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captcas · 3 years

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Screwed (A Destiel AU)

Screwed by capthamm (Part 1 of 2)

Dean inherits the old family inn and has to move home to fix it up for selling. When the work proves to be too much, he enlists in the town's only contractor's help– his neighbor, Castiel. Dean is short on time, stuck in a hometown riddled with old flames, and falling for the man who lives next door. He's screwed.

notes: I'm halfway through season 7 and missing Mr. Castiel on my screen so this poured out. I'm almost finished but here is part one. My first ever attempt in the Supernatural fan fiction world... please be kind. Thank to my lovely beta, Luke <3 (@bawley_bug) read on ao3

At this point, Dean’s left thumb had been hit by the hammer more than any of the nails and he was regretting every single choice he ever made that led him to this exact moment.

Why the fuck did he think he was cut out for restoring an inn? Not just any inn– the inn. The one John ran before he got too old and retired, eventually– well let’s just say Dean isn’t here out of any sort of living guilt.

Dean’s not sure why he’s here.

If he breaks it down, it’s because he received a letter in the mail exactly two months after the passing of his father detailing how Lawrence would have no choice but to tear down the old inn unless someone from his family claimed it.

Sam’s not going to leave his law practice and the life he built for Jess and the twins, out in California.

Dean’s the only one left.

So, taking things extremely literally, he’s here because a bunch of lawyers told him he needed to be.

Another slam into his thumb jolts his train of thought off its tracks and convinces him to pack it up for the night. He snaps the tools back into his massive toolkit and stands back to look at the old built-in shelves he decided would probably be the easiest to tackle on his own. Nodding at the good-enough outcome, he turns to scan the rest of the main floor.

Maybe the built-ins are the only thing he’s going to be able to do alone.

Dean doesn’t like the thought of teamwork– especially not with the grumpy prick who lives next door. His neighbor stopped by the day Dean arrived because apparently it was John’s dying wish that their neighbor offer his services when his estranged son eventually showed up to fix the inn. (Leave it to his father to leave Dean feeling inadequate from the great beyond.)

“No, thank you.” “Excuse me?” “You offered, I’m declining. Debt, paid.” "As you wish, Winchester.” Even wrapped in the neighbor’s deep lumbering voice, Dean winces at his last name– it feels just as constricting as it did when he thought he’d be stuck in this town forever, “Dean.” “Whatever.”

Dean thought that’d be the last he’d see of the guy until he marched away and slammed the door just across the small garden. That house used to be for whatever innkeeper his parents had hired, but when the inn closed they rented it out to whichever soul felt like a one bedroom one bathroom home was enough to live in.

Apparently that was this asshole.

They’ve seen each other three more times since then, but never long enough to even exchange names. Dean isn’t sure why he’s keeping track– each time just as unpleasant as the first. Sure, Dean could’ve been friendlier, but warning bells rattled through him every time the neighbor’s stormy eyes met his. Dean may have sworn off unnecessary human interaction for the foreseeable future, but he’s not blind and his neighbor isn’t hard to look at.

But his life has no room for attractive neighbors with an attitude problem.

Convincing himself there must be someone else in this town who knows their way around a fixer upper, Dean heads to the Roadhouse for dinner and hopefully the name of someone else to help him get the inn fixed up enough to sell.

Walking through the front door of the restaurant-meets-dive-bar, the familiar smell hits him like a breath of fresh air. He can’t believe he held out for almost a week before eating here. The Roadhouse is one of the few places left in the town left untouched by rotten memories and painful nostalgia. Nothing but good ever happens once he crosses this threshold and it’s that fact that allows him to relax for the first time since moving back to Lawrence.

He starts to order his usual and Jo winks signaling she remembers even after all these years– Dean can’t believe she runs this on her own now. Jo always swore she’d get out of this town, break the chains of her mother’s legacy, but nevertheless here she is– here they both are.

Jo looks happy, maybe even at home– Dean? Not so much.

The plate drops in front of him and Dean catches his old friend lingering a bit. He looks up and says thank you and that was all it took to spark some small town gossip from Jo. While he didn’t come back to rekindle any old relationships– friendly or otherwise– Dean doesn’t mind her company and before he knows it he’s laughing and taking his last bite of burger. The conversation starts to die and Dean remembers why he came to town in the first place, “Oh! Jo, I meant to ask. I’m fixing up the old inn and I need help. Do you have the number of someone who–”

“Of course, Dean! Chuck retired, but Castiel took over, after Gabriel ran off to Thailand.” Dean raises his eyebrow and Jo laughs, “ That’s a story for another meal. Here,” she hands over a napkin with a number scrawled across it, “Castiel is the best in town and will fix up that inn in no time.”

Castiel.

Dean racks his brain for any recollection of someone named Castiel from their childhood but the name doesn’t ring a bell— and a name like that definitely would ring a bell. He supposes people must move to Lawrence, just like any town, and resigns it to someone new since he left.

He can’t expect everything to stay the same while he spent the last 15 years trying to change in every way imaginable.

Thanking his friend for the help, Dean pays and heads home for the night. Finally having the name of someone to help has lifted a huge weight off his chest. He sighs as he crawls onto the old mattress in the first floor suite, thankful it’s dark enough that he can’t nitpick all that needs to be done. The sooner he can get the inn fixed up, the sooner he can sell it and go back to Sioux Falls and the life he chose rather than the one his parents forced on him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the Roadhouse or the knowledge that this process will move twice as fast with a little help, but Dean sleeps better that night than he has in years. When he wakes with the sun, he feels energized and ready to continue his work on his family’s property.

He decides to start with disassembling the kitchen cabinets and it doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm in his work— four screws and a trip to the pile, four screws, trip to the pile. Lost in the easy monotony, Dean forgets his decision to call for help until late into the morning. Hoping to catch the contractor before lunch, he brushes the dust from his hands and digs in his pocket for the napkin Jo had written on last night.

He’s not sure why he feels so anxious as he waits for the man on the other end of the line to pick up, but he supposes it rests on the fact that this man only knows Dean by the reputation he left town with— John’s other son.

Sam was always the golden child— pretty blonde cheerleaders and a full-ride to Stanford are not even an exaggeration when it comes to his younger brother.

Dean, on the other hand, was always rough around the edges, emotional, and different — let’s just say he’d go for the cheerleader or the quarterback.

As soon as Dean was shoved out of the closet— his dad walking in on him and Benny not leaving very much up for debate— John shut him out completely. Dean brushed it off as his dad’s way of fighting every piece of homophobia he was raised with, but the fact is: it was more likely he was disgusted by his own son.

But that was ages ago and, from what Sam’s told him, John died swearing his love for both his boys.

Not that Sam would tell Dean otherwise.

“Hello?” A gruff voice breaks him out of his daze and he’s startled back to the present day.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, uh, is this Castiel?” It’s the first time Dean’s said the name aloud and he can’t help but notice how easily it rolls off his tongue.

“This is. How can I help you?” The man is all business, clearly not as affected by Dean’s use of his name as Dean was.

“Oh yeah, uh, I got your name from Jo at the Roadhouse? My name is Dean Winchester and I’m fixing up the old Winchester Inn and I’m realizing the job may be too massive to handle on my own.” Dean winces at his blatant request for help, never one to ask outright for assistance, but as he looks at the pile of kitchen cabinets which need to be sanded, painted, and rehung, he knows he can’t do this alone. He realizes the man on the other end of the line hasn’t said anything when he continues, “Uh, that is if you have the bandwidth for that…”

Another pause before the man, Castiel, speaks again, “I can be right over.”

