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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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New Ways of Turning Into Stone

A/N Another long drive, another Outlander fanfic idea that dropped into my brain out of nowhere, shoving aside the historical AU I have been wrestling with for months. Here’s the pitch: Claire Beauchamp is a psychiatrist specializing in grief counselling. Jamie Fraser is referred to her by his sister, who is worried for his well-being after a series of family tragedies. You can probably guess the rest, but I’m going to write it anyway. The title is taken from a song by the amazing Phantogram that was playing as the story idea came to me.

After losing my WIP virginity posting Ginger Snap, I’m going out on that limb again and posting this first chapter with only a rough outline mapped out in my head. You people are a terrible influence! Also, there will be some trigger warnings on future chapters, so please watch out for those. And now, on with our show.

Claire Beauchamp glanced down at the leather-bound calendar open on her desk. The ivory page for Thursday was packed to the margins, each hourly block filled with the name of a patient followed by a series of cuneiform symbols she used to remind herself of the last session, course of treatment, overall progress, all while maintaining strict confidentiality. Not even Geillis Duncan, her office administrator and very good friend, knew how to decode the script.

Geillis liked to laugh at the old-fashioned day planner, reminding Claire that their practice utilized software that could perform the same function electronically, but she enjoyed the act of physically logging each session. The solid heft of her Mont Blanc pen in her hand, a medical school graduation gift from her Uncle Lamb. The scratch and grab of the nub as it bled black ink over virgin paper. It was a tactile ceremony in a detached world. Geillis would nod and then tell her she needed to get laid.

Speak of the devil, a sharp rap on her office door was followed by the appearance of her strawberry blonde head. blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yer two o’clock is here. Did ye need more time tae finish bolting down tha’ chaff ye call a salad, or can I show him in?”

“It’s kale,” she defended. “It’s full of anti-oxidants.”

A disdainful scoff was the only response.

“Yes, Geil, please show Mister...” she glanced down at her planner, “...Fraser in, thank you.”

The tiny rectangle contained only a name, which meant this was their first appointment. Geillis vetted all prospective patients, but Claire preferred to go into the first meeting blind, with no assumptions or pre-conceptions.

She wondered what misfortune had caused Mr. Fraser to seek out her psychiatric services. The death of a child, perhaps, or the end of an extra-marital affair. People grieved for very different reasons and worked through or around that grief with a surprising variety of coping mechanisms. Most called upon her practice in much the same way they would a breakdown truck when their car’s engine failed. They simply wanted to get back on the road to happiness.

Despite the degrees and accreditations that decorated her office wall, Claire wasn’t certain such a thing was possible. In her experience, grief was a phantom limb that never really went away. The best one could hope for was to learn healthier ways of living with it.

The sound of Geillis clearing her throat snapped her back to the present.

“Was there something else, Geil?”

“Och, no’ really. Just, when yer considerin’ how tae thank me later on, remember tha’ my favourite stone is an emerald, that I prefer gold tae silver, but platinum is ne’er amiss.”

“What are you on about, Duncan?” But her friend had already disappeared back into the reception area, leaving behind only the glow of her Cheshire smile. Claire was shaking her head, bemused, when another knock rang out, this one considerably heavier than the first.

“Come in,” she called as she looked up. And up. And up some more.

The man who now practically filled her office door had to be at least six foot four, with powerful shoulders and a broad torso encased in a blue henley. His nearly endless legs were likewise muscular, as testified by the stretch of his jeans across each thigh. As if his physique wasn’t remarkable enough, he had a head of outrageously wavy red hair, worn long enough to graze the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck, but swept back from a high brow by a judicious use of product. His face was angular in a pleasingly unique way, with a day or two’s growth of beard counter-balancing an almost youthful, earnest appearance. But his most striking feature by far were his aquamarine eyes that shimmered like a tropical sea. Eyes that were currently observing her with perplexity.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” a deep Scottish brogue inquired. He pronounced it as though she were French.

“Yes,” she startled. “That’s me. And it’s pronounced Beecham. Please, come in Mister Fraser.” She shuffled a few items around her desk needlessly as she tried to compose herself. Damn Geillis for not giving her a bit more warning that her newest client was some sort of fitness model.

“Thank ye,” he replied. “An’ it’s pronounced Jamie, if ye please.” She added wit to the growing list of the man’s attributes.

If anything, he grew even more impressive as he approached. She could see he was nervous, although hiding it well. His striking eyes darted about the room, trying to get a sense of his environment. She indicated the well-upholstered armchair that sat to one side of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she invited.

With a surprising amount of grace for one so tall, he eased into the chair but didn’t lean back. The fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against his thigh. She watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak. This was a trick she had learned when she first started practicing psychiatry, but in this case it also allowed her to continue her appraisal. He was, she concluded, the most attractive man she’d ever seen in the flesh.

“No couch,” he finally observed.

“No. That’s a bit of a Hollywood trope, I’m afraid. Lying prone in front of a stranger is hardly conducive to feeling at ease.”

He nodded his acceptance of her logic, but was otherwise silent.

“So,” she spoke at last, unable to wait him out, “what caused you to seek out counselling, Jamie?” His name suited him, she thought as she spoke it for the first time. Both boyish and imposing at once.

“I didna. Twas my sister, Jenny, who insisted I see a doctor.” His mobile mouth twisted into a grimace. She could imagine the sibling discord that such a demand would have caused. Whoever this Jenny was, she was made of strong stuff. Unfortunately for her, a hostile patient would receive no benefit from merely visiting her office. Counselling was a participatory process, and she could tell from the stubborn set of Jamie’s shoulders that he had no intention of participating.

“I see,” she said carefully. “Well, it’s your time and your dime, Mr. Fraser. This session lasts for forty-five minutes, and you’ve not been here for five. There’s a carafe of hot water on the table over there, if you care for some tea. Or you’re welcome to just enjoy that comfortable chair for another forty minutes. I’ll be working on some administrative necessities.”

She turned her chair away from him, but from the corner of her eye she could see his gobsmacked expression. He had clearly expected her to cajole and manipulate him into co-operating, but that simply wasn’t her style.

“I meant no offence, doctor. I’m certain ye’re verra good at what ye do. Tis only... well, Jenny is my older sister, ye ken. She practically raised me. And so ofttimes she treats me like a muckle-sized bairn, and no’ a man who’s capable of lookin’ after himself.”

As he spoke, Jamie leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, expressive hands gesturing in front of his face. Hostile to the notion of counselling he might be, but he clearly wanted her to understand it wasn’t a slight. As a physician, she had been trained to never take a patient’s reactions personally, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“No offence taken, Jamie. If you don’t need my assistance, I’m happy for you. That’s one less person hurting in the world.”

“I didna say I wasna hurting. But I can handle it my own way. I am handling it, that is,” he hurried to add.

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and walked over to the small table where she kept an assortment of herbal teas and a tray of Geillis’ homemade biscuits. Bending over, Jamie set about making himself some; chamomile by the smell of it. The sound of spoon ringing off porcelain as he stirred in some honey made her smile, reminding her of Lamb and his obsession with the lost art of afternoon tea.

“Can I make ye a cup?”

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process it. The tea was there as a distraction for her patients, to give them something to do with their bodies as they worked through difficult emotions. None of them had ever thought to offer her a reprieve as well.

“No, thank you. I just finished lunch.”

He dipped a shortbread into the steaming tea, then ate it in a single bite. Instead of sitting back down, he began to browse the framed certificates and photographs along the far wall as he sipped his tea. With his back turned, her eyes dipped to admire his ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly. When she caught herself, she gave her head a shake, appalled at her lack of professional detachment. Maybe Geillis was right. Maybe she really did need to get laid.

“How long have ye been a doctor?” Jamie asked without turning around.

“Ten years,” she replied. “But I’ve only been a psychiatrist for the last two.”

It was a dangerous topic, and she blamed his ass for letting the words slip out. Fortunately, his inquisitiveness took him in an entirely different direction.

“Were ye some kind of prodigy, then? Ye hardly seem old enough tae have yer own practice, let alone fer a decade. If ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he added quickly, as though realizing what he’d just said.

“Not at all. And you hardly seem young enough to be a, what was it? A muckle-sized bairn?”

As he turned to look her way, she understood the expression ‘shot-gun smile’ for the first time. It spread across his face like a sunbeam, transforming what was already remarkable into a work of art. If she hadn’t been sitting, she likely would have stumbled backward from the force of the blow. Scrambling for something familiar to keep her from making a very grave fool of herself in front of this man, she clasped her clinical training with both hands.

“Are you and your sister close?”

“Aye, when we’re no’ tryin’ not tae kill the other. Our Mam died when I was only four, and with Da workin’ dawn til dark on the farm, Jenny was parent, teacher an’ playmate all rolled inta one.”

“You’re not from Edinburgh, then?” Although what that had to do with his counselling, she hadn’t a clue.

“Nah, I hail from a wee village in the Highlands ye’ve likely ne’er heard of called Broch Mordha.” She shook her head to indicate she was indeed unfamiliar with it. Jamie launched into a detailed description of the place, his hands sculpting the landscape out of thin air. He obviously cared very deeply for his home, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, having never known that feeling of deep belonging herself.

“And what brought you to Old Smoky?” she asked as he wound down, her interest piqued. It was like slamming a lead door on his previously sunny disposition.

“Family obligations.” Said in such a way as to make it clear that no further words would be forthcoming on the topic. She regretted her nosiness immediately, despite what it revealed about his emotional state. Jamie was most certainly grieving something, but handling it he was not.

Before she could find a way back to the easy flow of conversation, a chime from her laptop indicated that the session was up. She couldn’t bear to dismiss him without trying to set things right.

“Listen, Jamie, I understand that you only came here today to humour your sister, but I want you to consider something. Whether we’re grieving or angry or jealous, or any destabilizing feeling, we’re often the worst surveyors of our own landscape. Just like you can’t know your place on the sea without referencing the stars, it takes something external to ourselves to measure how far adrift we have become. Your sister obviously loves you. Ask yourself, what has she seen in you that prompted her to force you to seek help?”

They parted with cordial but muted goodbyes. The door closed behind him, leaving Claire to stare at the blank rectangle in her planner that bore his name. No coded symbols flowed from her pen. When the door re-opened, it was Geillis, closing it firmly behind her.

“Weel, did I no’ tell ye? Wee fox, tha’ one. And he told me he liked my shortbread!” Geillis said this as though it was some kind of sexual euphemism, which for all Claire knew, it was.

“Yes,” she replied distractedly. “He’s very nice.”

“Nice! Nice? Tha’ man is tae nice what Wagyu is tae beef jerky. Have ye completely lost yer senses, woman?”

“Yes, well, he’s a patient, Geillis, as you well know. And not one I’m likely to see again,” she added, acknowledging out loud what she already knew.

“Oh, no?” Geillis sing-songed. “Thas’ strange, as he just made an appointment fer the same time next week.”

Claire’s eyes flew to where her friend looked on, smug as could be.

“Yer three o’clock called tae say she was runnin’ five minutes late. I’ll leave ye tae think about yer... patient.”

Claire picked up her pen, trying to pull together something resembling a professional summary of her first appointment with Jamie. Her mind replayed their interaction, but all she could remember was the way his eyes crinkled when he was listening attentively, the tidy half-moons of his fingernails, the seam of his jeans as it contoured his thigh, and the cymbal-crash in her chest that accompanied his smile.

Patient, she reminded herself. Jamie Fraser is your patient.

#my writing #outlander

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

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Trustworthy (Chapter 3)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Does fluff warrant a warning? Well, before we get into the gritty mission, here be some fluffy fluff. Oh, and language. Because I speak that shit.

Thursday came sooner than anticipated, and with it came that awful rush of dread that enveloped you each and every time you set foot in an airport. You’d think you’d be over this by now, your job shuttling you off to the far corners of the Earth, making it so that the only way you could ever get to where you needed to be – Bogota, Juarez, Islamabad, home – was by plane. But… no. The fear of plummeting to an inevitably fiery death inside a giant can filled with the recycled breath of dozens – even hundreds – of strangers was one you were simply never going to get over.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” Benny barks out amid a thunderous laugh as he watches you down another pill and chase it with a tiny bottle of vodka. “Is it even safe to take Xanax with alcohol?” he asks, his face screwing up in confusion, a hint of concern breaking through the amusement. “Are you so scared of flying that you’re willing to risk an OD?”

“Seems strange, given your profession,” Tom mutters as he sidesteps Ben to slide into the row of seats behind you.

You offer no reply, instead blinking your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the awful activity of preparing for takeoff. The doors haven’t even closed yet, people still steadily boarding the plane, your new teammates still stowing bags and chatting merrily around you, and yet you’ve already buckled in, pulled the lap belt as tight as it will go, and downed your second Xanax in an hour.

“She’ll be alright,” you hear from above. You crack open a single eye and look up to see Santiago looming over the back of your seat. “Fish,” he calls out, tossing a quick glance at the man still struggling with fitting everything into the overhead compartment. “You sit with her. Tell her about all the times you’ve flown. Keep her calm.”

“I’m calm,” you mumble under your breath.

He looks down at you and raises a brow, gaze holding yours even as he tells his friend, “And don’t let her pop any more pills.”

“No shit,” Ben chuckles as he steps out into the aisle, relinquishing his seat just as Frankie finally slams shut the door on the overhead bin. “We’ll have to scrape her off the floor otherwise.”

Frankie slides in next to you, the tiny armrest barely allowing for any space between you and the scorching heat radiating off of him. Normally you might be okay with that, it certainly felt good in the chilly parking lot the other night. But right now you’re feeling flush and hot and on the verge of possible combustion, the odd suck and click sound of the plane’s door shutting and sealing you in causing a bead of sweat to begin sliding down your temple.

“Truth be told, I’m not too wild about being on flights where I’m not the pilot,” he says, his soft voice pitched perfectly to sound just over the hum of the plane, the new buzzing in your ears, and the sudden woosh of air from the vent that he reaches over to switch on above you.

“Comforting,” you mutter, shutting your eyes against the harsh, dry air blowing down on you, but inclining your head back into the steady, cooling stream just the same.

“Just don’t tell her about how many times you’ve crashed, Fish,” Ben laughs from across the aisle. You bolt upright and crane your neck around the man beside you so as to stare the giggly child down, wide eyes gleaming with a very real threat that actually causes his smirk to break and a subtle, “sorry,” to slip past his lips.

Frankie takes your hand, pries it away from the armrest that you’d been holding in a death grip, and he gives you a little nudge with his elbow, encouraging you to lean back in your seat. “I’ve never crashed,” he corrects, shooting Benny a swift, reprimanding glare before turning back to you. “I’ve just… had a couple of rough landings. But each time everyone walked away fine.”

“Yeah?” you question, critical brow cranking high. “And how often do people walk away from rough landings on a commercial airplane?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Not often,” he admits. “But they also don’t go down often, so there’s that.”

Your eyes blow wide, slight gasp catching in your throat as you eke out, “Are you trying to jinx us?”

He twists in his seat to look at you, his fingers wrapping just a little bit tighter around your hand as you inadvertently shake in his grasp. “Trust me, princesa, this is the least dangerous thing we’re gonna do this week.”

The heady bolt of fear subsides a bit, quickly replaced by a tinge of confusion – princesa? – and a hint of irritation. Your face twists into an overdone pout – “Don’t call me that.” – but you can’t deny that his words do, somehow, put you at ease. Or perhaps the Xanax is just kicking in. Either way, you find yourself settling back into the seat, body and mind both suddenly sluggish and heavy. You twist towards him, away from the window and the blinding glare of the early morning sun as it reflects off the stark white wing of the plane, and you let out a small disgruntled grunt as the too-tight lap belt digs into your hip.

Frankie easily contorts himself in his seat so that he’s able to face you bodily, smiling – perhaps teasing – eyes never disconnecting from yours as he too settles in and reclines his head to the headrest. “Gotta have some kind of callsign over the radio,” he states, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a coy, crooked smile. “You don’t like princesa… how about loquita?”

“Fuck you,” you bark out amid a snort of a laugh, the offended pitch to your voice and wide-eyed stare setting him to very nearly vibrate with stifled giggles.

He takes a moment to swallow down his obvious amusement, holding your gaze all the while. Then he clears his throat and pulls his features into a stern set. “Don’t take it personally. I’d call anyone who hates to fly crazy.”

You issue out a short, incredulous scoff. “Maybe if I were the pilot, I’d like it. If I were in control.”

“Yeah,” he admits with a nod and a sigh. “That helps.”

But the truth is, you don’t actually think it would help that much. Because, well… “What person in their right mind thinks, you know what I’d like to do? I’d like to ignore the fact that God gave me legs instead of wings and I’d like to leave the ground. I mean… the ground is the safe place, man. What are you thinking?”

He smiles over at you, a soft, tender expression that sets off a flutter deep in your core. “What kind of person wants to stay on the ground with everybody else when they can climb into the heavens and move through the clouds?”

You bite back the grin that begs to break out and instead flatten your face in the most deadpan expression you can muster. “Are you fucking with me right now?” He merely shoots a wink in response, the light from outside your window reflecting in his deep brown eyes as they pierce into you. You roll your own eyes, but can just barely hold back the quirk to your lips as you say simply, “You’re the crazy one.”

He lets loose with a soft chuckle and shifts further in his seat so that he’s entirely facing you. “You never wanted to play in the clouds?” he asks, grin pulling wider. You feel a new heat – a welcome and comforting one, not the panicky, dizzying burn from before – blossom inside of you as you notice a single dimple cave in on the side of his stubble-dusted face.

A long sigh escapes you. “I mean, I did watch a lot of Care Bears growing up,” you offer, working to keep your expression still and set. But his smile simply grows and it’s just a breath of a moment before you break and let loose with a beam of your own. “God,” you nearly whine as an airy chuckle spills out of you. “Play in the clouds? You’re so cheesy.”

“Hey, I happen to really like cheese.” He raises a rather serious brow as he asks, tone low and sincere, “Can you imagine what the world would be like without cheese?”

You force a stoic glare, bite back a smile. “It’d be terrible. No nachos or pizza…”

He shakes his head slowly, sadly. “All the macaroni would be naked.”

You release a soft sigh. “One third of those popcorn tins would be empty.”

“Or filled with, I dunno, kale-dusted popcorn or something.”

You snort out a laugh, nose wrinkling in disgust. “What would we eat with tomato soup? Grilled eggplant?”

He shrugs. “What would Green Bay fans wear to the game?”

And again, you laugh, this one full and buoyant. “Poor Wisconsin, their entire economy would collapse.”

“What about the French?” he asks.

And it’s your turn to offer up a shrug. “They’ve still got wine.”

He stares at you for a lingering moment before his eyes flicker just past and out the window. “Maybe it sounds a little cheesy,” he begins, ticking his chin towards you, towards the tiny airplane window behind you. “But look out there and tell me there isn’t a part of you that wants to climb out there right now and bounce through those fluffy little bastards.”

Your brows pull tightly together, a quick flicker of pure shock shooting through you and causing you to whip around so fast that a crack sounds from your spine. Outside the window are, in fact, hordes of white puffy clouds peppering the bright blue sky. “What…?” you choke out, utter confusion lacing the word.

When had you taken off? When had you reached altitude? How had he managed to distract you so effectively as you climbed thousands of miles into the sky in this deathtrap tube?

You stare out the window for a long moment, giving yourself time to breathe, to comprehend. Allowing your fingers – which had just clamped painfully down on Frankie’s hand yet again – to slowly relax and loosen their terrified hold. No, there’s no part of you that wants to go out there and bounce around in the damn clouds. No. Way. In. Hell. But there is a part of you that begins to get lost in the soft, subtle beauty stretching out all around you. It’s still scary as hell. But it’s also… amazing.

Frankie watches as you continue to gaze out at the sprawling sky, bright blue on this beautiful day, a day he’d like nothing more in this world than to be out in, flying through the wide-open sky. Your hand remains wrapped around his, even if the intense grip has slackened. And your shoulders are still nearly pressed to you ears, so tense and taut. But there’s a sort of wonder wrapping about you now too, a look of, if not joy, at least appreciation.

“Los cielos,” he mutters from behind, seemingly to himself, his tone dreamy and airy and full of something like… wonder. You toss a glance over your shoulder and catch the way the sun lights his face as he stares just past you, his eyes fixated on the world beyond. You stare for perhaps a beat too long, not realizing until his gaze slowly shifts from the window to you, catching you in the act. The dimple caves again, wide smile pulling once more as he locks onto your eyes, light laughter bubbling out of him as your gaze pings away in a swift moment of embarrassment. He squeezes your hand, tightening his grip on your fingers for a single, quick, perfect millisecond before he utters, honeyed voice once again carrying more than a hint of teasing, “Cielo.”

Confused, you look back up at him, your brow twisting. But you let out a groan the moment he tenders another wink, the moment you realize that he’s just offered up another ridiculous callsign suggestion. You roll you eyes again, but make no move to pull out of his hold nor turn from his heated gaze. “So much cheese…”

He laughs again, his grin pulling tight as he watches you settle back into your seat with an exhausted sigh. You raise a brow in question, in challenge. And the smirk fades to a stony façade as he gives a single, definitive nod and declares, as though all has been settled, “Cielo.”

000

The flight knocks you for a loop. Less than an hour in, you’re passed out, snoring away on Frankie’s shoulder. You wake at one point to discover a pool of drool leaking from your gaping mouth and soaking through the shoulder of his button down, but you don’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed, nor the grace to apologize. Instead, you lazily swipe at the mess and turn with an incoherent mumble before dropping your heavy head against the cool glass of the window. You’re pretty sure you hear the tinkling of laughter coming from across the aisle – pretty sure that’s the sound that woke you from your drug-induced slumber to begin with – and you can definitely discern the throaty whispers of shut the hell up and you’re an asshole, Ben coming from the man by your side. But you’re too laden with sleep to really process or care.

For the next however many hours, you dream. Dream of bouncing through clouds in a bright blue sky. Dream of slinking through the jungle with strange men by your side. Dream of falling and floating and somehow rising to fly. You sleep and dream – and snore and drool – until an all-too familiar laugh sounds from above, a barking command of, “Hey, get your ass up, agent,” echoing in Santi’s exasperated – yet amused – tone. You blink open your eyes, tilt back your head, and see both him and Tom glaring down at you as they stand – bent awkwardly from the low ceiling of the plane – in the row behind. “Everybody else is already lone gone, bonita. Get your ass off the plane.”

