#We have been proven to blend in with our surroundings if we’re still and quiet long enough

[arcpeacegonow]

This is my announcement. Take it as you wish. Any hate will be reflected back onto the sender

#yes I’m bi #I’m also ace #People like me exist #Bi-ace people are chamelons #We have been proven to blend in with our surroundings if we’re still and quiet long enough #I have exploited this ability many times to avoid human interaction #Bi visibility #Ace visibility #Bi-Ace visibility

[twilightsagasworld]

Male (kraken) reader x Leah Clearwater

requested by @rexburn12

It was a stormy, black, and dreary night in Forks. No one was driving around town and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Forks wasn’t a place where storms weren’t common, they happened often, but there was something peculiar about this exact one that made the Cullen clan uneasy, something supernatural was behind this and it was something big. And the Cullen’s weren’t the only ones on edge, on the reservation the Quileute wolves shared fretted whispers and murmurs, no one could explain what was going on or what the cause behind this unease was, but everyone concurred that the supernatural was involved, in some way, shape or form.

“Well if it’s something supernatural, let’s kick it’s ass!”, “No, Emmett, not until we have an idea of what this is, we still don’t know where it is, that should be our main concern for now, it’s location” Carlisle explained, they were all gathered in his study, trying to come up with a plan and an explanation. Edward leaned against a shelf, “So what? We wait?”, Carlisle gave him a look, “There’s nothing else we can do, I’ve never seen this type of phenomenon”, the family shared a few concerned looks. The tension thickened when Bella’s phone rang, she answered, “Jake, what is it?”, the room was silent as Bella and Jacob exchanged words, but the call ended quick, Bella bit her lip, Carlisle frowned, “What is it Bella?”, Bella shook her head slightly, “Jake…they all think it’s coming from La Push”, “La Push is the nearest beach from here, the wolves think it’s there?” Edward asked, Bella nodded, “Jake said they’ve been getting a weird scent near the water when they got there”, “The wolves are at the beach now?”, “Yes”, Carlisle nodded, “Alright, hopefully they won’t be too mad, but we need to go there, it could be dangerous for them to encounter something without help” Carlisle spoke, the family nodded, “We need to hurry then” and with that, they left.

Leah was the second to arrive after Jacob at the beach, the storm was still going strong and rain was pouring hard. It didn’t take long for the rest of the shifters to arrive along with the Cullen’s. Leah sneered at them, their smell repulsed her and she could’ve gagged if they weren’t in a serious situation.

“Jacob, we hope you don’t mind, but we had to come, given the occasion” Carlisle shook Jacob’s hand, “Trust me, I’m almost glad you’re here, we don’t know what’s going on but we picked up a scent not too long ago, we don’t know what it is but we don’t like it”, Carlisle nodded, “Alright, we need a plan then”, Paul scoffed, “You don’t have a plan? Great”, Sam shut him up with a glare, but Carlisle didn’t seem to mind, “We’re as in the dark as you are, trust me”, Jacob sighed and clenched his jaw, “So what do we?” his tone was hard, but tense, Carlisle glanced at the water, “Our best bet is to go in, see what we can find and take it from there”, Jacob looked at him like he was crazy, “You’re not serious!” he fisted his hands into his hair, Seth stood beside his sister, “Leah, you think Jake is okay?”, Leah pinched the bridge of her nose, before giving her brother a look of disbelief, “What do you think Seth”, Seth shrugged, before mumbling a ‘sorry’, Leah shook her head, “Whatever bu- Leeches!”, Leah’s yell turned everyone’s attention to her, she pointed to the treeline, “Yeah, we smell them too, get rid of them!” Jacob ordered. The packs shifted and assumed a defensive stance while the Cullen’s did the same, in a matter of seconds a group of newborn’s ran at them, but just as they were about to clash something shot out of the water and slammed into the newborn’s, killing them. The force of the collision shook the ground beneath everyone’s feet as they stared in awe at what they saw.

There was a giant tentacle dragging the bodies into the water, and as they disappeared something else started emerging from the water’s surface. “I don’t believe it…” Carlisle’s voice was shaky, “What is it Carlisle?!” Emmett’s yelled, Carlisle turned to look at his son, “That’s the Kraken”, his words etched themselves into everyone’s minds as the beast finally appeared from the surface, a few snarls came from the wolves as they growled at the large figure, Carlisle shot the pack a warning look, “Don’t attack it!”, Sam let out a bark to order his pack back and Jacob followed suite, everyone’s attention was now on the Kraken. The beast let out a dangerous and low drawl, the sound blending in with the thunder above it, and then it spoke,

“Go away…or die” it’s voice was deep and scratchy, sending waves of fear and shock into the Cullen’s and the wolves. Carlisle spoke up, “Please, we don’t want any trouble, but you’ve seemed to cause a disturbance in the weather which drew our attention, I hope to come to an agreement, if you’re willing to listen!”, the Kraken let out a rumble, stretching it out and making it sound like it was contemplating something. It spoke again, “…I will listen…”, before Carlisle could say more the beast descended into the waves, the storm seemed to calm too, there wasn’t such heavy rain as before, instead it was a drizzle, and the thunder and strong winds died down to nothing but a breeze. Some of the wolves whined when nothing seemed to happen after a minute, everyone was being cautious.

The waves collapsed against the shore and a figure appeared from the aftermath. It was a man, young, but husky and tall, everything about him cried danger. But to Leah, her world seemed to stop, all of a sudden it didn’t feel like gravity was keeping her down, it was him. The man stopped a few feet away from both groups, his gaze locked with Leah’s, and he frowned, he felt peculiar, uneasy, fluttering in his body, and he didn’t know how to handle it, he determined the cause to be her, and so he marched towards the white wolf, ignoring the growls and tension that grew around him. He stopped two feet from her and held out his hand, and to everyone’s, and maybe even Leah’s own, surprise, she nuzzled it. The man’s face was unreadable and Carlisle kept a wary eye on him.

The man said nothing and turned away from the wolf and made way to Carlisle. Carlisle kept his face straight and his jaw tensed as the man stopped in front of him, “Greetings…”, the man sneered, and then scoffed, “(Y/n), but the humans call me the Kraken”, his voice was deep, smooth yet had an edge of a roughness to it, his voice fit his character perfectly Leah noted. Carlisle nodded, “I didn’t think the legends were true, seems I’ve been proven otherwise”, (y/n) crossed his arms, “Indeed, now what is it you want? You clearly are not human, I hear no heartbeat, nor the rushing of blood through veins”, Carlisle smiled, “Indeed we are not humans” he gestured towards his family, “We’re vampires, and those wolves are the protectors of the humans here, they are shapeshifters, able to morph from human to their current form. Now, what we need is some form of a treaty, we don’t need the humans to come looking for something that might kill them”, (Y/n) sighed, “Should I care? Because I don’t, the humans are of no concern to me”, Carlisle crossed his arms, “Well, I’m sure you don’t want them to try and seek you out? The humans do not understand the supernatural, they won’t leave you alone until they manage to get a piece of you to study and possibly experiment on, you won’t have peace”, a frown sketched itself onto (y/n)’s face, he stayed quiet for a moment before speaking, “I see…Well then, I shall remain hidden from the humans by staying in this form until I feel like changing back of course, I don’t need them meddling in my waters”, Carlisle nodded, “Good, and we’ll stay out of your way as well, you’ll need to form an agreement with the Quileute pack yourself, we stay out of each other’s ways, we formed a treaty long ago not to cross into their land you see, but I must thank you, I wasn’t expecting your co-operation” he held out his hand to shake, (y/n) looked at his hand, then to his face and back to his hand before shaking it. Without another word Carlisle gave Jacob a firm nod before disappearing with the other Cullen’s.

Leah watched closely as the man made his way over, Sam, in his wolf form, met him in the middle, letting out a growl. “I’ll stay off your land and you don’t bother me, deal?” the man smirked, Sam huffed in his face before giving a wolf form of a nod.

Everything after was a blur.

Leah found herself as the centre of teasing and comments about her imprinting. She hated the guys in Sam’s pack for not laying off her, many of them had yet to imprint and those who did seemed to only tease her the worst for it. It gave her headaches and she spent nearly all her time in her wolf form and away from the reservation. Her mind was centred around the man? Beast? Whatever it is. She didn’t want to confront him about it, because she was afraid he might kill her or not accept her at all. She wished the recent events were only dreams, but she couldn’t lie to herself, she had to accept it. She just didn’t know how she was going to talk to the man, and she wasn’t even sure she could have a future with him, he smelt like seaweed and the ocean, and she liked it.

Her mind being occupied distracted her from her surroundings, and she found herself wandering onto the beach of La Push, she wasn’t in her wolf form and the ocean breeze gently caressed her tan cheeks as she became aware of where she was. She was midway in turning back when she heard his voice, “You’re the white wolf who bonded to me” , he was sitting off to the side near a pile of drift wood, Leah cursed herself, nodding she answered, “Yes”, the man nodded, he was staring intently and curiously at her, “Come sit beside me, let us find out more about each other then, you intrigue me”, Leah’s feet moved on their own accord and soon she was sat beside him telling him things about herself.

And this was how it went on for months, them sharing stories and adventures, learning about the others life and so on, it gave Leah a warm feeling she hadn’t felt since before Sam left her, she clung to it, she wasn’t about to let it go that easily. Not now that she finally imprinted. Now she could start living.

#the kraken #kraken #leah clearwater x male reader #male reader #male #leah clearwater #Twilight saga #twilight #twilight x reader #quileute #wolf #Edward cullen #cullen #rosalie cullen #cullen family #jacob black #seth clearwater #jacob black pack

[fvrxdrm]

City of the Living Dead

Chapter 5

Leon had pulled a lever right beside a metal door that was contained inside a box with packaging tapes sealing it and the said door slowly slid up to let us in. The room looked bright and comfortable. If you disregard the dust that caked the couches and tables and the dirt that was scattered all over the floor, it would've been a good resting area. Everything was organized and nothing was out of place.

"Y/N?" You heard the young man call your name. As soon as you turned around after picking up a potted green herb that was resting on top of a box, you were immediately caged in a tight embrace, the smell of Leon's newly-made uniform meeting your nostrils. "I thought we lost you, Y/N. We thought you were killed. Claire and I went to your house one day and saw your parents lying on the floor. I-we..." Tears began to drench your shoulder as Leon started sobbing at the mere thought of you being physically out of his life.

He nearly lost his shit when he saw the state of your home and he would've if he saw your body just laying somewhere in or out of the house and the poor guy hasn't told you everything he wanted to get out of his chest.

His sudden breakdown didn't go unnoticed by you. When you felt something hot soak your jacket and neck, you pulled away from the hug and cradled his cheeks before letting your eyes linger on his face. It was covered in tears and they seemed to continue to fall the more you stared at him.

"Hey, I'm here now. You didn't lose me." You pressed a gentle kiss on his nose and the gesture caused more tears to stream down Leon's face.

"I was so scared, Y/N," Leon whimpered. He held one of your hands in his and pressed his forehead against yours.

"Shh...I know, I know. I'm sorry." You both stayed like that for a moment, holding onto each other as you relished each other's presence after one year of absence. You knew that wasn't enough but you took what you could get and decided it would be best to catch up after you got out of the city. "Come on, let's go. We have some escaping to do." You placed one last kiss on his nose again before heading towards the door where the nightmare truly began.

Behind the door was a hallway.

A hallway.

A hallway where blood and grime embellished every wall and floor. Infinite darkness flooded the room and the smell was over-the-top unbearable.

You can do this, Y/N, you can do this. After you get out of the city you'll be living happily ever after again. It's just tonight.

At the end of the hall was an officer. He was slumped against the corner of a wall and if none of you knew what was happening that night, one could only guess it was not somebody who pulled a prank or died because of something less absurd than monsters and creatures.

"This is 73-Bird---------for rescue. Touchdown at R.P.D.----------minutes. I repeat----------" You managed to make out through the static from the radio of the officer.

You and Leon looked at each other, gulping down the lumps in your throats, before making your way towards the seemingly dead man with your flashlights guiding your way through the tenebrosity. Your eyes were glued to the officer the whole time, fearing that he might be one of the undead just waiting for his first or next prey. He didn't move though and that eased the two of you a little bit.

"Wanna...check on him? You know, just to make sure," You muttered as you gestured towards the body.

"Are you kidding? That's fucking suicide!" He whisper-yelled back. Though you heard Leon, your curiosity got the better of you, and no matter how much he told you not to touch the fucking body you still did it and you suddenly regretted your decision. Curiosity killed the cat, am I right?

When you slowly rose the man's head by its forehead, you were immediately met with the most delicious sight. The tissues that connected his jaw to the rest of his head stretched like slightly-hardened slime. Smelly blood dripped down to the officer's thighs and floor and the sound of you stretching the flesh a bit more sounded like somebody playing with wet and raw meat. Yuck!

"Oh...oh, fuck!" You whispered.

"I told you, Y/N. You didn't have to do this," Leon said as he suppressed the urge to gag and vomit at the repulsive sight.

Suddenly, the sound of something dropping to the floor was heard from another end of a hallway and it immediately got you to take your eyes off the officer.  

"Huh?"

"What was that?" You pointed your lights to where you heard the noise and as soon as the light hit the end of the hallway, two things abruptly caught your attention: another body of an officer that was impaled on a pipe going through his mouth and a tin can that went tumbling around. Nobody, or perhaps, nothing was at the end of the corridor so what caused it to fall?

