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jakekiszkasleftnutsack · 1 year

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Mile High Club

Danny Wagner x f!reader

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Summary: What are the chances you run into your favorite band at the airport when heading home after one of their concerts? Low. What are the chances the tall, dark, and gorgeous drummer seems interested in you? Slim to none.

Warnings: 18+ GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, secondhand embarrassment, unprotected sex, teasing, light degradation/name-calling, breath play, impact play for like a second, let me know if I missed any we are not being thorough today.

W/c: 4.7k

A/n: I don’t really do the christmas thing but here’s a little something to hold y’all over while I work on some requests and bigger things. Special thanks to my girl @whereisthemusic for the crumbs! ily

Edited by @garbagevanfleet

Theme Song: Kiss Me You Animal - Burn The Ballroom

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Airports can be very liminal spaces sometimes. In less traveled cities the terminal has a certain eerie quality about it, like an abandoned industrial town but slightly more comforting because it smells like warm cinnamon rolls. You’ve been in enough of them that you’ve come to somewhat enjoy existing in that atmosphere and watching people go about their lives. Granted, it’s usually a lot more fun traveling toward your destination than away from it.

In your case, it’s one of the less exciting times to be sitting at an airport bar, clad in your new concert merch. Your post-concert slump is hitting harder than it ever has before, as to be expected after seeing your favorite band perform for the first time. You had scored a spot at the barricade, they performed all your favorite songs, and you touched the hands of Josh Kiszka himself. Yet, despite all this, you’re sad to be at the tail end of that wonderful fever dream and returning to the real world.

Nursing the cocktail you ordered for yourself, you pull out your phone and review the few videos you took the night before, hoping to beat the emptiness you feel with a little bit of joy.

“Three beers and a tequila soda, please.” A very familiar voice catches your attention from a few empty barstools down.

There’s something eerie about hearing the voices that fill your dreams in real life, so eerie that when you turn your head and spot Sam Kiszka leaning against the bar by his forearms mere feet away, you feel like you’ve seen a ghost. Your whole body goes rigid but your cheeks flush. All at once, you’re exhilarated but terrified, bashful yet determined to somehow make contact. For fear of letting the moment pass you by, you let slip the first word that manages to reach your lips.

“Samuel,” you mutter, mortified to be existing in his vicinity.

Lazily, his head pivots until he finds the source of his name. He looks slightly thrown by the odd greeting but he’s probably very used to the dumbfounded look plastered on your face, so he smiles a beautiful toothy grin back at you.

“Hi! Love the shirt.” He smiles with one side of his mouth.

“Thanks! Love the music.” You silently cringe when you remember that you’re wearing the Dreams In Gold tour shirt you recently bought.

“Ahh, touché! What’s your name?” He props himself up on one elbow as he turns to face you, crossing one foot over the other in the process.

“I’m y/n, It’s really nice to meet you after such an awesome show.”

“Yeah, it was a good one, wasn’t it? I’m glad you enjoyed it!” He smirks proudly at the compliment.

“Enjoyed it? It was magical, I was mesmerized!”

“We’re mesmerizing now, eh?” Josh quips, out of nowhere. The curly haired piece of ass settles into the barstool on your opposite side and reaches past you to snag the freshly prepared cocktail Sam ordered for him. “Haven’t heard that one before but I have to agree. Just look at that handsome man, so entrancing.” He gestures to your still unlocked phone that you forgot was zoomed in on a paused, lewd looking video you took of him performing Age of Machine the night before.

All the air leaves your lungs when you notice your mistake and you quickly reach to flip the phone over, but Josh is quicker and snatches it off the bar top first. He holds it up next to his face, displaying it for Sam like a trophy while he parts his lips and rolls his eyes to the back of his head, attempting to make a similar face to the one on the screen. “It’s uncanny.”

“You’ll have to forgive my brother, he seems to have forgotten his manners,” Sam addresses you, then turns to Josh to speak in a patronizing tone. “Josh, this is y/n.”

“What?! It’s a good photo,” Josh giggles like he’s a master of comedy, but you feel like you could curl in on yourself and disappear.

“Josh is all too proud of his talent for making sex faces.” Sam cockily makes fun of his brother as you anxiously try to grab your phone back from Josh.

“Sorry, y/n.” He dangles it in the air, briefly lifting it out of your reach before holding it out for you to take, all the while smiling proudly.

“Whatever you call it, nobody’s immune.” You shrug your shoulders in favor of Josh’s argument, hopefully deflecting the spotlight away from yourself. Unsurprisingly, he accepts the flattery and wraps one arm around you, squeezing you into a goofy side hug.

“Ahh, see?! She knows what she’s talking about!”

Sam chokes out a few beginnings of words but all of them fail to make a valuable point in protest. “Wha- No! You’ve just claimed another victim!”

You’re about to jab back when Danny’s tall dark figure materializes over your shoulder between you and Sam.

“Well, hello. Are these delinquents bothering you?” He smiles down at you as he grabs the remaining lone beer from the bar.

“Yeah actually, could you take care of them for me?”

Danny laughs, but the other two boys launch into a tirade of various “hey now” and “wait a minute”’s.

“Not really, I was just telling them how much I enjoyed your concert last night. I’m y/n, by the way.”

He holds out his cup for you to cheers, so you tap the side of your cup against his. “Very good to meet you, y/n. Nice t-shirt.”

You roll your eyes as you take a rather large gulp of your cocktail but ultimately smile at his compliment as he takes a sip of his own drink, and watches your expression shift. He’s only being kind, he doesn’t need to know how mortified you are.

“Thanks, I couldn’t resist. I wanted the poster too but I guess there weren’t enough, they were all gone by the time I got there.”

“Yeah, we heard that’s been happening a lot, apparently.” He purses his lips and looks off into the distance somewhere, potentially in contemplation. “Well, that simply won’t do.”

Danny turns you to face him head-on by grabbing the back of your barstool and turning you away from Josh and Sam. While you’re watching him, completely dumbfounded, he slings his backpack around his shoulder to bring it in front of him. He rummages around inside of it for a moment and produces one drumstick, twirling it between his fingers effortlessly before holding it out to you.

“Oh my god. Are you serious?” You try to keep your hands from shaking when you take it from him, but to no avail.

“Oh my god, the Holy Grail!” Sam chimes in, lightly mocking your astonished tone, causing Josh to make a painfully sad attempt at stifling his laughter. You and Danny side eye his friends together but shake off his teasing rather easily.

“Ignore them, they get weird when they’re tired.” He rolls his eyes, offering a sweet apologetic smile for the rowdy bunch.

“Are you sure I can have this?” Apprehension litters your voice.

“Consider it a gift.” Shrugging his shoulders, he lets one hand land on the back of your barstool. His arm is actively blocking you from the rest of the airport and locking you in, figuratively. He’s also giving you an excellent view of his beautifully sculpted bicep.

You turn it over in your fingers, inspecting the various notches along its body suggesting it’s been lightly used. All the cracks and divots add so much character to the imagined worth of your gift. This drumstick is quite literally about to become your most prized possession.

“Thank you, Danny. This is so kind of you.”

“You’ll have to come to another show so we can get you a matching set.” You can hear the edge in his voice, leading you to suspect that it wasn’t a suggestion.

“Is that a promise?”

Before Danny can answer, your attention is captured by a short brunette woman making her way over to the five of you out of the corner of your eye, furiously tapping at the phone in her hand. She smiles politely at you purely as a formality, since she clearly has more pressing matters at hand. A few yards behind her you spot Jake walking with a small posse away from the bar and down toward the terminal. “So sorry to interrupt, but our flight’s boarding soon. We gotta go.”

“Of course, I don’t want to hold you up. I should probably go find my gate anyway.” You return her smile then turn back to the boys, who are moving with absolutely no sense of urgency.

With a clearing of her throat and a jerk of her head in the direction of the terminal, each of them begins to descend from their barstools. Josh downs the rest of his tequila soda, and they all take a moment to say goodbye to you. They thank you sincerely for coming to the concert and showing your support for the band, followed by a round of warm hugs. You try to milk each one for as long as possible without seeming too obvious, especially the last one, which happens to be Daniel.

“Thank you again for the drumstick, I’ll cherish it forever.”

“You’d better be sleeping with it every night.” He punctuates the last word with a wink.

Um- Daniel? What was that?

“Of course, what else would I do with it?” You two share a laugh while standing in extremely close proximity, only halfway pulled away from the hug so that you’re still holding each other by the arms.

“I wish we could chat more, it was really nice to meet you, y/n.”

“Likewise. But you’ve got a flight to catch.”

Based on the way he’s looking into your eyes, you know you’ll be screaming into your pillow long into the night once you’ve made it home. You’re sure you’re probably blushing, but you do your best not to think about it for fear of saying or doing something stupid. Because, let’s face it, you have no idea what you’re doing and have been walking on eggshells for the entire conversation.

Danny gives your arms a light squeeze before letting you go entirely and picking up his backpack from the floor. He walks backward for a moment as he takes his leave, allowing you both one final wave goodbye before he jogs to catch up with the rest of the group.

