.

He pulled me closer again “Can you shut up for a while?” Nikki demanded; an annoyed puff left my lips.

“I’d be silent and nice if you gave me a cigarette.” The bassist ignored me completely, crossing his left arm behind his head and closed his eyes. Great. He was falling asleep without giving me the object of my desire just as I had done last time when we were together. So, I was there silent and carving for some smoke, I did what I would have usually done - that is, take what I wanted myself. My hand slid across his chest lightly. I looked up - he seemed dozed off so I kept going gently reaching his pants and the pocket where the pack of cigarettes was hidden and took it.

“How comes that you always end up with your hands in my pants, but you never do what you are supposed to?” Nikki’s eyes were now open and chained to mine.

“How comes that all you can think about when I’m around are sexual things?” I teased him while taking a cigarette and lighting it.

“It must be for that beautiful lips, I can’t help but wonder how they would perfectly…” “Get a fucking room!” Vince yelled at us. He was sitting about ten feet from us, hugging a girl I had just found out was actually his wife.

I raised my middle finger towards the blonde while still looking at Nikki “Keep dreaming Sixx, it is not going to happen.” Then I got up from the sand, brushing my hands over my pants to get rid of the grains. “Well, it was nice till it lasted. I have to get back home and get ready to work.” And together we all left a few minutes later heading back to the city.

#Motley Crue #MotleyCrue #motley crue fanfic #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #douglas booth! nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #nikki six imagine #Vince Neil #vince neil imagine #vince neil fanfiction #shout at teh devil #Shout At The Devil #Tommy Lee #tommy lee fanfiction #tommy lee imagine #Mick Mars #The Dirt #Douglas Booth #the dirt imagine #douglas booth imagine #douglas booth fanfic #the dirt fanfiction