You and Leon exchanged glances again before proceeding to walk through the eerily quiet  corridor and as soon as the two of you nearly reached the end of the hallway, a fucking zombie slammed itself on the window, growling and clawing against the glass to get her bloody hands on you and devour you. It might've been the scariest jumpscare you had that night so far.

"Holy fuck!"

"Shit!" You and Leon cursed at the same time after nearly getting a heart attack.

"I hope you can't bust through the window!" You exclaimed as you yanked Leon's arm towards a corner where a wooden double door was just waiting patiently for you to open and get a safe place while storing some more stuff that could be proven useful to you behind it.

Just as you pushed the door open with your hand that was holding your flashlight, the window that the zombie had given its attention to suddenly shattered and the sound of it breaking caused more panic to erupt inside of you, fearing that some unwanted people had heard it, and you immediately rushed inside the room.

"They can bust through windows, Y/N."

"Then we'll need something to board every window up if we don't want any hindrance while we find these things," You replied as you grabbed the small journal Marvin handed to you earlier and studied the symbols that were drawn on two blank pages while Leon snatched a map that was laying on a table.

As you were finishing with studying the notebook you had in your hands and picking up a box of ammo you had found just resting and blending in with the mess in the other corner of the room, you promptly heard the rookie cop mumbling to himself and made your way towards him to see a piece of paper pinned in between his thumbs and index fingers -- a record of events to be exact.

September 25th

We're turning the station into a temporary shelter due to the massive sudden outbreak. All police personnel have been instructed to make the safety of the citizens their top priority as we try to accommodate as many of them as possible.

September 25th (addendum)

One of the refugees attacked us in the middle of the night, resulting in the death of 1 officer and injuring 3 others. The person in question was quickly restrained. We believe this was simply a case of someone snapping under intense stress.

September 26th

A mob attacked the station today, resulting in a number of casualties. A few survivors were able to make it safely behind the emergency shutters, but surrounded as we are, it'll be hard for any of us to escape this place. We're not sure we can fix any of our comm equipment, so we remain cut off from the outside world.

September 27th

There was another clash on the west side of the station around 1pm. Twelve people died, and there is only a handful of survivors left. Everything is falling into disarray in here.

David Ford

"Well, that explains why the police station isn't a safe place either," You broke the silence after taking in what you just read. Leon set the note back on the table before leaning forward with his arms supporting his weight and let out a big sigh. That concerned you.

"Hey, what's wrong?" You softly asked him as you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. You guessed the stress, anxiety, and fear were taking a toll on him and you wanted to ease him up a little bit at least with your touch. You get it, the nightmare you were in was already too overwhelming.

"I just...I wish I came here earlier, you know. I was about to start working here last week until I got a call to stay away. Now...I really wish I got here earlier. I could've-" You immediately cut Leon off, knowing he would say something along the lines of 'I could've saved them' and made him turn around to face you with the palm of your hand resting against his cheek.

"Hey, this isn't your fault. Even if you were here a week earlier, who knows how many are already infected. There's nothing any of us can do, Leon." Leon pulled away from you and your gaze in frustration for himself. He knew there was nothing he could do but somehow his emotions got the better of him.

"Y/N, I-maybe we could've saved the others from getting infected. I don't know. I just-" You took Leon's hands in yours, stopping him from pacing around so much before looking him in the eyes again.

"Leon, there is nothing we could do. I know you wish things were different -- I wish things were different. But they ain't. I would've graduated by now. You would've been buying donuts and patrolling across the city by now, just like how you always told me. But we aren't. Everything happens for a reason, Leon. If this whole ordeal is going to lead us up to something then we'll take it. Unless you're ready to give up and let your emotions get the better of you again. Everything I said might not be the answer you want but you gotta know that...we can't save everybody... Fuck, I don't even know what the hell I'm saying. I'm just rambling right now but...I hope you understand, Leon." The said boy let out a huge sigh again and looked down to the ground in hopes of getting himself together and not let his brain get himself killed tonight. He'll deal with his own demons later once you get out of the city but for now, escaping is all that matters.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm...just...I'm scared and I don't know what's gotten into me."

"It's okay, Chipmunk. We all have our moments," You whispered as you carressed his cheekbone with your thumb. You almost forgot where you were until a thud coming from the door suddenly broke you out of your trances and you immediately grabbed everything you needed before jumping out of a broken window.

---***---

Well, how was it? I just wrote shit in this and didn't proofread this. Lolz

Edit: did yall see the easter egg?👀👀👀

#leon kennedy x reader #leonkennedy #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #leon kennedy x you #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon+kennedy+imagine #residentevil2 #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil #resident-evil-fanfic

[lovelahela]

❛ it lives in the woods ❜ ─ prologue

⇢ masterlist ; check masterlist for fancast!

⇢ pairing: noah marshall x f!mc (marisol reyes)

⇢ genre: horror

⇢ chapter: zero (prologue)

⇢ words: 2687

⇢ description: something old and powerful lives in the woods surrounding the small town of westchester... something that knows their names. tensions flare, old wounds are reopened, and lives hang in the balance of one, very important question: are you scared?

⇢ notes + warning: this story will include disturbing scenes, potentially dark/triggering subjects (including but not limited to underage substance/alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety) and strong language. reader discretion is advised.

        Tonight, the moon is playing peek-a-boo, weaving in and out of ribbons of black clouds scudding across the sky. Accompanying the flickering radiance of lampposts scattered across the small town of Westchester, the light of the moon stretched across the vast cluster of trees that surrounded it and to a cosy, modern house far away from said lampposts that stood out significantly next to the worn-out, withering shack that stood meters away from it. The town was characteristically quiet, its folk invested in whatever dream of winning the lottery and marrying the most good-looking Hollywood actor they were having. It was almost peaceful.

        The functioning word here being almost.

        Inside that modern little house lay a young teenage girl, fast asleep in the comfort of her mattress and scented candles. Marisol Reyes tried very hard to be normal, thank you very much. She ran two clubs, maintained outstanding grades, and managed Westchester High's successful swimming team as an efficient captain. Some might even say she was one of the "popular kids," but she was no where near that (proven by the constant degradation courtesy of Britney and her posse), and preferred to keep it that way. All Marisol wanted was to blend, to be away from the spotlight - she had enough of it after being drowned in all the wrong kinds of attention when one of her best friends perished a decade ago. Being pointed at by judgemental kids and gossiping parents took a toll on her, and she swore to go out of her way to erase the devastating, untimely death of Jane Marshall from her life - she would never be the "best friend of that girl who died" ever again.

        Although Marisol strongly refused her mother Soledad's advice to see a child psychologist and cope with the horrible trauma that cost her her childhood, she insisted that she was able to, get over it. She pushed aside the recurrent nightmares and the obsession with self-defense and martial arts classes, plastered on a smile, and said she was fine - every single time, all through the ten years of looking over shoulder and denying just how damaged she really was.

        The sound of violent vibrations against a wooden surface startled Marisol Reyes out of her uncharacteristically peaceful slumber. She jumped out of her bed and grabbed the kitchen knife that always lied stoically on her bedside table like a war veteran, hair frazzled and muscles tense. The focus of her almond-shaped eyes darted around the room frantically, fingers tightening around the hilt of the knife as her heart beat wildly in her chest. Once she could not make out an outline of an intruder in the darkness that enveloped the area, she realized the vibrations were coming from her phone, buzzing enthusiastically with text notifications. She groaned at her overreaction to such a harmless event while rubbing the sleep from her eyes and picked up the small electronic device in her tense hands.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:12 AM

UNKNOWN NUMBER

marisol, you there?

it's dan.

i messed up. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry

Mark as spam?

Block number?

        "Oh my God..." whispered Marisol, rereading that one text over and over again to make sure she didn't imagine it.

        it's dan.

        Those two words stole the breath and heat from her very skin. Suddenly her defenses are like paper, paper being soaked by rapidly falling rain drops. Dan Pierce. They hadn't spoken since the tragic incident a decade prior - after the funeral, the eight children went their separate ways, determined carry the truth behind that catastrophe with them to the grave no matter how deep they buried it inside of them. She debated replying - she hadn't so much as greeted him in so many years, and suddenly he bombards her phone with frantic messages in the middle of the night? Something seemed off. Marisol could practically feel danger creeping up slowly but surely behind her.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:15 AM

DAN PIERCE

marisol?

MARISOL

dan, hey.

it's been a while, u okay? what's up?

DAN PIERCE

i went into the woods.

i had to be sure, i had to prove to myself that he wasn't real.

that it was all in our heads.

but he is, mari. he's real. it was all real.

read 3:16 AM

        Marisol's previously tense hands began shivering vigorously along with the rest of her limbs, all of them weakening by the second. She closed her eyes and drew in long, deep breaths, attempting to calm down and muster up whatever courage she had left. She wasn't sure if the texts she responded with were an attempt to convince Dan, or herself.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:17 AM

MARISOL

hey man, u sure ure not drunk?

DAN PIERCE

he was whispering, just like when we were kids.

MARISOL

dan, please stop.

we made all that stuff up, we were kids.

mr red was just a dumb game that spun out of control.

we made it all up.

DAN PIERCE

 he does. he's with me right now.

MARISOL

for fuck's sake dan

if ure in the woods get out NOW

it's not safe in the dark

DAN PIERCE

i can hear him in the trees.

i can hear him whispering...

read 3:18 AM

        Marisol hissed a long string of curse words, fumbling around in the dark for her jacket. It didn't matter that they lost touch with each other, she couldn't bear the thought of losing him - of losing someone else in the disbanded group that she once would have said she trusted with her life. Maybe, if you dug deep enough through the traumatic, emotional baggage she lugged around every waking moment, she still would.

        Just as she snatched the keys to her mother's car (which she was only allowed to use in the case of an emergency, much to her dismay), someone rapped the window harshly, startling a shriek out of her. Her phone slipped out of her hands and landed on the wooden floorboard with an upsetting thud, just barely illuminating the room with a disturbing glow.

        With the manner of a paranoid animal about to get preyed on viciously, Marisol snuck a peek at the window. Her blood ran cold when she made out the shape of what she was hoping was a human. Wasting no time, she jumped towards her lamp and turned it on. A yellow light filled just enough of the vicinity - enough to see that the man waiting outside her window was none other than Dan. She heaved out a relieved sigh and opened the window  (reluctantly so), ushering him inside outside of the chilly embrace of the crisp night.

        He climbed into his former friend's bedroom, hoodie dirtied by mud and hints of dead leaves. His long hair was unkempt, his eyes were accompanied by worrying and prominent bruises under them, and what used to be his beautifully tanned skin was then pale and sickly as though he was near death itself. Dan sat hunched over on the floor like a frail puppet being held up by a single fraying string. It was horribly peculiar to see him like this - he always held himself with confidence, tall and muscular frame towering over even those taller than him. To see him lying on her floor, so vulnerable and beaten down, it was heartbreaking to say the least.

        "God, Dan, what happened to you?" asked Marisol, eyes softened with concern as she scanned his body for the injuries littered on his skin and mud staining his clothes. He looked up at her, expression shallow, striking a faint but growing fear inside of her. "How... how did you even get here? We're on the second floor."

        "I climbed." His answer was curt and simple, no emotion to his voice at all. Nothing in his eyes or the tone of his voice supported the signs of terrifying struggle that blemished him. Marisol gulped.

        "Oooookay, Spider-Man!" Nervous laughter cut through the uncomfortable silence choking them. She frowned and took small, careful steps forward as to not startle him. She crouched down to look him in the eyes as calmly as she should, slowly pulling down the zipper of his hoodie.

        "Listen, bud, why don't you take a shower? I'll wash your clothes, give you some of my dad's, and you can tell me happened, yeah?" Her voice was low and soft, as though she was consoling a frightened child. Peeling the hoodie off his slouched shoulders, she avoided his eyes, which were - very creepily - trained on her paling face. She sighed, visibly relieved when he decided to focus on the string of Polaroid pictures and what looked like dozens of framed award certificates hung up on her wall, suddenly completely neglecting her physical existence next to his enfeebled body.

        "I'm fine." His words resembled that of an accused, soulless criminal awaiting his punishment in court, perfectly trained to deny his guilt to his grave no matter what the situation was — it seemed to rehearsed. Then, abruptly, his head snapped in her direction and he grabbed her forearms tightly, staring at her with wide, crazed eyes. She could have sworn she felt all of her internal organs cease functioning for a split second and yelped pathetically. "Come on! We need to get the others!"

        Her breath hitched in her throat. She searched and searched her brain for the proper response, hyper-aware of the growing madness that distorted his handsome face. When she spoke, the pitch of her voice was a bit too high for her liking. "What — What others?"

        Dan's hold on her tightened noticeably, causing her to flinch and whimper involuntarily. A curt, mad laugh that sounded like one the Joker himself would utter left his lips. "Our friends, of course! Noah, Lily, Ava, Lucas, Andy, Stacy — the whole gang!" Another laugh that deepened the pit in her stomach, a laugh that would haunt her for days.