What the actual fuck just happened?

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As you’re scanning the signs for your designated gate, your much-too-large suitcase in tow, a foreign hand lands on the small of your lower back.

“Are you following me now?” The voice is one you recognize, but its speaker is so close to your ear that it startles you right out of your skin.

“Holy shit, Daniel Wagner, you scared the living fuck out of me!” You smack him dead in the center of his chest with the back of your hand in retaliation as your heartbeat makes its way to a normal pace. Your jab had seemingly no effect on him though and he laughs at your expense.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice the drumstick sticking out of your bag.” He taunts, gesturing to your half-open backpack and falling into stride with your steps.

Obviously, you know that Danny’s stick didn’t quite fit in your carry-on so it’s been poking out past the zipper, but you turn and grab for it anyway as you flounder for a comeback.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re the one following me since I’ve basically got an antenna.”

“I plead the fifth.” He holds his hands up in a defensive position.

Eventually, you come to a halt, and you realize that you’re standing amongst the entire Greta crew waiting next to their gate. You fumble for your boarding pass in the side pocket of your bag and check the gate number. You’d think they’d have made these things easier to read, truth be told you probably couldn’t read an eye chart at this particular moment in time, as flustered as you are.

Your eyes go wide as golf balls when they finally locate your gate number.

“Gate 6.” You say it aloud just to confirm that it’s correct since Gate 6 just so happens to be the very gate you’re already standing at.

A wicked smile creeps onto his face as he comes to the realization just seconds after you. “Are we on the same flight?”

You tuck your boarding pass under your arm so you can readjust your items and get ready to board. “It sure looks that way.”

“Do you live in Nashville? I mean… not in a creepy way.” The way he stumbles over his words amidst his excitement makes you mourn for your aching heart.

“I might. Maybe we’re neighbors.” You shrug your shoulders and raise one eyebrow in pseudo-curiosity

“What a nice surprise that would be.”

The flight attendants begin calling groups and special members to begin boarding, so you keep your boarding pass in hand and readjust your items to get ready to board.

“Well, since we’re sharing the plane I expect you to behave.”

His statement catches you so off guard that you stare up at him for a moment just processing the words. He quirks an eyebrow at you with the smuggest expression you’ve ever seen on a human man, an expression that almost taunts ‘what are you gonna do about it?’.

When you realize he’s completely serious, you stand up straight, clear your throat and respond with, “What are you gonna do if I don’t?”

His eyes narrow for just a moment, pulsing as he processes your response, his smug smile never wavering. “I guess we’ll see.”

Sam taps Danny with a backhanded smack on the shoulder, signaling that their group is boarding. The Greta boys file onto the plane according to the flight attendant's instructions, and Danny turns around only once to look at you. It makes you snort-chuckle to yourself while you fall behind to wait for your group to be called, but as he slips out of sight you shoot him the same smug smile that he gave you.

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Everything has settled down significantly since boarding, the other passengers are relaxed in their seats and the flight attendants are popping around every so often to check on things. All is calm, except for you. You haven’t been able to stop looking at the back of Danny’s head the entire time and your heartbeat hasn’t slowed since you were all alone on your barstool.

They’re not seated all that far from you. You can tell exactly who is sitting where, even though it’s not a difficult game to play. Danny has an aisle seat on the same side as you, his curly hair passes the top of his seat, which is right next to Sammy, because, of course. You can see Josh’s khaki-clad leg bouncing away across the aisle, and next to Josh is obviously Jake with his damn hat on. It’s impossible to miss.

Their presence is beyond distracting. How many people can say they’ve been on the same flight as Greta Van Fleet? A majority of the folks here have no idea who they are; the fact that they’re in the presence of legends is completely lost on them.

To not take advantage of such an opportunity would be an abomination - jail worthy in fact. But how to take advantage? That’s the real question. How does one get more time with them without forcing it? Why does it feel so painful to just take what they gave you of their time and be happy with it? Why does the idea of going this whole flight with Danny just out of reach after he so shamelessly flirted with you sound like utter torture? How are his shoulders so toned and perfect?!

They are perfect. He’s perfect. You can see the ridges of his side profile in that muscle shirt if you lean a little into the aisle, your chin propped up on the heel of your hand to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Then, right on cue, Danny turns his entire torso around in his seat and looks back down the aisle right at your dumb little face. He’s smirking, like he’s fully expecting to catch you staring in his direction. There’s nowhere near enough time to react, but you lean right back into your seat and out of sight as fast as you can possibly manage.

You wait what feels to be at least four years before daring to peek around the seat in front of you again to make sure he’s no longer looking. But no, there he is, turned around in his seat and smiling devilishly awaiting your return. You narrow your eyes at him, just to let him know you’re not falling for whatever it is he’s trying to do. He sees your suspicious eyes and shoots you one playful wink in return. He fucking winks at you and turns back around in his seat like a diabolical tease.

“Well, that does it. I’ve just about had it with you, Daniel.” You whisper the thought to yourself, or what would have been to yourself if you weren’t in such close quarters with a ton of other people. The woman sitting across the aisle looks at you with distaste and you sheepishly apologize then return to the task at hand.

You pluck your bag from the floor under the seat in front of you where it was stashed and dig through it until you find what you’re looking for. An old-fashioned printed ticket from the concert and a sharpie, one that you keep on your person at all times for emergencies just like this. In your elegant chicken scratch, you write out your message.

It’s important to keep it short and sweet, you decide, so that there’s no room for interpretation. ‘Follow me’. Surely, there’s no way a directive so simple could be muddied in his boy brain.

The overhead light is already on, signaling that it’s safe to leave your seat and walk around. With one defining nod and your note in hand, you swiftly unbuckle your seatbelt and begin to strut down the aisle. Your target is locked in, Danny’s seat is just a few steps away. As you pass him, without so much as a turn of your head, you place the scribbled ticket directly in his lap and continue on toward the vacant lavatory.

You hurl yourself into the bathroom as quickly as you possibly can to promptly stop your stomach from falling out of your ass. It takes you a moment of standing quietly to realize your hands have been shaking. Until now, your whole body was running on pure adrenaline and kept you from feeling any real apprehension. Now that the severity of what you’ve just done starts to sink in, along with extreme regret, you contemplate whether you should just flush yourself down the toilet.

The longest two minutes of your life slip by, and still no interruption to your bathroom break. Maybe he’s waiting a little while to follow you so it doesn’t seem as suspicious? What if he doesn’t come at all? Facing rejection by having to walk past him back to your seat is out of the question. What if he looks at you? A ragged breath catches in your throat when that idea crosses your mind, threatening to turn into a sob if you let the thought linger any longer.

Just as you’re promising to never follow your instincts again, the clunky bathroom door shuffles open, and in comes Danny without as much as a knock. While he shuts and locks it you twirl around to smirk at him, leaning your shoulder against the wall as you cross your arms. As much as it would have broken your heart to have embarrassed yourself for nothing, you can’t help but find it kind of hilarious that he couldn’t bring himself to pass up temptation.

“How the fuck am I supposed to have my way with you in here?” he quips after taking a single glance around the space. You don’t answer him, and it only deepens your smirk when he finally registers the look on your face. “What’s that look for?”

“You’re a horn dog.”

“Um, this was your idea?” he speaks with a melody of bemusement.

“Oh, so just because a girl invites a guy to follow her into an airplane bathroom she automatically wants to screw him?”

He cocks an eyebrow at you and leans his own shoulder against the wall, mimicking your stance since he’s caught on to your game. “So you brought me here for some friendly conversation?”

“Absolutely not,” you snort, causing him to roll his eyes and shake his head a little at your teasing, though you think he seems to find it charming.

“Well… it’s not ideal, but after that stunt I’m not letting you out of here until I’m good and ready.” He grabs you at the waist and pulls you towards him; he towers over you and you have to crane your neck to kiss him properly. You fumble with his belt as he pulls on the hem of your shirt.

“Wait,” You pull away gasping, and place a palm on his chest to let him know to pause. “I kind of want to keep it on.”

“Seriously? You’re really gonna make me fuck you in my own merch?” He's unamused.

Looking up through your lashes at him, you nod bashfully and throw in a lip bite for some added innocence. “Mhm, but if you rip it you have to buy me a new one.”

You swear you can hear a growl come from deep in his chest when he pauses for a moment to look at you before grabbing two fistfuls of the t-shirt material and ripping it right down the middle. A genuine gasp escapes past your furiously beating heart, followed shortly by a hiccupy giggle when you do the same to his own shirt in retaliation.

“Hmm, would you look at that?” He glances down at each of your handiwork and clicks his tongue three times to chastise your behavior. “You’re gonna fuckin’ get it now.”

Some shredded pieces of fabric fall to the ground, but he makes no move to fully remove either of the tattered shirts, instead opting to slide your shorts and panties off. He shoves his pants down just barely enough to free his rock hard, veiny cock from its confines. Using the small amount of strength you can muster, you lift and perch yourself on the tiny sink when he grabs your knees and spreads them, putting you on display for him. His massive hands hold your legs wide open so he can bend down to lick a slow stripe up your center. Just a few skilled flicks of his tongue over your clit is enough to get you ready for him, but he purses his lips and spits on your pussy for good measure.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper breathily at the filthy act.