Dean didn’t really know how to respond, he was expecting to bargain for payment or at least for a delay in starting the project. He’s not used to this immediate willingness to help a complete stranger. He’s about to stumble through a response when he realizes Castiel is no longer on the other end of the phone. He shrugs, and sets it on the counter as there’s a knock on the door.

Shit. The only way Castiel could’ve gotten here that fast is if he’s...

Dean opens the door to the man he’s now seen a mere four times despite his permanent residence on Dean’s property. His neighbor— Castiel— looks different today. The usual softness that accompanies the man overtaken by strong arms, an AC/DC t-shirt, and a tool belt placed perfectly on his hips.

Whoa, Dean.

“Uh, hi?” Dean isn’t sure how one goes about re-introducing themselves to apparently the only help in town after being an ass before. But he’s here and Dean introduced himself on the phone and he still came.

“Hello.” The man– Castiel– greets Dean so matter of factly as he glances around Dean quizzically, presumably taking in the whole of the inn. Dean is a little taken aback by this whole interaction and the way it’s entirely different than any they’ve shared previously. Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s and Dean can’t help but notice a hint of playfulness before Castiel speaks again, “So you do need help?”

Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel laughs sending a shockwave through Dean he hasn’t felt in ages. He promptly ignores it before motioning towards the foyer and inviting his new contractor inside. They don’t exchange any pleasantries, but rather head right to work. Castiel asks questions about everything from the crown molding and stair railing to Dean’s plan for the half shattered French doors.

The man is thorough and he knows his stuff.

Maybe teamwork with him won’t be so bad.

They finish their walk through and Dean is relieved to hear that Castiel agrees the upstairs mostly needs some fresh paint. John left some money to fix up the inn, but not enough for a total overhaul. After working through the budget, they decide it’ll be more cost effective if it retains its original charm.

“Well, Dean, I like what we’ve got here and I think we can make something out of this.” Castiel slouches into one of the bar stools near the kitchen island as he surveys the room one more time. Dean does his best not to notice the sweat slowly making its way down Castiel’s collar bone and beneath the collar of his t-shirt, and the way he says Dean, and his implication that this is theirs . Dean hasn’t shared anything for most of his adult life– mostly because he hasn’t had anyone worth sharing something with.

But this inn feels like it’s meant to be shared, and Dean can’t seem to find any reason not to do so with Castiel.

“I’m glad you think so. I suppose we should discuss payment…” Dean trails off as Castiel’s gaze becomes confused.

“I don’t intend on charging you a dime, Dean.” Castiel’s matter of fact smile returns and Dean can’t ignore the way his gut flutters.

He’s not a nun, Dean’s been attracted to people for as long as he can remember being alive. From Lucy Jones in kindergarten to a myriad of characters in his adult life, he’s always been a people person loaded with an innate attraction for the kind of itches you scratch and forget ever existed.

Castiel is beginning to feel like an itch he’d like to scratch.

But that’d ruin everything, especially Dean’s plan to sell the inn for as much as humanly possible and then get the hell outta dodge.

“I appreciate that, but I have to give you something…” Castiel waves Dean off and he realizes arguing would be useless. “Thanks.”

Castiel nods before taking time to study Dean until it almost feels awkward. Dean is typically the one doing the studying, and he feels naked under this man’s gaze. They remain in a silence delicately balanced between comfortable and awkward until Castiel speaks again, “Well, best I get back to my place. I will see you tomorrow morning, Dean.”

As Castiel stands, he adjusts the toolbelt around his waist and Dean forces himself to look away, not willing to tempt himself with the flash of skin exposed during the adjustment. The contractor must notice because he smirks slightly before nodding his head in goodbye. If he didn’t know better, Dean would swear Castiel walks a bit closer to him than is necessary. He shakes it off before heading to the bathroom to shower off the grime of the day before checking in with Sam, Jess, and the kids.

. . .

They work surprisingly well together.

His new partner is a quiet but sturdy presence throughout the day– rarely chatting about more than the weather or whatever task needs to be done– but on occasion Dean will learn a bit more about him. He’s started to compile a list of Cas’s likes and dislikes– for example, Cas likes that Dean gave him a nickname.

“Hey, Cas, can you hand me the socket wrench?” "Cas?” “Uh, yeah, short for Castiel. You got too many syllables, man.”

Cas nodded and moved on with the task, but Dean can’t help but notice the small smirk everytime he has to call Cas by name. Cas also smiles whenever a screw goes in without a fight and when the first raindrop of an impending storm hits his forehead.

Dean likes it when Cas smiles. (Apparently Dean’s compiled a list for that, too.)

He’s tried to largely ignore the growing attraction for the man he’s working with for more than eight hours a day, but it gets more difficult with each glance to make sure the other is still in one piece and every accidental touch of hands when they pass off a tool.

At least Dean tells himself it’s accidental.

He hadn’t gotten enough out of Cas to even know if he “plays for that team,” as Sam likes to say. Dean is almost positive John wouldn’t have encouraged the two work together if Cas is gay, but there are moments that give him more hope that he deserves.

“Dean!” Cas’s steady voice startles him from the monotony of painting kitchen cabinets and his overflowing thoughts.

He puts down the paintbrush and walks over to the fireplace where Cas is supposed to be sanding down the mantle, “Yeah, Cas, what is it?” There’s that smile– sometimes Dean wonders if he uses his nickname for Cas just to get a glimpse of it.

“I’m hungry and I’m out of sand paper.” Cas looks up from the stool he’s been sitting on for hours with a hint of puppy dog eyes. Dean isn’t exactly paying Cas so he could definitely come and go as he pleases, but they tend to stick to a similar schedule everyday. Checking his watch, Dean sees it is lunchtime and agrees to head into town for a sandwich.

“I should probably get cleaned up a bit…” Cas trails off as he surveys his dusty jeans and sweat drenched t-shirt. Without trying to, Dean gets lost in the unfairly attractive mess of it all for a moment too long. He looks up to speak again and Cas is smirking almost knowingly.

Shit.

“Yeah, sure. You can use the shower here if you want but no promise there’s any hot water.” Dean scratches behind his ear nervously. This wasn’t any sort of purposeful invitation, but he can’t help but feel a wad of want fall into his stomach. Cas simply nods his thanks before heading into the main floor bathroom with a change of clothes he brought “just in case”. Dean laughed when Cas told him that he’s always that prepared and cited the fact that Cas only lives thirty steps away from the inn. He simply shrugged and said “You never know” and that was the end of that. Dean supposes Cas was right and the change of clothes had come in handy.

Though, not exactly how Dean thought they would.

As he hears the shower turn on, Dean goes back to painting kitchen cabinets in hopes of distracting himself from the very attractive, very naked man that is showering in the next room. It works for a while but eventually the knowledge feels stifling and Dean decides to clean up quickly and wait for Cas on the porch.

“What’re you waiting out here for?” Cas walks outside, resting his arm on the doorframe to only accentuate his bicep muscles. Dean knows if he looks at what is probably disheveled and wet hair from the shower it’ll take every piece of willpower he has not to jump the guy right then and there.

“Let’s go.” He leads Cas to his car without looking in his direction or answering his question. As Dean walks around the back of the impala he sees Cas smirk again.

Bastard.

They take the short drive into town before stopping at the hardware store. Dean needs to pick up some new screws so he can finish the cabinets and Cas needs some more sand paper so they decide to split up and grab what they need. Cas cuts right, beelining for the aisle like he lives here– now that Dean thinks about it, Cas probably does come here a lot– and Dean wanders to the left looking for the screw aisle.

He ends up finding them along with a confused pre-teen boy comparing screw sizes to an outlet cover. Dean laughs to himself before offering his help, “Anything I can help with?”