        Suddenly, Marisol regretted turning away psychological help. The rate of her breathing quickened anxiously as she felt a gate in her mind burst open, letting unwanted memories flood it mercilessly at the mention of their names. She could not see Dan anymore, only flashing images of ruins, of an eerie forest, and of nine children irresponsibly skipping through the trees, on their way to revisit the entity that would then change their lives forever. Her eyes were coated with a glossy sheen of tears that were more than ready to flow down her cheeks against her weakening will. When she finally mustered the courage to speak again, she whispered: "I've barely spoken to them for years, Dan. Not since Jane — "

        Before she could register what was happening, Dan stood up and pulled her with him with an unimaginable force that was sure to leave bruises. Their faces were uncomfortably close, so close she could smell the scent of blood and dirt that replaced his usual cologne. He stared at her like an enraged panther, tiny bubbles of froth forming at the corners of his mouth and face contorted with a venomous outburst. Fear was struck inside her that she felt in her very core — she almost thought he would kill her right then and there. "They have to come. Everyone has to be there. That's the rule."

        She could feel the sweat trickle down her neck, the throbbing of her tear-filled eyes, the ringing screaming of a little girl in her ears, and the thumping of her horror-stricken heart against her chest. "Rule?"

        The world stilled around them. Suddenly, she could not hear a single thing, not even her own breathing — only the awfully familiar words that the boy hissed: "Everyone plays together."

        Marisol could not have been more thankful for the sound of her phone buzzing yet again against the floorboards. She took that as an excuse to gingerly wiggle out of his loosened grip and, with shaking legs, approached her cell and picked it up. A crack tarnished the previously pristine screen, but she decided to worry about that later when it was a more appropriate time to fret over a slightly broken phone. 

        But what she saw was her breaking point. Her free hand reached up to cover her mouth and stifle a sob threatening to spill out of her quivering lips and before she could control it a steady flow of salty tears coated her cheeks.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:26 AM

DAN PIERCE

are you still there?

i think i'm lost

marisol? my battery's almost dead, please help me!!

read 3:26 AM

        The shock ricocheted up her skeleton; an enormous engulfing terror made her feel so, so sick in her mind and body. She's seen darkness before, the kind that makes an empty street look like an old-fashioned photograph, but this was different — this was the kin of darkness that robbed her of her common sense and replaced it with a paralyzing fear. By her genes, she is a predator with the intelligence and perceptive eyes to hunt, but in that moment, she felt like a helpless prey. Marisol slowly rose from the illuminating screen of her phone, her wide, suspicious eyes meeting his. 

        "Dan?" She sniffled weakly.

        Although his eyes were cold an empty, right underneath them a grin stretched his lips impossibly from one ear to the other, radiating clear indications of raging madness.

        "Marisol."

        She lunged for the knife on her bedside table yet again, shrieking as he took large and quick steps towards her violently shaking form. She searched desperately for an escape route that wasn't blocked by the towering body of the intruder in front of her but to no avail. He grabbed her wrist with a bone-crushing hold, squeezing yet another helpless screech out of her. Her voice broke when she cried out: "Dan, please! Don't make me do this!"

        And he did nothing but widen the frightening smile that would permanently etch itself into her retinas, haunting her every time she closed her eyes.

        So Marisol did the only logical thing her frantic brain could come up with — with a heart-wrenching scream, pained by having to inflict pain on a friend who was once very dear to her, she drove the blade of the knife into his abdomen. Much to her increasing horror, he did not so much as flinch at the pain, only tightened the hold around her throbbing wrist. He merely growled like a feral animal, burning holes into her with his enraged gaze. "Wrong move."

        Dan tackled her effortlessly to the floor, straddling her hips and forcing her into a cage that she would never break out of in her wildest dreams. He smashed her head against the rough surface underneath her, darkening her fading vision. "We all have to go back, remember?"

        "LEAVE ME ALONE! GET — OFF — ME!" She thrashed in his hold, no longer attempting to swallow the sobs. Finally, after agonizing attempts to kick and thrash and flail, she was able to free one of her hands and in result scraped her previously perfectly manicured fingernails down the skin of his face.

         A cry of disgust and disbelief bounced off the walls of the room when it peeled right off, revealing putrid flesh under it. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, leaving her to stare into milky whiteness while the stink of stale dirt burned the  insides of her nostrils. His long, skinny fingers curled around her neck, pressing, closing with a lack of mercy or remorse, feeling like tendrils wound around her oxygen supply. Despite her lungs blazing with agony, Marisol continued to fight fruitlessly until her energy started to dissipate like water going down a drain. Her hands fell to her side and her body grew limp, using her last breath to scream for help that, somewhere in the back of her min, she knew would never come. The last thing she saw before she embraced the coming blackness of unconsciousness was the ghastly monster that rendered her powerless and savagely tore open her old wounds.

#it lives in the woods #it lives anthology #it lives choices #pb choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #ilitw #noah marshall #noah x mc #jane marshall #dan pierce #lily ortiz #ava cunningham #andy kang #stacy greene #connor greene #lucas thomas #choices fanfiction

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 21: Rey

It’s all happening.

It was a new world.

It had seemed, at some points during the months since she’d been whisked away from the life of solitude and misery she’d known on Jakku, that the world had indeed been remade. When she’d first seen the green expanse of forests as the Falcon pierced the veil of clouds over Takodana. When she’d been born to her powers as she and Ben had first joined minds. When they’d reached for each other in their loneliness and discovered the boundless hope held fast in the promise of what could be.

But there had been nothing that had ever approached what happened the night before. And as Rey sits alone in the cockpit of the Falcon, letting her mind drift to memory, a smile that lingers on that same hopeful promise touches her lips.

In truth, she hadn’t really known if the crystal would be healed by the act of she and Ben joining the two halves. But when she’d touched her half to his, and the stone’s song built and spread through them both, she had felt him as she’d never done before. And the vision that had bloomed within her had taken hold with such power that she was sure she would be swept under, enclosed in the embrace of its silken web, never to revive. What she had seen was a gift from the Force. Like the vision she’d seen on Ahch-To, she knew it was only another promise of what could be, but that spark of hope now burned ever brighter within her. It was secret, a delicate pearl for her to hold in her heart, and it was hers alone.

Rey sits in the pilot’s seat, cradling her newly repaired lightsaber, awash in the sensation of the crystal keening with the Force, blending with her own energies to make one song. When she’d first ignited the saber, in the forest on Starkiller Base, the vibration of the crystal had felt welcoming, but unfamiliar, as though it were a friend greeting a wayward companion after a long separation. Now, having brought that same power coursing through the rejoined kyber, the weapon feels like an extension of herself,  an expression of light shaded by the dark promise of justice.

Rey understands now that the crystals are bonded to their owners— or, perhaps, their partners— in a similar way that she is bonded to Ben, and he to her. She can feel the bond between herself and the crystal in her saber, and it is powerful, built upon the crystal having chosen her, and she having proven worthy of that trust. She knows, just as she knows that she can lift her arm or twitch her finger when she so wishes, that if she were to summon her saber through the Force, it would leap to her hand in a smooth, unimpeded arc, with no hesitation.

It makes her think of the way she had called, almost without thinking, to Ben’s saber in Snoke’s throne room. How it had flown to her hand with no resistance. How the blade had leapt to life without her pressing the ignition switch. She can almost feel the resonance of his crystal as she recalls it. It had been familiar and gentle, yielding to her requests. But it had also been choked by howling pain, simultaneously relieved and confused to be asked to do something rather than commanded.

Just like Ben, she thinks. And maybe that’s what the crystals really are: reflections of the self. Rey had never asked Ben how his crystal became cracked, but she’s begun to suspect. The reality of that suspicion fills her with a sadness to which she could scarcely give voice, but that reality is coupled with her knowledge that whatever violence he’d inflicted on himself in his quest to conquer his own mind and soul, he had never succeeded in destroying Ben Solo. Ben was alive, and she’d seen him, really seen him, for the first time last night.

She can sense Ben now stronger than ever, not as a solid presence or as a voice in her mind, and not even as an impression of his thoughts and emotions. Instead, the feeling of him, of his distinct echo in the Force, clings to her like cool mist just above her skin. The thread of their bond, no longer the fragile thing it once was, shines more brightly than any light she’s known. And, though she now knows better than to try to pull on that thread, its presence comforts and fortifies her, and a serenity she’s never achieved alone attends her. They’ll be together again. She knows it.

As the call goes out on the loudspeaker, and over the Falcon’s comm, for all personnel to report to the command center, Rey understands that things are being set in motion that she cannot control. But that lack of control no longer frightens her. She is not alone. And neither is he. She clips her lightsaber to her belt, rises to her feet, and makes her way out to the Vedician day, the sky blazing white and brilliant as the light at the center of a flame.

***

The command center is alive with nervous energy as all available soldiers, crewmen, pilots, engineers, and other Resistance members crowd around the holo-display at the center of the room. Like the war room on the Raddus, the command center’s war room is arranged in a round, with step-like benches encircling the speaker’s stage. Now, instead of Leia or Holdo or Ackbar, the stage is held by Poe Dameron and Finn, who stand amidst the projection of a star system with which few of them are familiar.

Rey finds Rose quickly and takes a seat next to her. She can immediately sense Rose is troubled, but that’s understandable. The last time there was a muster like this, it was for the assault on Starkiller Base, something Rey hadn’t been present for, but had heard about plenty.

“Are you all right?” Rey asks her.

“Oh, I’m fine. I still have at least one fingernail left that hasn’t been chewed down to the bone.”

“What’s this all about?”

“Something about a distress call from one of our supply caches. I don’t know much else.”

She wants to say something to calm her friend, but she senses Rose’s fear is couched in concerns far deeper than those at hand. Rey suddenly recognizes that this fear had been present in her earlier, just after they’d repaired the lightsaber together. At the time, Rey had been so fixed on her own elation at having restored the crystal to its proper place that she failed to notice the growing doubt in Rose’s mind.

“Rose,” Rey starts to say, but she never finishes because Poe is clearing his throat and directing everyone’s attention to the center of the room.

“All right, listen up, people. We’ve received a distress call from our remote munitions depot on Taris. I know most of you weren’t aware we had a facility there, but let’s just say that the weapons there in storage aren’t just valuable. They’re irreplaceable. And that’s to say nothing of the twenty or so Resistance fighters who’ve been working there for the past month.”

Poe moves aside as the holo projection zooms in on a mid-sized planet in the system. It’s immediately clear that Taris is densely populated, as the half that’s shaded in night is dotted and streaked with city lights. But the planet is also shrouded in a layer of orange-gold clouds, and it looks like the cities that can be seen from space are actually sitting atop those clouds. Or, Rey thinks, the buildings are just so tall they reach above them.

“About an hour ago, our people on the ground reported that the Star Destroyer Volition had dropped out of light speed and is now positioned above the depot in low orbit. Transmissions are now being jammed at the source, and it’s only a matter of time before the First Order begins a ground assault. Finn?”

Finn steps forward, gesturing around the display with an easy confidence. He’s in his element, Rey thinks, and it occurs to her that Finn, with his military background, his simple, unpolluted sense of moral right, and his intrinsic understanding of the First Order, is where he belongs: leading.

“The drop zone we’re looking at isn’t ideal. Scratch that. It’s terrible. We’ll have to land our craft over here,” Finn says, pointing to a relatively flat clearing beyond the mess of buildings and wreckage, “and make our way through the streets to here, this old rail terminal.”

“Why not land our ships at that airdrome tower there?” Rose asks, pointing to a prominent structure not far from the old rail station.

“No good,” Finn says thoughtfully, “The First Order will land their craft at that thing for sure. From there, they’ll deploy to the surrounding structures and form a perimeter around the terminal. There’s a lot of debris and wreckage, so it’ll be slow going for them.”

“How many enemy troops should we expect?” asks a soldier in the back row.

“This kind of operation, I’d guess two to three hundred. Light infantry. Air support is unlikely because of the heavy smog and urban terrain.”

Finn had kept speaking, but the room had nearly erupted at the mention of the number of troops Finn expected. Even as he continued his analysis, there was a steady din of nervous chatter.

“All right, all right,” Poe steps in, quieting the room. “We’ve always been at a disadvantage. From the very beginning. But none of you has ever doubted. We’re going to do this. We’re going to get our people out. And we’re going to send a message to the galaxy that we’re still here. That we never went anywhere.”

He nods again to Finn, who continues.

“Those numbers aren’t nearly as scary as they seem. They’re overkill for this kind of operation, but that’s what the First Order does: surround and overwhelm. It’s gonna be slow going for them coming from the airdrome. From our approach point,” Finn says, showing the route planned through the old city streets, “we should be able to cut a quicker path through the ruins, get in, and get out, hopefully without too much of a firefight.”

“What about obstructions? Debris?” asks another soldier.

“Well,” Finn says, and looks to Rey. “we were hoping that’s where Rey would come in.”

She gives him an easy smirk and answers as brightly as she can manage.

“What, lifting rocks? No problem.”

Finn smiles back as small pockets of laughter ease the mood. Poe steps forward again.

“We get one shot at this,” Poe says, adopting the resolute tone that won him his position. “We don’t succeed, and the First Order will seize those weapons and our people are as good as dead. One hour to hyperspace jump, ninety minutes to planetfall on Taris. Move out. And may the Force be with you.”

The personnel in attendance all get to their feet, and the center comes to life again, now with a swarm of movement. Rey reaches out to catch Rose’s arm before she heads off to the flight deck.

“Rose, come with us,” Rey says, gauging the uncertainty in her eyes.