He chuckles lightly at your reaction, stands up, and positions himself. He takes his cock in his hand and smears his own saliva around with his tip before pushing in a few centimeters.

“Oh, fuck,” you repeat yourself.

“That’s right, babygirl. Fucking take it.” He pushes in all the way this time, immediately pulling back out to slam in again. As if hunkering down for the long haul, he cradles your legs, one in each hand, and a warm feeling fills your whole being. Is it too early to be seeing stars?

You let your head lull back in ecstasy but he grabs your jaw abruptly, forcing your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. I want to see the face you make when you cum.” You nod in understanding, promising to heed his request. He goes to return his hand to its place holding your leg, but when you open your mouth to moan he quickly covers it before you can utter a sound.

“Shhh, we have to keep quiet. Let it all out for me, but don’t make a sound.” The gruff timbre that lines his voice while he fucks into you at a merciless pace could make you cum all on its own.

Your brows furrow to a peak, painting what little he can see of your face a shade of almost pained frustration. He flicks his thumb over your already sensitive clit to accompany the never ending waves of pleasure he’s pushing through you with his cock.

Out of nowhere, the tide rolls in and your orgasm ripples through you like a warm breeze and he rides it out relentlessly, his eyes locked onto yours. For all you know, the clouds could part and the gates of heaven could open to accept you at that very moment, and you would happily ascend. You try to scream his name only to be muffled into his palm, and through teary eyes you see the devious smirk that he tries to keep from creeping onto his face when you struggle like he fucking loves the power he has over you.

Just as you’re verging on the point of overstimulation, he reaches his own climax, spilling its contents deep in your core for you to hold onto for safe keeping. His hand leaves your lips and comes down hard on the meat of your thigh with an audible slap. You cry out, but he’s in no condition to care about that while he shudders and moans and bruises your leg with his grip.

The pumps come to a halt and the comedown is slow, you’re thankful that he leaves his cock inside your twitching pussy to savor the feeling just a little longer. Although, you hadn’t noticed that in the midst of all the action your position had shifted until he was practically on top of you in an uncomfortably crooked way. You can’t be surprised since you enticed him to ruin you, but clearly, he hadn’t noticed either and almost loses his footing when he finally pulls out, you have to throw an arm out to help steady him. His bicep is warm and damp, the vein prominent.

“Danny, Danny, Danny.. getting carried away now are we?” you scold, clicking your tongue at him like you would a child.

He laughs sweetly, like strawberries and sugar or windchimes on a summer evening. It almost takes your breath away. “How could I not? You’re a vixen.”

“Who? Me? Of course not, I just know a once in a lifetime opportunity when I see it.” You shoot him a sly smile and move to stand up. He holds his hands out to aid in getting you upright, but when you reach for your clothes as he fastens his belt, you’re hit with a realization.

“Daniel. My shirt.”

He looks puzzled, but still cute, until it dawns on him that you’re on an airplane filled with strangers, and thanks to him your new shirt is lacking structural integrity.

“Shit, umm…” He scans the floor of the bathroom before scooping up his own discarded shirt, also completely unwearable. “I have a shirt you can wear, I’ll go grab it.”

A moment of silence.

“Why the fuck did we bother being quiet if you’re just gonna walk out there with no shirt on?”

“Aww, y/n,” He pecks your cheek “That was just for me.”

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birdy-bat-writes · 1 year

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Can I Have This Dance?

Merry belated Chrysler and a very happy New Year to everyone! As a special little gift to @quillsareswords for our Christmas Fic Exchange. I was your secret Santa :D May I present to you, a jolly little holiday fluff! Hope you like it.

also, feel free to check out the other amazing writers posting for this fic exchange :) @glorified-red @quillsareswords @zombybird @citrinesparkles

Pairing: Damian Wayne (aged up) x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing really, I suppose bad grammar might be one:,D

Please like, reblog and comment, I literally love hearing from you! :) And if I make a mistake (which I probably did because yo girl is sleep deprived yeet) please drop it in the comments and I'll fix it asap. Live y'all!

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It was the week after Christmas and The Wayne family were all scattered around the country for their post-holiday-pre-new year’s tasks. Bruce was out on a business trip, Dick, Jason, Duke, and Tim were on vacation with their significant others, Alfred was making use of his spa resort gift card, and Barbara, Cass and Stephanie took a girl’s trip in Star City. That left you and your boyfriend, Damian, alone in Gotham. Don’t get me wrong, you were more than happy to be there. In fact, the two of you volunteered to stay back and take some time to recover from your semester finals. You were looking forward to staying with the Waynes and getting to see your family friends again.

Everyone was expected back by the 29th. One small problem: this was Gotham city; the land of unforeseen setbacks and a blizzard had snowed in all the runways at the airport.

Each member of the family was panicking at a different airport and it might have even been a little funny to watch it go down if you didn’t need everyone back for the New Year’s Party in 2 days. If they couldn’t get here before the 31st, which they couldn’t, you and Damian were going to have to decorate alone.

After getting off the phone with everyone you broke it down. You could spend today finding a catering service that could make it in this weather and fishing through the storerooms for decorations. And in Wayne Manor, that was a task. The storeroom was easily the size of a basketball court. Bless Alfred and his color-coded shelves.

On the 31st morning, the last of the preparations were being sorted. The food was tucked away in the industrial freezers and navy-blue carpet was laid out at every entrance, adorned with gold confetti-filled balloons. As you and Damian sat alone on the ballroom floor, untangling the last sets of string lights, you fully realized just how exhausted you were. After your finals, your days were a blur of packing, traveling, and trying to stay awake through every Christmas celebration you agreed (and regretted agreeing) to going to. You never truly had moment to enjoy your time with the family or even the one person you really wanted to be with: Damian. He must have seen you getting into your thoughts and pulled you out with some song suggestions.

“Okay, then, what’s your favorite slow song?”, he asked.

“I don’t even think I have one.”, you replied.

“There’s no way.”

“Of course, there is!”

“You don’t even have one slow song you love? Like a song you thought you’d play at your wedding or dance to with your prom date.” You silently nodded.

“I guess I never thought about it, and I didn’t really dance with anyone like that at prom.”

“You’ve…never slow danced?”

“Nope.” Damian almost seemed like he wanted to say something but decided against it at the last second. “What?”

“Nothing. I’ll be right back.” While waiting on him, you hung the set of lights and looked around the room proudly. Twinkling stars strung with lights from pillar to pillar, reflecting light off the marble floors and satin tablecloths. Not bad. Not bad at all.

You began turning on your heel to go find your boyfriend when you stopped in place, heart melting at what you saw. Damian was kneeling in the doorway with a handful of roses, wearing cheeky grin. “Y/N L/N, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to tonight’s ball?”

“Damian, what are you doing?” There was no one around and no reason to be embarrassed, but you still felt your face heat up.

“At the moment, I’m hoping you’ll say yes so I can show you a magical evening, and slow dance with me.”

As shy as you felt, you couldn’t hold back a smile at what he said. Here was your boyfriend of 5 months, in a relationship well past the stage for formalities, down on one knee with flowers, asking you to a dance like a couple of high school sweethearts.

“Of course, I would love to.” You said softly. With that, you headed upstairs your get ready.

You chose a silky green gown that flared at the waist and paired it with a few simple pieces of golden jewelry. After styling your hair into some soft waves, you reached for your shoes and the tv remote. There was still time until guests would start arriving but if you flipped to some entertainment channel you were sure you would find some station covering the press and for the Wayne Gala. You were barely paying attention to the channels when you heard it.

“…the winds are only getting stronger, and roads are iced over, folks. Gotham city is now on snowstorm watch. We advise all citizens to stay home and stay warm.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. That’s when the landline started to ring back-to-back. The guests were sending their apologies and regrets for not being able to attend. You obviously understood, but you felt your heart sink a little. You had put in so much work for it all to go down the drain. Just then, you heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Damian walked in looking just as disappointed as you. He must have heard the news too.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetie.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. As far as I know, you can’t control the weather….or is that another secret you’re hiding from me?”, you joked.

“Yeah, I can control the weather and I choose to swing around the Gotham skies in -30 degrees at night. Great use of my secret superpower, don’t you think?” You two shared a laugh before getting Barbara’s call.

“Hey, you two. I’m so sorry, we just heard about the city shutting down.”, she said.

“Hey, Babs. It’s alright, are you still in the airport?”

“Well, we’re at an airport…”

“Who’s we?”, Damian asked. Barbara flipped the camera to face the whole Wayne family bundled up in scarves, huddled around their suitcases on the floor of some airport gate.

“All our flights got grounded in Metropolis. I’m sorry guy I don’t think we’re making it home tonight either.”

“Aww, well that’s okay. Just please stay warm and safe, okay?”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye.” Damian turned to you with a look of sympathy.