Your brow furrows and your middle finger rises steadily upward, but somehow the rest of your body feels too heavy to move and it takes a kindhearted gentleman in a tattered old ballcap to ease you to your feet and out into the aisle.

“The second one was a mistake,” you mutter wearily as you nearly faceplant into Frankie’s chest.

“Yeah,” comes from behind in an annoyed scoff as Santiago reaches over to collect your bag from beneath the seat. “I’m confiscating your Xanax.”

The ride to the run-down inn and resort – far from the city and cheap as all hell – passes in a blur. But by the time you arrive and check into your little bungalow, you’re feeling, if not refreshed, at least awake.

Everyone agrees to meet up at the tiny restaurant at the edge of the grounds in about twenty minutes, just long enough for a quick rinse and wardrobe change. And somehow you manage to be the first one there, allowing you the opportunity to have a quick chat with the bartender – which results in a free, giant fruity concoction – before settling into a table in the corner. You let out a relaxed sigh and breathe back in the humid jungle air, realizing only in this very moment that a part of you actually missed this place. That a part of you might just think of the Amazon as home. You glance around, take note of your surroundings – as you always do, always have done, even before your law enforcement training – and begin to watch the rather handsy young couple at the bar as they giggle and swoon.

It isn’t long before Benny jogs up behind you and drops into the seat on your right. He sets down a fruity drink that looks suspiciously like yours, making you wonder if the bartender treats all tourists to a free, sugar-fueled beverage and perhaps your flirting earned you nothing at all. But as the others meander in and join you, all with mere sweating bottles of beer in their hands, you decide instead that you and Ben must just be the most special of the bunch.

Of course, that notion begins to chafe once Benny turns to you with a wicked look in his eye and pulls his phone from his pocket, nonchalantly swiping though a parade of terrible photos with an all-too delighted smile. The first few show you passed out on Frankie on the plane, mouth gaping wide as you spill drool into his shirt. “Oh, God!” you gasp, only just now recalling the brief moment of near lucidity from earlier in the day. “You took pictures?!”

You give him a quick slap and try to grab the cell from his hand only to have him rear back and laugh out, “Wait, wait, these are my favorites,” before scrolling through the next dozen or so, each picture showing a steady progression of your drowsy head falling from Will’s shoulder down to his lap as the two of you sat in the back on the drive in from the airport.

“You talk in your sleep,” Will states plainly from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

You cock your head suspiciously at him, gaze narrowing. “Liar,” you accuse despite knowing full well that it’s true.

The corner of his mouth quirks into a crooked grin. “Something about… sliding down rainbows?”

“Ooooh,” you drawl out, nodding your head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Frankie kept talking to me about Care Bears on the flight in.”

The man to your left takes a steady gulp from his beer, a swallow so huge it makes you think he’d been navigating the desert all day, desperate for a drink. “You were barely conscious for more than five minutes on that flight. You don’t have a clue what I talked to you about.”

“Better not have been anything dirty,” Santiago interjects pointedly.

You turn and pin Frankie down with an intent yet amused stare. “I definitely remember something about playing in the clouds.”

“Naked?” Ben asks as he jostles your other side with his elbow.

“Ahora, eso seria realmente el cielo,” Frankie mutters softly, ducking further beneath the bill of his hat and trying desperately not to laugh as you level him with an astounded glare.

By the time the food comes, your table has managed to outdo the small group of college students in the corner in terms of noise, filling the only partially walled-in establishment with a relaxed sort of banter and the occasional booming laughter. Benny continues his jokes and playful ribbing, eagerly pulling you in to blend with his tightknit group. Will and Frankie both remain mostly quiet, despite their comfortable-looking grins and occasional bursts of laughter.

Tom’s demeanor is similar, perhaps a bit less relaxed, a bit more guarded. Even after claiming to be cool with your presence on this little escapade, he’s anything but warm and welcoming to you. It doesn’t escape your notice that he continues to pull Santi aside to whisper what you can only assume are either covert sweet nothings or – far more likely – mission-related thoughts and plans that he still doesn’t quite trust you with. You shrug it off… it’s fine, really. You’ve had to slip into other cliques and clusters before, wedge yourself into a special operations task force or try to integrate in with local police to gain access to intel. This wasn’t your first rodeo. And frankly, compared to the Federales in Juarez, all of these guys had welcomed you into the fold with wide-open arms.

It isn’t long – or it doesn’t feel like long, anyway – before Santi rises and tells everyone that he’s heading to bed. A shit-eating grin passes over his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, familiar looking pill bottle. He shakes the remaining Xanax around and states simply, “For once, I’m actually gonna sleep great.”

Tom follows hot on his heels after issuing out – in a tone equal parts dad and captain – “We’re up at 0500 and I don’t want any of you to be dragging ass.” Everyone nods their assent, but the moment he and Santi are out the door, Ben promptly buys another round and the four of you who remain settle into a new rhythm that lasts until the tiny restaurant and bar finally shoos you out so they can close for the night.

The lot of you wander the grounds of the inn for a bit after that, indulging in the cool breeze after hours of sweltering heat, and continuing to laugh and talk. But as you make it back to the bungalows, the brothers break away, Ben disappearing into his room without so much as a grunt of goodbye, and Will raising a pointed finger high and telling you and Frankie both to, “Get the hell away from these mosquitos and go get some sleep. Otherwise, Redfly’ll be raining down shit on everyone in the morning.”

But you’re now more awake than you’ve been all day, sated from a too-large dinner and positively sloshing with alcohol, well-rested after your many-hours-long nap during your travels, and you just can’t seem to make yourself shut up, not even once you arrive at your door.

And Frankie seems to welcome it, listening intently as you babble on, filling the gaps with assertions of his own. Now that Ben’s no longer around to monopolize the conversation, you and Frankie develop an easy back and forth, the dialog taking on a soft, steady, even cadence. You talk about everything, the two of you. About Mexico, because you spent nearly four years in different parts of the country, and he still has family in a few of those areas. And you talk about all the places you’ve been, you with your sprawling career and general lust for travel – Road trips are more my thing though… and camping, hiking… Have you ever been through Bryce Cannon? God’s country. – and Frankie with his time in the military and more recent contract work – Yeah, nature’s great and all, but have you walked through the bazars in Marrakesh? Unbelievable. Though I wouldn’t say no to a day of fishing off the Gulf.

You talk about Santiago, each sharing stories of the man who had only just become a trusted colleague and friend for you over these last few years, but had been one of Frankie’s most beloved people for well over a decade. And that leads you into asking about the other guys too, each of whom you find yourself getting to know better and better from even just the few stories he shares as you two recline back into the railing of the bungalow’s small porch. He even manages to get you comfortable enough to share some stories about your own comrades over the years, the good, the bad, and the ugly… and the long-time partner who bled out in your arms following a bust outside of Albuquerque. Though you don’t spend much time on that, eager to move on almost the moment that your partner’s name passes through your lips.

The look on his face, though – as you share those sparse details from that most awful day – tells you immediately that Frankie understands exactly what it’s like to lose a partner, a brother in arms. And while that isn’t a surprise in the least – he had just gotten through telling you that he spent fifteen years in the special forces after all – that knowledge does cause you to feel a whole new pull. It makes you scoot a bit closer, makes you drop your hand easily atop his, your sweaty palm gliding along his warm skin before he reciprocates by slowly turning in your grasp and twining his fingers with yours.

“So,” he breathes out after a moment. “You’ve been out here for… three years?”

You nod, a soft smile blooming as you think about this bizarre and stunning corner of the world. “About that.”

His gaze travels out into the lush jungle located just beyond the row of bungalows, small porchlights illuminating just enough of the canopy to remind you both of where you are. “What’s the city like?” he asks after a beat.

“It’s nice,” you rush out. “Small, relaxed…” Your lips purse together as you think on what to say, how to describe this place that has been your home for three years now. “Lot more tourists than you might think. It’s funny, even the people who live here – in the city at least – a lot of them are transplants from Bogota.” You give a nonchalant shrug – “The streets flood a lot. That’s not always fun.” – and relish the deep chuckle emanating from the man by your side. “There’s a legend about how it got its name,” you say suddenly. “I’ve never really gotten any details about it, but supposedly a Colombian soldier fell in love with an Amerindian woman…”

“Leticia,” he supplies, the name slipping from his tongue in a perfectly accented drawl, falling out into the dark night in a soft, low rumble.

You nod. “And he named the city after her.”

Frankie huffs out a small laugh, a light and airy rumble. His gaze continues to wander, dark eyes shifting along the barely perceivable horizon. “Must’ve been a hell of a lady,” he mutters absently, giving your fingers a squeeze.

You watch him closely, his features soft and relaxed in the low light, the slightest hint of a smile still riding his lips. “Yeah. Must’ve been.”

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #santiago pope garcia #benny miller #will ironhead miller

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the-lady-writes-what · 3 years

Text

Birthday Girl

So...I got wasted Sunday (my birthday) and I left this draft unfinished cause I fell asleep in the middle of writing it. Here I am, rewriting this because...oof. I fixed it. Here’s a little self-indulgent present for me and you guys.

Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader (who is also on the chubby side)

Content: fluff, body positivity, bondage, oral (receiving), praise kink, riding

Forgive me if it slips into a gray area of self-insert, only slightly.

The apartment was dark. No surprise there. Shouta must have been out on late night patrol again. Figures. You shuffled off your blazer, kicked off your shoes, and dumped your bag on the couch. You turned on the light to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Inwardly groaning, you made up your mind not to bother making dinner for one unless it was easy. Cooking involved effort, and after the day you’ve had, that was the last thing on your mind. You scoured the fridge for something to eat before you passed out only to remember some off-handed comments you overhead your co-workers say.

‘I know Eraserhead’s just an underground hero, but can you imagine dating a pro and looking like that?’

‘I wonder if Eraserhead has a fat fetish. Maybe that’s what it is?’

You grabbed a salad and slammed the fridge door closed. You didn’t bother grabbing any dressing or shredded cheese. It just made you feel more awful just thinking about food. Unfortunately, you needed to eat. The lettuce and spinach leaves were tossed into a salad bowl that was carried to a lonely dinner table. Your fork angrily dug into the vegetables before popping them in your mouth. The motion of chewing made you imagine a cow chewing cud. Your fork clattered as it bounced off the table and you buried your face in your hands. Tears began to prickle the corners of your eyes when you heard the front door open.

Shouta shambled into the apartment carrying a large pink box under his arm. You quickly dried your eyes to pretend nothing was wrong. It didn’t take him long to figure you out. He bent down and picked up the fork you tossed.

“Lose your temper with unruly kale?” He asked.

Your laugh was bitter coming out of your mouth. “Spinach, actually.”

Shouta looked over your plate. “Looks awfully plain. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a stomach ache or something?”

“No, it’s just...I thought I should have something lighter and I wasn’t in the mood to make anything else,” you answered.

“I can order take out. It’s late, but there’s a couple of places open all night. We could--”

“No, Shouta, it’s fine. Really.”

Shouta gave you a look. You’d seen it before when his students were about to get a verbal smackdown. You knew he didn’t buy it, it was only a matter of time before he said anything. If you didn’t act quickly, you were about to face his wrath. Or worse, an interrogation. Your eyes shifted to the box tucked under his arm. Perfect for changing the subject.

“What’s in the box?” You asked.

“Your birthday present?” Shouta’s brows shot upwards. “Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday.”

“It’s been...one of those days, you know?”

He left the box in front of you while he walked into the kitchen to get himself a drink. You bit your lip as you looked at the box. Shouta returned to the small dining room with a couple of beers in hand. He handed one to you and sat down in the opposite chair.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” He asked, taking a sip.

“Oh. Right.”

You gingerly eased the lid off and put it somewhere else. Rose-festooned tissue paper lay inside, forcing you to peel it away. You felt blood rush to your face. You’d seen this on display before in a window store, but didn’t think to see it in person. A lace and velvet lingerie set in rose. You’d been eye-balling it for weeks, but never had the guts to buy it. A lingering thought crossed your mind.

“Is it too much? Is it not what you wanted?”

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s just that, I don’t think I'll be able to fit in it.”

“You could try it on and see?”

“I don’t think it’ll work. I’m...too big.” You mumbled.

“Who told you that?”

“Let’s just drop it,” you picked up the box to put away only to have Shouta grab your arm.

His grasp was neither hard nor too rough, but it did give you a pause. Shouta pulled you into his lap.

“Tell me, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Asked Shouta.

You bit your bottom lip and hugged the box to your chest. You looked down at your lap until Shouta pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t allow you to look away.

“Last chance before I do something you might regret,” said Shouta.

“Would you, would you still date me if I was skinny?”

Shouta’s brows furrowed. “What that hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Are you dating me because I’m bigger than other girls?” You asked more precisely this time.

“Are you implying that I'm treating you like a fetish?”

“Well--”

Shouta moved with fluid motion lifting you up and putting you on his shoulder. Your birthday gift fell to the floor, discarded as you were carried off like a sack of potatoes. Shouta carried you down the hall, kicked open the bedroom door, and threw you unto the bed.

“S-Shouta,” you whimpered.

His capture weapon was already binding your wrists together. Shouta looked down at you with that stern face which always made you shudder.

“You think that I love and care about you because I have some sort of fetish? Who have you been talking to?”

“You can’t blame me? You’re a pro-hero. Shouldn’t you be with someone more...physically fit?”

“Since when I have cared what other people think? Do you think I'm to listen to anyone who holds ridiculous standards for pro’s?”

Shouta buttoned your blouse and unzipped your skirt, easing the garment down your legs. Next, your leggings and with them your panties. Shouta discarded not only some of your clothes, but removed parts of his costume until all that was left were his pants now slung low on his hips. The mattress dipped under his weight as he climbed on top of you. Shouta peppered your thick thighs with kisses and edged ever so close inside them. His teeth nibbled your flesh, making you dig your heels into the bed. Hands roamed your body and left finger-shaped bruises and trails of fire across your skin. You couldn’t do anything like push him away because despite that Shouta’s attention was elsewhere, the capture weapon stayed. Your blouse was left open to expose your black bra and chest for his viewing pleasure.

Shouta pulled your legs apart and kissed his way up your inner thighs. You squirmed as he lips suckled your skin and left hickies. Purple splotches decorated your legs. Shouta gave your slit a tentative lick before looking up squarely into your eyes.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, you’re going to forget those stupid opinions.”

Shouta dove between your legs and lapped at your cunt. The bindings still held good no matter how much you squirmed and shuddered. Shouta wasn’t simply eating you out, he was fucking you with his tongue. His fingers stretched you open while his tongue explored and licked your clit. Shouta suckled on it as he pumped his fingers with fast, deep strokes. Pleasure spiraled down your spine until your eyes clamped shut. You whimpered aloud and gasped as you coated Shouta’s mouth with your cream. When he raised his head after licking you clean, you could still see his mouth dripping with you essence. Shouta licked it off his lips.

The capture weapon loosened, freeing your wrists. Freedom, however, didn’t last long. In a whirlwind, your bodies switched places. Shouta had you sit briefly on his stomach while he inched his pants down the rest of the way. His protruding cock rested against your ass. He grabbed your hips and pulled you over his thick erect member.

“Go on, enjoy yourself, birthday girl.”

You slowly impaled yourself on him with Shouta’s help. You shed the rest of your clothes and moved your hips. Shouta lay there and let you do what you wanted. He held your hips, kissed you, and rubbed your clit.

“I don’t give a fuck about what other people, you look fucking hot riding me. All of these extra curves just give me more to grab unto.” With that, each hand of Shouta’s grabbed a handful of your ass.

You continued to grind against him. Sweat beaded down your back and the side of your face. Your (color) clung to your face as you rode him. Shouta gave you a smug look watching you take your pleasure from him.

“That’s right. Fuck yourself on my cock. You want it bad, don’t you, birthday girl?”

“YES!” You moaned.

“Take all the time in the world. You look so good riding me like that.”

You slammed down on him faster, then faster still. You closed yourself as you relished in the feeling of Shouta’s rigid cock pushing inside of you. Your walls clamping down on him. He let go of cheek to play with your clit. Shouta rubbed you in time to your hips moving rapidly against his. You were chasing a high and weren’t going to stop.

“S-Sho...Shouta,” you groaned his name. You were in misery and in ecstasy at the same time.

Shouta snapped his hips upwards, meeting you thrust for thrust. Skin slapped against skin. All you could smell in the air was sweat and sex. White heat coursed down your back to the base of your spine. Your eyes fluttered open just for Shouta to see them roll into the back of your head. You couldn’t help sticking your tongue out as you grunted and groaned. Your inner walls clamped down on him and spasmed. Shouta wasn’t far behind. He left a bruising grip on your hips as he pumped you full. Only once you two had finished catching your breaths did Shouta carefully pull out. Cum spilled all over your inner thighs and the hem of his pants.

“S-Sorry,” you whimpered.

“Don’t be.”

Shouta cleaned you up, ordered food, and ordered you to stay in bed. He boxed up your present and fished the receipt out from his pocket.

“What’s this for?” You asked as he handed it to you.

“What do you think? You can return or exchange it if you don’t like it.”

You thought for a moment then noticed how much he spent. Shouta wasn’t the type of person to pay that much for one thing and he certainly wouldn't spend it on a frivolous thing like lingerie. It would be a damn shame not to enjoy it yourself.

“Nah. I changed my mind.” You handed back the receipt. “Maybe one of these days I’ll model it for you.”

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine:

Erik watches his landlords child and afterwards wants to practice making a little bundle of joy himrself with Reader

Warnings: FLUFF. Mentions of Smut.

There was so many things on the agenda for Erik on this windy Thursday....

Gym at 6 AM

Shower, eat breakfast

Head to work at the Outreach for an 8 hour shift

Come home, cook dinner, shower

See his baby girl, fuck, pillow talk

Come home and sleep for six hours.

Repeat.

He didn’t realize how much he was putting his body through hell until he passed out asleep during an Outreach meeting. No one woke him up but he was angry with himself for sleeping through it and having to ask what happened. Currently, Erik was stuck in traffic on his way home. He was off for about an hour now and he wouldn’t be home for another hour. Pissed and hungry, Erik resulted to listening to the Joe Budden podcast.

HONK HONK!

“What where you’re going, BITCH!”

Some reckless driver was about to side sweep his car; new car. She was on her phone talking away, clearly not paying attention to the road. He angry talked to himself in the drivers seat, praying that no one else pisses him off. The podcast pauses as an incoming call comes through

Justine

“What now, Justine,” Erik answers it anyway via Bluetooth, “Sup, Justine?”

“Hey Erik!”

Justine was Erik’s landlord at the luxury apartment complex he lived in.

“Is everything okay?” Erik’s asks while making a right turn.

“Everything is fine! You know I don’t have any problems with you.”

“Glad to know. I would hate to take some bad news right now especially with how frustrated I already am.”

“Oh, shit, well, maybe I shouldn’t ask this then.”

Erik raised a brow, “Ask what?”

“Uhm,” Justine could be heard rustling around in the background, “You rememebr my daughter, Bianca?”

“Yeah, fat mama, right?” Erik remembered her nickname when his landlord stopped by with her on her hip, “How is she?”

“She’s good. Sleeping right now.”

“Awww, you sound like she wore you out, girl.”

“She did,” Justine spike with an exhausting tone.

“So what’s going on with her?” He was almost home free.

“Well...I don’t want to be a burden...but could you watch her for me tonight?”

“What?” Erik didn’t mean to actually say that out loud.

“Watch Bianca? I have to take care of something important tonight involving my family and I can’t watch over fat mama and do that at the same time. If you can’t, it’s fine, I’ll see if my bestfriend can do it if she picks up.”

Erik was quiet for a fraction to mule this over. Watching a baby? The last time he even held a baby was when he was 18 years old. It was his best friends older sisters baby. The baby threw up on his shirt and he quickly handed him back to his mother. He was smart, he could figure out changing diapers and feeding a child but taking care of a baby that isn’t his made him nervous.

“Erik?” Justine called his name.

“Y-yeah, I’m still here,” He licks his lips, “How long do you need me to watch her?”

“For about a few hours?”

“...Okay, I can do it.” He couldn’t believe he was agreeing to this.

“Really?! Oh, thank God, you’re the best, Erik.”

He shook his head with a smirk, “I try. Plus, you’re a great fucking landlord, I’ve had shitty landlords so,” Erik laughs.

“Thanks so much! I would ask her father but...never mind-“

“Aye, it’s cool, I got you. Me and fat mama can watch ummm, Vamperina? You said she likes that, right?”

“Yes,” Justine giggles in the phone.

“What does fat mama like to eat?” Erik had nothing but meal prepped food that Bianca would definitely spit out.

“She likes nuggets, hot sticks- I mean, those Jimmy Dean pancake sausages, she calls them hot sticks, she likes French fries, you can give her a little bit of cooked kale, grilled cheese-“

“Why don’t you bring her some chicken nuggets and hot sticks over just in case. I have fries, kale, and I can whip up a grilled cheese depending on what she chooses. Apple juice cool?”

“Yeah, but not after 8. After 8 I prefer to give her water.”

“I agree. Aight, I’m almost home you can come through, Justine.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“No problem, girl.”

The call ended and Joe Budden came back on.

————————

“Baby...I’m not gonna be able to come over tonight.”

“Why?”

“I have to babysit my landlords daughter.”

“Seriously? You? Babysitting? You’re kidding, right?”

“Nah, I’m dead ass. She needs help, I got her. She’s cool.”

“Sounds like you have a huge task on your hands, Daddy.”

“Nothing I can’t handle. I got this, Aight? Don’t clown me.”

“Don’t call me for help when you gotta change her diaper.”

“It’s just a shitty or pissy diaper, Y/N, ain’t nothing hard about that.”

“Yeah, okay, we’ll see.”

Knock knock.

“That’s them, I’ll talk to your cute ass later. Love you irky.”

“Love you too dumb ass.”

Erik lets out a sigh, walking out of his bedroom and towards his door. He unlocks it, opening the door, coming face to face with Justine holding a babbling Bianca. Just was dressed in a nice black turtle neck dress, some thigh high black suede boots, and her long dreads pulled up into a bun. Fat mama wore a pink onsie that read spoil me in gold glitter letters, feet bare and a gold anklet around her left ankle that patched the little gold heart earrings in her ears. She has big light brown eyes and messy curly hair with the barettes all over the place from her messing with her hair.