“What, me? On an extraction? Where there’s probably going to be a firefight?”

“I don’t know why. I just have a feeling. That we’ll need you.”

It was true. Rey hadn’t thought to ask Rose to come along on the mission, but now that she’s said it, it feels entirely right.

“Someone has to keep Chewie company while we’re out there,” Rey continues, smirking. “It’s terribly lonely on the Falcon now that the porgs are gone.”

Rose returns Rey’s smile with a weak one of her own, and she looks uneasy. Rey senses the deep confusion roiling in her friend, but the thoughts that would give shape to that confusion are hidden. Rey knows how it feels, to shield your mind from thoughts that come unbidden. Keeping a secret is hard enough under normal circumstances; keeping one from yourself, to preserve the fictions that hold your world together, is an exercise in torment.

But Rose eventually nods, and Rey smiles at her again. They part ways, Rose toward the equipment shed, and Rey toward the airfield, knowing that whatever is in store, it’s unlikely to go anything close to plan.

***

Back at the Falcon, Rey finds Chewie already making final preparations for takeoff. She makes sure to give him a little hell about taking so long off-planet with Maz, and he makes sure to respond with an endearing sound that Rey understands to mean something close to, “You’re one to talk.”

Rey has to laugh at that. She likely wouldn’t have several days before. But Chewie, she reminds herself, is almost three hundred years old himself, and he probably knows far more than anyone else about what’s been going on with her for the past months.

She does her own systems checks, and gets the soldiers and Rose settled on the ship. Coming back down the ramp, she notes the time. There’s a true Vedic sunset happening, and the sun, low on the horizon, stains the sky with blasts of red and yellow. She looks around the airfield and sees the bustle of action, the most this base has seen since they established it weeks ago. From that bustle, Finn crosses to the ship, a blaster holstered on his hip, a new rifle slung on his back, and a plastene plate beneath the jacket he’d worn on every mission since they’d met on Jakku.

“Rose told me the Force said she had to come with us.”

“I did not say that,” Rey says, and Finn cocks an eyebrow. “All right, I didn’t quite say that. It was implied.”

Finn smiles from the bottom of the ramp, but the smile is strained, and it fades.

“Rey,” Finn starts, his eyes communicating that inimitable sense of sincerity and trust, “she asked me something earlier, and I was meaning to talk to you about it.”

Rey can sense that Finn shares the same feeling of conflict and confusion as Rose. That’s not uncommon, Rey’s learned. Since she’s been able to sense emotions more keenly, she’s noticed that people who are intimate tend to share hopes and fears far more extensively than even they realize.

“Right after she came back from helping you with the lightsaber,” Finn continues, lowering his voice, “she asked me if I knew Kylo’s real name. So, I told her.”

“Oh, Finn,” Rey says in a whisper, not having meant to say anything at all.

“Look,” he went on, “everyone’s going to know eventually. It’s amazing the two of us have kept it secret this long. It’s just, I’m trying to figure out why she wanted to know all of a sudden. She said you guys talked about Darth Vader, but, that seemed like something she was telling me to get me to stop asking questions.”

It all makes sense. Rose’s reticence and fear. The hesitant confusion. Rey remembers now having almost said Ben’s name when talking about his lightsaber. And then, later, when she’d told Rose that not everyone who does monstrous things chooses to be a monster. She’s confident that Rose’s confusion is a genuine expression of the feeling; if Rose had indeed guessed at the truth, Rey doubts she would have been able to hide it. And without being Force sensitive, divining the what was really going on would be impossible for her. Still, there was enough information available to connect at least some dots, and Rose was intuitive and smart. It wouldn’t take long.

“Finn, there’s— there’s a lot I need to tell you. I—“

The klaxons in the control tower start ringing out, and Finn puts his hand on Rey’s shoulder.  

“Hey, sorry,” he says reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it now. We’ve got a job to do. Let’s go do this, and we can talk about all this stuff later.”

Rey nods, and Finn smiles at her and heads up the ramp. Rey follows behind, punches the ramp controls, and engages the flight lock. Then she heads to the cockpit, where she finds Chewie. She sits down in the pilot’s seat, and begins the takeoff sequence.

She still feels some of the peace she felt earlier. Even as she is headed into a battle. Even as her friends’ suspicions are mounting. Even as Ben is in another part of the galaxy on the other side of a war. Because she can still feel his cool embrace on her skin. And she can still sense the shining thread that connects them. And she knows that the Light will guide her as she pulls the lever on the instrument panel and the stars bleed away into a tunnel of black and blue and white.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #rey #rey of jakku #kylo ren #kylo x rey #finn #finnrose #rose tico #star wars fic

[jackscrutchie]

Well.. Hopefully this doesn’t disappoint the ones that actually wanted it! Part two to this. You don’t technically have to read part one, but it might be a little confusing if you skip it. I have an idea for a potential part three -- But we’ll see. <3

Running. His breath was labored and his eyes stung from tears. Or was it something else? He was moving down a mostly empty street as fast as his legs would take him. He wished he didn't need this damn crutch. It would make running so much easier.

Fear. He was scared -- But he had to be brave. He needed to stand up to these boys. He held his own before, he could do it again. His leg protested every step, but he couldn't stop. Or maybe he had to? Were they even following him anymore? If he had gotten that cool scar he had hoped for, this wouldn't have happened. He'd look tough enough to scare anyone off.

Dusk. The sun was setting and the streets would be much darker soon. How much farther to the lodging house was it? He couldn't remember how long he'd been running. The last time he'd seen any of these boys, it was just the one with the crooked nose. He had tried to steal his crutch, but Crutchie reacted quickly, throwing a fist into his gut. He wasn't nearly as tough without his friends around. He cried.

Hot. Sweat fell down his face, his shirt was damp with it. He imagined the three boys were out for revenge. After all, he'd proven himself in front of them more than once now. It was only a matter of time before the came after him with all they had. Maybe this time, they had a plan. They were bigger, stronger and much meaner. Maybe he could ask someone for help. Maybe Jack would help him. Maybe.

Jack. When he woke up after his first encounter with the leader and his two minions, Jack was the first one he saw. Apparently he had worried himself sick at one point. No one knew what had happened to him. They found him bruised and bloodied down an alley -- Of course they would worry, they were his friends. He worried about them all the time. Jack fussed over him for two entire days, even though he was only a little sore. There was no permanent damage, no scarring, no steady blood loss or anything like that. Maybe he felt bad he didn't get there sooner. The days passed and Crutchie's cuts and bruises healed perfectly.

Air. He needed to stop. He needed to breathe. He was sure he had lost them by now. Even with his crutch, he could move pretty quick. Not to mention, he was sure he knew these streets better than any spoiled little rich boy. He rounded the corner and stopped, leaning against the cool bricks of the building he was passing. His eyes squeezed shut, his chest burned and his legs ached.

Silence. Everything was so quiet, it was unsettling. Now that he wasn't running, the only sounds he heard were his own raspy breaths. But that was good, right? That meant no one was still following him. He must have lost them...

A voice. "Crutchie."

His eyes snapped open as he spun in the direction of the sound. "Jack?" Crutchie sighed in relief. Now he had backup. "Oh, Jack. I'm so glad to see you." He smiled, still out of breath and started slowly towards his friend.

"Why're you always gettin' into trouble, huh?" Jack crossed his arms. Defensive.

Crutchie came to an abrupt halt, his heart stopping. A pause. "Wh - What?"

"You heard me." Jack said, his arms dropping back to his sides. He smiled. No, not a smile. A sneer. "You're always gettin' yourself in some sort of..." He cocked his head to the side, thinking. "Predicament. You always expect us to come and bail you out."

Crutchie laughed, a bit nervous now. "What... What are you talkin' about Jack?" He took a step back. "You're kiddin' right?"

Jack pursed his lips and hid his hands in his pockets. "Why would I kid? How many times have I come to your rescue?" He started towards Crutchie, keeping his eyes trained on him. He looked darker somehow.

Crutchie took another step back. "I --" He couldn't form sentences. Sure, Jack had helped him plenty of times but he'd done the same for Jack and the other boys. He thought they were all friends. That's what friends did, right? Look out for each other. Jack had told him that before.

"Because, you see... Some of the fellas and me have been talkin' about your place back at the lodgin' house." He kept walking closer, Crutchie slowly continued taking steps back. "You uh -- Take up an awful lot of space..." He frowned. "And we're all gettin' a little tired of taking care of broken goods."

Crutchie felt his heart shatter. He went numb.

"Besides, you won't last much longer with that diseased leg of yours." He was closer than he had been just a second ago.

His foot slipped off the curb and he fell, hitting the cold street. It seemed much farther down. Memories flashed in Crutchie's mind, his breath caught in his throat. He stared up at Jack, his face twisted in a way he'd never seen it before. He remembered the leader of those kids saying almost the same thing to him a few months earlier. He remembered the string of insults they threw at him with each punch, with each kick.

"Disgusting!" Jack laughed. "Revolting!" The bully's voice. "Vile!" It was Race's voice now. "Useless!" Specs. "Waste of space!" Mush. "Worthless!" Davey. "Coward!" Tommy Boy. "Halfwit!" Boots.

One right after another the boys surrounded him, barking out horrible words. Crutchie couldn't breathe. Their words all blended together into a symphony of screams. Jack stood above them all, looking down on him, smirking. Crutchie pressed his hands to his ears, his eyes squeezed shut. If they wanted him gone so badly, they should have said something. He would have gone -- He'd do anything for Jack and those boys. He would leave! “I’m sorry!” He cried out.

Sudden quiet. Crutchie opened his eyes, tears pouring down his freckled face. Jack's face was inches from his. He looked cruel -- He looked nothing like Jack. Crutchie tried to scoot away from him but when Jack opened his mouth, it was his own voice he heard. "Broken."

Crutchie's eyes shot open. A dream. Tears stung as they spilled down his cheeks. It had just been a dream. He was safe in Jack's penthouse. He was still for a moment, trying to catch his breath and calm himself. He focused on the sky. He could see a few more stars than usual tonight -- The voices from his dream echoed in his head. More tears. He knew he was broken... But did Jack really think so too? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget.

"Crutchie?" His voice was gentle and soft. Comforting.

He opened his eyes slowly, terrified that he would see Jack's face twisted and horrible. Jack was sitting up, paper in his lap and charcoal in his hand. He'd been drawing. Crutchie reached up to rub his eyes dry then slowly found Jack's face. It was soft, his brows furrowed with concern. His eyes were bright, dreamers eyes. A wave of relief encompassed him. "Yeah..."

"What's the matter? You okay?" His voice was music to Crutchie. It was so familiar, so warm, so lyrical. Before he could even process how to reply, Jack was scrambling to his side. "Why ain't you sleepin'?"

Crutchie sat up, his muscles protesting a bit and rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a smile. "Ah, just -- A bad dream." He looked at Jack, knowing his eyes were probably still puffy from the tears and quickly continued. "I don't... Remember what it was about," Liar. "So I'm fine now."

Jack sat next to him, staring into Crutchie's eyes searching for ways to help. He could tell Jack knew he was lying. "You sure?" He leaned a bit closer, his eyes so sincere and filled with light.

He felt his throat and chest tighten. He couldn't cry. "Y - Yeah." His voice cracked, betraying him.

Jack reached out and wrapped his arm around the smaller boy, pulling him into his arms. He held him tight, protective. "Whatever is goin' on in that brilliant mind of yours, I've got you now."

Crutchie stiffened at first, unsure of himself, doubting the realness of all of this. Then he breathed, his lungs filled with the familiar scent of Jack -- And relaxed in his arms. This was real, this was Jack. Not that mucked up version of him that his dream had produced. He let himself cry quietly into Jack's chest, his arms slowly reaching around to return his embrace. It felt good to let it out. His hands tightened around the fabric of Jack's shirt and he cried and cried and cried. "Why?"

Jack pressed his cheek into Crutchie's sandy hair and held him tighter. "Why what?" His voice was almost a whisper.

"Why do you put up with me, huh? I'm..." He couldn't make himself say it. He knew he was being ridiculous. He knew he shouldn't think the way he did. But -- He was a burden. His parents made sure he knew that. They made sure that he knew how much of an inconvenience he was to them and everyone around him. Then they dumped him on the street. So little, so sick... Alone. Maybe he would be better off -- "I'm broken. I'm just in the way all the time."

Crutchie felt Jack tense, his arms trying to pull him closer even though it wasn't possible. "Broken?" He spoke softly, rubbing Crutchie's back. "Crutchie -- Andrew. You are so far from either of the things you just said." Jack pulled away from him in favor of looking into his eyes, his arms still around the smaller boy.  "Listen," he smiled. "You got any idea how many times you've saved my rear? How many times you were there to bail me or any of the other fellas out of somethin' stupid we did?" He brought his hands up to rest them on Crutchie's shoulders and leaned forward. "You got any idea how many times one of us would've ended up with our asses kicked or in the refuge without you?"

Crutchie's tears hadn't stopped falling. He held Jack's gaze, his withered shoulders trembling under Jack's hands. "I just slow everyone down."

"Are you kiddin' me?" His smile was so kind and reassuring. "You inspire us! Crtuchie, you're the light in this God forsaken place. You don't slow anyone down. You lift us up."

Crutchie smiled through his tears, a small laugh bubbled up. "That was corny, Jack."