“Well, I guess it all off then.” You whispered, kicking of the heels you barely finished putting on. “We should just go change into pj’s I guess.”

“We don’t have to.”

“Dami, no one else will be there. What’s the point of having a party alone?”

“We don’t need anyone else, the only person I really wanted to dance with will be there. That is, if she still agrees to accompany me tonight.” You looked at him, his eyes pleading with you. “We can play Axel F.”, he added, drawing a giggle from you. If nothing else, the two of you should get to enjoy the work you put into the place.

On the dance floor, Damian plugged his phone into the stereo system. He offered you his hand to Ed Sheeran’s Perfect.

The first few steps you took were slower than usual. He took you through an almost-waltz, twirling you around and sauntering across the room one step at a time. His hand never leaving yours. You wondered why you had never done this before. It was so much fun. Then again, maybe that had more to with your dancing partner than the dance itself.

You air-guitared and headbanged like rockstars, goofed around through a playlist on shuffle, and then box-stepped again to a Backstreet Boys song you would not stop making fun of him for.

“It’s a good song!”

“Whatever, babe, just remember you can never make fun of me for listening to Nickelback ever again.” Pulling in you in close enough to feel his breath on your skin, he said,

“The backstreet boys are infinitely better than Nickelback.”

“You wish.”

“I’m right and you know it.” That’s when the next song played, and it took you both pleasantly by surprise. Can I Have this Dance from High School Musical 3.

“I haven’t heard this song in ages.”

“Me neither. Wasn’t this one of your favorite movies?”

“Yeah, it was. I so wanted to be the main character in this. She was teaching Zac Efron how to waltz. That was probably the epitome of romance to me when I was younger.”

“Well, I’m no Zac Efron, but like the song says, can I have dance this dance?” taking his hand one more time, you took to the floor holding him even closer as if you didn’t want be away from him for even second. A little before the song came to close, you spotted the grandfather clock at the top of the staircase striking 11:59.

“Damian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Happy new year.” He turned towards the clock, seeing the seconds hand only a fourth of a rotation away from the new year. Smiling, he places his hand on your cheek.

“Happy, New year, Y/N.” and as the bell rang for midnight, he placed his lips on your and everything felt like heaven. Pulling him further into your embrace, you deepened the kiss. When you pulled away you said what he was thinking.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Not even a minute later, the doors to ballroom swung open and roughly 10 people scampered in, tracking snow. It was every member of the family and…Superman?

“It’s nice to finally see you, Happy New Year!” Duke exclaimed. When Damian wordlessly motioned to Superman in the corner, Dick answered,

“If anyone asks, we did not have superman fly us all to Gotham city in a broken-down school bus and there is not a school bus in our backyard. Don’t check.”

“Okay….” You wish you were surprised.

“Nice to have the family back together again.” Damian said squeezing your hand.

“Yeah, it really is.”

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princesscatherinemiddleton · 2 years

Text

The State Funeral of Her Majesty The Queen will take place at Westminster Abbey on Monday 19th September at 1100hrs BST. Prior to the State Funeral, The Queen will Lie-in-State in Westminster Hall for four days, to allow the public to pay their respects.

The Queen's Coffin currently rests in the Ballroom at Balmoral Castle. Her Majesty's Coffin will travel to Edinburgh tomorrow, Sunday 11th September, by road, to arrive at the Palace of Holyroodhouse, where it will rest in the Throne Room until the afternoon of Monday 12th September.

On the afternoon of Monday 12th September, a Procession will be formed on the forecourt of the Palace of Holyroodhouse to convey the Coffin to St Giles' Cathedral, Edinburgh. The King and Members of the Royal Family will take part in the Procession and attend a Service in St Giles’ Cathedral to receive the Coffin.

Her Majesty's Coffin will then lie at rest in St Giles' Cathedral, guarded by Vigils from The Royal Company of Archers, to allow the people of Scotland to pay their respects.

On the afternoon of Tuesday 13th September, The Queen's Coffin will travel from Scotland by Royal Air Force aircraft from Edinburgh Airport, arriving at RAF Northolt later that evening. The Coffin will be accompanied on the journey by The Princess Royal.

The Queen's Coffin will then be conveyed to Buckingham Palace by road, to rest in the Bow Room. On the afternoon of Wednesday 14th September, the Coffin will be borne in Procession on a Gun Carriage of The King’s Troop Royal Horse Artillery from Buckingham Palace to the Palace of Westminster, where The Queen will Lie-in-State in Westminster Hall until the morning of the State Funeral.

The Procession will travel via Queen’s Gardens, The Mall, Horse Guards and Horse Guards Arch, Whitehall, Parliament Street, Parliament Square and New Palace Yard. After the Coffin arrives at Westminster Hall, The Archbishop of Canterbury will conduct a short service assisted by The Very Reverend Dr David Hoyle, Dean of Westminster, and attended by The King and Members of the Royal Family, after which the Lying-in-State will begin.

During the Lying-in-State, members of the public will have the opportunity to visit Westminster Hall to pay their respects to The Queen. On the morning of Monday 19th September, the Lying-in-State will end and the Coffin will be taken in Procession from the Palace of Westminster to Westminster Abbey, where the State Funeral Service will take place.

Following the State Funeral, the Coffin will travel in Procession from Westminster Abbey to Wellington Arch. From Wellington Arch, the Coffin will travel to Windsor and once there, the State Hearse will travel in Procession to St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle via the Long Walk. A Committal Service will then take place in St George's Chapel.

#london bridge has fallen down

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mercurygray · 6 months

Note

‘a touch at the end’ prompt for Daphne and Mike.

Hope your idle hours in the airport mean you are headed somewhere fun!

Thanks, friend! Idle hours in the airport were actually spent coming home from a very fun work conference - back to the grind tomorrow, sadly. This was a fun prompt - although I'm not sure why I decided on present tense.

He hasn't planned on being here at all.

They've left him a little at sixes and sevens, here in Cairo. He's been debriefed about Stirling's capture, and the military intelligence people have taken his statement, but no one has really told him he can leave, and so he is simply hanging around the office, waiting for something he can't name - until he hears his name, from somewhere near the door.

"You need a chauffeur? Sadler here's an excellent driver, take him."

The Major evidently asking the question doesn't look like he believes that. "Can you handle a Bentley?"

A Bentley?! He could almost sing. "Handle anything you like, sir."

"Good. There's a dance tonight at Shepheard's and some fellows need driving from the consulate. There's a house car. Need a better uniform- see the man downstairs about getting some trousers, will you? And a shave," he adds, his lip turned up a little at the sight of Mike's hair.

"Of course, sir." SAS men pride themselves on being wild, but on balance, the beard is a small price to pay for the chance to drive a Bentley.

And what a magnificent beast it is! The car is beautiful, black and trim and purring like a kitten even here in the desert. Someone takes a great deal of care with this engine, and he treats it with the respect it so rightly deserves, easy on the clutch and gentle with the gearbox. This is a thing of beauty, and must be handled well. Stepping out at the consulate, Mike can see himself in the gleam of the door and stands just a little taller, his cream beret only a little rakish over his freshly trimmed hair. He didn't let the barber take the whole beard - it's just been trimmed back into obedience for the evening to keep him presentable.

There are a pair of men in tailcoats waiting near the door, and a woman in red, already a little tipsy, to judge by the way she's leaning against one of the men, glancing back into the well-lit entryway of the building. "Well, come on, you, or we'll be late!"

And as the last woman comes out the door, Mike's heart falls. He should have known she'd be here.

She is a thing of beauty, too.

But here she can't be Daph, at least to him. She's not even Daphne - she's Miss Markham-Reed, brilliant and bejeweled with her diamante clips and dancing shoes, ready to be the darling of the ballroom and a whole host of men who are universes above him in rank. These are the men she should be dancing with every Friday night, men with Honorable next to their names and estates waiting for them at home. And she's still too good for all of them.

One of her escorts calls her name, and she laughs like anything, eyes sparkling in that way that only she has - until she sees him, and the laughter stops.

He springs into action, opens the door. "Let me get that for you, Miss." He holds out his hand so the drunk woman can hold on as she climbs in, balancing her evening bag and her dress against the champagne she's already drunk.

"Oh, steady on, Eloise," one of the men says, climbing in after her and laughing as she rearranges herself on the seat. "One can't have too much fun before the party starts, you know." Daphne carries up the rear of the group, her own evening bag sea-glass green, dress long and slinking, like a wave.

"Thank you, Corporal." For a moment, she's holding his hand, too, and they lock eyes, the moment somehow more intimate than a kiss.

"Careful, miss. Your dress." He carefully picks up the beaded tailing and tucks it up into the door, his hand just barely brushing her leg, the silk of the stocking on her ankle. In another universe he'd be beside her in the backseat, black-tie and tails, hand fully up the long column of her dress. (He's taken her out of dresses like that before, hands careful on the beading, the silk of her precious stockings.) But tonight is not his night - he is in her world, and not she in his.

"Well, come on, man, we haven't got all night," one of the men drawls from the back seat.