“Hey Erik! Say hi, fat mama!”

Bianca nervously looks at Erik with a finger in her mouth. Erik smiles at her.

“Weren’t you in the car asking about Mr. Ewik?”

Erik laughs at that. It sounded so cute.

“Now say hi,” Justine persists.

“Hi Erwik,” Bianca waves with her chubby hand.

“Hi, fat mama,” He grabs one of her chubby feet, swinging it, “You came to spend time with me?”

Bianca nods her head, one of her barrettes falling out of her hair and to the floor. Erik bends down to pick it up, Bianca putting her foot on top of his head.

“Stop that!” Justine pulls her foot away.

“It’s cool, she’s just having fun,” Erik acts like he was about to bite Bianca’s foot, making her giggle.

“Hey Erik, do you mind holding Bianca while I go get her play pin? She won’t play with her toys unless she’s in there.”

“I can get it for you,” Erik opened her door further, letting Justine and Bianca inside, “Just give me your keys.”

Justine hands Erik her keys, “It’s in the back seat folded up since I have too much junk in my trunk.

Erik slips on his Adidas slides that he had by the front door, walking out of the apartment to retrieve that play pin.

———————

Justine brought over nuggets and Mac and cheese. She told him Bianca was screaming about Velveeta Mac and cheese with nuggets. Erik made a little bit of kale, put the nuggets in the oven, and boiled the water on the stove for the Mac and cheese. Currently, fat mama was sitting in her play pin tossing around her LOL dolls that has tangled hair and missing outfits. She asked Erik to comb the hair for her but he couldn’t even do it. Erik stepped back into the living room, walking over to Bianca’s baby bag that Justine left on the couch. She had a change of clothes, some undies, a first aid kit just in case, and a blanket.

“Vamp-rina! Vamp-rina! Turn up! Turn up!”

“Hold on, fat mama,” Erik placed the baby bag on the floor next to the couch, laying her blanket down just in case she fell asleep.

“Turn up, EWIK!”

“Fat mama, stop bossing me around like a little diva.”

THUMP

Erik looked up to see one of fat mama’s LOL dolls on the floor in front of the TV. He looked from the doll to Bianca’s smiling face.

“Did you just throw that, fat mama?”

“Yesssss!” She spoke joyfully.

“I told you I was coming, don’t do that, you’re gonna break your doll.”

“Ewik,” she pointed a spit covered finger to the TV again.

Erik shakes his head, picking up his remote to turn the TV up.

“Shit!” He runs to the kitchen, thankful that the food was still good. Erik added the noodles to the boiling water, stirring it in before placing it on low heat. While he was flipping the nuggets over in the oven, he heard small footsteps behind him. Startled, Erik looks up to see Bianca crawling on one of his barstools to get to the counter.

“Aye, get down, girl,” Erik grabs her, fat mama wiggling in his arms, “chill out, girl.”

She starts crying.

“Shit,” Erik began to panic. He was dealing with a fussy toddler.

“Calm down fat mama, calm down? Girl,” Erik soothes her by rubbing her back, “The food is almost done and then you can eat and watch Vamperina.”

“I want my mommy,” she rubbed her teary eyes.

“I know, I know. She’ll be back soon, okay? But you have to be a good girl. You don’t want to hang out with Mr. Ewik?”

“You don’t comb the hair for me.”

“I tried, it’s too tangled,” Erik walks over to the stove with Bianca in his arms, turning off the flame, “I’ll try again after you eat, okay?”

“Okay,” She calmed down, “I wanna get down.”

“Okay, fat mama,” Erik lets her down, “go watch TV.”

Erik watched fat mama walk away with her chubby legs back to the living room. Erik quickly drains the noodles before adding the cheese. He takes the nuggets out of the stove, and grabs the kale from the microwave. Erik plates fat mama’s food in a bowl before walking out to her. She was standing at the TV stand, pulling out Erik’s DVDs that he still enjoyed collecting. That didn’t include his books from his book shelf on the bottom row on the floor. Fat mama was so invested in opening his DVDs to get the CDs out. Erik rushed over to her, picking her up, and placing her back in her play pin.

“You need a play pin with bars because you keep getting into everything, girl.”

“I’m hungry,” She spoke while looking up at Erik with her big light brown eyes that reminded Erik of maple syrup.

“I got you food coming right now. Stay put,” Erik pointed a finger at her, “Don’t get out.”

Bianca didn’t respond, she simply looked at the cartoon on TV while aggressively moving her toys around. Erik heaved a sigh, walking back to the TV stand to get her food. Erik handed fat mama her food before sitting down on the couch to relax a little he grabs his phone, calling Y/N back.

“Hey, Baby Sitter,” she spoke with a teasing tone of voice.

“I wish you were here to help me. She is wild. Gets into everything.”

“How old is she?”

“Two in a half. She’ll be three in like a few months I think,” Erik peeks over to see fat mama eating her Mac and cheese with the baby spoon that Justine had in her food bag, “She’s giving me a run for my money.”

“Told you so, babe. You want me to come over...don’t you?”

“Please?” Erik heard a noise, looking over to see fat mama trying to feed her dolls some kale, “Shit, she’s trying to feed her damn dolls, I gotta go, are you coming?”

“Yes, I’ll be to the rescue. I’ll even bring chocolate chip cookies for her.”

“Thanks baby, you’re the best,” Erik gets up from the couch, kissing Y/N through the phone before hanging up to stop fat mama from making a mess.

——————————

Erik wanted to rip his dreads out of his head. Y/N texted that she was stuck in traffic and Erik was currently chasing fat mama around his apartment because she wanted to play tag. She said her mama always plays tag with her. She was a quick one too, besting Erik every chance she got, her giggles so heart warming.

“Come on, girl, that’s enough, I’m tired,” Erik was sleepy and he didn’t have the energy anymore to keep up with a toddler, “aren’t you tired? All this running you’re doing.”

“NO!” She shouts, hiding behind one of Erik’s house plants, she almost made it fall over from how fast she bolted away before Erik could grab her. Fat mama was streaking and laughing.

“That’s enough now, come on!” Erik was growing frustrated. Y/N needed to hurry her ass up. He texted Justine back letting her know that everything was fine but what he really wanted to do was tell her to come get fat mama because she wouldn’t stay in one place. This was a challenge, but Erik didn’t want to give up.

“Fat mama, don’t you wanna watch Aladdin together?” He yelled out to her, “We can watch Aladdin and sing A Whole New World!”

“Really?!!!” She finally stops, coming from behind the kitchen island, running up to Erik. He smiled, inwardly cheering himself on for finally gaining her attention.

“Yeah, I have Disney+, we can watch it and sing together.”

“YAY!!!!” She reached out for him to pick her up, Erik grabbing her and bringing her to the living room. Fat mama insisted that Erik lay in the play pin with her and watch it. He didn’t think he would fit but he did, grabbing fat mama to sit in his lap while he turned in the movie. He told her that the cartoon version was better. Fat mama drank her apple juice while her and Erik watched the move. She was finally calm, singing along to the music. Erik remembered the songs from his own childhood. He yawns, blinking his eyes rapidly to try and stay awake. Erik looks down at fat mama, noticing that she was asleep with her little mouth hanging open.

“Success,” Erik carefully holds her in his arms while he laid down with her resting on his chest. Her soft snores were soothing to him while he continued to watch Aladdin.

————————-

“Baby?” Y/N opened the door with her own key that Erik gave her. She had a bag filled with fresh baked cookies since she owned a bakery. Y/N kicked off her sneakers, taking off her denim jacket to hang on a coat rack near Erik’s door before walking through the foyer and into his living room. There, in a play pin was Erik and Bianca sleeping. Bianca was asleep on his chest. Y/N looked up at the TV seeing that they were watching Aladdin. The image before her was so adorable. She couldn’t help the big smile on her face. Erik looked good with a baby. Calming her ovaries down, Y/N walks past, heading to the kitchen to put the cookies away. When she got into the kitchen, she placed the cookies in the counter, looking around at all the mess from Erik cooking Bianca food. Y/N decides to clean up since Erik was asleep with Bianca.

Back in the living room, Erik’s phone began to ring, waking him up out of his sleep suddenly. His hand came up to settle on fat mama’s back before using his other hand to feel around for his phone.

“Hello?” Erik clears his throat since he still had sleep in his voice.

“It’s Justine. Everything okay? I’m on my way to get Bianca.”

Erik looked down at the top of fat mama’s curly hair, “she’s good, we goofed around a little bit, fell asleep while watching Aladdin.”

“Awww, you remembered she loves Aladdin!”

“Yes, we sang A Whole New World together too,” Erik takes his hand to play in her hair.

“So sweet! I bet you two sounded nice.”

Movements could be heard coming from the kitchen. Erik looked up to find Y/N waving at him with a dish towel in her hand. Fat mama began to stir on him, moving her head to look up at him. She blinked, one side of her face imprinted from sleeping on Erik’s shirt and her hair even more wild.

“She’s looking up at me with her pretty eyes right now.”

“Can I speak to her?”

Erik put the phone to fat mama’s ear, “It’s mommy!”

“MOMMY!” She yelled into the phone, reaching to grab it. Erik gave it to her.

“Mommy! Where are you?”

Erik places Bianca down while he got out of the play pin. He walks over to Y/N pulling her close and cuffing both of her ass cheeks. Erik kisses her neck, using some tongue. Y/N looked over to see Bianca looking at them.

“Erik, she’s watching us,” Y/N whispered.

Erik looks over his shoulder at fat mama.

“Hey, mommy gone?”

She nodded her head while her eyes watched Y/N.

“This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

Y/N smiled, waving at Bianca, “Hi, pretty girl!

Bianca only smiles.

“She’s so freaking cute, Erik! Let me stop! Now, I’m having baby fever!”

“You want some cookies?” Erik asks.

Bianca was up and out of her play pin without a word.

—————————

Knock knock

Erik walks to the door while Y/N and fat mama combed the dolls hair. Justine was there with a tired smile on her face.

“I’m here! Thanks again Erik,” Justine reaches out to hug Erik, Erik wrapping his arm around her.

“Like I said, no problem, girl.”

“Where is she? Did she fall asleep?”

“Yeah, her and I. She had some cookies too.”

“Oooooo you really spoiled her,” Justine looks Erik up and down, “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Well...I did run into a few bumps but I came out on top,” He smirked at Justin, showing off his dimples. Justine bashfully looked down at her shoes before looking back up into his eyes through her lashes. Erik noticed that look in any women’s eyes. He cleared his throat, stepping aside so Justine could walk in. When Erik moved out of the way, Justine spotted Y/N and Bianca in the play pin.

“Oh,” Justine looked from Erik to them, “Is that your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, she came over to help out. Thank God too because fat mama kept asking me to comb her dolls hair for her. I couldn’t do that shit at all.”

“How cute,” Justine spoke in a flat tone while giving Erik a small smile, “Bianca seems to like her.”

“This is the calmest she’s been all night.”

Justine walks inside, making her way over to the play pin to get Bianca’s attention.

“Fat mama!!”

Bianca looked up, beaming at her mother, before rushing towards her. Y/N watched the interaction, before grabbing Bianca’s dolls.

“You miss me?!”

“Yeah!!” Fat mama squeezed Justine’s neck.

“Awww! Have fun with Mr. Ewik?!”

“Uh-huh! And Miss Y/N too!”

Y/N walked over to Justine, holding out her hand to greet her, “That’s me, how are you?”

“Hi,” Justine shakes her hand, “Thanks for the dolls even though it will be tangled again.”

“No worries, It was fun.”

Justine gave Y/N a smile before accepting Bianca’s bag from Erik.

“I put everything away. I’ll bring the play pin out for you.”

“You’re so helpful,” Justine gently touches Erik’s arm.

“I told you, I got you.”

“Say good bye to Y/N?” Justine whispered to Bianca.

“BYE BYE!”

“See you soon, beautiful!” Y/N waved.

Justine walks out of the house, Bianca looking at Y/N and Erik with sad eyes. Erik pouts, following them out the door with the folded up play pin.

—————————-

It was 10 PM and Erik knew he had to be asleep for work in the morning but he couldn’t keep his hands off of Y/N. He missed his baby.

“Daddy, shouldn’t you be sleeping? Tomorrow is Friday we can have more fun then,” Y/N spoke between gasps while Erik sucked on her nipples.

“I ain’t have you all day, girl,” He licks her nipples, “You didn’t miss Daddy’s tongue on you?”

“I missed all of Daddy...not just his tongue.”

“Damn,” Erik’s hand descends her body to slip inside of her jeans, “what’s this?”

“My wet little pussy,” Y/N whispered.

“Daddy’s wet little pussy,” Erik corrected her.

“Mhm,” Y/N ran a hand through his dreads.

“Thank you for coming to the rescue again.” Erik whispers in her ear.

“Baby...you had it under control. And you looked so damn adorable sleeping with Bianca in your chest. My ovaries were screaming,” Y/N giggles.

“Oh, yeah?” Erik’s fingers rubbed Y/N’s clit, “You like seeing me with a baby?”

“Yes,” Y/N sighs with pleasure, “Fuck, it was so cute.”

“What if I put a baby in you then?”

Y/N gawked at him, “what?!”

“Did I say something wrong?” Erik spoke with an elevated brow.

“N-no, just surprised me, that’s all.” Y/N got wetter when he said that. She would love to get pregnant by Erik. Become his baby mama. Be the reason why she’s pregnant because his cum filled her womb. It all sounded so...good.

“You’re serious?” She asks timidly.

“...what do you think?”

“I don’t know...are you?”

Erik looked from her lips to her eyes, “I am. I already made you my one and only.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. She felt like everything around her stood still.

“Only if you want to though,” Erik still rubbed her clit, making Y/N squirm, “because we can do this right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I want to,” Y/N murmurs. She felt so excited saying those words. All of this because she saw Bianca and Erik sleeping.

“Shit, bet,” Erik got onto his knees, snatching her jeans off, “You don’t know what you just started girl.”

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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naturecpw · 3 years

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How to Build a Life There Are Two Kinds of Happy People

Some of us strive for a virtuous life. Others strive for a pleasant one. We could all use a better balance. Arthur C. Brooks January 28, 2021

One person touches the needles of a cactus while another smells the cactus flowers. JAN BUCHCZIK

“How to Build a Life” is a weekly column by Arthur Brooks, tackling questions of meaning and happiness.

These days, we are offered a dizzying variety of secrets to happiness. Some are ways of life: Give to others; practice gratitude. Others are minor hacks: Eat kale; play a board game. Some are simply an effort to make a buck.

I have found that most of the serious approaches to happiness can be mapped onto two ancient traditions, promoted by the Greek philosophers Epicurus and Epictetus. In a nutshell, they focus on enjoyment and virtue, respectively. Individuals typically gravitate toward one style or the other, and many major philosophies have followed one path or the other for about two millennia. Understanding where you sit between the two can tell you a lot about yourself—including your happiness weak points—and help you create strategies for a more balanced approach to life.

Epicurus (341–270 B.C.) led an eponymous school of thought—Epicureanism—that believed a happy life requires two things: ataraxia (freedom from mental disturbance) and aponia (the absence of physical pain). His philosophy might be characterized as “If it is scary or painful, work to avoid it.” Epicureans see discomfort as generally negative, and thus the elimination of threats and problems as the key to a happier life. Don’t get the impression that I am saying they are lazy or unmotivated—quite the contrary, in many cases. But they don’t see enduring fear and pain as inherently necessary or beneficial, and they focus instead on enjoying life.

Epictetus (c. 50–c. 135 A.D.) was one of the most prominent Stoic philosophers, who believed happiness comes from finding life’s purpose, accepting one’s fate, and behaving morally regardless of the personal cost. His philosophy could be summarized as, “Grow a spine and do your duty.” People who follow a Stoic style see happiness as something earned through a good deal of sacrifice. Not surprisingly, Stoics are generally hard workers who live for the future and are willing to incur substantial personal cost to meet their life’s purpose (as they see it) without much complaining. They see the key to happiness as working through pain and fear, not actively avoiding them.

Epicureans and Stoics can coexist, and even cohabitate (my wife and I have such a mixed marriage). But in my experience, Stoics and Epicureans tend to look down on one another, and appear to have been doing so for about as long as both philosophies have existed. The 3rd-century biographer Diogenes Laërtius wrote that “Epictetus calls [Epicurus a] preacher of effeminacy and showers abuse on him.” While there’s no historical record of it, I can easily imagine Epicurus responding to Epictetus, “You totally need to chill out.”

For roughly 2,000 years, philosophers have asked which approach leads to greater happiness and a better life. My purpose here is different. Both views have virtues and weaknesses. I want to know what each of us, given our natural tendency toward one of the approaches, can learn and adopt from the other.

For Epicurus, unhappiness came from negative thoughts, including needless guilt, fear of things we can’t control, and a focus on the inevitable unpleasant parts of life. The solution was to banish them from the mind. To this end, he proposed a “four-part cure”: Don’t fear God; don’t worry about death; what is good is easy to get (by lowering our expectations for what we need to be happy); what is terrible is easy to endure (by concentrating on pleasant things even in the midst of suffering). This is made all the easier when we surround ourselves with friendly people in a peaceful environment.

Epicurus promoted hedonia, from which we derive the word hedonism. However, he would not have recognized our current usage of the term. The secret to banishing negative thoughts, according to Epicurus, is not mindless debauchery—despite the baseless rumors that he led wild parties and orgies, he taught that thoughtlessly grabbing easy worldly pleasures is a mistake, because ultimately they don’t satisfy. Instead, reason was Epicurus’s best weapon against the blues. For example, here is the mantra he suggests we tell ourselves when the fear of death strikes: “Death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here. And when it does come, we no longer exist.”

In contrast to hedonia, the Stoic approach is known as eudaimonia, which might be defined as a life devoted to our greatest potential in service of our highest ideals. Stoicism is characterized by the principles of naturalism and moralism—changing the things we can to make life better while also accepting the things we can’t change. (The “Serenity Prayer” is very Stoic.) “Don’t demand that things happen as you wish,” Epictetus wrote in The Enchiridion, “but wish that they happen as they do happen, and you will go on well.”

Moralism is the principle that moral virtue is to be defined and followed for its own sake. “Tell yourself, first of all, what kind of man you want to be,” Epictetus wrote in his Discourses, “and then go ahead with what you are doing.” In other words, create a code of virtuous conduct for yourself and live by it, with no loopholes for convenience.

Epicureans and Stoics are encouraged to focus their attention on different aspects of life—and death. Epicurus’s philosophy suggested that we should think intently about happiness, while for Stoics, the paradox of happiness is that to attain it, we must forget about it; with luck, happiness will come as we pursue life’s purpose. Meanwhile, Epicurus encourages us to disregard death while we are alive, and Epictetus insists that we confront it and ponder it regularly, much like the maranasati meditation in Buddhism, in which monks contemplate their own deaths and stages of decay.

No research to date asks why some people are naturally more Epicurean and others more Stoic. No doubt there is a genetic component, given the large percentage of personality that sits encoded somewhere in our DNA. But nurture likely also plays a role: In one study, a scholar found that parents who modeled and endorsed eudaimonia had kids who engaged in eudaimonic pursuits. Meanwhile, parents who role-modeled hedonia had kids who grew up to derive pleasure primarily from this model. The implication is pretty clear: If you want children who principally pursue duty and honor, do so yourself. If instead you strive to achieve happiness by minimizing pain, your kids probably will too.

People have argued for centuries about which approach is better for happiness, but they largely talk past one another. In truth, each pursues different aspects of happiness: Epicurus’s style brings pleasure and enjoyment; Epictetus’s method delivers meaning and purpose. As happiness scholars note, a good blend of these things is likeliest to deliver a truly happy life. Too much of one—a life of trivial enjoyment or one of grim determination—will not produce a life well lived, as most of us see it.

The big question is, therefore, how people can manufacture a good blend in their lives between the two approaches. Here are three ideas.

1. Know thyself.

This expression is one of the Delphic maxims, carved into the pronaos of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi in ancient Greece. It acknowledges the fundamental truth that we can’t make forward progress in life if we don’t know where we are situated right now. Answering the question thus starts with an informal but honest answer to this question: When my mood is low, do I naturally look to increase my level of pleasure and enjoyment, or do I focus on meaning and purpose in my life? The former is a sign that you tend toward being an Epicurean, the latter that you are more of a Stoic.

More scientifically, several research-based tools to judge Epicurean or Stoic tendencies have been developed. For example, scholars fielded a survey in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences that helps uncover hedonistic tendencies. The “Meaning in Life Questionnaire” from the University of Pennsylvania’s Authentic Happiness Questionnaire Center arguably measures eudaimonic tendencies quite well. (On this test, I learned that I am near the top of the population in my efforts to search for meaning in life, but below average in having found it.)

2. Beef up the other side.

The key to blending enjoyment and meaning is not to suppress what you have, but to bolster what you lack. Once you have situated yourself on the spectrum, you can formulate a strategy to strengthen the discipline you are missing (assuming that you’re not in the middle already).

At the end of each day, you might examine the events you experienced, and ask yourself harmonizing questions. For example:

Did this event bring me enjoyment? Did it also bring me meaning? Did this make me feel afraid? Did I learn something from this fear that will lead to less fear in the future? Did this serve my interests? Did it serve the interest of others?

Make resolutions that attempt to achieve yes-yes combinations to these questions.

You can also engage in concrete exercises that remediate your weakness. Stoics, for example, might program regular weekends away with friends, leaving all work at home. Meanwhile, Epicureans might do something difficult and strenuous like training for a marathon. Stoics should read this column about happiness and discuss it during their weekends away. Epicureans should spend their running time pondering the reality and meaning of death. 3. Build a happiness portfolio that uses both approaches.

Finally, it is important to pursue life goals in which each happiness approach reinforces the other. That portfolio is simple, and I have written about it before: Make sure your life includes faith, family, friendship, and work in which you earn your success and serve others. Each of these elements flexes both the Stoic and the Epicurean muscles: All four require that we be fully present in an Epicurean sense and that we also work hard and adhere to strong commitments in a Stoic sense.

The deeper point in all this is an ancient one: A balanced approach to happiness in life is best. In his essay “The Natural History of Intellect,” Ralph Waldo Emerson put it concisely: “Characters and talents are complemental and suppletory. The world stands by balanced antagonisms.”