"Was it?" Jack shrugged, bringing his hands up to cup Crutchie's freckled face. "To hell with it. It's true." He pressed his forehead to Crutchie's and closed his eyes. "We got no hope without you, Andrew. It don't matter whether you got a bum leg or not. You could have an extra arm, or no legs at all. So long as you're you." He pulled back and smiled, bold and bright. "You ain't broken. You ain't ever in the way."

"But --" Jack cut him off.

"No buts. You remember -- Nah, of course you do. When you got taken away during the strike..." He paused, thinking. His hands were still on Crutchie's face, his thumbs catching and wiping away the tears before they fell. "When they took you... I broke. I didn't know what to do, didn't know how to function. I fell apart because you were gone, and it was my fault. If we wouldn't have gotten you back..."

Crutchie tilted his head. Did he really mean that much to people? To Jack?

"And when you did come back, you were just as bright as before. You ain't lettin' nothing dull you. Crutchie -- You've been through so much. More than a lot of us... You're so strong."

Could he let himself believe something like that? "Jack.. I ain't strong."

"Really?" Jack laughed, and shook his head. "You keep your chin up much easier than anyone I know. You don't let anything get you down. You don't let anyone or anything hold you back. And it ain't just that, either.” He pointed to Crutchie’s temple. “You notice the kid with the crooked nose lately? He won't even look at you anymore. Especially when he ain't with his buddies. You scare the hell out of ‘em.”

Now that he thought about it, he had noticed that... "But my leg --"

"That don't hold you back either. Andrew, no one even notices the crutch anymore. You're so much more than that damn thing. It's a part of you -- But it will never mean you're anything less than incredible." He pulled him back into a warm embrace. "I wish you knew how much you meant to everyone. How much you mean to me. How important you are... How much I --" He trailed off, tightening his arms again.

Crutchie let himself settle back into Jack's arms, the words repeating over and over in his head. His dream being drowned out by words of love and support. This was what it was like to be with this boy -- All of those boys. They all meant a lot to each other. He loved them all so much, how could he not believe that they loved him in return? How could he let himself think they could be so cruel, despite it only being a fleeting moment in a dream? It didn't matter how much he disliked himself. He was loved.

But still he doubted.

#newsies #jack kelly #crutchie #jackcrutchie #newsies fic #hiccup writes

[sunshinemiranda]

King of the Lost Boys - Anthony Ramos x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: Anthony, or Pan as he is known, is the leader of the messy gang of Lost Boys. He takes a particular interest that borders on feelings, and yet remember: love? He has never heard of it. 

Warnings: Alcohol! Swearing! Probably drugs! They’re Hoodlums™! 

Words: 6,451 (listen...kill me)

A/N: Day 3 of the Write-A-Thon already? Oh my goodness. So when I started this Peter Pan AU, I had no idea how it was going to go. Apparently, that meant this huge mess. This will be a three part series! Thank you to @hamilbye for letting me use her as a wonderful wingwoman in our story! Enjoy. 

The Lost Boys were a charming band of beautiful boys from the wrong side of town. They were the people your parents ushered you away from on the sidewalk, the boisterous laughs in the town square, the ones who spray-painted “the world is ours” on the water tower. They were the bad kids, the ones who smoked cigarettes when the lunch bell rang, the ones who barely made a celebrity appearance in class, and the ones who the students both idolized and feared. They called themselves the Lost Boys because that’s who they were: perpetually wandering the earth, purposeless, wild and free, made of ivy plants, cigarette smoke, sunshine, whiskey and worn leather jackets.

The first of the characters on the sidewalk is a grinning Lin-Manuel, affectionately nicknamed Slightly for his slim build and incredible talent at snatching wallets. He is the most confident of the bunch with an easy gait and a grin that seems to exude solidarity and assuredness. The only people allowed to call him Lin-Manuel are his parents. At school, he goes by Lin and if you break that rule, he’ll break your arm.

Next up is Daveed, also known as Diggs or Nibs. He is the personification of black satin fabric: smooth, beautiful to look at, and utterly desirable. His voice is a weapon of choice when it comes to coaxing a woman and there is no hiding the fact that he is the most popular of the gang, if the survey at school is any indication. A playboy in any context, it’s not odd to see him with a rotation of girls on his arm. There is never one for Diggs; it stems from his inability to make decisions, though he’d never admit it out loud.

Oak is just behind, his codename a source of embarrassment and status. Tootles, they call him, and anyone who giggles a little too hard will receive a glare hot enough to burn a forest down. He is the tallest of the Lost Boys and the strongest. There is no one in their right mind who would willingly attempt to enter a ring with Oak, but despite his size, he is the least violent of the group. In many attempts of gang wars, he is the first to move towards diplomacy and is known for his smooth, persuasive logic. Oak is the ultimate judge.

Chris is slow to follow but does so anyway. Curly, as the boys know him, is quiet and almost always attached at the hip to Slightly. The two had been throwing punches for each other since preschool. This boy is the one who speaks the least and yet secretly adores singing, though he’ll never perform for anyone. Always frowning, it seems, with a cigarette constantly drooping from his lips, Chris is the most mature of the boys. However, that isn’t to say he pulls away from the fights. Rumour has it that it takes Chris a single punch to knock a man’s front teeth out.

The Twins are next, two young men who are together more than they’re apart. Leslie and Jordan, brothers who spend all their time together, are prone to speaking scarily in unison and finishing each other’s sentences. The most mysterious of the group, not many people know their origin or background. One year, they simply appeared, like two sibling rabbits from a hat, blended seamlessly into the leather-studded background of the Lost Boy group and had been a part of that misshapen family ever since.

Pippa, or Tink, is the only female of the group. She was an innocent girl gone typically bad; dyed her hair, picked up a leather jacket and a cigarette and hadn’t been the same since. Respect throughout the school for the only girl in this band of boys grows daily and she has proven herself more than worthy time and time again. She is the right hand man, the second lieutenant, and the girl who is always by the side of the cavalry boy who leads this band of rebels. Tink seems to exude glitter; it is everywhere at once, in her hair, between her toes, underneath her fingernails. No one knows where it comes from.

The best is saved for last. At the front of the group is the leader of the pack, Anthony, or as the entire school whispers, Pan. His name is said with a mixture of awe and fear for this is the boy who resembles the stars, and speaks with a voice softer than a fire’s touch in the middle of winter, and who is built like an angel, whose each and every freckle must be a kiss from the sun. He is the boy who all the boys want to be and the boy who all the girls want to hold. Pan is flawless; he is the epitome of perfection, knows how to hold a cigarette just so, knows how to ruffle his hair to the side just slightly, knows how to snatch your heart with one crooked smile. Pan, the world murmurs, and everyone wonders how such an angel fell from the sky. He must have done something and everyone marvels at it. A boy like that cannot be evil, can he? But the truth is there, hidden in plain sight. It is in the creases of his leather jacket and in the scent of smoke and alcohol on his white t-shirts. This boy is dangerous. Beautifully so.

So now you know who the Lost Boys are, and now we can begin our story about a Pan who fell in love and nearly self-destruct at the thought. Take heed. It is not the gang that makes this boy threatening. It is the ease with which everyone falls in love with him that makes him dangerous.

Not every weekend promised entertainment and a memory that would follow you till the sun came up, but this one was. After a half hour of convincing and another half hour of getting ready, the night had become a prosperous oyster to be cracked open with coaxing hands to receive a shiny pearl. Nat, the one needing all the convincing, seemed to have an allergy to this kind of shellfish.

“How the hell are we even gonna get into this place? We’re minors, remember.”

Sidled up to the mirror in a violet dress, Nat was pouting as she pressed a mascara brush through her eyelashes. You, ready twenty minutes earlier, had been reduced to waiting outside the bathroom, eyes rolling every time Nat fretted.

“What do these fake ID’s look like to you? Just plastic decoration?”

“Oh, shut up. I get nervous. You know that.” She pulled away, looking at her reflection with a satisfied grin before looking over to you. “You look hot.”

A dove grey dress was hugging your body, black heels strapped to your ankles and you responded with a wordless smile. Rumours of an amazing bar that seemed to go easy on the ID process and went hard on promises of alcohol had all but set your school on fire. High school kids, when sniffing out rum, were better than freaking basset hounds. Tonight, with no classes the next morning and plenty of time to be hung-over, was the perfect opportunity to drag a girlfriend out to party.

“Ready?” You questioned, glancing at your phone before shoving it into your clutch.

“Yup. Let’s do this.” She grabbed her own purse before leading the way out of the small house your busy parents had left behind. A taxi had been idling outside and as you slid in, the smell of leather seats gave you a bit of a thrill. Tonight held promise. It was heavy in the air.

Belle Rêve was a messy, badly secured club in the sketchier part of the downtown area. It had opened about two months ago and had gained popularity faster than anyone had thought. Apparently, these people didn’t mind having a couple minors in the place, as long as you had a fake ID that they could pretend to look at and if you didn’t create too much of a stir.

“ID?” The bearded man at the door asked monotonously, and you flashed your best smile, handing over a card.

He glanced at it, grunted, handed it back and waved you through. Nat went through the same process, visibly nervous, and was waved through in moments. A contagious grin spread from your face to hers.

The place was dark, almost as dark as the night outside. Black light glow lightened the whites of waitress’ eyes and enhanced the predatory smiles of young men. A beat vibrated the floor so heavily that it made the lyrics of the song practically nonexistent and the occasional flash of the lights made everything feel light and surreal. Belle Rêve meant “beautiful dream” and God; the club certainly lived up to its name.

“Drinks?” Nat suggested, and you nodded, letting her pull you over to the bar to take a sight.

“Can we get a couple shots please?” You half-yelled over the music and the bartender nodded, disappearing before sliding two small glasses over to you and your friend.

“To this crazy idea,” Nat laughed and you could only grin back, knocking your glass against hers before tipping it back into your throat.

The burn was a welcome feeling and you straightened with adrenaline increasing in your veins, grin still on your face.

“Holy shit,” you laughed.

“I know. More?”

With a nod, Nat flagged down the bartender and you let your eyes wander around the place, trying to find any familiar faces. The sound of a laugh that miraculously carried over the music met your ear before you saw the source. It was a boyish, smooth kind of sound and it pleased you so wonderfully that your gaze was dragged, against its will, to the curly haired boy it had come from. He was turned away from you at the moment, surrounded by several other boys, all of them clad in leather jackets. The boy you were watching seemed to feel your gaze and he turned, a half smile tilting his lips up on one lopsided corner of his mouth. A breath stopped halfway up to your throat.

“Jesus fuck. Is that Anthony Ramos?” Nat’s voice cut into your hazy mind and posed the very question your mind had been repeating.

“Yes.” You swallowed, gaze still locked into his as he refused to stop staring.

You were not one to back down from a fight and, crossing your arms, you met his eyes and didn’t back down, frowning slightly. He grinned and finally, finally, half turned so he could break the connection between you.

You raised an eyebrow and smirked, as if to say, “See? I win” but he only smiled and turned back to his crowd.

Nat was staring at you, eyebrow cocked with a hand on her waist.

“What?” You questioned, eyes narrowing.

“Well, if you’re done eye-fucking our local bad boy, I’d like to have my best friend’s attention back.”

“Oh, shut up, we were just…having a staring contest.”

“Staring contests are for third graders. Third graders don’t undress each other mentally. Now take this freaking shot with me.”

Rolling your eyes with a good-natured smile, you reached out and downed another drink, slamming the glass down on the table. Before you could quip something to Nat about going to find some cute guys to dance with, a brunette waitress set a martini down in front of you.

“I didn’t order this,” you frowned, turning to face the woman (Pamela? Phoebe? The nametag was hard to read in the dark).

“It’s from him,” she threw a glance in the corner and you looked up to meet Anthony’s gaze all over again. He was grinning fully this time.

Frowning, you slid the martini away from you. “Tell him if he wants to talk to me he should do it himself and stop bothering the employees.”

The waitress grinned at that and walked away, moving to speak to him. He watched you during the entire exchange, his grin growing as he received the news. Content that he would stop bothering you and your friend, you turned away and back to Nat.

“What the fuck was that?” You huffed, leaning forward to rest your arms on the bar counter.

“That was a hot boy getting you a drink. For free. Should have just taken it and wasted his time.” Nat sent you a grin.

“You’re right, but with a guy like that, you gotta be careful not to stroke their ego too much.” You sent her a smile and she giggled.

“Hey, I’m gonna head to the bathroom. See you in a bit.” She gave your hand a quick squeeze before standing and finding her way across the club.

You turned back to the bar, leaning over to wave the bartender down. He was a bit busy hitting on a blushing boy on the other side of the bar and you rolled your eyes. Typical. What was a girl supposed to do to get a drink around here?

“Not a martini kind of girl, huh.” A smooth voice, all playful and soft, quipped from behind you.

You swivelled in your seat to come face to face with the same boy who you had been playing eye-games with, just five minutes before. Pan, as everyone knew him, was not just any boy. A drink from him was already impressive. A visit was like Halley’s comet: rare and a lucky chance to see. He was beautiful in the low blue lights of the club. His long, curly hair was tucked around one ear and that crooked grin was showing off his teeth again. The leather jacket he wore fit him so damn well.

“No, I prefer Sex on the Beach.” You gave a shrug, leaning back as you glanced up at him warily.