"Of course, sir," Mike replies, shutting the door and stepping around to the front of the car. "Shepheard's, sir, was it?"

Her three companions are loud and excited in the backseat all the way to the hotel, quite content to treat him as an extension of the car itself, an automaton barely worth noticing. But every time he glances in the mirror, her eyes are still there, still following his.

There's a long queue of cars when they arrive, long enough to make you wonder if there's even a war on when there's a party like this on offer, but half the men are in uniform and there's still a searchlight on the roof to remind everyone the Germans could come at any time, if they liked.

"Will you wait here, do you think?" she asks, sounding disinterested as he gives her another hand up, out of the back seat and into the warm, loud circle of light outside the hotel, music drifting out from the lobby into the street. "I don't know if I'll stay."

"For as long as you like, miss," he says, anonymously efficient, and the thought gives him hope. She'll pass through many hands tonight, but at the end, she'll still be his to take home, to touch the way the others can't, and that's all that matters to him.

#i have written a thing #daphne markham-reed #sas rogue heroes oc #mercurygraypresents

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hekateinhell · 1 year

Text

✨ 'Tis the Week Before Christmas at Château de Lioncourt ✨

Louis is reading Dickens by the fire while cocooned in an oversized faux-mink blanket--this is not so unusual in and of itself, the holiday spirit typically doesn't take him until precisely 9:30pm on the 23rd.

He spent last Christmas at Trinity Gate, with Lestat dropping in the following night. This year, it's the New York gang's turn to come to Auvergne for the holidays and they arrived via private jet at the Aurillac - Tronquières Airport earlier the previous evening.

Armand and Lestat are bickering cordially going over the gift list they've collaborated on for Louis, after too many near misses of getting him repeat gifts similar in price and sentiment. Murmurings of "I got him that in 2013," "Well, I got him that in 1988," "That may be, but I got him this in 1906," etc. will be heard coming out of Lestat's study well into the pre-dawn hours. So far, they have only needed a referee once (they're trying, and each year is an improvement).

Daniel, in his infinite wisdom, already got his shopping done and wrapped before American Thanksgiving. He developed a brief hyperfixation while watching videos on YouTube, promptly took a night course on gift-wrapping, and can now tie a perfect Tiffany bow. He knows better than to hang around Armand and Lestat at this particular moment, and so he joins Louis in his apartments where they can tune out the world in companionable silence.

Rose and Sybelle are rehearsing their duet for an intimate, family-only holiday concert that will take place in the ballroom--Sybelle on piano and Rose on vocals. Bianca has drifted in with her usual sweet compliments, as well as possible notes on outfits.

Benji and Viktor are making use of the vintage board game collection in the library. Viktor has been losing spectacularly to his elder each and every time, but the night is still young.

#shoutout to anon who mended my heart with that ask about louis lestat and armand's blended family #you ruined me i'm soft now #i included bianca too because she's my girl and she deserves better #vc #headcanons #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #armand #daniel molloy #sybelle #benji #viktor de lioncourt #rose de lioncourt #bianca

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softspiderling · 9 months

Text

softspiderling masterlist

collection of EVERYTHING I’ve written so far. Everything that is on this blog. the fandoms are chronologically ordered, most recent are up top.

drabbles

fics

we always find a way (to make it out alive) | read here beacon hills holds a lot of bad memories for you. you’re still not sure how you let yourself be persuaded to go back.

fics

boy you write your name (I can do the same) | tba

series

1989

drabbles

how you first met (and how you became more)

you're dating (but no one knows)

you're married (but in secret)

you pick him up from the airport

fics

songs about girls (like you) | read here Jake has finally returned from his mission.

how do you love somebody else? | read here the one where you and Jake are exes.

get like me | read here the one where you defend Jake's honor.

five kisses | read here five kisses with Jake

never knew (that I could fall so hard) | read here You and Jake are friends. Just friends

wingman’s best friend universe

all the fics below are part of the same universe, but can be read as stand-alone fics!

hooked from hour one | read here the one where you share a mutual friend, but are unaware of it

baby, you down? | read here your best friend is a naval aviator, but apparently so is the guy you've been dating? Yeah, funny how life works.

cruel existence | read here you get hurt at work and Jake spirals

drabbles

you're married (but in secret)

fics

summer days (drifting away) | read here Bradley bumped into you at the beach and then just keeps doing it

speak now (or forever hold your peace) | read here it’s supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

cross my heart (hope to die) | read here it’s easy to fall in love with Rooster. It’s a bit harder to be in love with him.

drabbles

natasha "phoenix" trace

you're married (but in secret)

pete "maverick" mitchell

he likes you (but in an annoying way)

fics

pete "maverick" mitchell

do you believe in love at first sight (or should I walk by again) | read here the one where you keep running into Maverick.

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x jake "hangman" seresin

period troubles | read here their daughter gets her first period and Bradley and Jake lose their minds

spinning out (waiting for ya) | read here the one where Kinsley gets stuck at school and Bradley struggles trying to calm Jake down.

fics

you mocha me crazy | READ HERE Summary: an encounter at a coffee shop leaves you with more than a cup full of coffee

summer days | READ HERE Summary: it’s just one of those rare summer mornings. They were Tom’s favorite

five signs you’re too close to your boss | READ HERE you liked being the personal assistant of the CEO of Holland Enterprises. But sometimes you wondered if you were too close to your boss.

dance your worries away | READ HERE Summary: when you signed up for a beginners ballroom dancing class with your boyfriend, you hadn’t expected to be standing without a dancing partner. But then again, life has a funny way of working out

things you left unsaid | READ HERE Summary: having casual sex with Tom despite having feelings for him? What could go wrong?

put in love and don’t give up | READ HERE Summary: honestly, you never pegged Tom for the kind of guy that ghosts people, but here you are. Ghosted.

will you find me (afterlife) | READ HERE Summary: the five stages of grief start with denial and it didn’t seem like Tom was going leave that stage anytime soon.

honest feelings and bad timing (COMPLETE) | Teaser | One | Two Summary: It’s always been you, Tom and Harrison. A package deal. But sometimes things change.

series

swanky fortune (in progress) last updated on 31st of October 2019

Summary: When you clicked the ‘donate’ button on the GoFundMe page, you never would have expected to actually win. But are you going to take advantage of the opportunity or will you embarrass yourself in front of your celebrity crush?

of broken promises and heartbreak (COMPLETE)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Playlist (with songs including: Crazy To Love You, Rescue Me, Sucker and Never Really Over)

Summary: It’s been six years since you and Tom broke up, six years since you’ve last seen each other. A lot has happened, Tom got insanely famous, making countless billion dollar movies, attending one red-carpet event after the other. But now he was attending one event, he wasn’t sure he was ready for. Your wedding. And he wasn’t attending as your groom.

fics

need a ride? | READ HERE Summary: just because you were at a country club, doesn’t mean you had to behave well

Talk To A Stranger! | READ HERE Summary: you liked talking to strangers. Well, when it’s not in real life, that is.

no air | READ HERE Summary: Short breath, panic flooding through the veins, sweat trickling down the sides. Peter knew the symptoms of a panic attack just all too well after a fight with a certain villain from space. Didn’t mean he knew how to prevent them, though. Luckily, you were by his side to help.

series

heavy burden (Silk/MCU AU) hiatus

Teaser | Part One | Summary:you liked to live your life like you want it, but there was always someone who stood in the way of that. Always.

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strange-august · 28 days

Text

Tag Yourself as Me and My Friends' Favorite Colors

💜Purple💜

Neon signs in the night, Visiting the barcade, Taxi rides, Cracked sidewalks, Aviator sunglasses, Wild violets, Glitter covered hands, Heavy stage curtains, Spilled soda pop, Astrology, Planetariums, Train tracks, Dyed hair, Zippo lighters, Bathroom tiles, Crystalline bubbles, Lavender honey lattes, Faded street signs, Animal hair on clothing, Heavy eyeshadow, Holding hands, Running 'til you're breathless

🩷Pink🩷

Fresh morning air, Sunshine reflecting off your hair, Raspberry stains on clothes, Winter snow melting away, Sunlight streaming through the window, Busy hands, Antique porcelain teacups, Fields of wildflowers, Old books with yellowed pages, Palace ballrooms, Bubble baths, Sleeping in late on a friday morning, Thick fog, Flushed cheeks, Carousel horses with chipped paint, Gacha machines, Piano music, Soft serve ice cream, Cat paws, Stawberry milk tea

🧡Orange🧡

Bonfires in the woods, Smooth river rocks, Late summer thunderstorms, Street lights, Converse shoes, Stepping in puddles, Goldfish bowls, Childhood TV shows, Sharing a clementine with a stranger, Fireworks on the 4th of July, Flannel jackets, Fresh paint on a house, Old brick buildings, Candy shops, Glass blowing, Quotes highlighted in your favorite books, Splashing in the pool, Podcasts, Cassette tapes, Bagels in the morning for breakfast

💙Blue💙

Steely gray eyes, Raindrops on the windowpane, Jellyfish in the aquarium, Mirror mazes, Acoustic guitar, Cars on the highway, Bowling alleys, Old televisions, Glass bottles, Watercolor paints, Flying over the clouds, Blueberry muffins, Dip dye, Late night cooking, String lights, Movie theaters, Pedestrian bridges, Locker rooms, Cigarette burns on hands, Glow in the dark stars on ceiling, Crying in the bathroom, Skateboard tricks

🩵Cyan🩵

Lake water, Clear skies, Wishing on dandelions, Long hallways, Old cars, Analog clocks, Pillow forts, Record players, Gummy bears, Paper stars, Messy hair, Empty soda cans, Payphones, High rise buildings, Messy bedrooms, Butterfly houses, Airports, Karaoke with friends, The smell of chlorine, Driving with the roof down, Clear slime, Silly string, Wooden floors, Icicles, Concrete steps, Sea shells, Motivational posters, Parking lots

#augies-posts #tag yourself #types of people #mine

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dankusner · 1 month

Text

Starck contrast

The year was 1984.