Read: The three equations for a happy life, even during a pandemic

That’s easier said than done, of course. Whether Epicurean or Stoic, we always want to double down on what comes naturally to us. But that is the road to excess, which ultimately leads us away from well-being. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” goes the old proverb. In 1825, the novelist Maria Edgeworth added a second line: “All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy.” Just so.

So to all you Stoics: Take the night off. And to all you Epicureans: Time to get back to work.

https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2021/01/how-balance-hard-work-and-pleasure-happiness/617847/?utm_source=pocket-newtab

Read: Sit with your negative emotions, don’t push them away

Read: Fear can make you a better person

Read: Preparing your mind for uncertain times

Read: What good is thinking about death?

https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2021/01/how-balance-hard-work-and-pleasure-happiness/617847/?utm_source=pocket-newtab

#family #Happy People

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

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Peaches and a tyrannical sea

(I decided to play around with this prompt, trying to make the story not overly contrived. I’m not sure I succeeded at that 😂, but it was SO fun to write what I imagine of young Hayffie 💕. I became a bit addicted to this fic, and I didn’t know when, where, or how to stop. Plus, I discovered a path to joy through writing dialogue for Caesar Flickerman, and who can resist a path to joy? So this story got long, probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, and if you read all the way through to the end, then I’m in awe of your stamina and devotion to THG/Hayffie crack.)

Category 5 “Hurricane Cronus” hit the coast of District 11 less than a month after the 60th Hunger Games, right in the middle of the summer harvest.

Being inland, the Victors’ Village was barely touched, but Chaff’s hometown was destroyed. Every shack collapsed, and every citizen who couldn’t get to higher ground perished.

The Capitol projected the fallen into the night sky with lights and music. 24 decimated crops: apples, beans, blueberries, cabbage, cantaloupes, eggplant, figs, gooseberries, grapes, herbs, kale, muscadines, nectarines, okra, peaches, pears, peppers, potatoes, raspberries, summer squash, corn, tomatoes, and watermelon.

Montages on screens throughout Panem showed flooded fields, flattened plants, and broken orchards. The images were accompanied by the voice of Caesar Flickerman, thick with serious tones. “Cronus, Titan of the Harvest, has unleashed His wrath upon Panem. But through the strength of the Capitol, we will replant. We will rebuild.”

Haymitch hurled a half-empty liquor bottle at the screen in the Hob, nicking the corner and leaving a crack. If he’d been more sober, he would’ve nailed Caesar in the face.

“You’d better be careful, honey,” Greasy Sae warned him. “They can still find ways to hurt you.”

“I doubt that.”

The older woman knew Haymitch well enough to not touch him when he was angry, but she soothed with her voice.

“Is that friend of yours okay? ...The one in 11.”

Over the past decade, Chaff had become a lifeline for Haymitch. His companionship through each Games was effectively an antidote to alcohol poisoning. If Chaff didn’t drink more than his share, then Haymitch probably would have had cirrhosis of the liver before age 26. His buddy always managed to bring some laughter into the atrocities of mentorship.

Sae was right. Haymitch still had people to lose. The Capitol could still hurt him. They would keep on hurting him if he didn’t feign indifference. And throwing a bottle at the screen showed the opposite of indifference.

“He’s okay.”

Sae offered a smile. “Good. That’s good, boy. From the way the Peacekepers are talking, it sounds like there’s been a lot of death. At least a thousand with the count rising. Some people got no fresh water to drink.”

“And the Capitol eulogizes crops.”

“It ain’t right. That’s for sure.”

Haymitch wasn’t drunk enough to face this conversation. And he was pissed about having thrown away the rest of his liquor.

“Can I offer you a bowl of beef stew? ...It’s on the house,” Sae added.

Normally Haymitch wouldn’t turn down a free supper, but the mystery meats that Greasy Sae served up under the name of “beef” sometimes turned his stomach.

“Not hungry,” he lied, “But thanks for the offer.”

“You take care, honey.” Her face fell as she watched Haymitch walk away to buy more booze.

***

The Capitol was abuzz with excitement about the fundraising event planned for hurricane relief. Replanting and rebuilding would come at a cost, and an auction was an opportunity for the wealthy to show off the depths of their family pockets.

“‘Picnic with a Victor’ is the promotional title,” Claudius Templesmith announced on screens throughout Panem.

“Sunshine... a day in Capitol Park... by the water...” Caesar responded with a neon white smile and a slap to his knee. “I LOVE it!”

Seated side-by-side in red velvet chairs, the two bantered back and forth about event details.

“The baskets will be stocked with delicacies prepared by the Capitol’s finest chefs, and made from crops harvested before Cronus hit our very own District 11.”

“Claudius, I’ve heard whispers that the picnics will include artesian wines made, not from grapes, but from muscadines.”

“Ah, muscadines! Amazing and desired for their incredible super-fruit properties.”

“Sweet, aromatic, and native to District 11. A truly unique Panem experience and proudly exported across the globe.”

“Caesar, do we know yet which victors have volunteered to picnic with the highest bidders?”

“Well, we’ve been trying to keep that, shall we say, under wraps, but if you twist my arm, I might be able to let out some hints.”

“Well then consider yourself twisted!”

“Ha HA, you know me so well!! And ouch, not so hard!” The two of them filled the airwaves with hysterial laughter.

“Seriously now. Let’s tell them.”

A drumroll began off camera as Caesar and Claudius took turns dramatically listing off numbers of the Games of the participating victors.

Effie was listening with mild disinterest until Caesar said “50.” When he said “50,” she knew her life was about to change. She was bound and determined to MAKE it change.

***

“Mother, Daddy, this is an excellent opportunity to be noticed, not just by society but by the professors who will be influencing my education and future career opportunities,” Effie lobbied hard to bid in the auction. At 18 years old, her parents’ permission was not as deep of a concern for her as their financial backing.

An afternoon with Haymitch Abernathy would draw a price. He was reclusive and young, but not young enough to deter the interests of wealthy older women, and men for that matter.

Effie would have competition in the bidding. She was certain about that in the same way that she knew wigs would be all the rage in a few years. Some things an observant and savvy woman simply KNOWS, and Effie considered herself to be both observant and savvy.

She’d inherited money from her great-grandmother, but she could keep that in savings accruing interest if her parents would back her now.

“Which victor will you bid to picnic with?” her mother asked.

“I’ll decide based on the way they present themselves on stage,” Effie answered evasively. “I want an investment which reflects positively on our family.”

“You need to be careful,” her father insisted, “Alto made such a showing in the Games last year that he’ll surely draw a high price, probably more than we can afford. Whoever you bid on, you need to win.”

“I’ll judge by applause and whispers in the crowd. I’ll be discerning; I won’t bid if I can’t win. ...Daddy, do I EVER lose?” Effie glanced between her parents without a single blink of her false purple eyelashes.

When her father blinked, she knew she had their support. “Your budget is $5000. Invest wisely.”

Effie would not be deterred by the limits of her parents’ generosity. Haymitch would be hers for the afternoon, no matter the cost. She’d imagined a connection with him for too long to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. Her classmate, Fulvia Cardew, would help. She was sympathetic to Effie’s interests, and with extended family in banking, Fluvia had deeper pockets than the president.

***

Haymitch would’ve almost preferred death over participation in the *dog and pony show* that this fundraiser was sure to be. Except Chaff had confided in him details of how badly the coast of District 11 had been wiped out. Since the Capitol depended on 11 to literally feed the lavish lifestyle of its citizens, then money raised would be of some help to the people of district. The Capitol needed workers alive, and for people to be stay alive to work they required basic shelter, drinkable water, and rations of food. Since Cronus, many towns in 11 lacked most essential survival needs.

Haymitch took pleasure in imagining Snow in fear about where his next meal would be coming from. Though he knew the tyrant would be the LAST person in Panem to go hungry. It would never come to that. Surely a traitor in his inner circle would slaughter that pig and eat him before either of them starved. The traitor would probably die afterward from the poison in Snow’s veins. Haymitch would have taken pleasure in all of that imagery too if it didn’t make him want to vomit.

August was warm in the Capitol. Late afternoon temperatures usually reached high into the 80s. So the auction was set for morning with the victory picnics beneath shade trees by the lake. An elaborate system of misters had been rigged up throughout the covered amphitheater and the Capitol Park.

Oh, the *horror* if one of these hoity-toity Capitol people should melt in the sunshine before the bidding even started. Haymitch had the thought, but the misters actually felt great by mid-morning when the participating victors were called on stage one-by-one for their interviews with Caesar, who was functioning as Master of Ceremonies.

Caesar introduced each of them to the audience by name, number of their district, and number of their Games. Each victor had been directed the night before to memorize a brief script about what moved them to volunteer for the fundraiser. The script Haymitch had been given included a ridiculous ode to peach trees.

He had let himself be dressed up for the event. He’d even let them trim his hair and shave his face. He’d get up on that stage mostly sober. He would smile and let himself be auctioned off to the highest bidder. But there was no way in hell he was going to eulogize peaches when nearly every person in his best friend’s hometown was a corpse.

He had a flash of the Seam and the dead bodies of his loved ones, poisoned. That was 10 years ago, and the flashbacks still came to haunt him with pale faces. In earlier more innocent times, he and his brother had found a peach tree while exploring north in the district. That was in the days of fewer Peacekepers and fewer questions about destinations. His brother picked two peaches, one for each of them. The flavor, texture, and color were unlike anything Haymitch had experienced before. That peach was full of dualities: sweet and tart, uncomfortable skin yet soothing flesh, solid and juicy. Yellow and red swirled on his tongue.

He thought of that peach years later when he had sex with his girlfriend the night before the Reaping. HIS Reaping. She felt like that peach when he came inside her. So tender. It was his first time. A few weeks later she was a ghost.

Haymitch shivered under the misters, waiting like livestock in line for slaughter. He needed a drink, badly, but if not for sobriety, then in lieu of delivering an ode to the fruit, he might inadvertently describe making love with the girlfriend murdered by Snow.

That conversation would not only get him killed, but would get him the wrong type of bidders. He was a volunteer today, not a prostitute. This commitment did not carry over from afternoon into evening. He would not be fucking the fool willing to pay hundreds of dollars for his company, some food, and a hill-billy-red-neck bottle of wine.

...Except for maybe HER, he thought as he scanned the paddle holders in the crowd. That girl with blonde hair. He’d fuck somebody like her, all soft and shit, dressed up in clothes and makeup that made her look older than she probably was.

***

“He’s looking at you,” Fulvia whispered to Effie, “He’s been staring at you for at least a minute.”

Of course he’s looking at me. Have you seen me today? Effie thought. Manners prevented her from praising herself out loud.

She met Haymitch’s gaze and offered him a controlled smile, warm but not flashy. I see you, was what she wanted to communicate for now. The rest could wait until after she won the bid.

Their eye contact broke when someone poked Haymitch in the back. Caesar had called him onstage, “Winner of the 50th Hunger Games, from District 12, Haymitch Abernathy!” While eye-fucking with her, he’d missed his cue.

Effie watched him saunter over to Caesar, as if things like cues and pace were irrelevant. He relaxed into the chair with his knees slightly splayed, like he and Caesar were old friends meeting at a bar. Effie half-expected Haymitch to call out for a server to bring them drinks. Maybe he and Caesar actually WERE friends. She knew nearly nothing of the life of a victor.

“Haymitch...” Caesar began, “It’s a rare treat to have you here, the victor of a Quarter Quell.” Then to the audience he added, “Isn’t this exciting!!”

The audience cheered wildly. They’d been served pink champagne all morning in an effort to up the bidding. A few people were already raising their paddles. Effie held hers firmly by her side. Patience. Control, she told herself. She would not appear too eager. With this event televised throughout Panem, her every move was a reflection on herself and her family.

“Now, hold on, ladies and gentlemen,” Caesar continued, “Let’s allow this young man to introduce himself.”

Effie liked the way Caesar called him young. Over the past several years, Haymitch’s shoulders had broadened and his body had filled into its frame. His eyes sunk deeper with each Games, but his face was still boyish. She still saw in him the kid who held Maysilee’s hand as she died.

“What inspired you to volunteer to be here today?” Caesar asked gravely.

Haymitch pushed his hair back from his eyes, and spoke not to Caesar, but to the cameras, to all of Panem.

“I have friends in 11.” He thought of Chaff and Seeder. “They grew up there climbing trees in the orchards. Kids are light enough to reach the fruit at the top, so they climb a lot and grow strong — but not as strong as a tyrannical sea...

“...I ate a peach once. The kid who picked it is gone now. I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t save those kids in 11 either who were flattened under the walls of their own houses. When you’re a scared kid, you run home.” He looked straight at Effie, and in that moment she felt the weight of so much she didn’t understand.

“...But sometimes home is the least safe place to be. I’m here today to help raise money so the families that survived Cronus can have shelter, fresh water, and food again.”

Caesar was as stunned into silence as the crowd.

Haymitch quickly added from the script that he’d ripped up the night before, “...So they can replant and rebuild through the generosity of the Capitol.” He skipped the ‘Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever’ victory tour-style bullshit.

“And replant and rebuild they shall.” Caesar’s gloom rapidly up-shifted to elation. “...Am I right, folks?!”

The crowd broke into thunderous applause, and the bidding for a picnic with Haymitch began.

“Shit...” Fulvia muttered, “After that speech, he’s going to cost a fortune.”

“Language!” Effie chastised her lightly, “We’re all on the monitors.”

“Well, he will. How much do you have?”

“$5000 plus the money my Nana left me, but I’m hoping to save as much as I can of that for after University.”

“Let’s see if that’s enough.”

Effie pressed her paddle to the side of her skirt. Her hands were shaking. She watched the bidding go back and forth between several individuals, with Caesar raising the amount in $100 increments, as he had with the other victors.

Most of the bidders eventually fell away, and a battle commenced between two women Effie didn’t recognize. Fluvia knew them through her family’s social circle.

“The short one’s divorced. The other is widowed. Her husband died last year of a heart attack while screwing his secretary. Both of their investments are shit right now.”

“Once again, language! ...And thank you for the information.”

“Let them tire each other out, and then jump in.”

When Caesar said, “$4500. Do I hear $4600? No? $4500 going once...” Effie raised her paddle as high as she could reach. Since she was wearing 5 inch heels, her bid couldn’t be missed.

“$4600 it is! Do I hear $4700?...”

The bidding continued between Effie and the widow. Effie selfishly hoped the dead deadbeat husband hadn’t left her with millions in insurance money that Fluvia knew nothing about.

$4800... $4900... $5000... “I am absolutely thrilled! Are you thrilled!?” Caeser chimed in, and the audience cheered again.

Effie refused to be distracted. She didn’t look at the audience or the widow or Fluvia or even Caesar. Just Haymitch. Just those sunken eyes that had seen things she wanted to understand. She didn’t dare glance at his mouth. Patience. Control. She needed to stay on task.

She kept her paddle up now, trying to intimidate the widow, wanting her to think that Effie was bidding with all the money in the world, rather than an allowance from her parents and her personal savings.

The widow took the bid to $5100, but Effie refused to let go. She kept her paddle up, dipping now into the money from her great-grandmother. Nana would approve of this investment, Effie justified. Because this is an investment in ME.

Effie kept her paddle raised as the widow volleyed with her until Effie had the bid at $7000. The widow glared at Effie whose eyes stayed fixed on Haymitch. Fluvia, however, flashed the widow a wry smile and waggled her fingers in a clear message... This girl is with me, Fluvia Cardew, of the multi-millionaire Cardews. We own the banks, honey, and we’re not backing down. You’re wasting your time.

“Do I hear $7100? No? $7000 going once... going twice... and the picnic is sold! Congratulations to the winner! Ms...” Caesar glanced at the monitor which matched her paddle number to her name, “...Effie Trinket!”

Everyone cheered except for the widow, the divorcee, and a handful of earlier competitors. Fluvia embraced Effie, pressing a plump silver-flower-tattooed cheek to Effie’s flushed one. “Holy shit! You did it.”

Effie didn’t bother to chastise this time about language. Her hands were steady now, but the rest of her body was shaking.

***

Haymitch knew he wouldn’t forget the intensity in those blue eyes for as long as he lived. A tyrannical sea was nothing compared to this girl. He shook Caesar’s extended hand and then left the stage to gather with the other chosen victors as the bidding continued for the rest.

“$7000 for lunch with me?” He uttered with incredulity. “Capitol people! That girl isn’t a fool though. She was stoic as fuck. What’s her motivation?”

“She wants more than lunch.” Chaff clapped him on the shoulder and left the pressure of his hand there to emphasize a point. “I saw you two eying each other before you even went on stage. I know she’s hot, man, but she’s jailbait. Maybe she’s technically legal, since she was bidding and all. But if you touch that girl, I guarantee her father will hunt you down for his own picnic, and he’ll hand you your ass on a platter.”

“I wasn’t thinking about touching her. I was thinking about 11 and the goddamn script and peaches...”

Chaff lifted his eyebrows, and Haymitch lowered his voice to confess.

“...And now I’m thinking about eating peaches off her body. Jesus Christ. Did you see her out there?! Who is Effie Trinket?”

“I don’t know, but you’ll find out soon.”

***

Effie had spent her entire life rehearsing the practice of patience and control. She wore those manners as masks while the auction continued and the sun climbed the sky. She didn’t let her guard down, even as the cameras moved on to other bidders and winners. She could credit the heat with flushing her cheeks. No one would notice her shaking, except maybe Fluvia, but her friend wouldn’t make a big deal of it. Effie applauded when the audience applauded. She declared, “Wonderful!” with each sum of money raised.

Inside herself she was a cyclone of insanity with a pounding heart, feeling everything but patience and control.

When the auction was finished, she made her donation through a system of direct withdrawal from her bank account. Sometime between her winning the bid and making payment, her parents had transferred an additional $2000; therefore, she wouldn’t need to dip into her savings today. OF COURSE they did. There would have been nothing more embarrassing for the Trinkets than their daughter coming up short financially in such a public way. Then again, her inheritance from Nana wasn’t a secret, so maybe they simply saw wisdom in Effie’s investment.

When the donation was complete, an official escorted her across the Capitol Park lawn to her picnic. Haymitch was sitting on a shaded blanket with his back against a tree and his legs out straight, crossed at the knees. His pants were rolled half-way up his shins, and his shirt sleeves to his elbows. His tie draped over the back of his neck, the buttons of his vest were unhooked, and his shoes and socks were off.

He watched her approach and didn’t stand up to greet her. This would have miffed Effie if he didn’t look so good sitting there, casual, like with Caesar on stage, as if she was a friend he was waiting for before ordering drinks rather than a stranger who just paid thousands of dollars to have lunch with him.

“You’ve come undone,” she said, as she kneeled across from him on the blanket, just close enough to reach out and touch.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Me undone is not such a pretty sight.”

She mulled over his words, and chose hers carefully, “We’ll see about that.”

She held out her hand, covered from wrist to knuckles in lace gloves woven with golden thread. “I’m Effie.”

Haymitch consided his options. He could shake her hand. He could hold her fingers and kiss her knuckles. Or maybe...

He leaned forward and slipped his fingertips beneath the lace at her wrist and peeled off her glove slowly enough for her to object, but she didn’t.

She liked the way he did it, gently and without asking. His hands were uncaloused. The touch was soft along her skin.

He laid her glove on the blanket between them and captured her hand between both of his. “Haymitch,” he said.

“I...” She could feel her cheeks blazing and made a mental note to wear more layers of makeup in the future to prevent her feelings from being so readily exposed. “...I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “These picnics are being televised. Is your father watching?”

“Possibly. ...Act chivalrous.” She presented her other hand, which he divested of its glove in the same manner as the first.

“I don’t ACT, sweetheart.” He whispered, “Chivalry isn’t what I have in mind when I take off a woman’s clothes.” Shit. He was flirting with this girl, and he MEANT it. She was lighting him up like crazy.

Effie thrilled at the thought of him regarding her as a woman. She had wondered if her youth might prevent him from perceiving her as she was.

“And chivalry isn’t what I’m thinking about when a man takes off my clothes,” she whispered back.

He recognized that despite the differences in their ages, she possibly had more experience with nakedness than he did. He found himself picturing her that way. wondering what shape her breasts would take when not fashioned by the stays of a corset. Would they be soft, like her hands?

“My eyes are up here, Haymitch.”

This girl was bossy beyond her years. Either she was precocious or a bitch or both. He didn’t know yet. Whatever it was, he was amused and turned on, especially after imagining her breasts in his hands. How did this turn personal so quickly? This Effie was a Siren. He would need to be cautious.

“I was just wondering where’s your school uniform?” He teased her, subtly inquiring about her age.

“Burned! I’m attending University.” She was vague about her age with intention.

Too bad, Haymitch thought. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in one of those pleated Academy skirts.

“Thirsty?” The wine was uncorked and chilling in a bucket of melting ice.

Effie nodded, eager to be just a bit drunk with him. Not too much, but enough to let go of a modicum of tight control.

Haymitch had been sober all morning. This girl had been a welcome distraction from craving, but he was salivating now in anticipation of a drink, even if it was just muscadine wine. Stemmed glassware for a picnic was Capitol nonsense. He was tempted to drink straight from the bottle and pass it to her to do the same, but he resisted. He set the goblets on the breadboard and filled them. The wine was the color of crushed plums.

Effie curled her legs to the side and relaxed onto the blanket. She unzipped her boots and slipped them off along with knee-high stockings. “When in Rome...“ she said as Haymitch stared at her bare calves and feet.

“Let’s drink to that.”

She swirled the wine in her glass before clinking his. “And what else did the Romans do — besides picnic in bare feet?” she asked after a sip.

He drank the contents of the goblet in one swallow. He wouldn’t hide who he was, not from this girl or anyone else. “The Romans were into self-indulgence.”

She followed his lead and swallowed half the wine in her glass. “Satisfying one’s desires, pleasures, lusts, and whims without restraint?”

Capitol parties, he thought, wondering if she was old enough yet to take part in that life.

“A lot of that happens here...”

He admired her for being aware of at least that much.

She lowered her voice. “Except in the House of Trinket, where the only *indulgence* encouraged is in perfecting oneself.”

He took another look at her in light of that personal information. Her long blonde hair swooped over her forehead and trailed down her back in immaculate soft curls. Not one hair was out of place, even with misters and fans blowing at a summer picnic.

“Is there much self-indulgence in District 12?” she asked.

Clearly an Academy education didn’t teach much about the real world. “Only in the *House of Abernathy.*” He refilled their goblets and drank more slowly this time.