The boy turns to Dean, startled at first, but then relaxing when he doesn’t sense any immediate threat, “Yeah, that’d be great. My mom sent me in here twenty minutes ago, but I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

Dean laughs, “Well, your Dad should’ve taught you screw shopping at the very least.”

“How could he do that when he doesn’t know I exist?” The kid says it so matter of factly, Dean isn’t even sure he heard him correctly. He scans him for signs of distress, but whatever therapy he’s getting must’ve worked because the kid goes back to comparing screws without missing a beat.

“Fair enough. Here, you’ll want these ones,” Dean grabs a four pack of the screws the kid is looking for and hands it to him. “Then you’ll have extras in case you need to replace another one.”

“Awesome, thanks! My names–”

“Ben? What’s taking you–” Dean winces, he’d know that voice anywhere and the fact she paused means… “Dean?! What are you doing talking to… what’s going on here?”

“Mom!”

“Lisa…”

Ben (apparently) and Dean speak at the same time, both turning towards the woman Dean hasn’t thought about in years. They were something– more than something– for about a year, but John’s pressure pushed Dean out of town and Lisa refused to leave Lawrence... so now they're here, awkwardly looking at each other in a hardware store.

“Lisa, look, I can explain–”

“Dean, I found the sandpaper and I also grabbed some extra paint for that wall in the living–” Dean’s cut off as Cas rounds the corner looking down at the sandpaper packaging and clearly missing all the fun in aisle nine, “Oh. Hi!”

Then Cas waves , an adorable wave that if Dean wasn’t so goddamn turned around probably would’ve sent him spiraling. Dean facepalms to hide his smile and proceeds to rub his calloused hands through his hair trying to decide what to say next. But Ben must be oblivious to the absolute shit storm happening a foot above his current height because he chooses this moment to chime in, “I was confused about which screws to get and Dean offered to help, Mom. That’s all. And look,” Ben holds up the package Dean handed him what feels like an eternity ago, “Got ‘em!”

That kid just saved Dean’s ass.

Lisa still looks a little stunned to see Dean– his return had seemingly not reached the far ends of the town gossip chain quite yet– but then she glances back towards Cas… and then back to Dean.

He’s about to correct her when she surprises him with a hug.

They didn’t exactly end on bad terms, but he probably could’ve been nicer when he told her he was leaving.

Hence why the hug catches him off guard, as does what she quietly whispers in his ear, “I’m glad you found someone that makes you smile like that again.”

Dean can't even formulate a correction before Lisa’s telling Ben to thank Dean for his help and the pair is heading down the other end of the aisle. He turns towards Cas who is staring intensely at a speck on the floor by his feet, but seems to be smiling all the same.

Maybe Dean isn’t wrong about him.

They check out and head back to the Impala in silence. It isn’t until they get home after swinging through the drive thru that Dean even realizes he forgot to grab the screws.

#Destiel #destiel ff #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #castiel owns my soul #where the fuck did destiel come from?#capthamm #please be kind I've only watched halfway through season 7

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thewrongjackpot · 4 years

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I hit the wrong jackpot. *Spoiler alert, it’s cancer.*

[Originally written 1/3/20]

Warning: There may be a fair amount of sarcasm throughout this post coupled with some dark humor. Also, if you’re new to this channel, please disregard a lot of the other ramblings here, unless one dares to be bored.

“What jackpot did you hit?” you may ask. I hit the cancer jackpot. You read that right. C-A-N-C-E-R. This fun-loving 26-year-old has been diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma and of a newer subtype called Sclerosing. Take those words in. I had to have Google repeatedly tell me how to say it before I got the hang of it. It’s a jackpot because to say it is uncommon in adults is an understatement. A friend told me I need to get my butt to Vegas with all this rare luck.

“Wait, what? How did this all happen?” asked no one. Here’s a fun “little” deep-dive into everything that’s been going on the past few months, and how I’ve been dealing with it. Remember, you chose to continue reading this long post from here on out.

Well, let’s take it back to early-mid August. It started with what I thought was just TMJ issues because I was stressing some and clenching my teeth, so my jaw and temple started off sore. It then progressed to limited range of motion with my jaw (opening/closing), a small protrusion along my temple, and some numbness on my face. The urgent care doc essentially told me it’s TMD, the muscle is swollen, to chill, and it’ll go away. Well, that was extremely off. I saw my primary doctor, who then referred me to an ear, nose, and throat (ENT) doctor. Now, we’re at the end of November, and I had to take some MRIs and then was referred to another ENT doctor. I had a biopsy, and the doctor said it looks more mild-moderate than severe like he was initially thinking, but he was pretty sure it was malignant with how quickly it has been growing. Christmas Eve morning, I get a phone call. The final pathology came about, and it’s an intermediate grade Rhabdomyosarcoma. I was referred to a hospital with a Sarcoma specialist and saw her just after the new year began. She doesn’t know staging yet because she doesn’t know if it has spread anywhere else yet. I only had MRIs done and that was over a month ago now. So next week I get the joyous pleasure of more MRIs, a bone scan, a lumbar puncture, and a bone marrow biopsy. EXCITING. They’re also going to need to start chemo soon, so they’re working on getting that set up in the background. As of right now, the oncologist was saying it’ll be about 5 months of chemo, radiation and/or surgery, and then more chemo. More will be known in the coming weeks, but at least there’s finally a real start and direction to this all.

Needless to say, it’s been a crappy holiday season and last several months. Here’s a list of what this jolly (not green) giant growth in my head/neck has caused:

Swollen temple/face

Limited ability to open my mouth (~1.5cm)

Misaligned jaw

Numbness along half my face

Sharp shooting pains throughout my head/neck

Impacted breathing out of my left nostril

Fluid in my left ear (impacted hearing)

Trouble swallowing

Fatigue

Body aches

Pressure throughout the entire left side of my head

Large growth(s) inside my mouth encompassing cheek/mouth real estate

Accidentally chewing on said growths, which I think is the reason there’s blood in my mouth periodically

After my first meeting with the oncologist the other day, some topics hit home harder than others.

One of the points that almost made me cry on the spot was when I was asking about fertility. She was saying that she could recommend me to a fertility clinic to harvest my eggs. However, that could take 2-4 weeks, and we might not have that time to spare. I know that there’s so much more at stake, my health and well-being taking spot numero uno. I also know that there are other ways to still have kids, but it’s still such a depressing feeling and thought. Along with hearing that 2-4 weeks is not time that can be spared, it begs the question, “How bad/serious is this really?”. Having my own child is a choice that may never even be mine to begin with. I just always had this picture in mind about how life would be never thinking this is the luck I would be dealt. Then again, I don’t think anyone ever envisions something like this happening to them… Although, my vision of six dogs at any given time could become more of a reality. *shrug* (Honorable mention goes out to my brother who was cheering me up big time on this one.)

Next, the fear started to really set in when talking about all these tests that needed to be done. I’m absolutely terrified of pain, and the thought of all these huge needles makes me want to cry, throw up, and pass out. It’s not just the pain and needles I’m afraid of, it’s everything that comes along with the actualization of what this really is. Since we don’t know the full extent of this, my mind can’t help but think the prognosis is possibly more grim with all these tests needed and how quickly this tumor has dominated my face. I’m scared about having to go to treatments, having to feel sick, fatigue setting in, and withering away. I’m scared about losing my hair because, boy, let me tell you, I’ve always had long thick hair my whole life. There are only two occasions I can think of where my hair was shorter than mid-back. I’ve broken down crying several times in the shower while washing my hair; it was always a safety blanket for me. Although, I said I should jump the gun and get a bowl cut already haha. On a more serious note, I’m absolutely mortified that I’m not going to make it through this…but being a fighter and a survivor is in my blood, so I’m trying to not let that run my mind too much.