A rich kid from Preston Hollow created a Studio 54 for the landlocked on a dicey stretch of McKinney Avenue.

The stories were legendary: People had sex in the bathroom. They did ecstasy, which was legal, and cocaine, which was not. The place was designed by Philippe Starck, aFrench architect who’d given his name to cool chairs that were wildly uncomfortable (the place had a few).

Stevie Nicks was part owner, though people rarely saw her during the club’s five-year run.

They did see Prince, Oliver Stone and Rob Lowe.

Clubgoers lined up to get inside. They wanted the scene, but they needed the music.

Punk, post-punk and new wave, spun on vinyl by real, living humans who knew more about obscure artists and B-sides than Casey Kasem could ever hope to learn.

The live shows were epic: Australian noise band SPK, New York art monster Grace Jones, the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Video was projected onto the walls, because avirtual dreamworld still felt like a novelty.

Nobody knew screens and media would rise up like atidal wave and swallow us whole. You should have been there. And for one night only, May 12, you (sort of) can be when the Starck Club returns for a 40th anniversary party, thanks to the good folks behind the Longhorn Ballroom and the Kessler Theater, which is the far more civilized setting for this bash.

Of course, the event is already sold out, giving wannabe clubgoers the familiar experience of getting shut out ofthe best party in town.

Details: 6-11 p.m. May 12 at the Kessler Theater,1230 W. Davis St., Dallas.

Stalling for time FROM THE ARCHIVES In 1985, the now-acclaimed Texas Monthly writer Skip Hollandsworth contributed astory toThe Dallas Morning News about how men's rooms in Dallas were having amoment—avery opulent moment. He noted the upholstered walls ($70 per square yard) inside the gentlemen's lounge atCafe Pacific inHighland Park Village. He praised The Mansion on Turtle Creek's "hand-cast sink fixtures and commodes with comfy seats."Buthewas most gobsmacked by the facilities at the city's hottest dance spot: "The newly opened Starck Club downtown may be the only nightclub in Western civilization that has gotten national attention for its bathrooms. The facilities look like a combination video game, church parlor, hair salon and somebody's idea of a great practical joke. "The mirror-encased lobbies of both themen's andwomen's rooms arecoed. Everybody sits around high-tech couches and talks and smokes cigarettes. Occasionally,someone may get up to actually use the facilities. "There is a television monitor abovethecathedral-likedoor thatleads to the stalls.Likearrival-departure screens at the airport, the monitor tells you which stall is occupied. Each stall is setoff in its own separateroom large enough to startan impromptu game of handball." Hollandsworth spoke with valet attendant Herman Babers, 60, who worked the men's lounge at another showy nightclub, Mistral, inside the then-Loews Anatole Hotel. "I always thought you were supposed to pop inand out of abathroom," Babers told him. "But these men today like to come in and brush their hair and think about things, I guess." Christopher Wynn"The facilities look like a combination videogame, church parlor, hair salon and somebody's idea of a great practical joke."

For One Night Only, the Kessler Theater Turns Into the Starck Club The infamous night club in the West End opened its doors 40 years ago. The Kessler Theater is bringing it back to life, briefly. The scene at the Starck Club during its peak.

New York City had Studio 54, London had the Hippodrome, and Dallas had The Starck Club. The West End venue, named for its Parisian designer Philippe Starck, defined the nightlife scene in Dallas throughout the 80s and reveled in the excesses of the decadent decade, powered by a new and curious drug called ecstasy. DJ Mark Ridlen says there’s more to The Starck Club than meets history’s narrow eye, a cultural touchstone that meant far more than the unchecked libido of the clubgoers. “All they talk about is the drug busts, ‘Who shot J.R.?,’ and the 80s but you’ve never seen a club with such an eclectic lineup over the years whether it was a band, fashion shows, plays, performance art,” Ridlen says. “You name it. They had it.” The Kessler is bringing back The Starck Club for its 40th anniversary reunion by transforming into the venue for five hours on Sunday May 12 into a new version of the influential Dallas nightclub. Kessler Artistic Director Jeff Liles said the event sold quickly: it took less than a week to sell out. It is not dissimilar to the venue’s tribute to the long-gone Video Bar, a room that was influential in the avant-garde scene of the 1980s. “We love paying homage to the venues that made Dallas culture what it was,” Liles says. “It was happening right at the same time as the emergence of the Deep Ellum scene.” Club founder Blake Woodall opened his vision of a hip, technology-filled nightlife spot in 1984 under a Woodall Rodgers overpass near the West End in a converted warehouse space. The first official show for the club’s investors brought Grace Jones and Fleetwood Mac’s Stevie Nicks to its stage. They were the first of many celebrities to walk through its doors, early adopters before Rob Lowe and Princess Stephanie of Monaco. Talking Heads’ David Byrne dropped in while in town to film his movie True Stories. Members of the famed Brat Pack who starred in movies like The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink spent evenings there. Prince even hosted an after party at Starck one night that went “well into the morning,” according to David Hynds, who ran the club’s video and art department with his then wife, Suzie Riddle. Word of mouth spread mostly by hairdressers to their clients helped build the club’s reputation as a fashion hot spot for the late-night partier. The Starck Club’s popularity started with some exclusivity but eventually, it wasn’t a place where you had to argue with a bouncer to convince them you were important enough to go past the velvet rope. “Initially, it seemed to have an upper-end feel to it but as time went on, we attracted a much broader range of customers,” Hynds says. “Part of the design and desire was to have a complete mix of all spectrums of people.” The space wasn’t just used for live music, dancing, and the occasional hit of what we now call Molly. The Starck Club was one giant canvas that a got a new coat of paint every evening. “We had these funky theme parties,” Ridlen says. “We would make it look like a grocery store or we would make it look like a rodeo. We’d have these fun themes with appropriate music. We’d always have video exhibits, people showing their art videos. We had events just for that.” ADVERTISEMENT

The club’s first theme party took on the psychedelic. Hynds asked Ridlen if he would create a band that fit its far-out theme. Ridlen’s band was named Lithium X-Mas and the group stayed together long after the club’s closing. “It was only meant to be a one-time deal but a few months down the road, they decided they would carry it forward under that name,” Hynds says. The Starck Club served as a kind of zeitgeist thermometer for its time that reflected changing trends and new sounds. “It was the beginning of the DJ culture in Dallas,” Liles says. The events on the club’s calendar weren’t just concerts. The Starck Club would host fashion shows, plays, and all kinds of performance art. “It was a hotbed of all kinds of just really cool activities under one roof,” Ridlen says. “You would come and see that and then, of course, stick around the music.” No ideas was too off the wall for the Starck Club. Hynds had everyone on the staff pitch ideas for shows, theme nights, and artistic expressions. “One of the things we did was a furniture fashion show,” Hynds says. “It had the basic design of a fashion show instead of clothing, we had people dressed as furniture movers bringing up furniture. Me and Suzie and [Greg Snyodis] from Lithium X-Mas had the idea of doing a band but instead of audio or music, it was visual. Instead of musical instruments, we used visual instruments.” So no recreation of the Starck Club would be complete without a reconstruction of its eclectic style. Camron Ware, the owner and founder of Lightware Labs who provided the visual tech for The Kessler’s recreation of the Video Bar, will work with Hines to turn the Kessler into a visual recreation of the Starck Club. “It’s going to feel like it’s all really immersive when you come in,” Liles says. “There’s going to be a red carpet and everything. We’re really gonna trick out The Kessler that night.” The Kessler turns into the Starck Club for one night only, from 6 p.m. to 11 p.m. on May 12. Tickets are sold out, but keep your eye on this page. 1230 W. Davis St.

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#Youtube

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whothefuckisjanefonda · 2 years

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Jane Fonda answers questions from exercise session participants at the Airport Holiday Inn Hotel Ballroom in Tampa [1982]

#jane fonda #workout #queue

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footballxixstars · 2 years

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Paulo Dybala

Paulo Dybala born on the 15th of November 1993. He plays for AS Roma and Argentina National Team.