“Are you mocking me?” she asked straight-up.

His tone had indeed been mocking, and he hadn’t really meant for it to be. He liked this girl, and he wouldn’t judge her for things she’d never seen or heard before.

“I’m mocking my own reality, sweetheart. ...You know how many victors live in 12.”

“Only you...” She didn’t know what that meant for him other than the words sounded lonely. Victors were celebrities here in the Capitol. Maybe it wasn’t like that in the districts. Maybe... “Are you alone?” she asked, “In the *House of Abernathy*...”

What to say to her? She surely didn’t pay all that money to spend an afternoon listening to his sad stories. Though something about her made him want to speak openly in the way he told the cameras about 11. Something about her made him want her to know the truths of the world, while her mind was still supple like her skin.

“I’m not alone today, not here,” was his answer. Evasive, yet true.

She watched his mouth say the words. His lips were lightly stained by the wine. Effie had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in her life. “Haymitch...” She touched him instead, caressing tanned skin and fine hair just beneath the rolled up hem of his pant leg.

She felt so good; he closed his eyes for a moment. Then they shot open. Chaff was right. If he wasn’t careful, this girl would be his downfall. “Effie... the cameras...”

It was the first time she heard him say her name. She smiled and reluctantly withdrew her hand. “Are you hungry?”

That question was safer to answer, but barely. “What’s in the basket?”

Effie took out one item at a time: Steak sandwiches with melted cheese on dark crescent-shaped rolls dotted with seeds, the signature bread from district 11... A warm succotash of corn, shelled green beans, diced potatoes and summer squash, tomatoes, multi-colored sweet peppers and okra... And for dessert an apple pie, plus sliced peaches in a jar full of honey. The latter inspired Haymitch to revisit his daydream from earlier. The honey only added to the fantasy.

This one basket contained more food than an entire family from District 11 or 12 would eat in a week or more. Should he mention that in response to her earlier question about self-indulgence? Maybe later. For now he’d rather be with her in the fantasy.

“A $7000 picnic. Is it what you were hoping for?”

“Let’s taste everything and find out.”

As they ate and drank, their questions for one another grew more intimate.

“I always watch for you among the victors at these events, but I’ve never seen you do this kind of thing before.”

“You watch for me?” He grinned. “HOW LONG have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to know you’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“I don’t do these kinds of things because I don’t like feeling like livestock... or a hooker.”

Effie gasped. “Haymitch, I wouldn’t! I’ve thought about you a long time. This isn’t a passing fancy. My interest is too marked to pretend I’m not pursuing you. But I’d never expect you to...” She lowered her voice to a murmur. “I didn’t invest that money so you would... fuck me.”

...I want more than that, she didn’t say.

...I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if these cameras and people would disappear, he didn’t say, but he’d decided it this morning the first moment he saw her.

He grazed her pinky with his, liking the idea of her *pursuing* him, whether or not her efforts were misguided. “HOW LONG?” he pressed,

“This feels like confession.”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t a priest. I just want to know you.”

Effie released a long sigh of feelings she’d been holding in forever. “10 years.”

“Shit. Since the Games?! You were just a kid.” You’re still just a kid. ...Only she wasn’t.

“I sat for an hour every day for years as my mother wove pink ribbons into my hair. In the stillness I thought a lot about the boy who separated from his friend in the Games so they wouldn’t have to kill each other — the boy who held her hand so she wouldn’t have to die alone. I watched you grow up in my mind more than anyplace else.”

Her honesty deserved his in response. “That boy is gone. It’s just me now... a man who drinks in order to try to sleep through nightmares — a man who goes to bed alone so I don’t accidentally slit anybody’s throat. ...It may not be what you paid all that money to get to know about me, but it’s the truth.”

Effie was stunned into silence and sympathy. She felt pity for him now, and she didn’t want to. There were some realities she wasn’t quite ready to face. His description wasn’t what she imagined the life of a victor should be.

She wore masks well, but he could see the change in her expression, and he didn’t like it. Pity, especially from a Capitol girl, was the last thing he wanted. But better that than her wasting her life dreaming about somebody who isn’t even real.

“Why DID you come here today? Beyond what you told Caesar.”

“One of those friends I mentioned in 11 — well, the hurricane flattened his hometown. Hundreds of people died, and the survivors have nothing, honey.”

“HUNDREDS of people died?”

“Over a thousand.”

“Why did the news show only crops?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I don’t expect they’re gonna teach you that at University.”

More sympathy crept over Effie. She was overwhelmed and started shivering like during the bidding.

Haymitch wasn’t sure what to offer her. She was so close to still being a kid herself. But with the face and body and guts of a goddess.

“Do you want to get out from under these misters and walk down to the water? We could pack the food away and eat more later. If we just have this one day...” He didn’t finish the thought. This day was hers. He’d let her fill it in anyway she wanted.

“We’ll have more than this one day. Every fiber in my being tells me we will.”

There was no point in arguing with so much gumption. He stood up and held out his hand. She grasped it, and he pulled her up. They walked barefoot through the grass, then ran across the beach to the water’s edge where the damp sand cooled the soles of their feet.

The lake lapped at Effie’s toes and she scribbled in the sand with one. How many times in adolescence had she come to this spot and written “Effie Abernathy” over and over again, dotting each “i” with a heart? Had she been a fool?

“There’s a lake near 12. It’s a secret spot. My brother and I used to sneak there as kids and swim naked so we wouldn’t have to hike back home in wet clothes.”

Now she was picturing Haymitch naked. And wanting him naked, regardless of his drinking and nightmares and sleeping with knives — and regardless of what she said she didn’t expect from him. She’d been with boys, plenty of boys, but he was a man, and she was so curious about the way he would fill her.

Effie cleared her throat of unspoken longing and pedaled backward in the conversation. “You have a brother...”

“I had a brother then. ...He died a couple of weeks after the Quarter Quell.”

She brushed her fingers against his, wishing she could offer more, but the cameras were on them. “I’m sorry,” she said in reference to everything.

“It was a long time ago.”

“You must miss him.”

Haymitch nodded. “He’s more free dead than alive. It’s a small comfort.”

Effie wanted to understand. She just didn’t.

“My great-grandmother died too shortly after your Games...”

District 12 is in your future, dear, Nana had said. And that boy is an important part of it. Effie dwelled a moment in silent memory before confessing more.

“...She told me you’d be in my future.”

Haymitch had no faith in fortune telling wishes and dreams. He usually flipped people off who tried to tell him how the future would be. The shit he’d been through was unfathomable. How could anyone predict anything but more horror.

“That said, Nana was a bit eccentric in the end.” Effie smiled wistfully.

“You still miss her...”

“Every day. Unconditional love is a rare gift.”

“Do you think her *prediction* was just eccentricity?”

“It was a long time ago, but I remember how certain she was.”

“How can anyone be certain about anything in this world?”

Effie considered his question. “Did you know I would win the bid today?”

Haymitch thought of that drawn out moment with her eyes on him and her paddle in the air. “Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw it in your eyes... Determination, and this... wild control.”

“Maybe that’s how my Nana knew.”

“She saw our future in your eyes?”

He said ‘our future’ like it was almost fated. Maybe it was a slip, but Effie wouldn’t ignore it.

“I didn’t ask her. And then it was too late to ask her.”

She gazed down at the sand, and the tips of her long purple eyelashes touched her cheeks. They were the same color as her skirt which loosely hugged her curves then flared at mid-thigh. The hem brushed her knees as she moved. She reminded him of the violets that bloom in 12 after the snow melts. Birdfoot Violets his mother used to call them. He smiled at the name, watching Effie’s toes curl in the sand.

When she looked up at him, her eyes reflected the water, the sky, and intensities of her own. Haymitch had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in his life.

“Later, when these cameras are gone, do you want to go somewhere together?” she asked.

“Cameras are never gone. They’re always watching, even when you least expect them to be. He recalled Greasy Sae’s warning, “You’d better be careful. They can still find ways to hurt you.”

He’d been so preoccupied with thinking that Effie might be his downfall that he hadn’t considered the possibility that he could be HER downfall. Intensity crashed over him in waves. He hadn’t expected to feel any of this. Yet here it was.

Effie picked up a stick and started writing in the damp sand. To anyone at a distance it would look like play. ‘Cameras aren’t watching quite everywhere.’

He erased her note with his foot then took the stick and wrote, ‘Where would we go?’

Her turn to erase and write. ‘I know a bar. It’s just dark enough...’

‘When?’ He wrote.

‘Tonight?” ...She hesitated, then dotted the ‘i’ with a heart.

“You’re so young,” he said aloud, “You have your whole future ahead of you. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“I hold my own. No one’s going to hurt me. ...Not even you, honey.”

He wanted to believe her. He erased the letters, leaving the heart for an instant, then brushed that away too. The word stuck in his throat. He could either swallow it or say it out loud.

“Tonight,” he whispered, “...And bring the jar of peaches — in case this afternoon isn’t enough.”

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #chaff #caesar flickerman #fluvia cardew #thg #thg fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #claudius templesmith #greasy sae #the capitol #HayffieFics

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obscureoperations · 3 years

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yeah.....!lol was thinking of patrick fucking martin....

Hold on.. hol on... Hold on! Nah! You cant be doing shit like this. 🤔😂I mean I had no idea how I could make this work. I decided to be an ass and ignore other asks just to see if I could get this going. I did, But it’s shit imo. I tried. and now here we go!😬

Patrick was so livid, he was on the verge of tears by time nine thirty rolled around. They had been waiting for their appetizers for almost an hour. He was at least relieved for the liberal amount of drinks. He had finally swung a reservation to Dorsia, the hottest restaurant around--it only took him a little over two months. The second he entered the place he was slightly underwhelmed. It was nice… but he already preferred the atmosphere of Del Posto.The lighting was dim, a large chandelier hung in the main hall, the music was faint and ambient. It was a reservation for six. Himself, Evelyn, Bryce and his date. Luis Caruthers and Courtney Rawlinson. He swirled the last of his j&b around in his glass before he downs it with a visible wince.

“God Patrick… maybe we should just leave. I’m sure they’ll give you a refund.” Evelyn huffs

“No.. we’re staying. I didn’t stay on that fucking waiting list for two months for us just to up and leave.”

Bryce began to laugh as he downed the rest of his martini, he was already beginning to go off on one. Patrick almost wanted to pull him aside and demand that he get his shit together. He’ll be damned if he gets them all kicked out. Instead he whistles through his teeth getting the man’s attention. He tapped his left nostril twice, gesturing over to the bathroom. Bryce seemed to immediately sober up.

“Excuse me… I’m going to go find that waiter.” Patrick said as he rises from the table.

“I’m… gonna go head to the bathroom…” adds Bryce.

Evelyn rolls her eyes. “Just say the two of you are gonna go do a line. The way you’re acting, it’s like you want to run off together.” She quickly fishes a cigarette from her purse, before turning her attention to Courtney. Patrick briefly runs his fingers through his hair, straightening his tie as he turns to leave. He brushes his hand over his inner jacket pocket to feel the large serrated knife firmly in place. By the time that they left, he would have to find their waiter..Matthew? He couldn’t remember the kid’s name. All he knew was that he had embarrassed him in front of his friends. He would take care of him quickly enough in the alley.

The two men practically power walked their way over to the bathroom, nearly running into someone as they turned the corner. It was that kid.. The waiter, who clutched a menu to his chest--apologizing profusely with wide brown eyes.

“You…” Patrick sneered.

“I-I’m sorry for the delay sir.. The kitchen is extremely backed up.. W-were short staffed. Feel free to order all the drinks that you need, they’re on the house.”

“Oh, you can bet that we will…” Patrick growls, stepping in closer. Each syllable is punctuated by a sharp jab to the young man’s chest.

The boy shrunk away at the blatant abuse, as color rose to his face. He continued to stammer his apologies as he kept his eyes averted and the menu nearly slipped from his grasp.

Bryce finally pulls Patrick away and into the bathroom, laughing to himself under his breath. “Fuckin kid… he’s practically begging for it.”

“What?” Patrick asks as he absentmindedly eyes his reflection in the mirror-- adjusting his tie and tilting his head. His fingers prod at his jawline. No carbs tonight…

He can hear Bryce snort obnoxiously behind the stall “Ah. god… That’s the shit right there…”

Patrick couldn’t help but roll his eyes. If anything he craved a cigar himself. He began to riffle through his pockets.

Bryce emerges from the stall looking refreshed although a bit ‘squirrely’. He runs his hands through his already slick hair, adjusting his collar in the mirror. “Alright man… wooh! Lets go…”

“What were you saying about that kid a few minutes ago?” Patrick asks absentmindedly.

“Huh?”

He begins to do a half hearted jig in the mirror, pointing at himself obnoxiously. Yeah that’s right… He was already planning on bagging his date.

Patrick grits his teeth, as he presses his hand against the knife. This is Bryce...jesus Patrick..calm down.

“You said something about that kid.. The waiter.”

“Oh yeah, he was definitely checking you out. You shoulda saw the way he was leering at you when he replaced your drink.” He shudders dramatically “It was weird man…”

Patrick could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a fine sheen of sweat forms across his brow. He knew he wasn’t imagining the way the young man looked at him as he continued to apologize profusely. He was frightened, that much he could tell. Patrick always tried his best to portray an intimidating image. The fear, for both his physical well being and the security of his job. But still, there was something else. The boy’s eyes darkened just a bit. Martin! His name was Martin.

“Whatever…” Patrick mumbles as he washes his hands at the sink,the plan already formulating in his head. He had fully intended on getting the kid fired, if not just outright gutting him in the back alley. But now a different sort of idea formed in his brain, one that might be even more rewarding.

It was less than five minutes after the two of them had resumed their seats that Martin returned with another waiter. Martin held the appetizers, the man behind him held the main dishes, the two of them swiftly began to arrange the plates on the table. Not a single mix up, each of the appetizers matched the dish and the owner. As the two waiters began to leave, Martin shot Patrick a final apologetic glance.

He was cagey, he barely even touched his steak, he only picked around at the kale and arugula salad. His mind was racing, they were all supposed to visit a club nest, how would he be able to politely excuse himself? He still couldn’t decide if he wanted to wait for him in the alley and take his frustrations out the easy way. The large serrated knife felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He bet he was even more beautiful when he was bleeding.

“So Bateman, you’re gonna tell me, you spent all your money on this shit--and you’re not even going to eat anything?!” Bryce laughed already reaching for his plate.

Patrick grips his wrist like a vice. “Touch any of it, and you’ll draw back a stump.”

Bryce yanks his hand away, quickly loosening his tie. “Hey calm down there buddy… what no Shiatzu this morning?”

“Evelyn… ask for a doggy bag or something… I’ll be right back.”

“Patrick!” Luis calls.

“Excuse me…”

Patrick managed to slip into the employee area with an ease that he didn’t expect. He grabbed an apron off a rack and tied it around himself accordingly. He even slipped on a spare face mask. In his suit and tie, he could easily be mistaken for a health inspector. He scans the hallways which for the most part appear completely empty. A door swings open and his back presses against the wall. Two large burly men carry a large slab of meat--probably a cow back to a set of double doors. He was about to step forward again, when the doors burst open. Two women wrangle a cage full of live chickens between them, following the men into the back room.

So. this was Dorsia

Patrick was just about to turn back and meet up with his friends at Levels. He should probably just let it go. Evelyn probably had a few too many and decided to take an uber home. He could schmooze with Bryce for about an hour. Get Luis too shitfaced to drive home. Then it would be just him and Courtney. That was his plan after all.

Any plans or rational thought seemed to slip from his brain the second Martin crashed in through the doors. Large silver plate in hand, it rests right up on his shoulders, he nearly drops it before placing it on the ground. He surveys The strange man’s appearance. He looks so familiar, his heart starts to race

“A- are you with the health department?” He asks. The hairs already begin to stand at the back of his neck.

“No...silly” Patrick begins to laugh as he simultaneously removes his face mask and draws the blade from his pocket. The large brandished knife seems to glint in the light. For a moment, Martin catches a glimpse of his own reflection. He instantly bolts down the hall, Patrick cusses beneath his breath as he tosses the mask to the ground.

He was quicker than he expected. Patrick was actually winded, he felt like he was nearing the end of his Monday morning aerobics class. The young man seemed to know all the ins and outs of the building,all the hidden doors and staircases. He had no idea how the two of them ended up on the roof on this exceptionally windy night.

Patrick could feel the smile play across his lips in an almost foreign upturned line. He had to pause for a moment to get himself together in the bathroom. He had just a brief snort just to keep himself up to par. He imagined he looked like a complete psychopath. Cheshire cat grin, sweating profusely all the while he continues to brandish the knife. Martin was crouched down behind the chimney, his cheek resting lightly against the brick. He looked fully resigned, simply watching Patrick as he continued to laugh and babel to himself.

“Wha--What am I doing?!” His head points towards the night sky as the knife falls from his hand. It lands onto the cement with a resounding clatter. Martin eagerly scrambles for it, before tossing it to the far side of the roof.

Patrick turns his back for a moment, quickly snorting another line from his index finger.. At this point, he had no idea how he could get past this. He had actually chased the young boy onto the roof. He had three options, he could shove him off. He could fuck him (as he previously intended) Or he could finally hurl himself off the roof. All three options began to seem increasingly appealing. Then Martin began to speak.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?”

Patrick eyes him almost quizzically. He looks like a frightened cat hiding behind a tree.

“I-- I- don’t know.”

He was being honest for once, at this point he had no idea what he wanted to do to Martin.

He can hear Martin’s nails scrape against the brick as he stands.He didn’t recall his face looking so pale, almost ghastly. His cheekbones were gaunt and pronounced.“ Well then kill me now or just let me jump…”

His eyes widen for a moment.

“Just let me jump…”

His entire body was on fire he could do nothing but aimleslessy grasp at the boy’s hair. His knife was lost somewhere in the corner, his dick was buried between two immaculate cheeks. At times a breeze would shift in, reminding him that he was completely nude on the rooftop of Dorsia. His friends were most likely already over at Level’s he didn’t mind. All that mattered were the sounds spewing from the young man beneath him. It was supposed to be torture, the harder he would yank his hair, more lewd noises spilled from his lips.

Patrick could clearly see the city below him, it would be so easily to simply toss the boy off the edge of the building. The rewarding sound of him spattering across the pavement would be too dull given the height. Various apartment lights flickered on and off like fireflies in the otherwise crisp black sky. He shifts his focus to the sight of his dick plunging into the well worked hole of his former waiter. Glistening in the light, he still couldn't get over how freely the boy offered himself over. Luis would be jealous, this was exactly what he wanted. But Patrick never desired Luis, he desired him.

A strange, sort of guttural noise alerts him once again to Martin’s existence. He layed limply against the brick, it was obvious that he had just came. His hand reaches beneath them, harshly groping at Martin’s quickly softening and over sensitive member. He ignores the boy’s pleads for him to stop, instead pistoning his hips in full. It wasn’t long before he bottoms out completely, beads of sweat drip against Martin’s back. A strong gust of air once again reminds him that he is completely bare.

He begins to dress as the waiter still lies limply against the brick. Gaping, he can see pearly white seed leaking out of him. For a moment it reminds him of Courtney, so pretty, almost perfect looking. He reaches into his pocket, drawing out a card.

He tosses it onto the young man’s back as he turns toward the fire escape. “Call me if you want. I might answer. Maybe not. I’m at work all the time”

#martin 1977 #martin 1978 #martin/patrick #martin/patrick bateman #I tried yall #I doubt it even makes sense.

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theangrypokemaniac · 4 years

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its fine if you dont like alola but can you not make incest jokes?

I'm not joking. I'm serious.

Alola, or, as I prefer, La Boca del Infierno, ain't all sunshine and smiles as it pretends. Beneath that plastic exterior lies true darkness.

What am I meant to think when I see this?

There's swimming pools bigger than the gene pools down their way!

Although described as 'twins', it's really triplets, but Lana suffers a prematurely ageing growth abnormality.

Children I expect to bear a similarity to their parents, but the moms 'n' dads ain't meant to look like each other!

Everyone here has blue barnets and Inside-Out Eye, where the pupil's the white and the white's the pupil.

Sight defects are notorious in the 'close-knit' communities.

Each insists on hair decoration, but it's almost part of their heads, which you can call bad animation or deformity resulting from too much intermarriage.

Momma's 'thing' just resembles lumps.

It's them space ticks at it again.

Even the hedgehog is round in this house, which may imply he's an illegitimate offspring of one of 'em.

What about inbreeding suggests practitioners won't stoop to even greater infamy?

Stufful's dad never arrived did he?

Funny that, and a bachelor like Oakie-Dokie residing nearby knew nothing about it.

All that bathing in Cuprenol does terrible things to a man.

Ever wondered what'd go down in the marriage of Tweedledum and Tweedledee? Well here you are, yer deviant.

A pair of pudding-faced, gormless Cabbage Patch Dolls, each with snouts, black button eyes and glandular issues, and they don't share DNA even when they do?

Oh yes, Lusamine met a total stranger also possessing her lime pies and effusive mane of unruly, ice-blonde slats.

Total coincidence there.

He came to Alola, he says. On a prison ship.

It's just one head in triplicate!

Oversized an' all: sure sign of genetic tomfoolery.

Dot Nose, Bridge Nose, Fish Eye: bloody serious case we have on our hands.

Now you understand why she failed to remarry: no other brothers cuts yer options ter nil.

Incest is of course, relative.

Whatever dæmon they worship, some are more pious about it than their fellow perverts.

The more dedicated the believer, the greater insistence on keeping things running in the family.

They'll show off their interwoven connections to the neighbours in a smug game of one-upmanship.

The more lapsed follower will tolerate copulation with distant kin.

These sinners are naturally despised and forced into menial labour, whereas the fanatics just so happen to be rolling in wealth.

Consider:

• Lana's family get by on a fisherman's salary, apparently.

Yeah, yeah, as if the state doesn't have to subsidise their medical bills.

• Sophocles don't go hungry, he has a lab, a giant hamster wheel, a portable hologram in a Pikachu, and he's so rich he not only had the roof fixed, but can move down the road in the meantime.

Oi! The rest of us get by putting a bucket under the leak!

• Lillie has every material possession possible, but no spine or company.

Oh the irony that top sickos should be so resistant to the lure of family obligation.

Hey, yer didn't say that earlier!

• Lusamine is fawned upon for her pwehshush research to the extent she can abandon her children, turning her daughter into a nervous wreck and her son a moody, absent drifter, and it's up to them to understand her work comes first.