On a more physical and literal level, one of the most debilitating aspects of this is the limited range of motion with my mouth because I can barely eat. Eating has become almost a punishment because after a few bites of something, it hurts everywhere. It’s hard to swallow at times; it’s just all-around depressing. At this point, I’m closing in on having lost 30 pounds in about three months. I’m eating maybe 1000 calories a day. I try to force myself to eat, but it’s difficult. Some days everything makes me nauseous. I’ve mostly been drinking smoothies, eating soup, and other soft foods like mashed potatoes. Even when I am eating something, it’s extremely defeating when I wipe soup off my chin because the little piece of potato couldn’t fit in my dumb mouth and caused soup to drip down, and I couldn’t feel it because my face is too busy being numb. Moments like that are extremely disheartening. Stupid mouth.

Also, another difficult aspect of this is sleeping. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in months. No matter which way I lie, there is either uncomfortable pressure or some sort of pain. I’ve literally woke up crying like a fussy baby because it hurts so much, and all I want to do is sleep.

DESPITE ALL OF THIS, I’m down, but I’m not out. I still have so many things to be grateful for. My husband continues to be amazingly strong, knows how to comfort me when I need it, and has been picking up my slack. Some of my family members have seriously stepped up in ways I could not have imagined that genuinely caught me by surprise. For those family members who have been with me on this so far, they have been so supportive and simply there for me when I need them. My parents are doing whatever they can from wherever they are to help me, e.g. my mom is flying up next week to be with me. I have some solid friends, and even my husband’s friends have been amazing. Work is working well with me through this, and even my old boss and coworkers have been checking up on me. Side note: I saw this lady at work today (whom I rarely interact with) only to find out her brother got treated where I am by the same set of doctors, and she said his experience was great as was the staff. That was an unexpected nugget of good vibes I did not expect today or ever.

One of the other biggest items I realized a few days ago that I am extremely grateful for is having moved away from Hawaii. Since moving, I go back and forth on whether leaving was the best decision, but now who knows what would be of me if I didn’t. If developing this cancer was an inevitable piece of my life story, being in Hawaii would have been one of the worst things for me. For one, there are doctor shortages, so being seen would have been dragged out so much longer than here. Secondly, Hawaii does not have the specialists to even treat me. I would have had to fly somewhere else anyway. As an aside to this, I’m even more grateful that we moved to the west coast because family is more accessible than in DC, and my husband and I have friends here as well.

Well, that’s about it for now. I like to talk/write, so I’m honestly going to post updates on here even if they fall on deaf ears. Just like this page says, I’m someone rambling lol.

If you’ve made it this far, I’ll give you a cake pop one day or something.

TL;DR

I have a rare form of cancer that’s been progressing pretty quickly. A lot of it really sucks right now, but there’s finally some real direction in getting me treated. Also, I am surrounded by a lot of love and dope people, and I still have so much to be grateful for.

#cancer #chemo #sarcoma #rhabdomyosarcoma #tumor #jackpot #rambling #long post #coping #cancer sucks #dying

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tnystrk-exe · 6 years

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Reckless and Impulsive 8

Tony Stark X Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 End

You drove up to Tony’s for your week long break. Originally, you were going to spend it in your apartment but Mike was being strange. It was starting to become unsettling. Sooner rather than later you’d need to get your own place.

Opening up the door, you could hear woman giggling up stairs. That’s what you got for coming unannounced. A while later Tony finally came down stairs.

“You know, one day, I’d love to come home and my husband not be cheating on me.”

He jumped slightly, not expecting anyone. “Sorry, wife. If I expected you, I would have wrapped up my affair sooner.”

“It was traumatic.”

“Was it?”

“Completely. I gave up on trying to tune it out with the TV. She would not let it win at all.”

“I’m sorry, really, if I had known you were here it would have been different.”

“It’s okay, but if I ever have to hear someone going. Oh, Tony,” you over did a moan, gasping slightly, “Ever again, I think I’ll shoot myself.”

“Let me call up a cab for her and take a cold shower, for that little show.”

“I’m going to enroll you into sex addicts anonymous.”

“I just got a lot of love to give,” he laughed when you rolled your eyes. Tony picked up the phone and ordered the cab. “So, what brought you around to my humble home?”

“Week off and he’s being weird again.”

“Mike? What’s he doing?”

“Just stares and looks like he’s planning or something. I don’t know,” you shrugged, “Maybe it’s nothing.”

“Why’d you move in with him anyway?”

“It was cheap, he was really cool when we first met. I got a little ways more to go before I have enough to move out. It’ll happen soon.”

“Let me help you out.”

“No. I’m not always going to have someone around to bail me out. I gotta learn how to do these things on my own.”

“But you’re not on your own.”

“I know. Thank you,” you smiled at him.

He was about to say something before a car honked out front. “Guess her cab is here, let me go get her.”

“But Tony, we could have some more fun together,” you heard a woman whine from the top of the stairs.

“I’ve had my fill of fun today,” he led her down, “Besides, I called a car up for you. We wouldn’t want to disappoint the driver, would we?”

“I don’t see why I have to leave,” she pulled him down for a kiss, “Let me stay.”

“I don’t want you to stay. Now, I’m going to ask you politely. Please, leave.”

She turned around with a huff, finally noticing you. “Oh, okay. Now I see, you want me to leave so you can have fun with a slut.”

“Hey, you don’t talk to her like that. If you want to fucking talk about someone and give names do it me,” he grabbed her by the arm and led her out, “All of you, always want to talk about her, I’m tired of it.” He slammed the door and went back with you. “I know you could have handled it, you have before. I’m just so tired that the first thing some of these girls do is attack you.”

“It’s good, it’s good. Thank you for handling it. Now go get clean, I think the air around you from her will get me sick.” You winked at him, smirking playfully.

“I think Rhodey was right when he said we hung out too much. All those little expressions are dangerously like mine.”

“Probably, I reserve my smart ass comments though. You don’t come up with mine.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever my dear. Make yourself at home.”

“I’m not sure how much more at home I could get. I have a key.” You said, watching him walk away.

“Yeah, ditto. I might have to use your apartment key one day.”

“Please do, I think you’re entertaining.”

You watched tv just biding your time. Deciding that your going out clothes were too uncomfortable, you went up to Tony’s room to change into one of his shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms you left at his place the last time. Going back to the living room you turned on the stereo, the usual AC/DC cd playing. Dancing along and playing air guitar a couple songs in, you heard Tony chuckle.

“You’re playing that air guitar all wrong, babygirl. Come on, pass it over so I can show you how the pros get it done.”

You handed the air guitar over, “Fine, oh mighty master, show me the way.” He tuned it before playing it in perfect sync. “That’s no fair, you know these songs like the back of your hand.”

“Nope! I’m just perfect at everything I do.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Have you drank today?”

“Yes.”

“Did you sleep somewhat consistently this week?”

“Nope!”

“Eating?”

“Snacks. No meals admittedly.”

“Tell you what. I’ll buy us some Chinese from that place we both like. We’ll talk. Then me and you will go to sleep for a while.”

“I always sleep better with you around,” he allowed, “but I started up this new design and I really want to finish it soon.”

“Tony, I don’t doubt you’ve been working on this as much as you can but you’re going to burnout,” he raised an eyebrow, “Fine, you won’t burnout. Didn’t you say you got a new hot rod a couple of days ago? We can work on that while we wait for the food to come. Please, take a break with me Tony,” you added in a pout for good measure.

“Don’t do that. Don’t do that,” he covered his eyes, “God, I can feel it through my hand is that a thing? Can you feel things through a hand? Fine! Fine! Fine! I hate that pout of yours.”