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Blurbs

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OneShots

Take Advantage of the Time Alone ~ Finally you and Paulo get some time alone and you want to spend it wrapping presents but Paulo wants more

Ballroom Dancing ~ You, a professional ballroom dancer and Paulo come together as dancing partners but you forgot how easily dancing can cause you to have other feelings too

Cancelled Flight ~ Your flight home gets cancelled so you can’t go home for Christmas luckily you see Paulo at the airport

One More, I Dare You ~ Paulo just making egg puns and jokes all day and you’ve had enough

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Smuts

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MASTERLIST

#paulo dybala blurbs #paulo dybala blurb #paulo dybala imagine #paulo dybala imagines #paulo dybala oneshots #paulo dybala oneshot #paulo dybala one shot #paulo dybala one shots #paulo dybala smut #paulo dybala smuts #paulo dybala

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liaromancewriter · 2 years

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You Weren’t Meant For Me

Premise: Years after he left for the Amazon, Ethan finally returns for a bittersweet reunion with Cassie.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angst Trope: And one of them left town; They’re with someone else Words: 2,500

A/N: This standalone AU fic is inspired by two things: a convo with @genevievemd and an anon that asked what if Ethan hadn’t come back from the Amazon after promising Cassie he would in Counting the Minutes? Now you know who to blame 😉. Submission for @choicesjuly2022challenge Day 4 prompt “angst”.

Ethan Ramsey checked his wristwatch for the third time as the taxi inched along Fifth Avenue and realized that he was inexcusably late for his own celebration. A person only received the Distinguished Service Award once in their lifetime and he’d never hear the end of it from Naveen if he missed the ceremony.

Telling his mentor that the delay was purely the airline’s fault wasn’t going to cut it. Naveen would just counter that by saying Ethan should have booked an earlier flight. There were definitely disadvantages of someone knowing you so well and for so long.

The fact that he hadn’t been enthused about receiving an award for doing his job was a secondary consideration, thought Ethan.

The hotel where the event was taking place was still ten blocks away. Making a swift decision, he told the taxi driver to drop him off at the next corner and then hiked the remaining distance on foot, walking fast as he zigzagged past tourists, gawkers and street food carts.

By the time he entered the low-lit ballroom, he was slightly breathless. The usher silently closed the door behind him just as a mass of people stood in roaring applause for the award recipient currently on stage. Even though his height gave him an advantage, the sheer size of the crowd made it difficult for him to see who it was.

Ethan checked the ticket again for his table number and recalled the usher telling him it was up front and to the right of the stage. So as to not cause any disruption, he walked towards the side of the ballroom and deftly made his way up the room, scanning the table signs to make sure he was heading in the right direction.

Eventually the cheers started to die down as everyone took their seats again and the emcee stepped in front of the mic. Ethan absently glanced over to the far side of the stage and froze when he saw Cassie Valentine clutching a glass trophy, smiling and holding out one hand for someone waiting for her at the bottom of steps.

Memories flooded his mind. His hand on hers as he walked her through an emergency thoracotomy, working on Naveen’s case, kissing her on a moonlit balcony in Miami and then again in his opera box. How she’d come apart in his arms when he’d finally let go of his principles and made love to her in his apartment during her suspension, and then again in her apartment after her ethics trial, their bodies pressed against each other all night long.

How they’d agreed to start a relationship soon after and those brief weeks they’d spent together as a couple before he left for the WHO mission in the Amazon. The desperate embrace and lingering kiss at the departure’s hall at Logan International Airport, and the promise he’d made to come back to her.

But he hadn’t. Two months had become six when he saw an opportunity to help the indigenous people get access to quality health care. Then he’d been offered a one-year contract to set up a community clinic at the local hospital and train a new crop of physicians to run it; he’d accepted thinking it would be temporary.

He remembered the tearful phone calls with Cassie as he explained why he needed to do this. She promised to wait for him. But as work took over and the mammoth size of the endeavor became all consuming, his phone calls, texts and emails started dwindling until one day he realized so much time had passed that there was nothing left of them.

He felt an incredible sense of loss when past and present converged and regrets for what could have been rose as they often did when he thought of Cassie. He caught Naveen’s raised hand out of the corner of his eye and returned it in acknowledgement before making his way to their table.

The next little while passed in a blur. Naveen introduced him and outlined his accomplishments to the audience, and then Ethan walked up to the stage to an applause that wasn’t quite as loud as it had been for Cassie but was respectable, nonetheless. He knew that he hadn’t exactly made friends among his peers over the years with his acerbic tongue and often impatient manner.

Ethan accepted the award, thanking his mentor for everything before turning to address the crowd. He unfolded the speech he had prepared as he scanned the ballroom, trying to find Cassie in the sea of tables. But the overhead lights shone directly in his eyes, making it difficult for him to distinguish one dark blob from the next.

By the time Ethan stepped off the stage and rejoined Naveen at their table, he was experiencing a deep sense of disappointment at not having found her. The official program ended soon after and people left their seats to head to the open bar, mingle and network.

“She’s standing near the pillar over there, old friend,” said Naveen, indicating the direction with a nod of his head. “You should say hello. It’s long overdue, Ethan.”

Ethan followed Naveen’s gaze and he wondered how he could have missed Cassie. Her back was to him as she chatted with the president of the AMA, but he would know her anywhere. Her blonde hair was up in an elegant twist, highlighting the elegant nape of her neck and shoulders laid bare by the off-shoulder style of her long, bluish-green gown.

As he made his way towards Cassie, he didn’t notice the people step in his path or hear whatever they said to him, determined to reach her before she disappeared again. Her earrings caught the light to sparkle like a beacon guiding him home.

“Hello, Cassie,” he said softly, unable to hide the longing in his voice.

She stiffened and then slowly turned to face him. Her green eyes were as beautiful as he remembered, but there was a glow about her that made her breathtaking in his mind. He traced her features, thinking time had been kind to her, her face, lovely and fresh in his memories, having matured to stunning in these last seven years.

His gaze drifted to her hands, remembering how he had loved holding her hand, entwining their fingers, his thumb stroking her soft skin. And then he stilled when he noticed the diamond ring and matching wedding band on her left hand resting atop the silken material draped over her obviously pregnant belly.

His shocked blue eyes snapped into hers, missing the emotions swimming in her eyes as she took a deep breath.

“Hello, Ethan,” she said, a small smile on her lips. “Congratulations on the award. It’s well deserved.”

Ethan just stood there, so many feelings and words crowding his brain that he wasn’t sure where to begin. Before he could say anything, a dark-haired man in his thirties walked up to Cassie and slipped one arm around her back.

“Here you go, babe,” he said, bussing her cheek as he handed her a glass flute. “They didn’t have sparkling grape juice so I got you a virgin mimosa instead.”

“My hero,” said Cassie, smiling sweetly up at him.

The man noticed Ethan then and quirked one eyebrow in question at Cassie. She turned sideways to make introductions. “Babe, meet the Dr. Ethan Ramsey. Dr. Ramsey, this is my husband Jackson McAllister.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Ramsey.” Ethan found himself shaking Cassie’s husband’s hand as the other man grinned winningly. “Cassie was totally obsessed with your book when we were in college. She told me she actually got a chance to work with you briefly at Edenbrook. Oh, and congratulations on the award too.”

Ethan surreptitiously glanced at Cassie who was looking down as she sipped her drink.

“Thank you,” he said graciously, unable to act otherwise in the face of the other man’s enthusiasm. “Cassie was one of the brightest interns I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.”

“She always speaks fondly of you and that time of her life,” said Jackson simply before turning to his wife. “Cassie honey, Max and Sienna are waiting for us near the step and repeat. They wanted to take some group shots before heading out.”

“Of course, let’s go,” said Cassie, setting the empty glass down on a nearby cocktail riser table before looping her arm through Jackson’s. “If you’ll excuse us, Dr. Ramsey.”

Ethan couldn’t speak through the lump forming in his throat and gave a stiff nod instead.

Half an hour later, he escaped from the ballroom and his peers, determined to head back to his hotel and lose himself in a bottle of top-shelf whiskey. He was almost near the exit when he saw Cassie sitting alone on one of the seating areas scattered around the hotel lobby.

He detoured towards her and she looked up as he stepped into her line of sight. She smiled up at him, her expression turning abashed as she swiftly peeked down and he noticed she’d slipped her shoes off. Her hands cradled her belly, gently massaging the bump stretching the front of her dress.

“Where’s your husband?” he said by way of greeting, taking the seat next to her.

“I forgot to grab the box that came with the trophy and he went backstage to check with the organizers if they have another one we can use,” she explained.

The silence stretched and then they both turned towards each other and said, “How are you?”

Cassie laughed as she realized what had happened and Ethan grinned, shaking his head ruefully.

“When are you due?” he asked.

“About three months?” she said. “It’s twins, a boy and a girl, so it might even be earlier. It still doesn’t seem real and then I feel them kick in the middle of the night.” She chuckled. “Poor Jackson. The first couple of weeks I felt the babies moving I would shake him awake every single time. Now he just ignores me.”

“How did the two of you meet?” asked Ethan, curious.