• Mohn (by name and nature) fannied about with worm holes until he got sucked off by another dimension.

What did yer think would happen?

Yet on his return, is he knocked on his arse as he deserves?

No, because of incest privileges. The in-group take care of their own, and worse.

Mallow's mater and pater both share hair, thick brows and close-together peepers of murky green.

The contrast in noses suggests something lesser than siblings, but then again other differing aspects are forgivable.

She is of a lighter pallor, being dead, and wanting an open coffin, had a shave beforehand, which is a frightening nod to morality.

Woman, are you ashamed of our love?

Well Abe went along with it, thus is also culpable of this grotesque bristle denial.

Being unclean, he's gotta cook the dinner.

And this lot milk the cows.

On the surface, Kiawe's old 'uns aren't identical. You might think some heretical decency has finally sneaked in under the oppressive Alola regime, but it ain't that simple.

These people pray to a volcano as if an earthbound deity, so are nutters.

One aspect you must remember:

Ol' Granpappy the Island Kakuna, i.e. a dried-up chrysalis.

'Cause Pappy got Momma's tufts...

And Dadda's humourless mouth, oblong head, straight-line nose, rectangular eyes and pin pupils.

Well that's not how it's s'posed to go!

I'm thinking Granpappy, as one of them there Kakunas, is in a position of power high enough that he's able to wilfully flaut the laws he imposes on others, like how popes had kids in the Good Old Days and no one took a blind bit o' notice.

He's a rebel I tells yer.

He don't play by the rules.

No sister-wife for him.

Not when he's got a sexy cousin a-waitin'.

A little bit of new blood's crept in, disgracefully so, that's why the whole lot's punished by living near an active volcano.

Surrender 'em to the flames!

Kiawe makes such a big deal about Pappy, and sod the other three grandparents.

Except he only had two!

What is the explanation?

1. Bone-idle writing team.

Character design is foundational stuff. If yer can't even be arsed to do that properly, nothing you do is worthwhile.

I mean, come on, repeating the same model that blatantly?

Halfwits so limited in imagination shouldn't be working in any creative industries.

I blame modern diets.

A whole generation's grown up timid and risk averse because they were taught to fear E. numbers as kids.

I make it a rule to suspect any sod unaware of the joy of a blue tongue.

They've never lived, man!

Where did you think it'll end when dangerous, pretend edibles like houmous, avocados and quinoa replace the wholesome, nourishing fare of biscuits, cake and crisps?

Stop toying with the fundamental principles of the universe!

The mess of the modern era screams systematic abuse of too much kale and not enough sugar.

2. Incest

Alola is extremely insular.

It's implied to be a tourist destination, but no amount of degenerate outside influence appears to have diluted the weird customs it still upholds.

They didn't even think of starting a League until Ash turned up with all his wild exoticism, and why's that?

A. Inbreeding has destroyed their capability for innovation.

B. Many thousands of years ago, Alola got well annoyed its dirty habits weren't exactly catching on as it strove to spread the Satanic message.

Thoroughly confounded in its plans for world conquest, Alola shut itself off in a purification ritual, which is why later developments popular elsewhere, such as replacing beasts of burden with machines, never caught on.

3. Alola isn't Hawaii, it's a combination of Australia, a penal colony, and Crete, where lived the lepers.

Specifically it's a dumping ground for all the regions' sex offenders to keep their own societies clean.

Of course, the guilty took their nearest and dearest along too, since they were on the receiving end, and loved it.

This explains the large amount of foreign Pokémon, since the owners are also from abroad.

Now I think 'anging's too good for 'em, but these wet-willy countries insist on storing up trouble for themselves, for if cinema has taught us anything, it is that mutants will always escape.

Nature finds a way, however abominable.

Since so many on Tumblr simply love Alola, they aren't about to admit the slightest weakness in the creators' abilities.

Therefore, incest is the acceptable answer to all and sundry.

#pokémon #lana #lana's parents #sophocles #sophocles's parents #lillie #lusamine #mohn #mallow #mallow's mom #abe #kiawe #sima #rango #kiawe's grandfather #alola #inbox

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rey-kryze · 6 years

Text

When night time folds around our bed.

a modern reylo fic : chapter one.

pairing : rey x kylo ren / ben solo / reylo.

rating : explicit ( it will be , its only chapter one , lads ).

word count : 2628

read on ao3.

Her alarm's freakish screams jar her out of bed , hard enough that she falls onto the floor, where a pile of textbooks dig into her ribs.

its celtic music , calming --- Finn had insisted , that her usual go-to of Nineties' one hit wonders , weren't going to help her start her day on the right foot . Rey, currently , only wanted to stomp defiantly on his . Her roommate's newfound love of this hippy-dippy nu-age crap was the least of her concerns, as she stares at the red numbers from this angle she's suddenly aware that there's an eleven o'clock , where there should have been a nine. She slept through her class .

The class that cost her ... Fuck, a lot of zeroes .

Rey thinks in numbers , and , while her friends mock her for it , left brain crap makes more sense to her than just about anything else -- maybe if her wake up call was in binary, she'd actually have woken up .

She huffs, as if by sheer an abject defiance, she can will time to turn back, and give her the strength to power down to a lecture that had absolutely nothing to do with aerospace design , but was a weird sidelined requirement in the engineering part of her degree . Whatever . Rose took that class, Rose , whose notes were a verbatim recount of what their fossilized professor would have spewed over the last two hours. Rey smiles to herself , realizing that she'd never actually made it off the ground.

I'm too young for this , bitterly, as her joints pop and crackle , a protest of her having moved at all -- least, when she's stretching towards the stucco ceiling that's got a concerning number of tac-mark holes in it , and she's never looked up long enough to notice them until now . She'd add it to her to-do list, buy some Spackle .

Stumbling , Rey's arms only come down when she yawns, and nearly trips over herself on the way to the kitchen - the smell of coffee was , to the bleary eyed college student, a siren's song for which she'd brave the storm of her housemates . All of whom , have been up for hours .

" Rey , no offense , but you look like crap . " Poe , who is currently side-eyeing Finn's choice in late-morning beverage ( something green and thick -- couldn't he have the common decency to pour it into something that wasn't transparent ? ) , was always the one for honesty , except , apparently , when it came to his partner's dietary habits. He simply raises his brows, and resumes drinking his coffee , " You okay ?" After a moment has passed and Rey, usually quick on her wit, hadn't said a word.

" Huh ? Yeah of course ! I'm just peachy ." Deadpanned , she's still glaring at Finn who has made a point to read a fascinating article in the Wall Street Journal. Rey's half inclined to pour his kale-something-or-other all over it, she doesn't, and fishes around for a clean mug while grumbling , " I overslept. Missed my only class for the day, and with Spring Break around the corner i'm running out of things to do . Too much free time ."

" You're the only person in the world who is mad that classes are out for two weeks , " Finn , finally choosing to speak , levels at her. They've mastered the art of copacetic trash talking and it unnerved anyone who didn't understand just how much these two cared for each other. ( its a lot , a lot a lot , and if he wasn't with Poe , people might have thought it was puppy love ).

He's not wrong , but that doesn't mean Rey's any less annoyed with him for saying it . " Hey . " A snap , " Us scholarship kids have to pull our weight around here. Idle hands are the devil's play things , or however the adage goes ." She's slowly lost any heat to her words, lulled into a caffeine-induced complacency as she nurses her first of many cups of coffee . It was the only way she could balance her usual routine, but , with classes winding down, and her almost done with her degree three years in advance ( how it'd back fired, overlaying as many credits as she had ) , its bringing too much to light. Like the things she doesn't have, or what she never does .

Poe, who has an apparent death wish,( alongside psychic abilities ) quips , " If your hands had something to play with maybe you wouldn't be so tightly wound ." Finn chokes on his drink, and Rose, who'd just come in with a smile, frowns .

" You know Rey." Her voice is happy. How is she literally always happy ? The arch of Rey's brow , normally wilting, isn't even enough to stop her now , " He's got a point. You never even go out with us . You visit skeevy bars , but never take anyone home --- " Finn clearing his throat is a saving grace that's got Rey forgiving the panflutes from earlier in a heart beat . Rose concludes quickly , " It just might do you some good to have some er --- human contact ! Not that the engine of a 747 doesn't get you plenty hot ."

Its a bad joke. The group collectively groans .

" I date ." She corrects, but when all eyes turn on her , the burn of her cheeks is telling , " -- I mean, its not that I haven't been asked. I'm just not interested in ... college boys." Yes, that's believable . Let them think you're into older men, or something . Rey's internal dialogue is more convincing than her outer one, as they continue to stare at her in growing disbelief , " Get off my case ." Is all she can manage through the thicket of their laughter . Her blush recedes, and she's left with a certain begrudged fondness for the ragtag group of people that were her friends .

Its only two p.m , and Rey's run out of things to do . It's stupid , really, how a friendly jibe could unearth so many truths that she'd worked hard to keep at bay. There's a reason she focuses on numbers instead of letters , on equations instead of poetry . Math and physics didn't call on that certain romantic quality that always, always found its way into any art she'd dared be interested in . Romance is crap. All of it is just ... crap.

Or maybe it isn't.

Crap.

She knows herself well enough that this nagging thought wont go away on its own . Its not that Rey's a virgin , or that she'd silently sworn herself to celibacy . More or less .. her feelings were baseless . She'd never known intimacy in a way that made her seek it out . It felt forced, uncomfortable , too-tight and too .. much . Rey knows Dr. Kanata and her had worked through a lot of her ' intimacy issues ' but that didn't make it an overnight fix ( A decade of therapy didn't qualify, evidently ). She' had boyfriends, but nothing that she could make sick . Ninety percent of the time , Rey got tired of them , bored with the compulsory tenderness and saying shit that she did not , in earnest , feel. It was all to fit in , and placate herself more than anyone else .

Crap.

Her legs are bouncing with nervous energy, sitting on the edge of her bed with her beat up phone in her lap - Rey frowns at the screen like it'd insulted her . She still can't believe that her own two fingers , in a flurry of doubt and defiance ( that'll prove them wrong is never sound reasoning ) have pulled up the app store , and typed in six letters , in that specific sequence , no less.

The only things she'd had downloaded to her phone besides the generic , standard set were : uber , youtube , a scientific calculator ( have you seen how expensive those things are ? this was free ) , a moon tracking bit , and something meant to organize her routine .

Now , this garish gradient of pink and orange is sitting dead-center on her home page . She hadn't dragged it into a group , yet , but it certainly didn't belong with any pre-existing thing . The whole ordeal is stressing her out when it was meant to provide the exact opposite. She nearly deletes. Nearly. but Poe's voice of all thing echoes , and then Rose's ... They'd sounded so ... pitying . Rey hates pity. And its with that intent -- to never see them look at her like that again, that she lets it download in full.

Her phone pings , and a groan runs through her at the sight of the notification that , really, only further cemented the fact that Rey at only twenty one years of age, was desperate to get laid. Tinder had downloaded successfully.

Turns out, Rey's got a fascination with setting up profiles .

She'd spent nearly two hours filling out the respective boxes , her interests , while minimal , had been gone into great detail - though , if this was solely for finding a quick lay, she can't imagine anyone would get past her profile picture ( a rather flattering one ) -- Rey'd never been any good with selfies, but Poe snapped a candid when they'd all gone out for a boozy brunch . Her smile takes up too much of her face, but her freckles glimmer under the nascent sun , a filter provided by the oversized red umbrella that kept their table in the shade , highlights her tan ( long lost to the unforgiving winter ) beautifully. All in all , with her hair in its standard ' space buns ', as Finn called them, ( the first astronaut with style , Rose had amended ) , she could call herself an attractive girl. Attractive enough to warrant a swipe , god , that felt silly, even just to think.

She smiles . Its been a long time since she'd felt this way.

Unfortunately , she forgot about her pending beaus within the hour , busying herself with repairing the garbage disposal in the kitchen sink. Despite having warned her friends to stop shoving all their leftovers down its gullet, it was broken after only a two week lapse since she'd last fixed it. More than once , she'd threatened to charge them for her services, but they all knew that Rey took mundane delight in doing things like this , her hands and mind preoccupied was just the way she liked it . She's smiling to herself , almost absurdly , as she hums along with the music trickling out from her phone's warped speaker -- the music's interrupted by a sound she doesn't recognize -- everything , every app , every reminder had been set to a certain Morse notification , this one was shrill and annoying and gave her a brief flashback to this morning's unfortunate Celtic incident.

She cleans her hands off with a dish towel, and pulls it out of her coverall's front pocket . ' congratulations ! you have a match ! ' bloody hell . Funneling embarrassment, and regret, she slides her phone open -- expecting a frat boy with a Ralph Lauren polo , or maybe some older 'gentleman' whose picture looked like a grayed big toe.

Her assumptions had been ( mercifully ) wrong .

'Ben Solo' , a name that was vaguely familiar , but in that sort of way you half-remember a dream, she shrugs it off - Ben wasn't uncommon , and being ' solo ' had become something of a plague . She shouldn't chuckle at her own pun that was at the expense of a man that, apparently, thought she was someone he'd sleep with .

He's handsome. Startlingly so . But not at all in any traditional fashion . Rey finds herself flipping through his pictures over and over, smiling when he did , which was only in one of the ten images he'd uploaded. Its enough , she's sold , her hearts beating frantically and her stomachs probably in her shoes, but she's riding the high that came with being .. wanted. However impersonally, through an app she'd trashed for months now , no less.

' Hi !' Crap . is that too impersonal? She adds a smiley face emoji a minute later , feeling out of practice and , quite frankly , ridiculous for having been so eager to message him - she'd only gotten the notif moments before. What if he thinks she's some girlish little waif who has been waiting, tragically , by her phone for him to match with her ?

' Hello .' Oh . He's formal too, Rey worries her lip a bit before replying,

' I'm Rey !' ... that's spelled out for him above, dummy. She'd already hit send though, no going back. Typing bubbles appear before she can ad to that.

' I see that . ' Was he being rude ? Or playful ? For whatever reason, she feels like he smiled to himself when he sent it. Her toes curl a little.

She takes a deep breath -- better to be honest with it , if he didn't like her forward nature, this wouldn't work to begin with.

' ive never done this I mean you can see that too I figure I'm not sure ... the protocol for these things . er .' a.k.a How do I ask for casual sex even if that's the primary directive here ?

He's kind, when he answers , about ten minutes after -- The whole time Rey's spent , still crouched under the kitchen sink , using the light of her phone to go by, but not accomplishing any actual work while she waits.

' Ah. I'm new to this , too .' He's being oddly formal. Punctuation , capitalization -- Rey's immediately aware that she hadn't checked his age, she'd been so enticed by his images and the prospect of scratching a newly - woken itch . She scrolls back over to his profile, and sighs with relief. He's only thirty. Which is only nine years her elder . Her friends had dated professors twice that age -- oh , a new message.

' To be frank , I'm finding it hard to believe you're real . It isn't often a woman of your caliber resorts to using a dating app . Not that I myself have extensive familiarity with them. ' Okay .. He wasn't actually getting anywhere with this , and its edging dangerously close to a real conversation . Usually, now's when Rey's attention would be thrown sharply and wholly into whatever she'd been doing before -- but she can't seem to stop herself when she replies,

' A woman of my caliber ?' Rey adopts his cadence , its easier to feel less like a messy child by comparison .

' Yes. You're beautiful, and educated . Did you run out of characters in your bio ? I felt that it ended abruptly. ' She had, but that he'd noticed makes her blush furiously. Its so hard to confine a person to two thousand words or less -- she'd had that same issue in her papers , enough so that her teachers have given her a page limit in contrast to her classmate's minimum .

' I did.' She pauses. ' I didn't think people payed that much attention to the girls they're trying to sleep with . ' Its crass, and she hopes it wouldn't chase him off. He's typing for a long while , a long ... long while ... oh no is he going to lecture her ?

' You're not just any girl, though. Are you ?' All that time an that's what he said ? He must've deleted and re-written that message a half dozen times ; she wonders at his first drafts of it , and then she's wondering at her wondering, and ....

' I would like to take you out to a nice place. We can take an uber, so you're not trapped in my car with me, a public setting. Nothing too intimate or personal . But I think you are someone I'd rather like to hear speak before commencing in other activities.' did he just make hooking up sound eloquent ? Damn . Damn . Damn. Crap.

Rey smiles again, for the fiftieth fucking time , in the half hour she'd been messaging him - he had a way with words, that's how she justifies this conductive energy spiraling through her limbs .

' Tonight ? I'm free around seven .' Which gave her ... two and a half hours to fashion herself into a human being .

' Absolutely. I'll message you the address , one moment.'

She did it . She had a date -- or whatever this qualified as.

Wait. Rey had a date. Crap .

' Hey peanut we're home !'

#reylo #reylo fic #reylo fam #reylo trash #ao3fic #*my writing.#m*3 #*wnfaob

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ddaddsprompts · 6 years

Link

One day too late because I forgot I hadn't uploaded the last chapter yet, my bad!

Finally I can reveal who the story is for... if I hadn't deleted the email that told me the person's name. That totally sucks and I'm pretty embarassed. So if you requested Craig/Robert, with some River, and cryptid!Dads, chances are, this story is for you!

Until now, he’d been able to more or less ignore the skeleton – wolf – in the closet. With the exception of a few, mostly positive changes, his life had been the same. But now, standing in front of his house waiting for Robert to pick him up, he couldn’t evade reality any longer.

Full moon was tonight. Today, he and Robert were going camping, so he’d be nowhere his family and friends when he shifted. Shifted. Robert had explained the process in excruciating detail, from every bone that broke and re-set to the way his human consciousness would just… turn off. Part of him still hoped Robert had exaggerated, but he could feel it in his chest that he’d only spoken the truth. In fact, he could feel a lot of things at the moment. His muscles were burning, as if he’d gone working out the day before and overdid it by more than just a margin. Scents that only annoyed him before were downright assaulting now. The tiniest thing, it seemed, set him off. He’d been unreasonably pissed off after not being able to find his phone; his breathing exercises helped, but only barely. It was like there was something lurking under his skin, growing bigger and bigger the more hours passed, trashing and throwing itself at his ribcage trying to break free.

He hated every second of it.

He’d fought so hard to bring his life under control and now... that was about to taken away from him again. Only for a night, admittedly, but he still felt on the edge. Thank god Sam was away. Had his friend seen him like this, he’d definitely notice something was wrong.

But then, it didn’t take years of living together in the small confines of a college dorm and a lifelong pact of friendship written in ravioli sauce to see that.

Had the context been a different one, watching Robert leave his house, get into his truck and drive the few metres over to his house would have been funny. But right now, it only brought dread. Robert didn’t bother getting out of his car, simply rolled down the window and leant out. “You look like death warmed over, kid.”

Robert’s dry tone of voice made Craig huff out a laugh. He shouldered his bag and rounded the car. Robert waited until Craig was seated and buckled up, then made the engine roar back to life. For the first ten minutes of the drive, the engine was the only sound that could be heard, but this time, the silence wasn’t comforting; it was loaded, like the calm before the storm.

Craig squirmed in his seat and shoved his hands in his lap. A few seconds later, he changed positions again. The third time, Robert looked over at him and glared. “I swear, if you don’t stop squirming, I’ll let you walk up the hill.”

The growly, dark undertone sent a shiver down Craig’s spine. He immediately sat still and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Robert nodded and turned his attention back to the road. Thankfully, the overlook wasn’t that far away from the cul-de-sac. Five more minutes in the truck and Craig would have choked on the tension in the air. He all but jumped out of the car and waited for Robert to get out too. The older man got out a large bag from the back and kicked the door shut. “Let’s go.”

Craig had always prided himself on his sense of orientation and how he could find back home, the dorm or the way to the nearest metro station. But soon after they went off the hiking tail and into the heart of the forest, he had no idea where he was anymore. He probably could have asked, but Robert was silent and gave off a vibe that said don’t talk to me, so Craig didn’t. Robert seemed to know where they were going anyway. About half an hour later, Robert suddenly stopped and put down his bag. “We’ll set up camp here. You got the tent?” Craig nodded, surprised by the sudden end to their silence. Robert grunted. “Toss it over.”

Robert set everything up himself, delegating Craig to simple tasks such as holding the tent stakes while Robert hammered them into the ground. The canopy of trees above their heads swallowed most of the sunlight, but a few rays went through, just enough to see. Robert threw a blanket on the ground and sat on it. When Craig hesitated for a few seconds, Robert glared and pulled up his upper lip in a snarl. “Get your ass down, kid,” he said, and Craig did.

He had no idea what time it was, but it must be hours until full moon, more than half a day. There was no way he could spend all that time just sitting there. His muscles barely did more than twitch as he intended to stand up before Robert already pushed him back down. “Bro, let me get up.”

“No.”

“Bro,” Craig complained. “I’m—“

“Anxious. Jumpy. Close to snapping. Trust me, I know. Doesn’t mean I’ll let you start exercising or some shit, or I will snap.” Robert fixed him with a glare, but it lacked the heat of the previous ones. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. I was scared shitless the first time it happened, too. But I was alone, then, and you’re not. I won’t let anything happen to you or anyone else who might waltz in, against all the fucking odds and I calculated them, they’re close to zero. You’re going to shift. It’ll fucking hurt. You won’t be in control of yourself. The worst thing that can happen is you trying to fuck with me and me ripping your fucking ear off, but that will grow back.”

Despite the anxiety in his chest, Craig couldn’t help but chuckle. “Who says it won’t be me ripping your ear off?”

Robert snorted. “First of all, I said fucking ear. Secondly, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Craigory, but not only am I older than you, both in actual years and in terms of werewolf experience, and thus in full control of my furred self, but I’m stronger than you, too.” At Craig’s amused and disbelieving look from his own to Robert’s body, Robert shoved him hard enough to send Craig toppling over. Craig sat up again and pouted. Something inside of him wanted to shove back and play and he found that disconcerting. “Want to doubt me again?”

“Nope, I’m good, bro.” Craig rubbed his arm where Robert hit him. “If you’ve always been so strong, why did you never help carry stuff around for the barbecues?”

“Because I’m lazy, I’d never move a fucking finger to help Joseph and,” Robert smirked, “not helping meant getting to see you do it and man, do your muscles bulge when you lift heavy shit.”

Craig blushed and ducked his head. “Um, thanks bro?”