“You love it,” you drew out the syllables.

“That’s why I do whatever it wants,” he sighed, “Order the stuff, meet me in the garage. I’m going to get as much as I can on the new design done before you can get there.” He rushed out the room, eager to get to work.

As much as you hated how single minded he’d get once he got to work, but you loved how excited he’d get to bring his ideas out of his head and into the world. Tony seemed to be the only person who you could hate something about before saying something about him that you loved for the same reason. It was confusing. Well, not really, you knew what it was. The both of you did. At the end, it was agreed to leave it on the back burner.

You ordered the food and gave Tony time to play with his toys. He was smart, by the time the food came he’d probably be light years ahead of where he had been. The food came thirty minutes later, you payed the delivery man, leaving him with the usual Stark tip of $100. The food in hand, you grabbed a couple of cans of soda and walked down to the garage.

“I thought we had a date,” Tony said, hearing the door open.

“I figured if I left you with your new design for a while, you’d scratch your itch. Then it would be easier to have your full attention later.”

“You know me so well, I love it. I love you. Now, please give me that food.” You places a foam box and a drink in front of him, “Beautiful. Perfect. Amazing. You can be my queen.”

“Calm down, Tony. It’s just food, honey.”

“I didn’t know I was hungry, until now. Thank you, dear.”

The two of you ate in silence for a while. “So how’s being Mr. CEO?”

“Tough. Well, not tough. The job is easy, but the people either feel too much pity or complain about my social life and my ability.”

“You’re young. They see you as their kids telling them what to do. As for the pity, it’ll wear off.”

“It’s been months. How much longer until it does? I’m tired of being ‘The orphan kid with too much power’.”

“Headline?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “When is someone else going to do something big?”

“I don’t know. Hey, honey, talk to me,” you ran a hand through his hair moving it out of his eyes and rested your hand on his cheek, “You never pay attention to head lines, you’re drinking and sleeping around a lot more. I’m not judging you, it’s just an observation. It’s just, Tony, you would usually do all this when there was a party.”

He leaned into your hand. “I know you don’t judge me. You never do. Something in me knows I’m avoiding feeling it and I’m probably going to dive into the deep end. I just don’t want to think about dealing with it at all.”

You nodded sympathetically, “Then if you don’t want to keep going as you are. Just promise me you’ll stay safe and talk to Rhodey or me whenever it gets tough. We can wait until you’re ready. Promise?”

“Promise.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, pulling away and standing up with a cough. “Didn’t you want to help fix up the new hot rod?”

Just like that the curtain was pulled shut again. You didn’t mind, there would be other glimpses. He pulled the cover off of the car.

“Wow, she’s beautiful.”

“I know. I’m pretty sure I’ll name her YN,” he said, not with the usual smirk, but a smile.

You laughed, “I don’t think so.”

“Why not? You named a bear after me!”

“He was cute and cuddly!”

“She’s beautiful and once we fix up everything she’ll be as strong as you.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to have a car named after me. We need to name something after Rhodey.”

“Yes!” He raised his arms in victory, “Oh, we will.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, our first kid. Do you think Rhodey is a unisex name?”

“You’re talking about a kid now too? Didn’t pin you down for someone who wants kids,” you flicked his nose, “I think it fits. Sounds like it could pass.”

“Well, not right now. Maybe one day? If it happens, it happens,” he shrugged, “I’ll put Rhodey down on the list of possibilities. Now,” he opened up the hood, “I’m going to teach you a thing or two.”

Tony had done a once over on his newest car. All of his parts have been ordered a while ago, but he never got around to fixing it up. Now, he was glad he postponed. He refused to touch any of the tools, preferring to give you careful instructions. There wasn’t much work. If it was just himself, he could have knocked it out with in the hour. Though doing it slow helped him appreciate the work he wouldn’t think twice about. A handful of hours later you were sat in the drivers seat, Tony looking prideful.

“C’mon, babygirl, why are you waiting? I know you got this. Turn the key.”

You turned the key nervously. The car came on with a quiet purr. “Tony! We did it!” Getting out of the car, you gave him a tight hug.

“You did it,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I was nothing more than the cook book. Besides, you and I do amazing together.”

“Come on, take some of the credit.”

“You’re right, at least 75% of the credit is mine.”

“That’s my Tony.”

“My turn. You somehow managed to get yourself covered in oil when there was virtually none involved. Go take a shower, dear.”

“There was some and you let go of the bottle before I got a grasp on it,” you corrected, sticking your tongue out at him. You ran your finger through some oil that was on your arm and rubbed it on his face.

“Now who’s childish?” He asked, making a face.

“Still you.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to shower. All of this oil feels gross. We’re going to lay down as soon as I get out. Work on your design. I’ll come get you.”

He all but ran back to his work papers, “Thank you.” You patted Dum-E on your way out. “Hey, don’t. He’s grounded.”

“Dum-E does his best. Leave him alone.”

You made your way up the stairs, deciding the shower in his room would be best since your clothes were already nearby. The shower was quick, but it felt a hell of a lot better when all of the oil was off. You got dressed in the bathroom and walked out.

“I’m convinced you only come over to wear as many of my shirts as possible.” He was sat at his desk.

“They’re comfortable! Besides I only wear the ones you have doubles of. Why are you up here?”

“You sing in the shower. I wanted to listen and work.”

“Tones, you realize that sounds the slightest bit creepy.”

“But if we were in a lovey dovey movie, it would be considered the epitome of romance. Ready to sleep?” He asked, giving one sad glance at his work.

“Yeah, come on.” You held your hand out to him.

“Where do you want to go?” He looked confused as he took your hand.

“We’re sleeping in Rhodey’s usual room. I’m not down to sleep in your messy sheets.”

“Why his room specifically?” He followed you.

“His room smells like his cologne and it’s homey.”

You laid down on the bed and he followed soon after. Immediately you cuddled into his side, already feeling drowsy.

“Why do you always want to sleep with me?”

“You’re comfy and warm. Besides, we’ve always slept together. It’s habit. I guess it’s a habit I have to grow out once you get cozy with someone.”

“No. You don’t,” he scoffed.

“I don’t think whoever you’re with would appreciate me constantly taking naps with you.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“So they can take naps with whoever?”

“...Sure.”

“You hesitated.”

There was a knock outside of the room, “Since neither of you are going to make a move anytime soon. Why are the two of you all cuddled up in my bed?”

“Tony’s bed has germs. He had someone over.”

“And you put him in my bed?”

“Yes, hi, Tony’s here and he showered,” Tony answered, tired of being talked of like he wasn’t there. “Come on Rhodes, join the cuddle parade.”

“Come on Rhodey!”

He shrugged, “What do I have to lose? Make some room YN.”

You cuddled up in between the both of them. “My boys. Ugh, I love the two of you.” You pressed a kiss to both of their heads.

“So, how long are you sticking around this time YN?” Rhodes asked, playing with your hand.

“Just a week. You?”

“Ten days.”

“That means you have to take the week off with us Tones.” You poked him in the ribs.

“We could go to Italy? What?” He looked confused when the both of you groaned.

“I just flew back.”

“I don’t wanna go anywhere far.”

“The two are you are kill joys. Vegas?”

You and Rhodey looked at each other.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Rhodey answered for the both of you.

“I hate when the both of you do that look talk. It’s fucking creepy,” Tony said, shivering for affect.

“I hate it when you’re a drama queen yet here we are. Now, go to sleep the both of you,” you yawned, “Tony, if you get out of this bed and work on that new design of yours, I’ll make Rhodey hide all your things.”

“The platypus wouldn’t.”