Everyone heard things about the Lost Boys and what they did, the kinds of people they were aligned with. This was the leader of an unpredictable group of boys approaching you and that could be a bad thing, but the thrill-seeking half of you wanted to wait it out.

“The act, or the drink?” He grinned, taking a seat on the bar stool Nat had abandoned.

“Oh, that’s real class. Haven’t heard that one before.” You rolled your eyes, turning to try and wave the bartender down again.

“Mm, thought not.” He watched you huff with an amused tilt of a brow. “Need some help getting that guy’s attention?”

“In fact, I do.”

“That’s odd. Didn’t think someone who looks like you would have trouble getting a man’s gaze.”

Jaw clenching, you whipped around to meet his eyes. It was time to end this. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck it is you want from me, but you’re probably not going to get it. Now can you please just go back to your gang of “quirky misfits”? I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

Your hands dropped from the air quotes you had added to your scathing remarks and turned away. Out of your peripheral, you could see his shoulders shaking. He was laughing.

“You’re all kinds of feisty, aren’t you? Hm. Okay.” He leaned over the bar and placed two fingers in his mouth, letting out a loud, New York-cab type whistle.

The bartender whipped around, shaken out of his next pick-up line to deliver to the unentertained boy he was hitting on. He walked over with a quick apology to Anthony.

“It’s fine, Isaac. All I need is a quick Sex on the Beach and then you’re free to get back to your, otherwise, very important business.” Anthony shot him a grin.

A moment later, Anthony took the drink and placed it down in front of you, lifting an eyebrow. You stayed silent, completely unwilling to speak to him.

“Take it.” He nodded toward the orange drink on the counter in front of you. “It’s a peace offering for us getting off on the wrong foot.”

Letting out a breath, you slid your hand out to pull the glass closer to you so you could bring it to your lips and take a sip. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

“What the hell do you want from me?” You murmured, setting down the glass and turning toward the leather jacket-clad leader of the pack.

“A dance.”

You scoffed, reaching to sip your drink again. “No, seriously. What do you want? A one-night stand? Someone to stroke your ego? You came to the wrong place, Pan, I’m not that girl.”

“First of all, I’d prefer it if you’d call me Anthony, and no, you’re not that girl. Which is why all I’m asking for is a dance.”

A pause flowed through the space between you. You reached the bottom of your Sex on the Beach and stared at the melting ice cubes. Wasn’t high school about living fast anyway?

“Fine. But only one dance.” You held your hand up to warn him physically, the drinks settling into your body as a buzz warmed your limbs.

“Wouldn’t dream of asking for anything else.” He grinned and stood in one fluid motion, taking your hand and pulling you onto the dance floor as he stepped forward.

The place was crowded with couples and friends, all of them not paying attention to any boundaries or courtesy of space. There were no rules on the Belle Rêve dance floor and Anthony seemed to be the king of the court. The moment he delved into the crowd, the flow of people seemed to break like water around a stone and he tugged you, almost immediately, to the centre. He turned to you, teeth gleaming in the darkness and reached for your arms, bringing them to wrap around his neck, his own touch drifting to find your waist. 

“What’s your name?” He pulled out that half-smile and the snarky comeback you were going to deliver died in your throat. He had a really good smile.

“(Y/N). And I know who you are.”

“Really now?” He chuckled; hands drifting to grasp your waist, using the newfound leverage to pull you flush against him without warning. “Then you should know to stay away from me.”

There was no response possible then, because your conversation devolved into a dance quickly. With your arms around his neck and his hands pressing into your pelvis, there was a lack of communication that made everything better. After a moment, your eyes closed and you leaned forward, head landing just under his chin. His heart was pounding in his chest and you could hear it louder than the beat. His hips moved fluidly, pressing against you with an insistence that made the hours in the day infinite and the world cease its spinning. People had been right to say that Anthony was a magical kind of boy.

At one point, your eyes flew open and you leaned back to watch him, only to find that his gaze was on you. His hair was wild; curls flying all over the place as your bodies moved amongst a hundred others. There was a sheen of sweat glistening on his collarbone and you had a sudden desire to reach out and lick the length of his neck. A slow grin pulled into place on your mouth and it seemed to bring one from him as well. He leaned forward to whisper against the shell of your ear, setting a shiver down your spine.

“What are you thinking about?”

You looked up at him, pausing. “I feel immortal.”

He threw his head back and laughed, and you made a silent commitment to save that image in your memory: him in your arms, laughing with his hair back and sweat lining his cheekbones. It was a beautiful picture.

“Baby, stay with me and you’ll never have to grow up.” He was still grinning as he promised this and the pet name didn’t go unnoticed.

After that, your eyes closed again and your head found its place against his chest. The song seemed to last forever, but then it ended and there was no point in moving, so one dance melded into three, and then a fourth. By that point, you were covered in sweat and mashed in between Anthony and some other girl’s back.

With him so close, and your view of his face obscured, it was easier to justify your acts. It was easier to pretend that none of this had consequences. You tilted your head just enough to kiss his neck, eyes still closed as if in denial. His skin tasted like smoke and ivy. He tilted his head to the side, giving you better access and you nipped harder and harder, until there was something to show for your work, a purple mark that clashed against his bronze skin beautifully.

You pulled back, eyes half-lidded and all hazy. He was grinning again.

“Guess I’m going to have to be covering that up for a while, huh.” He chuckled, reaching up to push a strand of your hair out of your face. His touch was warm and it took significant will power not to lean into it.

“Anthony,” you mumbled, eyes closing for a second as a decision ran through your mind. The music was pulsing under your feet, making everything seem magnified.

“Yeah?” He replies, already leaning towards you, his hand cupping your jaw with callused hands.

“Kiss me.”

There is not a second to lose, it seems, and he is there before the alarms in your head can go off. His mouth is vicious and insisting, yet pliant against yours and his hands tug you closer. The world is reduced to starbursts of colour under your closed lids and you cannot help the aching tug of your heart as you realize that this boy is better than any kind of adrenaline rush. He is drug-like; someone made of star matter that the human body cannot resist. This is why mortals should not be allowed to kiss angels that fall to the earth. It is too much. It is all too much.

You pull away, hand moving to press against your mouth, trying to scrub the tingle that refuses to go away. His eyes fly open and his mouth is already tilted into that half smile. Fuck, his hair was all ruffled from your grasp and it made you want to kiss him again.

“This is wrong.”

“Come on. I’m not that bad of a kisser, am I?”

“Anthony, this isn’t fucking funny. I can’t do this.” Your mind, in its self-destructive whirlwind, summons a face. “Oh fuck.”

“What?” He moves toward you cautiously, voice concerned now. “What’s wrong?”

“Nat, I lost her, shit, where did she go?” You push yourself onto your tiptoes, searching the room frantically. “I need to find her.”

“Is she the girl you came with?” He asks, eyes scanning the room too.

“Yeah.”

“I think I might know where she is. Come on.” He takes your hand and the warmth of his touch is too comforting for you to turn down at the moment. He leads you through the crowds and to the table where his crew is accumulated, all laughing and talking.

“Yo, Pan, what’s up?” Oak stands to reach out and grasp Anthony’s hand.

“Hey man. I need to know where Nibs is.”

“He was talking to this girl, took her off somewhere. Think maybe in the lounge.” Oak says all this with a shrug, gesturing down the hallway. Then he sees you, hidden behind Ant, your hand clasped in his. “Who’s this?”

“(Y/N) is that girl’s friend. I’m just helping her find her.” Anthony’s voice is oddly tense as he plays it off. Immediately, he lets go of your hand.

“Okay,” Oak raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. “Good luck.”

As soon as Anthony has led you far enough from his group, he reaches for your hand wordlessly and you don’t fight it. There is a submission to his touch that you seemed to have signed earlier in the night. It was pointless to pull away from something you wanted.

In the dim light, you spot a familiar head of hair, wrapped up in the embrace of what seems to be the professional womanizer of the Lost Boys. You reach over and grab Nat’s hand, giving a tug violent enough for her to stumble into you as she makes a sound of indignation.

“Nat, Jesus, I’ve been looking for you.”

She looks up at you, reaching a hand up to wipe the mouth that was just on Daveed’s, a sheepish smile on her face. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Diggs, come on, man.” Anthony is standing beside his friend, one hand on his hip. 

The culprit is still lounging on the red leather couch, giving a lazy shrug as his grin grows in size. “Pan, it’s not my fault girls love me this much.”

“You disgust me.” You snap at him, giving Nat’s hand a tug as you march toward the exit. A thought that Anthony is calling after you registers dimly but you pay no mind.

It isn’t till you’ve managed to push your way to the doors that he actually catches up and cuts ahead of you.

“(Y/N), wait up!” He puts a hand on your shoulder and you flinch out of his touch, turning to face him.

“What do you want, Anthony?”

“I just…when am I going to see you again?” He asks, voice soft. Nat makes a noise but you squeeze her hand viciously.

“I don’t know. Just leave it, okay? I’ll see you around.” You breathe out and turn away, pushing out of the doors to wave down a cab.

It’s too much. All of it, it’s accumulated so fast that it’s overwhelming. At the start of the night, Pan was just a name to you and the Lost Boys were simply a reputation with no substance. But by now, Pan has become a shadow like personality, the Lost Boys are a reality and Anthony is the centre of all your mind’s twisted thoughts. You were wrong to think a kiss with an angel would not prove consequential. You were wrong to think that Anthony would not be special. You were wrong, and there was no satisfaction in a feeling like that.

The taxi ride was silent. Nat, treated to one too many drinks by Daveed, had passed out on your lap and your hands idly pulled through the tangles left in her hair. There was too much room in the car that left your brain defenceless. Thoughts came and wait without your consent and too many slides of Anthony’s face were projected in your mind’s eye. A tingle that had never really disappeared tickled at your mouth and you reached a hand up to brush over the remnants of lipstick, trying to rub his presence off your mouth. It didn’t work.

With Nat’s arm draped around your shoulders and her groaning, the door was difficult to open quietly but not impossible. As soon as you had her on the couch, turned safely on her side in case she threw up in the night, you tugged the afghan around her and pressed a pillow under her head.

Tired, aching and frazzled, your bed looked wonderfully comfy at the moment. The dove grey dress came off and the battle heels were discarded, all in favour of a worn short sleeve shirt and a pair of shorts. The taste of peach schnapps was souring quickly in your mouth, so a toothbrush full of toothpaste was reached for. It was just as you were rinsing your mouth that the first tap sounded at your window.

Must have been the oak tree beside your window. As you busied yourself with wiping off streaked make-up, another came. Then one more, and then a steady tap, tap, tap, tap that had become so incessant that it couldn’t be a harmless tree branch.

Small shadows were hitting the windowpane, and your view revealed tiny, harmless pebbles smacking against the glass. You waited for the rocks to stop, and a pause came. Pushing the window up, you peeked your head out, squinting into the darkness.

“(Y/N), it’s me.” That voice, one you were not at all acquainted with but could pick out amongst a thousand others rang out quietly. It crossed your mind that you very much enjoyed the way he said your name.

“Pan?”

“I thought I told you to call me Anthony.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing in my fucking yard? Leave.”

“This is what I get for trying to be spontaneous. I should have known a girl like you would have seen it as creepy and not romantic. Hang on a minute, I’m gonna get up there.”

“Like fuck you are!”

He didn’t reply but instead let the rusting of the tree’s leaves fill the space instead. You stood, fretting, at the windowsill, leaning down as you tried to make out his form in the darkness. Through the night, you couldn’t quite tell how he had even managed to scale his way up to the small slice of roof next to your window. Pretty soon, his white teeth were illuminating the dark next to you. 

“Jesus, how did you get up here?”

“I flew.”

“You’re hilarious. Anthony, what are you doing here?” You were whispering furiously, arms crossed as you realized that he was encroaching on a private space that you had felt un-scrutinized in.  

“I came to see you.” He made himself comfortable on the tin roof and shot you another grin, looking down to idly brush at his jeans.

A breath filled your lungs and you stared at him, wide-eyed, for a moment. “You’re crazy. You are actually crazy.”

“So I’ve heard. Now are you going to join me, or am I just going to have to freeze, Titanic-style, on your freaking roof?”

You let out a disbelieving squeak, but paused, hands worrying at the hem of your shirt, before you cursed under your breath and pulled a leg up to crawl out the window. The metal was cool under your exposed thighs and the night air nipped at any exposed skin. A shiver ran down your spine. His mention of a very classic romantic comedy tucked itself away for further leverage. Why were you out here? Was it the request of a boy that your lack of control could not deny? Or was it just a simple agreement that yes, this could be enjoyable? Damn you and your inability to steel decisions.

“Anthony.”

“Mm.”

“Why are you here?”

“I thought we addressed this, sweetheart,” he turns toward you, pulling his legs up to cross them, a youthful grin on his face. “I’m here to see you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Exactly. Me being here solves that.”

“Does it?”

“Absolutely.”

An attempt at a scoff bubbled up from your chest but came out in the form of a chuckle. His grin widened. You hadn’t quite meant to let him have the satisfaction of making you laugh but it seemed to be too late.

“Look, I’m sorry about Diggs.” Anthony let out a slow breath. “Women are his vice.”

“Yeah, I figured. I should have known, Nat is everybody’s type, she’s beautiful, and your friend doesn’t seem to be especially picky either. I’m not angry.”