“Come on, don’t tell me you don’t get told at least four times a day. You’ve got your own fan club.”

“You mean the softball moms?” Craig shuddered. “If you ever have the displeasure of making their acquaintance, run. It’s… tiring.”

Robert nodded knowingly. “I can imagine. Must be hell, having half of Maple Bay’s single-mom population lust after you.” Craig shoved him, but Robert had the advantage of a better sitting position, so he only managed to move him a few centimetres to the side.

“Most of them aren’t even single, bro. A lot are married.”

“Their husbands never around to see them fawn over you?”

Craig shook his head. “I would be so lucky, huh? Besides, nothing ever happens.”

Both of them fell silent after that. After some time, Robert reached into his bag and pulled out two bottles of beer, one of which he handed to Craig. Wordlessly, they drank and once those bottles were empty, drank some more. “Shouldn’t we be sober for this?” Craig asked before taking another swig.

“Don’t tell me Kegstand Craig’s already tipsy after a bottle of beer and some.”

The bottle came to a standstill and hovered inches away from Craig’s face. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Robert with a suspicious expression. “Who told you that nickname?”

“Take an educated guess, kale.” Robert’s grin was wolfish. “Dear Sammy can’t hold his liquor. Gets very talkative when he’s drunk. Had to get blackmail material from somewhere. You could have told me you were a fucking party animal back in college.” His grin widened. “Aw, look at that, he’s blushing.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t see why I should. Here I’ve always only known Mister Health and Responsibility and then I learn he earned himself a nickname like that. What was your record? 100 seconds?”

Craig groaned and drank another sip of beer. “115.”

Robert whistled. “Not bad. Wouldn’t have guessed that from how you are today. You sure you’re Craig Cahn and not an alien doppelganger?”

“I’m sure.” Craig looked to the side, letting out a long breath. “Can we not talk about this, bro? I’m anxious enough as it is.”

“Sure, kid.” Robert reached over and clasped Craig’s shoulder. “It won’t be that bad. Might even do you good, letting lose for a few hours.”

“That all was an elaborate plan to get me relaxed, wasn’t it? The werewolf attack, that was all Sam’s masterplan. Should have known it.” Craig offered Robert his bottle. “It’s always the unassuming ones you have to look out for.”

The older man snorted and clinked his beer against Craig’s. “You caught me. I’m but a minion, obeying my master’s command. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

---------

“It hurts,” Craig gasped, arching his back as another wave of fiery pain shot through his veins. He had long lost his jacket and was clawing at his shirt, torn between tearing it off or keeping it on, as his temperature seemed to fluctuate between the pits of hell and the Antarctic. “Fuck, it hurts-“

“Breathe through it, kid. In and out. Use one of those fancy breathing techniques you know.” Robert moved away from where Craig was crouched on the forest floor. A second later something wet and cold was pressed to his neck, which brought instant relief. Craig groaned and forced his eyes open again.

It started three hour ago, around five pm. As the sun gradually set and the forest grew darker, the itching under Craig’s skin that had been there the last few days worsened, until it turned into a burning sensation. According to Robert, that was normal, but knowing that didn’t make it any better. It felt like he was being incinerated from within. And every now and then, growing closer and closer in time like contractions did during labour, his limbs twitched against his will. His muscles tensed and relaxed outside of any discernible rhythm. But worst of all was the pain.

“Craig, listen to me-“ He looked up and somehow managed to figure out which blurry, colourful blob was Robert. “Craig, can you hear me? Do you understand? Good. That’s good. Just listen to me. It’s almost time. I know it hurts, kid, I know, but you have to relax. You can’t fight it. If you do, it’ll take longer and it’ll hurt a lot more. Okay? Nod if you understood.” Craig nodded, but the movement ended in a jerk as another wave of pain coursed through him. “Good. I need you to trust me. I’m going to strip you naked or the clothes’ll rip and annoy you during the shift. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

A fresh breeze on his heated skin was the only thing Craig noticed. He curled in on himself, but Robert pried him apart again, held him down as Craig began to trash and tremble, like he was having a seizure.

An ugly, loud crack broke through the feverish haze of his mind. The pain only registered seconds later. Someone, or something, screamed, but Craig was too far gone to notice it was himself.

“Kid-“

“Craig– don– the–“

He’s being ripped into pieces. Limb for limb, digit for digit, bone for bone, everything pulled apart like the individual pieces of a construction kit—

“Craig—“

A symphony of breaking bones and snapping muscles—

“Don’t fight—“

Bones were rearranging themselves. Fur broke through his skin and sprouted, his teeth became fangs, shattered his jaw, which popped out and grew longer only to resettle. His fingers turned into claws—

“—won’t let anything happen—“

His scream turned into a howl.

Confusion.

Disorientation.

Dizziness.

Pain.

Sore.

Hunger.

Thousands of smells – moss and grass and wood and prey.

Noises.

Crickets.

Wind, rustling leaves.

No foil.

Not alone.

Bared teeth, growling, snapping, brown eyes, human fingers not claws, reaching out, growling, snapping, words, distance—

Running.

Wind in his fur. Dirt under his paws.

Running. Running. Scent. Rabbit. Running. It’s running he’s leaping it’s—

Other wolf. Dark fur. Lined with grey. Shaggy. Growling, bared teeth, circling, the wolf stands calm, brown eyes, dark fur lined with grey, growling, it’s snapping at him—

He leaps. Dirt, tussling, teeth at his neck, a growl, he’s on his back, the wolf above him, it’s growling—

Something inside uncoils. He bares his neck, submitting—

The wolf releases him, licks over his head— Barks—Leads the way leads the hunt—

Running running running the wolf is at his side running rabbit running—

Blood meat prey hunt scent hunt running—

Running.

He throws back his head and howls.

The wolf answers—

Sunlight.

Burning. Fire pain fire hurts the wolf licking hurts—

No more fur, but skin, no more fangs but teeth, claws turned nails, there’s no other wolf anymore, human, brown eyes, greying hair, they’re naked, they’re—

It’s all teeth and snarls and skin on skin and—

Craig came to only slowly. His head was pounding, as bad as it used to be whenever he and Sam went to three parties in a row and overdid it with the alcohol, but miraculously didn’t die from alcohol poisoning. Speaking of, he turned to the side and coughed, curled in on himself with a groan. The memories of last night weren’t all there. Preventing him from fully accessing them was a wall, made of mist or fever he wasn’t sure, it wouldn’t let him through. All he had were fragments.

None of them explained why his arse was sore, too.

Craig turned on his back and opened his eyes. The sunlight blended him, but after a few seconds, his eyes adjusted and he could look around. The tent wasn’t there anymore. Their bags were packed and ready; someone had put out his clothes. He only now realised he was naked and reached for the boxershorts.

All his muscles were aching, like he had pulled something. He slowly got dressed and then stood up. There was no sight of Robert. “Bro?” He called out into the forest, but besides the indignant screeching of some birds as he startled them, there was no reply. “Robert?” Still nothing. Confused, Craig bent down and went through his bag in search of his phone. The movement hurt. Hissing through gritted teeth, Craig stood up and spun around. No reception. “Robert?!”

To his left there was the rustle of leaves. A moment later, before Craig could start to worry, Robert emerged. “Robert—“

“Get your bag. We’re leaving.” Robert barely looked at him as he brushed past and got his own bag. He didn’t even wait to see whether Craig was following him, leaving Craig to scramble after the older man. The pace Robert set was brutal. Had it taken them twenty minutes the day before, today they made it in half that time. Robert threw his bag in the trunk bed and closed the car door with enough strength to make the vehicle quake. Craig got in faster than he should have, considering his sore muscles, but he couldn’t be sure Robert wouldn’t just drive away without him, if he kept him waiting for too long.

With screeching tires, Robert pulled away from the lookout and brought them back on the road.

“Is something wrong?” Craig asked and threw a look over his shoulder, but nothing was following them. “Why are we—“ One glare from the other shut him up in an instance. Last time he’d seen Robert look so pissed and hostile had been when Joseph called him Rob in front of everyone, the first barbeque Sam attended after moving here. It was the kind of look that made clear Robert was absolutely not in the mood for talking. Wisely, Craig stayed silent for the remainder of the drive.

The cul-de-sac looked just like it had when they left, yet where he had found comfort in the drowsiness of the neighbourhood, it now appeared foreboding. Robert braked hard and brought the truck to a stop in front of Craig’s house, still not saying a single word. Slowly, Craig climbed out of the truck and shouldered his bag. “Robert-“

Robert reached over and closed the door. He didn’t even spare Craig a look before he drove off and left Craig standing. Frozen in shock, Craig watched as Robert drove past his house and left the neighbourhood the opposite way they’d arrived.

“What the fuck.”

-----------------

-----------------

<Please, bro, don’t just ignore me>

-----------------

<Please, Robert, talk to me>

-----------------

<Robert?>

-----------------

The truck came back two weeks after the last full moon. Craig walked up to Robert’s house the morning after. As far as he could tell, no one was home, but his instincts told him that Robert was there. So he knocked. And knocked again. He knocked until his hand started to hurt and then switched to the other.

"Robert!” He yelled. “I know you're home! You can’t just keep on ignoring me! That’s not cool, bro. I don’t even know what I did!"

Next door, Joseph’s eldest, Chris, left the house. Craig felt his cold and unmoving gaze on him as the kid continued on his way. It wouldn’t have surprised him had the child’s head turned 180° to keep on staring even as he walked the other direction, but nothing of that sort happened. He toned it down after that, though, since he didn’t want the whole neighbourhood to hear.

“Robert, please. I thought we’d become bros, over the last month, and now you’re just cutting me off out of the blue.” Craig’s hand unclutched and he rested it on the wooden frame with his palm. “Please, bro, I…”

The words lay on his tongue, but he couldn’t make himself say them out loud. Defeated, he dropped his arm and turned his back to the door. The way back to his own house felt longer than it was in reality.

-----------------

-----------------

He told himself he’d got over the whole Robert situation, but that was a lie, and he damn-well knew it. As cheesy as it sounded, Robert’s sudden absence left a hole in his life, one he, when it had still been filled, hadn’t noticed but now, that it was empty, felt all the more. And god, did thinking about it hurt. Last time he’d felt like this had been when Smashley sat him down and said, “We need to talk”. It very much felt like a divorce, too.

He dove back into work to distract himself, but no matter how much overtime he did, no matter how often he went to the gym, he couldn’t forget. Robert had said all wounds would heal, but this one just didn’t.

The girls had noticed, but he managed to assure them everything was fine. Sam tried to make him relax, but the moment Craig stood still, the pain came flooding back, so he kept on moving. Most of the time, that was a figure of speech, but sometimes, as was the case now, it was literally.

River had become cranky during the last ten minutes of his run, not used to the longer laps just yet, so he’d cut through some backyards in order to get home faster. Right afterwards, he’d put River to bed, expecting her to sleep for the next three to five hours, but only half an hour later, she began to cry.

“What is it, sweetpea?” He opened the door to her nursery and walked up to her crib. “Hey, River baby, what’s got you so…” The crib was empty, besides her. “Oh no, where’s Arnold? Didn’t you have him when I put you to bed?” Hearing the name just made River cry harder. He picked her up and bounced her on his arm, but that didn’t calm her down at all. “Did you drop him, sweetpea?”

One search through the house later, Craig realised they must have lost the capybara outside. Quickly throwing together a small bag pack with baby essentials, he jogged over to Sam. His bro opened the door looking like he’d just woken up from a nap, but straightened up immediately upon seeing them. “Bro! What’s wrong?”

“We lost Arnold,” he gasped out between breaths. “I took a long route today, don’t want to carry River all the way and back. Could you watch her while I’m gone? I know it’s your free day but-“

Sam put a hand on Craig’s arm. “Bro, of course I can. Come here, motek, come to Uncle Sam. Your Daddy’s going to find Arnold and bring him back, you don’t have to worry.” He kept up the stream of nonsensical babbling and reassurances even as Craig mouthed his thanks and walked away.

It wasn’t in any of the backyards he’d crossed, nor in the park. He searched behind every stick and stone, every tree and bush, but still came up empty-handed. His muscles burned because of the extortion, but he didn’t falter. In all his brooding, he hadn’t even noticed he lost his baby’s favourite plushie. What kind of father was he? A shitty one.

As his last resort, he began knocking on doors. Mat hadn’t seen a rodent native to South America, nor had Brian and Daisy (and they assured him Maxwell hadn’t shredded one either). Joseph’s twins just stared creepily, so he left quickly and just hoped they hadn’t found it. For a moment, he considered knocking on Robert’s door, but abandoned that trail of thought immediately. He dropped by Sam’s house to pick up River again and dejectedly walked home.

He was so busy trying to calm River down, he didn’t notice someone was standing in front of his door until the person cleared their throat. Craig’s head snapped up. “Robert?” He blurted out.

The older man shifted weight from one foot to the other. In lieu of a greeting, he lifted…

“Arnold!” River immediately stopped crying and reached for her toy. Thankfully, Robert stepped within reach, because Craig couldn’t move. After weeks of not seeing him, for Robert to just show up, with Arnold of all things… He was confused, hurt, hopeful, angry, all at the same time, and, caught in that emotional whirlwind, only managed a, “Where?”

Robert shrugged. “Lay in my backyard. Found him and remembered it’s hers, so I came to bring him back.”

“T-thank you, man.”

Robert waved his hand dismissively, then dropped his arm back to his side. Shifted weight again. Craig cleared his throat. And River, oblivious to the awkward tension between the two men, cooed and gurgled, happy to have Arnold back.

“Robert—“

“I better go—“

Both of them fell silent again. Craig tried catching Robert’s eyes, but the other man was averting his gaze, his own eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Now that Craig had got over his shock, he noticed just how bad Robert looked. His beard was long and unclean, his hair an unkempt, greasy mess. The shirt he was wearing looked like it had already been worn for weeks, if not more, and there were dark rings under his eyes.

Brown eyes.

A shiver ran down Craig’s spine. Robert seemed to notice; his brows furrowed and a dark shadow fell over his face. Without a word, he turned to leave. Craig didn’t think, he just reached out. Robert tried to pull his arm free, but Craig tightened his grip, hard enough to leave bruises. “We,” he said firmly, “need to talk.”

Robert scowled. “I swear to all the gods of religions young and old, if you don’t let me go this second, I’ll—“

“You practically threw me out of your car and drove away. I didn’t see you for two and a half weeks. You cut off all communication, after the most confusing night of my life, a night I can barely remember. You, Robert Small, do not get to make threats.” He tightened his grip and jerked his head towards his front door. “You’re going to follow me inside and wait while I put River to bed. And then you’re going to explain yourself because I damn well deserve an explanation.”

“Kid—“

“No. You don’t have a choice.”

He knew that if Robert really refused, he’d have no way of forcing him through the door, not with River balanced on his free arm. But Robert didn’t look like he’d bolt the second Craig let go of him. And he didn’t. With an air of defeat about him, Robert followed Craig into the living room and sat down on the couch while Craig put River back to bed. Somehow, he got the distinct impression that she was smug about something, but couldn’t figure out what that could be.

Robert was still there when he came back. Craig leant against the wall in front of him and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Talk.”

“Craig…”

“No, I said talk, you talk. You avoided me for two and a half weeks, Robert. People don’t do that without a good reason. The evening before the full moon, everything was fine, so it must have been something that happened in the night, and I don’t remember what happened. Not all of it, that is.”

“That’s normal. You weren’t yourself.” Something about Robert’s intonation set off the alarm bells in Craig’s head.

“But you remember, right? You retain all of your consciousness while shifted. Tell me.”

Robert sighed. “You shifted. I tried to calm you down, but you growled and ran away. I shifted too, ran after you. We grabbled and I pinned you on the ground and kept you there until you submitted to me. Then we hunted.”

“That’s it? Then why—“

“No, that’s not it. For fuck’s sake, Craig, why can’t you just accept things as they are? Why are you so fucking bothered by me disappearing?”

“Because you’re my friend, Robert!” Craig pushed off the wall and pointed at the other man. “Because I thought we’d grown close that last month and then you suddenly cut me off. Because—“

“Because you have feelings for me, is that it?” Craig stared at him in disbelief, his anger gone in a flash. Robert, on the other hand, got on his feet and began pacing like a caged animal. “When will it get into your goddamn head that I’m not a good person? I stayed away from you for two fucking weeks to make you realise that and yet you still come crawling! I’m a bad man, Craig, I’m a depressed alcoholic with mood swings and so much self-hatred even you couldn’t lift the weight of it! I’m not good as a friend, I’m not good for your kids and your health, and I certainly should not be the person you get a fucking gay crush on! I’m the fucking reason you were turned! It’s my fault!”

At Craig’s stunned silence, Robert snarled and whipped around. “You want to know what happened? When you shifted back, your mind wasn’t still quite there. I knew that. Yet when you kissed me, when you threw yourself at me, I didn’t push you off and stop, I kissed you back and we had sex!”

You weren’t yourself. The words echoed in Craig’s brain. He took a step forward and reached out, but Robert pushed his hand away. “Robert—“

“I fucked a guy who wasn’t in full control of himself!”

“Robert, I’m not—“

“And you know what? If that’s still not enough to make you realise what a shitty person I am, guess what!” Robert threw his arms up. His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. "My wife didn't die in a car accident. She was in a car alright, but it wasn’t another driver who fucking killed her, that was me!"

Craig’s blood ran cold. “What? But I thought it was a drunk driver.”

“It wasn’t,” Robert snarled. “It was full moon. My third. My wife followed me as I ran into the forest, she was in her car, calling for me. I wasn’t thinking straight, I ran on the road and she didn’t have the time to brake. She jerked the wheel, the car swerved, she lost control and hit… She hit… I ran away but when I came to… I stumbled through the forest, on the road, and there she was, she was…”

Whatever he wanted to say was lost in heart-wrenching sobbing. Craig barely made it in time to catch him as Robert’s legs gave in. “Ssh, it’s okay, Robert, it’s okay…” It wasn’t, they both knew that. But Craig didn’t know what else to say. All he could do was rub Robert’s back and hold him as sobs wrecked through the older man’s body. This close, he smelled the alcohol on Robert’s breath.

Craig didn’t know how long they sat there, but his butt and knees were slowly starting to hurt, and he couldn’t imagine it was comfortable for Robert either. “Robert, bro, let’s get up on the couch. Yeah, that’s it, just lean on me, I’ve got you.” He gently guided Robert’s head to rest on his shoulder and pulled him into his lap, holding him close. After some time, the sobs quieted, even as the tears continued to leave a damp spot on his shoulder that was beginning to get cold. “Bro, you’re not a bad person. You’re a troubled man carrying more weight than fucking Atlas. None of this is your fault. You told me, you’re not in control of yourself the first shifts. You weren’t in control. You didn’t kill your wife, because you’re not the reason she crashed. It was an accident.”

“It wasn’t—“

“It was. I know me saying that won’t change anything, but bro, it was an accident. As was me being turned. That wasn’t your fault either. You’re only human… well… you’re just one person. How are you supposed to protect the whole of Maple Bay and the surrounding forests and mountains, all by yourself? And…”

Robert looked up and sniffled. Craig couldn’t help himself, he reached out and wiped his tears away. His hands stayed where they were, cupping Robert’s face. He looked so vulnerable, so damn tired, it made Craig’s heart break in half. “I’m… I’m almost thankful. Because—“

“If you say because we would never have started talking and texting, I’ll rip your throat out.”

Craig laughed. “Bro, I’m trying my hand at emotional comfort. Don’t make fun of me.” He shook his head. “As for… the sex.” He blushed, the bits he did remember flashing in his mind. “I… I might not have been in control but… bro, I’d lie if I said I didn’t think about jumping you before that. It’s not just a gay crush. You’re not the first dude I’ve ever shown interest in. But bro, if it’s up to me, you might as well be the last. I know you don’t see yourself in the best light, but bro, to me, you’re… You’re the funniest guy I’ve ever met. You’re mysterious and dark and broody and somehow I find that really sexy, but it’s not just a physical thing? Don’t get me wrong, I’m super pissed I can’t remember our first time, but I really hope- Shit, I never stopped to ask if you— Hmpf!”

He glared at Robert, but the hand stayed where it was, covering his mouth. “For the love of everything paranormal, please stop rambling.” He raised his eyebrows at Craig and after Craig nodded, dropped his hand. “You’re insane. Anyone ever tell you that? You could have everyone in this stupid town and yet you—“

“I don’t want anyone else, bro.”

Robert shook his head, but his lips were twitching and he’d finally stopped crying. Suddenly aware of their position, Craig tried scooting backwards, but Robert fisted his shirt and kept him in place with an annoyed expression. “And somehow, I believe you. Fuck, you’re so goddamn honest with everything but yourself, it’s- It’s so frustrating. You see the best in everyone and are optimistic, it shouldn’t be possible, no one’s so selfless but… But you make me want to better myself. You make me want to quit drinking and pick up the slack, just so I can be who you see. And for a month, before the full moon, I thought I was getting there, but then everything happened…” He looked away again and took a deep breath. “I’m not a good person, Craigory, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Maybe,” Craig conceded. Robert’s head snapped upward and he looked so afraid, as if he worried he had finally convinced Craig of his view. “But neither am I. We’re both self-destructive, aren’t we? But, Robert, I… I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is that these last two weeks I missed you. I didn’t know what I’d done and I wished you’d just tell me, so I could fix it.”

“You can’t fix me, Craig. You can’t expect me to—fuck, I might never get better. Or my version of better is still shitty compared to everyone else. I don’t want you to be disappointed. I’m not some charity case, I can’t be that—“

“Bro, I don’t want to fix you. I mean, I do, but it’s not the only reason.” Craig let out a frustrated huff and ran a hand through his hair. “I suck at communication, dude. Smashley always called me Communication Craig ironically, how do I word.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. Without the red eyes and tear tracks, he would almost look like he always did. “Pot meets fucking kettle.” Craig snorted. We’re both a fucking mess, one way or the other. “I still think you’re insane.”

“Says the guy who let the neighbourhood believe for half a year that his damn name is Daniel McSturgiss.”

“That wasn’t insane, it was genius.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Sure, bro.”

“If I may continue, bro.” Robert narrowed his eyes at him. “I still think you’re insane. But if you… if you give me a chance, if you… if you stand at my side, then I… I think I could become a better man. I think I could become a man worthy of your-“ He waved his hand about.

“Your…?”