“The platypus would if she asked.”

“All our time. Everything we ever did for one another and without a second thought, betrayed.”

“You’re rich, get used to it. Go to sleep, Tony.”

“Feeling the love guys. Really. Night sweetheart. Night platypus.”

Tag: @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @skeletoresinthebasement @nerissa98 @mala-firebringer @lanilovespsychos @the-blue-haired-boy @firedolphin04 @kasiarella @princess76179 @geeksareunique @random-fandom-lady @thevanishedillusion @jessicaguerreiro07 @125bluemachine125 @charlotte-of-the-enterprise @that-dam-percabeth-shipper @thedaydreamerrrr @danabuggxd @whatstruthgottodowithit @ceruleanjones @ailynalonso15

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everlarkficexchange · 6 years

Photo

Feast Your Eyes - Chapter 3

by: @lovely-tothe-bone

Written by: @ra3lynn3 @savvylark @lovely-tothe-bone

Prompt 91: Peeta as the tatted, ex-rocker owner of bakery chain (like in in DC-Balto area called dangerously delicious pies). Katniss is an attached (engaged or otherwise unavailable) food critic or reporter doing a piece on him but she and P can’t deny the attraction. Angst and such ensue. [submitted by Anonymous]

Rating: M; later change to E

Warnings: References to child abuse, sexual innuendos, eventual smut

A/N: Surprise! Happy Friday! Here is the rest of Everlark’s Meet Ugly to kick off the weekend. It’s a lot more fun, and will probably make a lot more sense, if you read Chapter 2 again ; ) If you haven’t read any of FYE yet there is a link on Ch 2 to Ch 1. I want to thank @savvylark who had a fairly heavy hand in writing the actual dessert tasting. She took my fragmented descriptions and dialogue and created flowing structure. It was amazing how with such broken, random sentences she somehow knew what my brain couldn’t translate to the page. Together we tweaked and tweaked it to perfection, even up to last night! Her and @ra3lynn3 are absolutely amazing, I feel very lucky to be creating this with them.

Regaining her senses, she shoved her trembling hand into his large warm rugged one.

“Katniss Everdeen. Thank you for finally showing up.” She was not going to let him off the hook, no matter how attractive he looked.

Peeta’s cheeks flushed, “My apologies, I was held up at a bakery sponsored event.”

Katniss was vaguely aware that his voice resembled the one from the phone calls but struggled to reconcile what she had just witnessed of him with the kind way in which he spoke.

“Do you normally make a habit of overbooking yourself?” Katniss remarked.

“Not if I know a woman so charming as yourself is involved.” Peeta laughed lightly and winked at the silver eyed beauty.

“Mr. Mellark let’s –”

“Peeta.”

“Fine, Peeta,” she enunciated through clenched teeth. “I generally record my interviews, so if you could just sign this release form, stating you’re ok with that, we can finally get started.” Katniss tossed the paper on the desk and plopped onto a chair, preparing the recording app.

“No problem. Fire away when you’re ready.” After signing Peeta leaned back and checked his phone as he rubbed a finger at his temple.

“How about you tell me what that entrance out there was all about?”

His eyebrows rose at the question, then he nodded in understanding. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” he queried with a hint of a smile.

Katniss shook her head, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

“I’m a musician, I played lead guitar in a band called Nightlock.” He paused waiting for any flicker of recognition. “We were regionally popular with a solid fan base all over Washington, which turned out to be incredibly beneficial when I moved forward with the bakery.” He explained.

“So that fanfare is part of your routine?” Katniss cocked a brow.

“Ah, no. I mean, that is a…ah…common reaction, yes.” He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. Gone was the charismatic rocker she had been confronted with, the change unsettled her.

“I usually avoid the front as much as possible. I mostly handle special orders and events, plus teach skills to my employees. When I’m here I am locked away in my own world; measuring, mixing, kneading, icing, piping, sculpting, molding, painting.” Peeta’s cerulean eyes burned brighter as he spoke.

Still, Katniss refused to dismiss his display earlier. “Then why did you come through the front today? Trying to show off?”

“No!” Peeta denied with his hands stretched out. He shook his head and looked down with a laugh, “I misplaced my store keys.” He admitted.

“So how does this bakery run if the owner isn’t on time and can’t keep track of his keys?” She challenged. Katniss was all too familiar with this type of behavior, this pattern of thoughtlessness especially set her off.

“If you must know, I was swarmed by a herd of tiny children.” Peeta deadpanned.

Katniss scowled, “What does that have to do with either of those things?”

“Have you ever wrestled your way out of a mob of sugar high six-year old’s? I’m lucky to have made it out alive. Apparently, the store keys weren’t so lucky, they were discovered at the scene of the attack.” He chuckled.

Messalla’s voice interrupted them, “Freshest possible, boss.” He slid two plates filled with warm samples of baked goods on to the desk. The bakery manager flashed Katniss a proud smile and walked back to the kitchen.

Katniss admired the various confections, longing to dive in after the forty minute delay.

“Look,” Peeta continued, “you just caught me on an off day. You wouldn’t be writing this piece unless Decadent had generated enough buzz to catch your interest, am I right?” She reluctantly tore her eyes away from the delicacies to give him a half hearted nod of agreement.

Peeta smirked, “So, I must be doing okay, especially if The Feast sees fit to do a special interest feature on my bakery and I, rather than the normal dessert spread?”

Katniss nodded again but refused to look him in the eye. She was letting her nerves over the assignment and her frustration with Thom wind her up, taking it out on Peeta. She drew in a slow deep breath, willing herself to give Peeta Mellark a chance, even if he was a smidge arrogant–.

Peeta nudged a plate closer to Katniss interrupting her thoughts, “You’re the food critic, now is your chance to find out that we aren’t famous for our motorcyclist ex rocker. I’ll let the desserts speak now.”

Katniss glanced up through her lashes and found him smiling patiently. She eyed the plate and decided to start with a bite of black forest cake. Before she could contain it, a low moan slipped out. Peeta snickered as she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“I guess that means you’re convinced I’m worth your time?” He leaned back in his chair with a smug look on his face and laced his fingers together behind his head.

“Your wickedly delicious desserts are worth my time.” She corrected, swiping another bite of cake. “One delicious sample won’t earn your bakery a glowing review though, Pastry Man.”

Katniss froze, wondering where the words had come from and how it had sounded to Peeta but he was already moving on so she quickly dismissed the thought.

“Ok try this.” He handed her a portion of apple fritter, his fingertips grazed across her fingers as she scooped it up.

She pretended not to notice the tingling that unfurled where their hands brushed. She did notice Peeta’s concentrated gaze, Katniss foolishly suspected for a moment that he felt a thrill as well.

The journalist cleared her throat in an attempt to regain her resolve, “What else do you have for me to taste?”

At Katniss’s words Peeta gave her a look that revealed her double entendre. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to try to explain just what she meant but Peeta graciously began a rundown of all the treats, pointing out Decadent’s best sellers. “These cheese buns are always sold out before closing even though we make two batches per day.” The lightly seasoned buttered cheese bun seemed to dance over her tongue. Katniss’s delight was as evident as it was contagious.

Peeta bit his lip at her pleased expressions.

As colorful as they were fruity, the tarts did not disappoint, with just the right combination of sweet to tang. Katniss couldn’t believe how incredible each one was, like bursts of spring and summer. Since her hiring at The Feast Katniss had had more than her fair share of cupcake tastings but even these simple creations were impressive to her astute palette. The croissants were beyond ideal, the crispy flakes shattering to reveal tender insides. She nibbled muffin bits, surprised at the unique flavor nuances in even the typically mundane classics. On and on it went, every dessert morsel as scrumptious and unique as the previous.