“We were college sweethearts,” said Cassie. “We went our separate ways after graduation for reasons I won’t bore you with. But a few years ago, we reconnected at our ten-year college reunion and just clicked. We spent all night talking, revisiting old haunts, and it was like no time had passed. We’ve been married almost four years and now…” she glanced down at her swollen belly with amusement.

Before he could think twice, he found himself asking the question that had been top of mind since being introduced to Jackson earlier. “Does he know? About us?”

Cassie sighed and looked straight at him. “Yes, he does. Jackson and I don’t have secrets, not big ones anyway. I told him everything before we were married.”

“I’m sorry, Cassie,” Ethan said suddenly, staring intently into her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a mentor to you or help you become the amazing and accomplished doctor you’ve clearly become. Naveen told me about your foundation’s mission—his mission—and everything you’re doing to advocate for affordable healthcare, your influence on Capitol Hill. It makes me so proud to know that his legacy will live on in you.”

He placed his hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry for so many damn things, Cassie. But mostly I’m sorry that I didn’t come back like I promised you I would. If I had…”

“Ethan…” she began, her tone poignant as tears pricked the corner of her eyes before she blinked them away. “I waited for you. For almost two years, even when you stopped calling I held out hope that you’d come back to me once you had done what you needed to do. But when you re-upped your contract and didn’t even bother telling me, I knew that I would never matter to you as much as the mission. And I had to move on with my life, away from Edenbrook after my residency ended and from Boston.”

She turned her hand over in his, their palms briefly connecting, and he felt the familiar spark before she moved his hand away, giving it back to him.

“I came to accept that no matter how much I loved you, you and I, we weren’t meant for each other,” she said gently. “Maybe for those brief moments we were, and perhaps in another life we could have been.”

Her voice broke briefly before she gathered herself. “But in this life, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, with the person I’m meant to be with, ready to welcome two new lives into this world. We can both be grateful for the memories and for what we were once to each other, but it is in the past.”

“I know,” he said, his voice stone-cold sober in acceptance of their reality. “I’m truly happy for you, Cassie, and wish you all the best, and so much more.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Ethan. I wish you all the happiness in the world as well.”

“Ready to go, Cassie?” Jackson called out, walking over with a box in his hand.

Cassie smiled up at Jackson, her whole face alight as he got closer. “I’m ready, love.”

Ethan helped her up, letting her place one hand on his arm for balance as she put her shoes back on, and then he handed her over to her husband.

“Goodbye, Ethan,” said Cassie with a brief bow of her head.

“Goodbye, Cassie,” said Ethan with one last look.

As they started to walk away, Ethan heard her say, “Can we make a stop on our way back to the hotel?” She was gazing up at Jackson as he draped one arm over her shoulder to tuck her close. “Your children want something deep fried and delicious.”

He watched Jackson roll his eyes and then bend his head to brush his lips across hers. “You mean their mother wants something deep fried and delicious.”

Ethan heard Cassie’s peel of laughter ring out across the lobby, the sound of full of joy, and then she was gone. And all he could think was it should have been him with his arm around her. His shoulder her head was resting on. His ring on her finger. His children she was carrying.

Perhaps Cassie was right. They weren’t meant to be in this life. But maybe, just maybe, they could have been if he’d kept his promise and come back to her. If he had, would it have been him tonight cheering her on, holding her, secure in the knowledge that she would only ever be his?

Bittersweet in the knowledge of what could have been and recognizing he had no one to blame but himself, Ethan watched the only woman he had ever loved walk out the door on someone else’s arm and disappear from his life forever.

All Fics & Edits: @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @mysticalgalaxysstuff @choicesaddict5 @jerzwriter @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @vi-writes-stuff @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @dorisz @zahrachoices @lucy-268 @a-crepusculo @jamespotterthefirst @ofmischiefandmedicine @headoverheelsforramsey @takemyopenheart @gryffindordaughterofathena @queencarb @crazy-loca-blog @natureblooms24

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie @lady-calypso

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfics #playchoices #playchoices fanfics #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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megsarts · 2 years

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a continuation of this

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third was never one to half ass things that mattered. He was meticulous and careful, he could keep a secret forever if he had to if no one knew to press him or follow him. Luckily, people didn’t pay him much mind, even if his father was the head of the biker gang in the town of Berk. Being such a nobody, he was drawn to the only other nobody in town that could match his level of being ignored.

Hiccup always thought it was weird that Jack Frost was ignored the way he was, it was almost supernatural but maybe it was the foster kid effect, everyone just assumed he would be gone before long. Jack was scrawny but a good looking guy by all accounts, he should have fire right in with the likes of Astrid and the lot but instead it was just Hiccup, his dog, toothless and the strange girl in the house in the woods.

The two of them should have figured there was something wrong much earlier, when Hiccup did, he shared these thoughts with Jack. The white haired boy had this pained and confused kind of look, “Hiccup, look, you can’t just go around saying things like that…” and that was the last either of them spoke on it. Rapunzel and Hiccup were the only friends Jack had, he knew that he couldn’t afford to loose half of his people. The thing was…even though Hiccup knew it would hurt his best friend, his only school going friend, he reported his suspicions to the police. One year later the FBI descended on the small town and everything changed forever.

Hiccup watched with horror as Jack crumbled in front of him. Rapunzel had never been just a friend, not that a friend was just anything but…Before that moment, Hiccup was pretty sure that eventually the two of them would get married. The two of them would tip toe their way down that long, long aisle, through years and years, Hiccup would be the best man, maid of honour and oficient of the proceeding, he loved them both so much.

Hiccup put that big beautiful brain of his to work and hauled himself and Jack to the airport and onto a plane headed for the small European nation of Corona. Jack was listless the whole time and Hiccup was a crackling ball of nervous energy, afraid of the consequences for what they were doing, leaving without informing guardians and sneaking into a private royal affair. Thing was, despite the nerves, he knew that Rapunzel was more than just a lost princess, she was their friend and that Rapunzel was just in love with Jack as he was with her. True love would win the day, it had to.

They got into the party with surprising ease, disguised as caterers. Hiccup almost cried when he saw the short green eyed blonde, she was very pretty, a tear did slip down his cheek however when he saw Jack go after her. From where he stood at the side of the room, for the first time in their friendship, he felt like a third wheel. It was harder than he expected to see his friends be so in love in a place like this, in circumstances like that. His own love life had never been so magical, with all that fate and destiny around it. If Rapunzel was the sun and Jack the moon, Hiccup was…grass maybe? A rusty screw? He was mundane.

Suddenly, a fist balled up in his shirt and dragged him out of the ballroom into another room. It all happened so fast, he couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation, he just saw red and orange and a pair of piercing blue eyes. He was slammed into a bookshelf. “Well, well,” said a woman, pretty, her hair half pinned up, no, scratch that, hot, she wore a one sleeved dress, the fabric was shiny…did she have freckles? No, she was threatening him…right? “What’a we have here? An American infiltrator. Part of the press, eh? Thought y’ed get a few choice shots of the lost princess ‘eh?” She smirked at him. She was very Scottish, she sounded like his dad.

“No! Honest, I’m a friend of Rapunzel’s from Berk, I’m the one who tipped off the police!” Her expression remained unchanged, her grip on his shirt iron. “W’who are you?”

“Princess of Dunbroch, Merida Bunbroch,” she said, “Obviously.”

“The Dunbroch’s royal family name is…Dunbroch?” He said, “That’s confusing.”

“I guess it’s not so obvious. Hey! Stop readin’ the books!” She snapped as Hiccup tilted the spine of a book near his head to read the title. “You’re bein’ interrogated here!”

“Give me a break! This is all extremely overwhelming! My best friend was taken away by cops hours ago and my other best friend has been a wreck.” He needed something to break the tension and it was the oldest book he’d ever been in the presence of. “Oh my god, I’m talking to an actual real live princess...You’re going to have me arrested, aren’t you?” He withered.

She sighed and released her grip, “No,” she said, softer this time, more a breeze than the fierce storm she had been, “I’m not. You’re clearly not a journalist and I’m less interested in royal protocol than I am in protecting the lass from vultures who’d take an extremely traumatic event and monetize it.”

“Oh, uh…thanks,” Hiccup chuckled, “you’re pretty cool for a princess,” he said as he did the finger guns. He cringed, why would you do that, ugh!!!

Merida guffawed in a most unprincess-like way. “Good, I’d be quite put out if you thought I was anything like the prim and proppers. Is this other friend of yours here now?”

“Yeah,” said Hiccup, “I saw him go off with Rapunzel a few minutes ago.”

Merida nodded, “right, well, we better get to them quick before someone without a sense of humour does,” She tilted her head, “what’s yer name by the way? I didn’t think to ask when I thought ye were paparazzi.”

“Oh…it’s Hiccup, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Not that it suits me.”

She smiled and put her hands on her hips, “I disagree,” she said, “C’mon hell-raiser, let’s go get your friends!

#mericup #merida #hiccup #rise of the brave tangled dragons #RotBTD #brave #how to train your dragon #jackunzel

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