He sent you a slow smile, all innocent and sunshine-y. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared, but you quickly turned to the sky. The temperature seemed to be dropping even further down and you shivered a little more violently, hands clenching into fists. Warm leather came down on your shoulders and tucked easily around your waist, a touch lingering for a moment and then pulling away.

“What is this for?” The leather jacket is worn but comfortable as you tug it a bit closer around you.

“Honey, you looked cold.” He deadpans. “What do you think it’s for?”

“I…” The scathing remark your brain was fighting to come up with seems to lose its light and the point of keeping up an argument becomes arbitrary. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He grins.

A silence fell with heaviness, a proper mix of uncomfortable and content, as if neither one could decide whether this was an enjoyable pause or not. Thankfully, the question didn’t have to last long.

“Do you know the story of Altair and Vega?” His voice is soft, and you turned to see that his gaze was trained on the night sky.

“Like, the constellations?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…no, not really.”

“They were lovers,” he smiles, giving a gentle chuckle. “You can see them, just up there.” He scooted closer to point more accurately, and though the story’s focus was the constellations, almost all your attention was focused on the warmth his thigh provided as it pressed against yours.

“See, their parents didn’t approve of the match. Vega, she had immortal family who were gods and Altair was just a cow herder.” Out of your peripheral, you can see his eyes drift towards you at this.

“But they disobeyed their parents and spent every minute they could together. When their parents found out, they split them up on either side of a river. The Milky Way Galaxy spiral makes this little trail between them. They stare at each other from across the water and weep for their lost love.”

“Come on, are any of the constellation stories happy ones?” You interrupted, a nervous babble that seemed to spew out of your mouth without regarding your own thoughts. Luckily, he laughed.

“There’s more. The magpies sympathize with them; so once a year, they flock together over the river and make a bridge so that Altair can go to her and they spend a single day together. It’s enough for them. But it’s all they get.” He shoots you a soft smile.

Was this really the person who led the Lost Boys? The notorious leader of the pack who was put on a pedestal and revered for his playboy-ish ways? It couldn’t be. Pan’s mask was crumbling to reveal a boy named Anthony who wasn’t quite like the role he played.  

“Romantic constellations? Titanic? Don’t tell me the famous Pan is a secret softie at heart.” You shot him a grin, bumping your elbow into his ribs.

“Hey, not me.” He chuckled, holding his hands up. “I’m a badass through and through.”

“A badass who knows about lovers in the sky and has seen the most iconic sad romance movie of all time.”

“Yes.”

“Some badass.” You laugh again, a fuller sound this time and he takes note, turns to you with a delighted grin.

“So she knows how to laugh!” His grin only widens.

“Sometimes. And usually at better jokes than yours.”

“Ouch. And just when I was going to pull out another one of my constellation stories. How ungrateful.”

“He’s got another one?” You grinned, giggling. “Pan: confirmed softie.”

“Hey, this one is cool.” He pointed again, motioning to a star that gleamed a little brighter than its neighbours.

“See that? That’s the second star to the right.”

“To the right of what?”

“Just to the right. Now listen. That is my star. It always has been.”

“Anthony, no one is allowed to take a star, that’s not-“

“Are you gonna listen, or not?” He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head with a chuckle.

You huffed, but nodded, properly reprimanded. He chuckled again and nodded. 

“That star has my name on it, I’m sure of it. And if you’re ever in trouble, or you need someone, and I’m not around…just look to the second star to the right, and know that it is my star always watching you, no matter what. Okay?” Anthony turned to you, a soft smile that knocked the breath straight out of your lungs. It was hard to breathe, and harder still to speak.

“Okay.”

He had pressed a hand to yours as he made his promise, then moved his touch to cradle your jaw. The night was cold and his touch was fire. The world ceased its rounds, just as it did in the club, and you were falling towards him with a speed that astounded you. His mouth is just there, millimetres from granting sweetness but no, no, no, stupid girl.

“Anthony, I can’t.”

He stops immediately, freezes where he is and his eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes in seconds.  

“Why?” His voice is barely a whisper.

“Because I can’t. We can’t, it-it doesn’t make sense. Let’s just not get ahead of ourselves. Okay?”

He pulls back, looks down at the hand that had just been cupping your face, then returns his gaze to yours. He’s smiling, all soft.

“Okay.”

Relief fills your body, but the cold left over from his near electrocuting touch bothers you more than you had hoped it would.

“Now, I need to get to sleep. And you need to get off my roof.” You shoo him with a laugh, and he grins.

“I suppose you’re right. Get some rest.” He calls as you turn to crawl back through your windowsill.

“Goodnight, Anthony.” You turn to see a last glance of the shadow perched on the precipice of your roof.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You had been expecting him to swing onto the oak tree’s branches, but instead he crouched, balanced for a moment, and then jumped. The movement took you so badly by surprise that his name nearly came flying from your mouth, but after waiting to see the damage, you saw the shadow of his outline stepping across your lawn and soundlessly making his way down the street.

That boy really could fly.

With the cold finally kept outside, your limbs warmed quickly and you reached to rub some blood flow back into your bare arms, but underneath your touch was leather. Anthony’s jacket was still hanging loosely around your shoulders, scented of whiskey and mist. Taking it off gingerly, you ran an absent finger over the creases of the worn fabric, then perched it gently on the chair before retreating to curl up in bed.

Sleep came easy but dreams of a figure sprinkled with ivy leaves and a laugh that sounded like Anthony’s traipsed through your mind all night. Flashes of scenes at the club, the feeling of his body and his mouth on yours mixed together and by morning, all you could remember about the whirlpool of visions was the gleam of a familiar star. The second one to the right, to be quite specific.

#anthony ramos x reader #anthony ramos imagine #hamilcast imagine #peter pan au #neverland au #hamwriters writeathon

[douglassmiith]

Dr. Adam Splaver Has Your Prescription For Freedom

May 29, 2020 6 min read

Opinions expressed by Entrepreneur contributors are their own.

According to a recent article published by The Journal of the American Medical Association, the United States spends more on health care than any other country, with costs approaching 18% of the gross domestic product (GDP). Prior studies estimated that approximately 30% of health care spending may be considered waste. Despite efforts to reduce overtreatment, improve care, and address overpayment, it is likely that substantial waste in US health care spending remains.

Most would agree that health care is sick care. Mental health, medicine, insurance, they’re all broken systems.

Doctors are frustrated because they can’t produce results for their patients and if you’re a professional, an entrepreneur, or business leader then you know the value of operating at peak performance.

If you speak to the highest performing executives in the world you’ll find out that they’re working with integrative practitioners who are blending traditional and non-traditional modalities of healing. Bridging the worlds of physical and metaphysical together.

If you need more proof, take a look at some of the highest performing athletes in the world today. Guys like Tom Brady, for example, has never been quiet about his advocacy of holistic medicine or his criticism of Wester health practices. The late, great, Kobe Bryant received Regenokine Therapy (regenerative cell-based therapy) to reduce pain in his knees and Michael Phelps is a regular practitioner of Cupping (a form of acupuncture) and Whole-body Cryotherapy (a super-cooling treatment for chronic joint pain as well as numerous other conditions).

The world-famous cardiologist, Dr. Adam Splaver is known as the doctor’s doctor and the creator and author of “Prescription For Freedom” — a seven-step process for saving your life, your soul, your health and your legacy, while you still can.

The story behind the story

Dr. Splaver has a very compelling personal story that helped him create his seven-step system.

On November 6th, 2012 he had gone into his office when he got a phone call from his mother-in-law telling him that his wife, Shani was found unconscious. She had a bleeding stroke from a tumor that we were unaware of.

They were finally at the point in their lives where they thought they were on top of everything. They had four amazing kids, Shani (his wife) was training for a half marathon and he was very involved in the community. All he could think was, “Oh my god, what am I gonna do now?”

Initially, they were told that she had weeks to live so they made the decision that whatever time they had left they were going to use and live to its fullest. They traveled, went to movies, dinners, and dated. They had an amazing time and what was supposed to be weeks turned into years. Needless to say, Dr. Splaver is extremely thankful and feels blessed that they had that extra time.

Towards the end of her life, she lost her short term memory. In the last few weeks of her life, they decided to put her in hospice at home where she passed in their bedroom surrounded by their kids and family.

In the process of mourning and grieving is when Dr. Splaver began his journey of going from a “we” to me and created, “Prescription for Freedom.” The seven-step process that not only helped him but can help others gain back their freedom and live the life of their dreams.

Prescription For Freedom — Dr. Splayver’s seven-step process for saving your life, your soul, your health, and your legacy:

Environmental Detox: This means not just your physical environment, but your emotional, relationship, and your work environment. Removing things, foods, additives, and people that do not serve you anymore. Many of these things push you down and prevent you from expanding and moving on.

Honesty Upgrade: Taking stock, looking at your “operating systems”, stories, and the way you speak to yourself. Then honestly, gently and kindly changing those stories and understandings to ones that will help you further your mission and desires.

Dream Bigger: Dreaming and thinking about how your life could be if money were stories and limiting beliefs were no longer holding you back.

Metaphysical Toolkit: Not only are we physical beings, but we’re also energetic beings. There are energetic and spiritual ways of dealing with disease and treat not only the mind but body, heart, and spirit. Extensive science has proven a regular meditation practice and mindfulness has a profound effect on health and is very healing.

Install a New Operating System: By clearing up all of our old stories and getting rid of toxic relationships and environments, we’re able to install a more improved operating system that serves our purpose and catapults us into our desired future.

Elevate Your Network: Show me your friends, I’ll tell you who you are. The people we surround ourselves with are not only are a reflection of where we are socially, mentally, and energetically but also have a profound effect on how we operate in our daily lives. Changing our relationships will affect how we integrate and actualize what dreams we manifest in our world.

Become The Dream: After you’ve cleared out all the negativity and installed a new operating system you’re able to step into your power, your new future, and your newfound passion to live the life that you truly want to live. 

After creating and going through his own system, Dr. Splaver is living his dream and bringing it to the world through his integrated 1:1 and group executive coaching programs.

His two-day mastermind that happens twice a year guides clients through how to integrate his seven steps in an intimate group environment. The experiences, resources, and systems aren’t available anywhere else. He’s created a community that helps you elevate your own network and interact with like-minded individuals who hold you accountable and cheer you on. 

He also offers a “deep dive” one-on-one program. As an MD, he looks at the biophysical and medical aspects of care including tests, labs, and diagnostics not available anywhere else. Dr. Splaver has access to lab tests that are difficult or impossible to access without exclusive relationships that include aspects of functional medicine and customized tests that are tailored more towards your own care.

To learn more about Dr. Adam Splaver and his coaching programs, check out his website here https://www.TheDoctorsDr.com

Watch the whole video interview here: www.MrBz.com/DrAdamSplaver

Website Design & SEO Delray Beach by DBL07.co

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Via http://www.scpie.org/dr-adam-splaver-has-your-prescription-for-freedom/

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[riichardwilson]

Dr. Adam Splaver Has Your Prescription For Freedom

May 29, 2020 6 min read

Opinions expressed by Entrepreneur contributors are their own.

According to a recent article published by The Journal of the American Medical Association, the United States spends more on health care than any other country, with costs approaching 18% of the gross domestic product (GDP). Prior studies estimated that approximately 30% of health care spending may be considered waste. Despite efforts to reduce overtreatment, improve care, and address overpayment, it is likely that substantial waste in US health care spending remains.

Most would agree that health care is sick care. Mental health, medicine, insurance, they’re all broken systems.

Doctors are frustrated because they can’t produce results for their patients and if you’re a professional, an entrepreneur, or business leader then you know the value of operating at peak performance.

If you speak to the highest performing executives in the world you’ll find out that they’re working with integrative practitioners who are blending traditional and non-traditional modalities of healing. Bridging the worlds of physical and metaphysical together.

If you need more proof, take a look at some of the highest performing athletes in the world today. Guys like Tom Brady, for example, has never been quiet about his advocacy of holistic medicine or his criticism of Wester health practices. The late, great, Kobe Bryant received Regenokine Therapy (regenerative cell-based therapy) to reduce pain in his knees and Michael Phelps is a regular practitioner of Cupping (a form of acupuncture) and Whole-body Cryotherapy (a super-cooling treatment for chronic joint pain as well as numerous other conditions).

The world-famous cardiologist, Dr. Adam Splaver is known as the doctor’s doctor and the creator and author of “Prescription For Freedom” — a seven-step process for saving your life, your soul, your health and your legacy, while you still can.

The story behind the story

Dr. Splaver has a very compelling personal story that helped him create his seven-step system.

On November 6th, 2012 he had gone into his office when he got a phone call from his mother-in-law telling him that his wife, Shani was found unconscious. She had a bleeding stroke from a tumor that we were unaware of.

They were finally at the point in their lives where they thought they were on top of everything. They had four amazing kids, Shani (his wife) was training for a half marathon and he was very involved in the community. All he could think was, “Oh my god, what am I gonna do now?”

Initially, they were told that she had weeks to live so they made the decision that whatever time they had left they were going to use and live to its fullest. They traveled, went to movies, dinners, and dated. They had an amazing time and what was supposed to be weeks turned into years. Needless to say, Dr. Splaver is extremely thankful and feels blessed that they had that extra time.

Towards the end of her life, she lost her short term memory. In the last few weeks of her life, they decided to put her in hospice at home where she passed in their bedroom surrounded by their kids and family.