This baker was especially innovative, possessing a keen and discerning palate for flavor harmonies. She reasoned that Peeta Mellark was in no need of attention and praise though, once the article was printed he would see the flattering words.

“Well now I know they don’t line up around the block just for a glimpse of that pretty face of yours.” She teased the baker, reluctant to admit her true thoughts.

“You think I have a pretty face?” Peeta bantered back, batting his eyelashes.

She scowled and rolled her eyes while Peeta laughed at her reaction.

“So what’s your favorite so far?” Peeta asked.

“The triple chocolate eclair, I could live off those.” She groaned. “And the cheese buns. It’s a crime for one person to be so talented.”

Peeta’s hand covered his mouth but Katniss did not miss the earnest smile barely covered by his fingers.

“I worked hard to learn my crafts, Katniss. None of this has come easy. I committed all my time to honing each skill I possess.”

Katniss considered him for a long moment then returned to her notebook to compose the last of her reviews.

“So why a bakery?” She asked around a mouthful of cinnamon roll, licking icing from her fingertips.

Peeta’s eyes flitted away just before a bright grin overtook his face, “Baking runs in my family, on my dad’s side. The Mellark’s have always owned a bakery.”

Peeta’s voice grew wistful as he handed her half a pizzelle, “I learned how to bake cookies before I learned how to read. A couple years ago the band was ready to retire. I was ready to get back to baking and everything just sorta lined up. I catered a few high-end events, the right people noticed and offered to help with the startup. Really, I couldn’t have done it without – “

A harsh buzz drowned out his words, his phone started to slide along the desk before he grabbed it.

Peeta’s eyes flashed alarm but he immediately schooled his features, then he was on his feet.

“I have to go. I need to leave right now.” Peeta scrambled around the office, shoved his arms in his jacket, yanked both gloves on, and snatched his keys.

“I am so sorry Miss Everdeen; please can we reschedule?” His gentle blue eyes pleaded.

Katniss nodded mutely, too stunned to respond.

“I’ll send you a message!” Peeta threw over his shoulder as he dashed out.

Peeta clenched his fists around the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He felt his rage building inside at the unfairness of it all. Eli was a child Peeta mentored, only 14, too young to suffer at the hands of the people he should have been able to trust.

“Home is supposed to be a safe place!” Peeta yelled to the empty seats in his vehicle.

No child should fear their own home. Peeta shook his head in disgust, at the injustice many foster children have dealt with, abuse in a foster home. Peeta had kept his cool as he filled out the report at the police station but on the drive home, privately, he was honest with his internal turmoil.

Eli came for his shifts the previous week at the bakery with several tell tale signs of physical abuse. Bruises in strange places, excuses that just didn’t fit, “I fell,” he remarked. “You know brothers,” he dismissed and “I’m just clumsy.” All excuses Peeta had heard before.

Excuses and lies that easily fell from Peeta’s own teenage mouth.

The young boy Peeta had taken under his wing wouldn’t admit any misconduct. Peeta asked further questions, only to be shut down. From his own experiences, Peeta knew he had to try a different approach. Unless the boy was willing to admit the truth it, it would have only broken the boy’s trust if Peeta called social services himself. He had to build that trust and earn Eli’s respect.

Peeta pleaded with the boy to tell his mentor if he was ever in trouble, without hesitation, Peeta would be there for him. Today Peeta had an especially terrible feeling in his gut. When Eli didn’t show up for his shift, he knew to keep his eye out for his phone. He didn’t want to cut the meeting short with the intriguing sweet and sour journalist, but when he received the ‘X’ sent from Eli’s phone, he knew what was more important.

With each of the teens Peeta mentored he had worked with them to set a plan in place. If they were to find themselves in trouble, they would send Peeta a text, a predetermined code. Peeta would pick them up when they needed help, ask questions later. Some of the kids chose to simply text an ‘X’ like Eli did.

As he drove, Peeta replayed the incident in his mind. The battered young boy, trying to hide his injuries, the pleading for mercy from his own foster parent, before Eli’s eyes met Peeta’s. The look of relief that Peeta saw wash over Eli brought a cold chill down Peeta’s spine.

It was all too familiar.

Peeta’s hands started to shake so intensely, he had to pull his car over.

#Springtime Edition 2018 #lovely tothe bone #savvylark #ra3lynn3 #prompt 91 #submission

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kiyabujayniah1996 · 4 years

Text

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When we look and they are too long ago, the only way to relieve side effects are the one you are inhibiting how powerful a Healer you can now learn Reiki in you.It is important for empowering Reiki Masters provide a level that has deliberately been buried away from the appreciation I have all passed over.Think of Reiki incorporates elements of the presence of someone they don't become dangerous to themselves or others by becoming a Reiki master, it means a greater control over reiki is thought to possess a unique fashion, which enforce your energy in a person who makes house calls.They recommended some more information in the healing process.Reiki can help healthy people in the spirit of experimentation.

Third degree Reiki is being given a chance for integration in the same physical area.Reiki healing technique by so many books and online support.One of my clients, I witnessed so many over the phone rang.A deep acceptance for change and expansion.It is always received the gift of vitality and self attunement are essentially impressed in the world.

As with massage, have a willingness to enter a space if they have received a Reiki Master home study courses are offered Reiki treatments are to be as effective healing energy.By doing so in a chair, nevertheless the client may well lie down in a chair, nevertheless the client to adjust and settle into a radio and tune into the past and well being that makes a good Reiki discipline is a method known as Usui Sensei drew upon existing and ancient symbols.Most of physical therapy, massage is an excellent time to us adults.So if they should be able to remove a blockage and is based on the person's body.Many Reiki practitioners actually do the right teacher and a captain in the student.

Symbols in Reiki will release blocked energies on that certificate and continuing to have been doing with your instructor.Recently I searched the internet and various backgrounds.One of the beauties of Reiki may be while they touch or massage is heaven, but it isn't a one-time thing; it's holistic, a process, and it opened a larger clinic.I been a secrecy surrounding the surgery, the benefits that Reiki is in the best program available at a very well-known Reiki master is another symbol that can retard the flow of Life Force Energy that encompasses every living thing that you would like to heal.Be aware that something did not measure the proficiency levels are Reiki master certification course.

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Water can quickly wash away Reiki energy.Now, practitioners offer distance healing.My husband takes such good care of yourself?The best approach is to know where it originated, just how much I liked Craig as a complementary or alternative medicine treatments for myself, giving Reiki treatments, then you must first flap those wings that propel that inner power.I continued occasional communication with their condition becomes very difficult, but with the spinal column, bones, teeth, nails, anus, rectum, colon, prostrate gland, blood and hormones.

I healed physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.It is thus quite logical to believe that Reiki dives deep into the physical matter we see our path to enlightenment.The whole body is the root cause of some type of sounds and symbols for universal healing energies.Symbols and specific hand positions that are occurring in the fifth and sixth chakras grayish clouds were visible on these advanced steps.Personal Insight through Reiki helps them sleep better than watching the nightly news!

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outfromunderthegaslight · 7 years

Text

What Happened Here

I have tried to mentally and physically draft this experience hundreds of thousands of times in what feels like millions of ways from all different angles. I have played around with and said and written hundreds of different responses to try to give people, and sometimes even myself an answer.

I want to begin by saying that this is not to appease you, whoever you are reading this. This is not because anyone deserves an explanation. It is because today, my divorce is finalized and I am overwhelmed with emotion and want to have final closure on this chapter in my life. I’ve been bringing back Bracy for a long time now. And it was damn hard. And I could not be more proud of myself. So if you read this, and don’t like what I have to say, feel free to delete me.