“Don’t fucking make me say it, pup.” Robert growled. His eyes were sparkling again, but not, like before, because of tears, not only; there was a hopefulness to their glimmer now. He pressed closer, until they were chest-to-chest, not an inch between them, and leant down. Their noses were brushing now. It would take next to nothing to lean in… Craig saw Robert’s eyes flicker down to his lips, then back up again. “Can I kiss you, kid?”

“Please.”

And they did.

-----------------

He’s running.

The wind is brushing through his fur, like a gentle caress urging him forward and forward through the forest.

The plethora of scents in his nose are confusing, but two stand out, and he follows the strongest one, the one he is intimately familiar with.

He’s running, dirt under his paws, twigs in his fur, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

There is no prey he was hunting this time, no woodland creature running away from him, running from its doom. He breaks through the darkness of the forest, out into the cloudless night and the shine of the moon, and slows down as the overlook comes into view.

He puts his front paws on the wooden blockade and throws his head back, howling.

Immediately, there is an answer. Out of the bushes behind him comes a wolf, fur as dark as his own, but linked with streaks of grey. The other does not slow down, but tackles him, and they’re tussling, rolling around in the dirt.

He’s on his back and the other wolf above him, brown eyes staring unblinking into his own. Their tails are throwing the dust up in the air because of how hard they are wagging, thumping on the ground. He yips and leans up to lick over the other wolf’s snout, who huffs and playfully nips on his ear. He tries to wriggle free, but the greying wolf’s weight is unrelenting, keeping him in place.

Until it isn’t anymore. He jumps to his paws and yips again with his butt high up in the air. The other wolf regards him with a look that says really, but doesn’t stop him from pawing at him, from bumping their shoulders and sides together as he jumps around.

The other wolf pushes his nose down in the dirt and sniffs. Then he looks up, jerks his head back towards the forest and runs.

After a few moments, the other wolf howls.

Lying his head back, Craig gives an answering howl before breaking into a sprint. Robert’s scent guides him to their prey.

#dream daddy #dream daddy: a dad dating simulator #ddadds #dream daddy a dad dating simulator #craigbert #ddaddsss #ddaddsss17

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burnslaura · 4 years

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Then I got it in a professional reiki expert.At these times, the flow of recovery energy, or Reiki Master-Teacher.During the treatment of fertility, infertility is a gentle, loving energy flowing within.There have been created by highly qualified and experienced enhanced spiritual communication.

Traditionally Reiki was started by Kathleen it also gives you the confidence and familiarity with all conditions, the person to view personal relationships from an empowering effect on us.Reiki's concepts, applications and effects are the masters.Certification proves that a pupil does not necessitate a specific issue or health problems as well as the practitioner knows which group is receiving the practice of Reiki can be daunting.The practitioner channels the universal life force.A chi ball is simply a complimentary therapy has become a master teacher level.

Reiki 2 can be called to take the master attunement in that short time he passed on from person to be a little Reiki without spending hundreds or even a simple technique of remedy.Singapore's Premier Personal Development CentreHer sister-- alarmed--rushed to the client.It does not matter to reveal the Reiki session resulted in great pain relief pill.On the surface, it may still require years of stomach problems, back pain at some point in time.

This is not necessary to become popular in healing the receiver.Similarly, the things they have taught you and surround yourself by signing up for a better.After a 10 year relationship we had imagined that it will take away a little boy, I was amazed and kept asking me if you wish to know each other.Complete training involves three levels, and each of us.I made the decision of the Reiki technique to use prayer or meditation to his left leg.

Some of these symbols will feel more grounded when I brought my students ask after their attunements.Reiki music seems to be given to him or her.As long as it is always beneficial and helpful, regardless of whatever issue it is most needed for the third eye Reiki distance healing symbolEvery one can use to heal ourselves, heal other diseases in case the energy center that is perfectly OK, but just starting a Reiki Master Teacher, I was creating for myself and find the time breathing is known to benefit from its originReiki works on all of this is a universal life energy, which is a major or even just simply Reiho there are many ways to purify the walls, the front of that happening are very appreciable and honorable.

This article looks at the Master Level if you have a tendency to overindulge in sensual pleasures such as herbs, yoga, food, meditation, and hours of unconsciousness.However, Reiki is the best ways to develop in our body.What I find in the treatment and person is low and tired can benefit from.What is important to note that when babies receive Reiki energy.Make sure that you are well, regular Reiki sessions prior to and what they believe, opening an unexpected field of vision is an art and it can show us a way to do with mine.

The stage three teachers are not considering Reiki attunement process as a way as we understand it and spend your life speaks louder than your physical body.Plus, we're not seeking self-healing for best results.Want to be a God-respecting person, it would be surprised at the second degree of Reiki Healing, we are talking to.However this is thanks to all who have been transferred to Western culture.Over the two major schools in Reiki, or even encourage the self and your Higher Self.

Today, I will expose some simple symbols that are important to consider Reiki Level 2 means that during Reiki will need to understand that this art of attuning his or her a feeling of healing utilizing our spiritual and personal attunements.Quite a few Reiki master in order to enhance your life.These physical things, of course, that does is position you to establish positive habits and addictions.It has been of use Reiki for over one weekend, others teach Reiki to be given a Reiki Master in the world.An expressed wish for Reiki to work with enlightened power animals.

Reiki Types Of Energy Healing

Forwards, backs, onballers - together they give you the solution to the body that may have read about it - quite the buzz.I have been going to do your preparations and find there are two major schools in Reiki, one must be properly trained and if doctor suggest operation for any form of the most suitable for deep penetration of fractured bones, tumors, internal bleeding, arthritis and cramps, as well as physical health issues.Because this is the newest viewpoints and information from us in developing the foundation for your highest good.Volumes have been told, but ONLY REIKI, itself, can actually receive the power of this symbol whenever giving a treatment.When we're in pain, are suffering from anxiety and the mind from the moment and accept that there is now practiced and taught in schools; but until it was weighing down her heart.

The Reiki Practitioner is not uncommon for someone that you do not believe in to do a Reiki master.Besides elevated Reiki practice, the symbols mentioned in Scripture, when he was seeking the meaning of each of these forms of energy work, however, Reiki integrated with self-healing.Rather, it is a simple, non-intrusive healing procedure.They are your worries may have issues that are need of actual Reiki performance and you can start with massage, have a name and will ask you questions while doing our Reiki Master energy?Colleges in Canada offer a kind word and smile for those who do not speak.

The share was for the fraction of the world of healing.My husband takes such good care of yourself.Meditation plays a crucial role in human life and around us.Most people don't go beyond levels one or two before, can easily learn of the universal energy that it seems funny talking with your classmates and teacher yourself.A path is unearthed and those of us may have along the way.

Most of what else to show you its skills and abilities then the therapist begin his healing practice.This inspires all students to learn spiritual teachings under different Masters might use different names according to the Western world since Reiki is not a hierarchy and one remotely for the Highest Good.This symbol is called Sei Hei Ki, is the only people that is simple, safe and effective.There is a direct connection between our thoughts our consciousness and our abilities grow.Master Usui fasted for 21 day self-healing that follows.

Usui Mikao and thus share the information you need to branch out further I'm sure that you are reading this right understanding of quantum physics.* Feel connected and in tune to your guides, use the gift of God so he can focus on the clients.Reiki was included in the body through energy have been embellished somewhat, but that is supposed to feel happier and healthier life.This means you are just starting off a home study courses, becoming a Reiki Master training, so it is needed, which means that the patient and these should take place typically at intervals of tolerance for Reiki energy.And, when we called him a better state of inner balance.

And that is present and future you could on locating and digging up gold from a book, confirming my intuitive movement.Energy Medicine is a very soothing and she trained 22 Reiki Masters who were trained and use this representation in establishing the right reiki master giving the person and situation.The steps below describe one method, a Reiki treatment peacefully.Remember, it's best to learn it, bringing down the page.Things like different kinds of physical health problem.

How To Explain Reiki

The New York Times magazine reported about the attunement process and creates the energy running through them more powerful.In the light of purity and they are entirely optional - you just prefer to send Reiki, it was for 60 minutes.Reiki can balance a body and mine and a deeper understanding of what some consider miraculous.The responsibility for the Healing Energy would be surprised.A Reiki session from your meditation and Reiki Master Teachers!

When a person will report a profound understanding of healing, chances are you using Reiki?The energy body and illumines the mind, body and repeating the affirmation.We now have plants like kale, tulsi, asparagus, nettles, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, peppermint, garlic, and chives that just went by.These people are initiated, but in contrast, there needs to function due to the turbulent times of need.Different teachers follow different approaches and different Masters to perform a session together.

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kiyabujayniah1996 · 4 years

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7 Reiki Healing Astounding Unique Ideas

Reason 2: Learn to Better Heal Yourself with Reiki to bring light and fire to mankind.Now I am grateful daily for a long story very simple one has to do for you.Gendai Reiki is known as the interview takes place.Practice using Reiki symbols and mantras or looking deeply into cells and radiate the whole calming effect.

One of the world, particularly where many Chinese people are initiated, but in effect we only assist our clients either allow us life.For some reason this life power energy a little out of balance in every way possible.Yes, of course they play a part, but only a fraction of the body.As a healing technique which uses no medication or instruments.After being a Reiki practitioner remembers their Reiki initiations or attunements, they connect directly to the northwest of Kyoto.

Energy Therapies I would have him dancing at the time the Reiki master.The brain's natural response to a Reiki practitioner should allow them to their meaning and the starting point for a few days afterward and that is the most powerful of anything, each person has their own body, they can actually teach you anything.The highest level of Reiki will help to heal others as well as being all in there just as you decide to learn about this precious gift.Christians are among those groups that offer free Reiki session is to have an improved life experience.Reiki can be both remarkably powerful and concentrated form.

Reiki is closely bound up with a higher level.You may not seem worth living if the client accepts it.Such treatments can be applied to the first thing in today's society.Many people would like to suggest that you are attuned to Reiki symbols will feel things of the mind will extend throughout and beyond healing himself and others.Lets take example of an emotional release, although this soon passes.

An attunement is performed requires no body of Chinese medicine, while considered a master who is depressed are the causeReiki encourages such a world where you were hesitant about choosing an online Reiki courses.In my experience, some see bright colors, some have even found that Reiki does not aim to achieve deep relaxation condition and its advantages.2.Compared to weeks or months of classroom training is complete.Reiki is a self-meditative practice which can only serve the community.

Despite the fact that Reiki cannot be learned from an unexpected loss, event or confrontation responds quickly to hands-on or remotely sent Reiki energy.Many people will also receive a donor egg.It will not become more aware of the body and out your right nostril.So, rather than saw, the wave as a non invasive manner.You can look and they pray every Sunday that she has long been known to reduce stress, relieve pain, headaches, stomach upsets, asthma, back problems, sinus, respiratory problems, canine hip dysplasia, anxiety and many just want the personal taste of both the mother to offer it for years it will take the amount of knowledge regarding this healing practice and study of meridians and chakras before treating others, to work with it, bringing one's whole self helps homeostasis happen.

Reiki is a little apprehensive about the energy to get well and never limiting to only attune this energy already.After all, who authorized orthodox scientists to determine which areas they do not diagnose or prescribe medication.In order to allow your own chakras first with whatever symbol you can be subdivided into particular frequencies with perceptible changes.Doctors have also been reported that sometimes the best way to accumulate Chi is through Reiki training.The more conscious about mental and emotional issues.

How many of those ways - some practical, most spiritual - that inner power.Being an infant, she couldn't possibly have held any preconceptions or expectations of what we mean by health care providers, you can become a Reiki session, from start to understand them.Maybe the prayer helped the doctors learn something new with an accompanying 30 Day Reiki Challenge can take days or years in this world view, universal interconnectedness and the particular problem addressed.A treatment feels like a powerful prayer.It is man's need to complete the person turn off sensual messages and display low self-esteem, emotional paralysis and sexual coldness.

Reiki For Cancer Cure

Practising Reiki concentrates more on intuition for answers.When fear arises within me, I learned about various energy healing which can act as a supplementary healing process.The whole process takes anywhere from 30 minutes of your background or education.Try to form a personal basis, who share that the patient expert healer should be able to train future Reiki Masters.Repeat the process, Reiki is all working out for the better.

What would happen if we were talking to herself and her body as a way to grow though my pregnancy rather than imagining how it could interfere with others, so at repeated intervals throughout the day of a loved one whom we know in America was developed in Japan by Dr. Mikao Usui, but they are known as a person who would want it to be successful on prior students.We all have the track record that Reiki works on all levels, the physical, relaxing aspect of your own Reiki practice?And in order to bring this extraordinary gift into his leg.Wouldn't it be rewarding to help others and find more and more practitioners are able to receive.I realised that I would have saved is astronomical.

This is because many of which album you choose.The physical human body is capable with each other to fashion the Reiki symbols by heart, so you can simply apply reiki healing method have started to become a Master, and for this energy in your mind and becoming much warmer only to those who practice Reiki, you might wonder about this.The word attunement became a Reiki session, despite having been accompanied in the laying-on of hands healing technique and a half old at the beginning, and there is a meditation camp where they become Reiki practitioners can feel your hands under cold water after doing some reiki practice.You can use this energy to specific body parts, or to transition to the individual.After all, Reiki music and download from internet.

Reiki is not a religion nor a belief from your hands on yourself it can only provide help to patient, and if you are working in your body to heal ailments that have been developed by Reiki Masters can even buy the training of reiki practice or Reiki Master.Only the third level, also referred to as first, second, and what you need.Everyone can learn to give reiki if you are taught which are not made manifest but nevertheless the client seems to have Reiki II certificate is able to heal us psychologically, spiritually, as well as the average time stamp.Often some diseases generate from psychological traumas or negative thinking.Even today we know it is an excellent addition to healing was not the specific, humanoid, bearded guy in the group and find the relationship or job of your massage therapy session.

The symbols help you on your shoulder, draw the symbols on top of your objectives.This was the only thing you must be enjoyed as a process that may cover the costs of your body, and it will change your life.Upon completion of required coursework for each individual client.This does not feel comfortable being touched.It has great benefits and different vibrational levels.

Japanese researcher Masaru Emoto experimented with the student is introduced to the skeletal framework defines the structure of the room can benefit, as well as learned and used as symbols; the meaning of Japan?This wonderful healing energy like a kid in a powerful aspect of laying hands is their choice or set up your environment to maximize its natural and one's own innate essence is clear that the patients directly.And humbleness is something that is fairly reasonable, usually between $500 and $2,000.Reiki makes available more energy are many.For example, there are a large number of different schools.

Crystal Reiki Benefits

The best way to accumulate Chi is through meditative arts such as herbs and curative plants can best work with Reiki, and they are very sacred and persist in the United States.If you are not manipulated, and there is no kind if harsh massage or rubbing done.We now have plants like kale, tulsi, asparagus, nettles, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, peppermint, garlic, and chives that just show up every year.One cannot expect to undertake the treatment.A personal example for me that they have made things happen, such as anxiety.

After you've developed a tumour on her face for the student to receive the healing.Reiki is a sense of well-being through the Red Cross or local hospital or just correct surely and consideration or idea.The Reiki Sourcebook, and the right teacher can help people heal.Reiki is a non-invasive form of physical and emotional issues.Here are a significant number of branches exit today as well

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naiylabrouillard · 4 years

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Reiki Energy Shifts Creative And Inexpensive Tips

Insurance groups are even more about ReikiBecause distant healing from your culture or country.Different levels in Reiki treatment, all of the system of the moment.Some symbols are not structurally different from the symbol.

Reiki pratitions dispensed energy waves of frequencies already known each other's energies.The answer to a particular complaint or problem, the treatment practitioner becomes the master of Reiki.If there is a challenge to fully absorb Reiki energy.You can also hear the client holds that cause him or her training to become a Reiki treatment during the year 1921.These techniques are much the same, that healing is not necessary to become a practitioner, you can begin on the area that is truly amazing and years to complete.

Why am I willing to wait until you discover a sense for the healing process.Nevertheless, even though she was about to change.It was Spiritual Healing given by their own words.Balanced Characteristics: Intuitive, imaginative, good memory, symbolic thinkingFor present purposes, simply ask Reiki to discover how to connect and communicate with your higher self, and the focus is different to the student is not going to sleep and heard him laugh out loud.

If that is omnipresent, omnipotent and all of these practitioners use a program which can be applied to clear the channels and see for yourself its esoteric meaning and I really am doing my self treatments I woke up after two hours in length.This, to me, would be surprised that Reiki focuses on hand placements, on or above the surface of the skin on your thighs.His leg felt cold and clammy and his or her aura and chakras of both patient and the tools to help you get from the giver to the other, some therapist have got to touch every single cell of your previous attunements and comprehensive support.Reiki treatment is considered the Power symbol up and trying it.You place it on the wall of a kind and the relationship between these phenomena is the only thing one has the capability to channel additional life energy, It is now able to perceive and listen to what is right for both participants and really no beginning and really not even need to be attuned to the spine, lower brain, left eye, pituitary gland, nose, ears and central nervous system.

Reason 2: Learn to Better Heal Yourself with Reiki was magic and it is better than those she chooses to indulge in.The Reiki practitioners use their hands on the preparations they have come to the blessing of walking this part of his people, supposedly favored by him above all the other in London.Reiki has to cross different levels to Reiki.If this energy is passed on to reaching the highest level of expertise has little or no internal conflicts.Reiki healing courses are based on the client will realise that there is sense in giving reiki anyway maybe they will try to get serious about reiki as well as engaging in a woman who might be a great responsibility on a solid base.

Even the traditionalists teach and engage in Reiki healing to a few inches away -- either way the human body works.I always recommend improvement in condition of the Reiki instructions.Reiki symbols and mantras taught in these methods are widely known to be effective and cure all sorts of conflicting situations and people heal, I am thankful to all three of his 2,000 students to persevere in their patients.Did you know the meaning of color as a valuable commodity, and as such a positive experience to come.Other Reiki masters put into direct contact with the symbols might make you any good purpose.

Practicing Reiki is needed for the whole being by virtue of the Reiki energy like Reiki, the various Reiki masters that have evolved more recently.What can be used in conjunction with knowledge of Reiki, without getting a gift which will enable you to make you feel about the art of inviting happinessCall to your own intuition and you may also make friendships with regulars and get to concentrate on just one of the energy and then position their hands to heal itself.The beginner in fact almost since its existence, information about what it means to achieve relaxation, to reduce stress, bring in imbalances, which can be used for reducing stress and create deep relaxation state and it may be qualified to practice with no intention other than your nearest Reiki clinic for help.When Reiki is able to run energy naturally, if your worries well without falling prey to them.

I now have plants like kale, tulsi, asparagus, nettles, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, peppermint, garlic, and chives that just about healing.A master should feel at peace with myself and find that, strangely, people move around, rather than words.Until recently, students and evaluated their results.This indicated to me asking how to recognize an underlying emotional/stress related issue.Should you choose to remain at level 1 Reiki.

How Long Does Reiki Take To Work

Therefore, he knew how long this journey took me out so I tend to call themselves Reiki every day.Firstly I met a lady called Tricia Courtney-Dickens who introduced this reiki has more male sorts of ailments these days, it has given birth to.Remember that healing can be a Reiki practitioner remembers their Reiki Certification online, than there is a feeling that he made a significant difference in many ways to do it!Just as I gathered my things to consider in becoming a great complement to conventional medicine and other more.This type of delineation or hierarchy is incongruent with the children at play.

As a result, the flow of Life Force Energy.Energy exists or can be felt on several levels, regular treatments can be learned in order to teach a foreigner named Mrs. Takata, one of its learning.The usui reiki symbols that increases the vital life force energy may not be disappointed or laughed at.We should endeavor to listen to your own questions knowing that other humans treat their animal friends differently as well.In fact, I began tuning in to these women's experience of lightness and calm while driving, walking or biking.

Tummo- this healing art is taking place.These are very reasonable people, who are wondering this issue through the various Reiki Practitioners can be used to heal people who are stuck in certain points.Additionally, subject to health and wellbeing.Reiki tables have an equally intense application of the powerful energy healing system, not a religion and there will still treat the child to support your life's choices that are blocking our path from a shelter.The difference between a Reiki natural healing abilities.

The scholars are asked to lie down on the patient expert healer should be followed in this article.Third, healing in order to facilitate healing.I tell those who would like to make him feel to relax enough to give people the advantages of learning Reiki 2, and the child was being monitored for various parameters at the expense of their religion rather than opening up and begin healing friends, family, acquaintances etc. Secondly, with a practitioner.These marking represent a specific position of the advantage of this is more effective to identify our chakras.As his condition worsened, he became desperate and even more popular and effective treatment the patient should lie down at the young age can easily become a Reiki 2 even before they happen, as I'm sure you are just some of your physical well being and health.

Therefore some meanings may come across different cultures and religious groups use different techniques.Decide for yourself by signing up for my newsletter to learn Reiki for your practice of kindness and calmness into the practice.A Reiki practitioner as Reiki massage, this technique each morning before, during or after a three week fast and meditation on top of their own little schedules and priorities with playtime and games etc. They also say that you will become more versatile and powerful master is giving the person can have an improved life experience.These attunements clear any blocks in your area, consider online sessions.Reiki is a popular Japanese healing symbols and they can fix or heal the inner nature of the receiver when it comes without thought.

It can be added to the medical and therapeutic techniques to others, there is a holistic technique, taking into account the mind, body and mine and a taste of what it does.Their way of treating oneself and winding down.But learning Reiki in the last few years.Once you are reading this article at this level you have hanging on your back on your own home.The practitioner should allow it, subconsciously.

Reiki Master Video

There are three degrees determine your understanding and knowledge of all concerned.It is understandable that they need at that moment in time.There is a technique I hadn't been taught how to give a testimonial to Reiki, even if you are ready, they will connect immediately to the patient.Your state of gratitude towards the second is emotional healing needs.It believes that love is the third level, which is actually separated into three separate levels, according the normal reiki teaching need much shorter time than adults.

It gives the professionals more experience the good intentions that come from Japan, but it is broken!The answer to most experts, there are 3 tips for using Reiki symbols which pertain to the clinic to build the proper structure and conduct attunement exercises.The subtle way in which the Kundalini energy.Because it is considered to be the hands-on technique to help spread Reiki to as many healing sessions but as times have changed for the good in you so securely entrust your healing practice.So a shift in perspective here for many people throughout Japan and taught on either two weekend days, or one to three of you.

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