In the process of mourning and grieving is when Dr. Splaver began his journey of going from a “we” to me and created, “Prescription for Freedom.” The seven-step process that not only helped him but can help others gain back their freedom and live the life of their dreams.

Prescription For Freedom — Dr. Splayver’s seven-step process for saving your life, your soul, your health, and your legacy:

Environmental Detox: This means not just your physical environment, but your emotional, relationship, and your work environment. Removing things, foods, additives, and people that do not serve you anymore. Many of these things push you down and prevent you from expanding and moving on.

Honesty Upgrade: Taking stock, looking at your “operating systems”, stories, and the way you speak to yourself. Then honestly, gently and kindly changing those stories and understandings to ones that will help you further your mission and desires.

Dream Bigger: Dreaming and thinking about how your life could be if money were stories and limiting beliefs were no longer holding you back.

Metaphysical Toolkit: Not only are we physical beings, but we’re also energetic beings. There are energetic and spiritual ways of dealing with disease and treat not only the mind but body, heart, and spirit. Extensive science has proven a regular meditation practice and mindfulness has a profound effect on health and is very healing.

Install a New Operating System: By clearing up all of our old stories and getting rid of toxic relationships and environments, we’re able to install a more improved operating system that serves our purpose and catapults us into our desired future.

Elevate Your Network: Show me your friends, I’ll tell you who you are. The people we surround ourselves with are not only are a reflection of where we are socially, mentally, and energetically but also have a profound effect on how we operate in our daily lives. Changing our relationships will affect how we integrate and actualize what dreams we manifest in our world.

Become The Dream: After you’ve cleared out all the negativity and installed a new operating system you’re able to step into your power, your new future, and your newfound passion to live the life that you truly want to live. 

After creating and going through his own system, Dr. Splaver is living his dream and bringing it to the world through his integrated 1:1 and group executive coaching programs.

His two-day mastermind that happens twice a year guides clients through how to integrate his seven steps in an intimate group environment. The experiences, resources, and systems aren’t available anywhere else. He’s created a community that helps you elevate your own network and interact with like-minded individuals who hold you accountable and cheer you on. 

He also offers a “deep dive” one-on-one program. As an MD, he looks at the biophysical and medical aspects of care including tests, labs, and diagnostics not available anywhere else. Dr. Splaver has access to lab tests that are difficult or impossible to access without exclusive relationships that include aspects of functional medicine and customized tests that are tailored more towards your own care.

To learn more about Dr. Adam Splaver and his coaching programs, check out his website here https://www.TheDoctorsDr.com

Watch the whole video interview here: www.MrBz.com/DrAdamSplaver

Website Design & SEO Delray Beach by DBL07.co

Delray Beach SEO

source http://www.scpie.org/dr-adam-splaver-has-your-prescription-for-freedom/ source https://scpie.tumblr.com/post/619500216760008704

[scpie]

Dr. Adam Splaver Has Your Prescription For Freedom

May 29, 2020 6 min read

Opinions expressed by Entrepreneur contributors are their own.

According to a recent article published by The Journal of the American Medical Association, the United States spends more on health care than any other country, with costs approaching 18% of the gross domestic product (GDP). Prior studies estimated that approximately 30% of health care spending may be considered waste. Despite efforts to reduce overtreatment, improve care, and address overpayment, it is likely that substantial waste in US health care spending remains.

Most would agree that health care is sick care. Mental health, medicine, insurance, they’re all broken systems.

Doctors are frustrated because they can’t produce results for their patients and if you’re a professional, an entrepreneur, or business leader then you know the value of operating at peak performance.

If you speak to the highest performing executives in the world you’ll find out that they’re working with integrative practitioners who are blending traditional and non-traditional modalities of healing. Bridging the worlds of physical and metaphysical together.

If you need more proof, take a look at some of the highest performing athletes in the world today. Guys like Tom Brady, for example, has never been quiet about his advocacy of holistic medicine or his criticism of Wester health practices. The late, great, Kobe Bryant received Regenokine Therapy (regenerative cell-based therapy) to reduce pain in his knees and Michael Phelps is a regular practitioner of Cupping (a form of acupuncture) and Whole-body Cryotherapy (a super-cooling treatment for chronic joint pain as well as numerous other conditions).

The world-famous cardiologist, Dr. Adam Splaver is known as the doctor’s doctor and the creator and author of “Prescription For Freedom” — a seven-step process for saving your life, your soul, your health and your legacy, while you still can.

The story behind the story

Dr. Splaver has a very compelling personal story that helped him create his seven-step system.

On November 6th, 2012 he had gone into his office when he got a phone call from his mother-in-law telling him that his wife, Shani was found unconscious. She had a bleeding stroke from a tumor that we were unaware of.

They were finally at the point in their lives where they thought they were on top of everything. They had four amazing kids, Shani (his wife) was training for a half marathon and he was very involved in the community. All he could think was, “Oh my god, what am I gonna do now?”

Initially, they were told that she had weeks to live so they made the decision that whatever time they had left they were going to use and live to its fullest. They traveled, went to movies, dinners, and dated. They had an amazing time and what was supposed to be weeks turned into years. Needless to say, Dr. Splaver is extremely thankful and feels blessed that they had that extra time.

Towards the end of her life, she lost her short term memory. In the last few weeks of her life, they decided to put her in hospice at home where she passed in their bedroom surrounded by their kids and family.

In the process of mourning and grieving is when Dr. Splaver began his journey of going from a “we” to me and created, “Prescription for Freedom.” The seven-step process that not only helped him but can help others gain back their freedom and live the life of their dreams.

Prescription For Freedom — Dr. Splayver’s seven-step process for saving your life, your soul, your health, and your legacy:

Environmental Detox: This means not just your physical environment, but your emotional, relationship, and your work environment. Removing things, foods, additives, and people that do not serve you anymore. Many of these things push you down and prevent you from expanding and moving on.

Honesty Upgrade: Taking stock, looking at your “operating systems”, stories, and the way you speak to yourself. Then honestly, gently and kindly changing those stories and understandings to ones that will help you further your mission and desires.

Dream Bigger: Dreaming and thinking about how your life could be if money were stories and limiting beliefs were no longer holding you back.

Metaphysical Toolkit: Not only are we physical beings, but we’re also energetic beings. There are energetic and spiritual ways of dealing with disease and treat not only the mind but body, heart, and spirit. Extensive science has proven a regular meditation practice and mindfulness has a profound effect on health and is very healing.

Install a New Operating System: By clearing up all of our old stories and getting rid of toxic relationships and environments, we’re able to install a more improved operating system that serves our purpose and catapults us into our desired future.

Elevate Your Network: Show me your friends, I’ll tell you who you are. The people we surround ourselves with are not only are a reflection of where we are socially, mentally, and energetically but also have a profound effect on how we operate in our daily lives. Changing our relationships will affect how we integrate and actualize what dreams we manifest in our world.

Become The Dream: After you’ve cleared out all the negativity and installed a new operating system you’re able to step into your power, your new future, and your newfound passion to live the life that you truly want to live. 

After creating and going through his own system, Dr. Splaver is living his dream and bringing it to the world through his integrated 1:1 and group executive coaching programs.

His two-day mastermind that happens twice a year guides clients through how to integrate his seven steps in an intimate group environment. The experiences, resources, and systems aren’t available anywhere else. He’s created a community that helps you elevate your own network and interact with like-minded individuals who hold you accountable and cheer you on. 

He also offers a “deep dive” one-on-one program. As an MD, he looks at the biophysical and medical aspects of care including tests, labs, and diagnostics not available anywhere else. Dr. Splaver has access to lab tests that are difficult or impossible to access without exclusive relationships that include aspects of functional medicine and customized tests that are tailored more towards your own care.

To learn more about Dr. Adam Splaver and his coaching programs, check out his website here https://www.TheDoctorsDr.com

Watch the whole video interview here: www.MrBz.com/DrAdamSplaver

Website Design & SEO Delray Beach by DBL07.co

Delray Beach SEO

source http://www.scpie.org/dr-adam-splaver-has-your-prescription-for-freedom/

[laurelkrugerr]

Dr. Adam Splaver Has Your Prescription For Freedom

May 29, 2020 6 min read

Opinions expressed by Entrepreneur contributors are their own.

According to a recent article published by The Journal of the American Medical Association, the United States spends more on health care than any other country, with costs approaching 18% of the gross domestic product (GDP). Prior studies estimated that approximately 30% of health care spending may be considered waste. Despite efforts to reduce overtreatment, improve care, and address overpayment, it is likely that substantial waste in US health care spending remains.

Most would agree that health care is sick care. Mental health, medicine, insurance, they’re all broken systems.

Doctors are frustrated because they can’t produce results for their patients and if you’re a professional, an entrepreneur, or business leader then you know the value of operating at peak performance.

If you speak to the highest performing executives in the world you’ll find out that they’re working with integrative practitioners who are blending traditional and non-traditional modalities of healing. Bridging the worlds of physical and metaphysical together.

If you need more proof, take a look at some of the highest performing athletes in the world today. Guys like Tom Brady, for example, has never been quiet about his advocacy of holistic medicine or his criticism of Wester health practices. The late, great, Kobe Bryant received Regenokine Therapy (regenerative cell-based therapy) to reduce pain in his knees and Michael Phelps is a regular practitioner of Cupping (a form of acupuncture) and Whole-body Cryotherapy (a super-cooling treatment for chronic joint pain as well as numerous other conditions).

The world-famous cardiologist, Dr. Adam Splaver is known as the doctor’s doctor and the creator and author of “Prescription For Freedom” — a seven-step process for saving your life, your soul, your health and your legacy, while you still can.

The story behind the story

Dr. Splaver has a very compelling personal story that helped him create his seven-step system.

On November 6th, 2012 he had gone into his office when he got a phone call from his mother-in-law telling him that his wife, Shani was found unconscious. She had a bleeding stroke from a tumor that we were unaware of.

They were finally at the point in their lives where they thought they were on top of everything. They had four amazing kids, Shani (his wife) was training for a half marathon and he was very involved in the community. All he could think was, “Oh my god, what am I gonna do now?”

Initially, they were told that she had weeks to live so they made the decision that whatever time they had left they were going to use and live to its fullest. They traveled, went to movies, dinners, and dated. They had an amazing time and what was supposed to be weeks turned into years. Needless to say, Dr. Splaver is extremely thankful and feels blessed that they had that extra time.

Towards the end of her life, she lost her short term memory. In the last few weeks of her life, they decided to put her in hospice at home where she passed in their bedroom surrounded by their kids and family.

In the process of mourning and grieving is when Dr. Splaver began his journey of going from a “we” to me and created, “Prescription for Freedom.” The seven-step process that not only helped him but can help others gain back their freedom and live the life of their dreams.

Prescription For Freedom — Dr. Splayver’s seven-step process for saving your life, your soul, your health, and your legacy:

Environmental Detox: This means not just your physical environment, but your emotional, relationship, and your work environment. Removing things, foods, additives, and people that do not serve you anymore. Many of these things push you down and prevent you from expanding and moving on.

Honesty Upgrade: Taking stock, looking at your “operating systems”, stories, and the way you speak to yourself. Then honestly, gently and kindly changing those stories and understandings to ones that will help you further your mission and desires.

Dream Bigger: Dreaming and thinking about how your life could be if money were stories and limiting beliefs were no longer holding you back.

Metaphysical Toolkit: Not only are we physical beings, but we’re also energetic beings. There are energetic and spiritual ways of dealing with disease and treat not only the mind but body, heart, and spirit. Extensive science has proven a regular meditation practice and mindfulness has a profound effect on health and is very healing.

Install a New Operating System: By clearing up all of our old stories and getting rid of toxic relationships and environments, we’re able to install a more improved operating system that serves our purpose and catapults us into our desired future.

Elevate Your Network: Show me your friends, I’ll tell you who you are. The people we surround ourselves with are not only are a reflection of where we are socially, mentally, and energetically but also have a profound effect on how we operate in our daily lives. Changing our relationships will affect how we integrate and actualize what dreams we manifest in our world.

Become The Dream: After you’ve cleared out all the negativity and installed a new operating system you’re able to step into your power, your new future, and your newfound passion to live the life that you truly want to live. 

After creating and going through his own system, Dr. Splaver is living his dream and bringing it to the world through his integrated 1:1 and group executive coaching programs.

His two-day mastermind that happens twice a year guides clients through how to integrate his seven steps in an intimate group environment. The experiences, resources, and systems aren’t available anywhere else. He’s created a community that helps you elevate your own network and interact with like-minded individuals who hold you accountable and cheer you on. 

He also offers a “deep dive” one-on-one program. As an MD, he looks at the biophysical and medical aspects of care including tests, labs, and diagnostics not available anywhere else. Dr. Splaver has access to lab tests that are difficult or impossible to access without exclusive relationships that include aspects of functional medicine and customized tests that are tailored more towards your own care.

To learn more about Dr. Adam Splaver and his coaching programs, check out his website here https://www.TheDoctorsDr.com

Watch the whole video interview here: www.MrBz.com/DrAdamSplaver

Website Design & SEO Delray Beach by DBL07.co

Delray Beach SEO

source http://www.scpie.org/dr-adam-splaver-has-your-prescription-for-freedom/ source https://scpie1.blogspot.com/2020/05/dr-adam-splaver-has-your-prescription.html