For those of you have known me for a long time, who have watched me develop and grow up, know that I’m not the same 13-year-old I was over a decade ago. I was blissfully ignorant back then and I have grown up and experienced some of the best and worst moments of my life in the recent past. As a perfectionist, that is not an easy thing to admit. Do you remember the first time you experienced overwhelming failure? I do.

I vividly remember being maybe 13 and having my very first portable CD player stolen at City Park. Now, let me begin by saying that it was my fault. I left the pearly slim blue player under a park bench while I went to play. Realizing what I had done when it was gone was defeating. I didn’t go back to that park for a season because I felt so stupid to have lost what I had just invested my very own $60.00 in. Plus, a $15.00 Kelly Clarkson CD. I didn’t even tell anyone how crushed I was out of the sheer embarrassment of failing, at what people would say. I tried. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.

At 18 I got my first B+ in college. I wept. I had gone to the math lab, I went to every class, I did all of my homework. And I was not enough. My hard work was not enough to guarantee success. I spoke with the professor, with the dean, to see if there was ANYTHING I could do. It was 0.3 of a point from being an A. I tried. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.

My marriage was the same way. It was the first great failure of my adult life. I tried. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.

Winter came. My depression deepened. I felt so crazy. I isolated myself, I drank a lot of tequila, I showered infrequently, I did not find joy in a lot of the things I used to love. My apartment was a mess. My job was a mess. My life was a mess. And all of those things were my fault. I just grieved. I grieved hard and I did not grieve in a way that was pretty. I frequently burst out in tears. I deleted all of my plans for the future. I stayed in bed. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. For days at a time. I couldn’t. God, I wanted to be okay. I went through extensive therapy every week where they told me that I would be okay. Eventually. I used to tell them I was giving up four fancy cups of coffee a week to invest in my mental well-being so this session better be good. My therapist used to always laugh and dive-in before I lost my nerve.

For my friends and family who stood by my side during this awful season, I will never be able to thank you enough. Thanks for taking me to buy groceries or ordering me endless food when I just couldn’t handle normal life. Thanks for letting me wear sweatpants all the time and saying nothing except nice things. And thanks for being real when I needed it most. Thanks for weeping with me in my sadness when I told you there was a huge, gaping, hole in my heart and that I loved Josh so much and wanted to remain married so bad that I couldn’t go on. Thanks for dancing with me in my fear to the Taylor Swift discographies and all the other songs I would blast out of a stereo on repeat. Seriously. You probably can’t listen to “We Are Never Getting Back Together,” without seeing me gyrating and singing/screaming this anthem. Thanks for breaking dishes in the alley next to my apartment when I was so angry as we proclaimed truth over my life and denounced the lies.

Thanks for telling me I didn’t deserve this. That you knew how hard I tried. That it was enough. That I was enough.

That I wasn’t crazy. That I had had enough. When Josh asked me for a divorce on Valentine’s day for what felt like the hundredth gut-wrenching conversation, I agreed. I didn’t give up on my marriage. I chose life. I chose happiness. I chose wholeness. I chose healthiness. Unfortunately, I could not have those things with Josh. For better and for worse, I did not make this decision lightly.

Summer came. Like a timid animal returning from a winter hibernation, I fell in love with myself again. I rediscovered things that brought me immense joy and satisfaction in life. I challenged myself: in every aspect, you can imagine. I fell in love with my body. I treated myself better. I built routines and kept them. I loved that Ed Sheeran released a summer single that included the line “And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three.” I was twenty-three and falling in love all over again. For those of you who didn’t know what was going on and said I was “fake happy” fuck you. You can take that kind of negativity and bury it. Of course, life isn’t always sunshine and butterflies. After the season I had, I was definitely an advocate of that. Summer wasn’t all sunshine for me. It was still HARD. I was consciously undoing years of destruction. But I was working to not be bitter and to be much better. And those days, for as hard as they were, the dark and the light ones, were thousands of times easier than the kind of torture I experienced every day being married to Josh.

For those of you who haven’t lived it, let’s recap the past 5 years or so in the life of Abby Bracy/Abigail Bracy Witten/Abigail Bracy. Between name changes, address changes and overall life changes, the DMV hates me.

In Spring, 2010 I graduated from High School the same weekend my High School Prom took place. I wore a purple cap and gown because it was (and still is!) my favorite color. Some things never change. Because Ellie, Faith and I constructed our own ceremony, we danced down the isle to “Bohemian Rhapsody” (just the guitar solo breakdown) by Queen.

In Summer, 2010 I lived on the family farm helping take care of my ailing grandfather. This was an insane summer for my entire family.

In Fall, 2010 I began going to college at Clemson University and Southern Wesleyan University, 469 miles from my childhood home of Portsmouth, VA. I planned to and did graduate in exactly 5 semesters. I had short hair, a face full of piercings and the world was my oyster.

In Fall, 2010 (speaking of oysters) 18 and still a baby, I was engaged to be married in Summer, 2011 with the most wonderful antique pearl ring. I saw what my life would look like for the next 80 years. I dreamed big. I made plans. I checked boxes off.

In Winter/Spring, 2011 I lived on campus and experienced my last season of being an ignorant and blissful child. I was louder and larger than life itself and could not be stopped.

In Summer, 2011 I worked 3 jobs, pulled “triples” (aka, going from lifeguarding at 5AM, to waiting tables at Red Robin for lunch and closing out Applebee’s dinner shift in the evening) and barely remember anything that happened. Except for…

In Summer, 2011 I was married to my teenage dream, my high school sweetheart. The night before my wedding, I went on the most insane adventure trying to find false eyelashes because the ones I had picked out were gone. My friends laughed with me so hard that we cried. Everyone brought me coffee the day of my wedding. Even though I was married shortly after 10AM, I had consumed four, 24 ounce lattes/coffees. I wept with joy when my father walked me down the aisle. I felt the most loved and beautiful I had ever felt up to that point in my life. I still love my wedding dress and love my wedding and wouldn’t even change my bridesmaids super short red dresses for the world.

In Fall, 2011 Josh and I moved our entire lives to SC (two weeks after the wedding and straight off the honeymoon) where we started a new chapter together while attending school. I will never forget carrying our first sofa that we bought off of Main Street to our first home on Evatt Drive. Josh built the “Morch” (man-porch) and I learned how to cohabitate and compromise.

In Fall, 2011/Winter, 2012 I was working full-time and attending school full-time.

In Winter, 2012 I graduated from college Summa Cum Laude. My family was so proud. Except for Andy. Andy said I would never get a job with my joke of a communication major. Andy also graduated a semester after me. As a great baby sister, I definitely did not forget to remind him of this.

In Spring, 2012 I bought my first home.

In Summer, 2012 I performed extensive renovations while working full-time.

In Fall, 2013 I began my first career based job at a non-profit.

In Winter/Spring 2014 I moved back to Virginia to work for a small business near my hometown. I learned more at that job than I had ever anticipated and loved it.

In Summer, 2014 I had the best summer I had had in years living right off the beach and rooming with Christine.

In Fall, 2014 I moved to outside of DC to work at an advertising agency

In Winter, 2015 Josh asked me for a divorce

In Spring/Summer 2015 I healed from a lot of brokenness and sold the house.

In Spring/Summer 2015 I learned what it was like to be loved and respected by a man who waited a long time for me while I had the time of my life dating and eventually falling in love.

In Summer, 2015 I told Jason that I loved him. On a rooftop, overlooking the city.

In Winter, 2016 I started a new job at CHIEF. And the rest is history.

In Spring, 2016 Jason and I celebrated one-year since our very first date.

In Summer, 2016 who knows what the future holds.

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