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word-scribbless · 5 years ago

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Smile Again Part 8

Okay so a soccer mom tries to get in the way here and things get a little steamy but not crazy! This chapter is a bit of a lead up.

Masterlist | smile again Masterlist

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Y/N and Hotch were jogging through the park that wednesday morning when Y/N puffed out a laugh,

“Come on Hotchner you can go your normal pace, I can keep up.” She joked.

She had woken up bright and early, put on her cutest work out clothes, which took a while to find. She drove to Aaron’s house and they drove together to the closest park, laughing and joking happily as they did. Now they were enjoying their jog together before their hectic days began.

“You said you didn’t like running so I thought-“ he said before Y/N cut him off.

“I said you needed to distract me, not go easy on me.” She laughed

“Fine how’s this for distracting you?” He asked as he stopped and pulled her in for a kiss.

“Mmm, that’ll work just fine.” Y/N said as she pulled away.

“Come on Hotch-shot, keep up.” Y/N said taking off causing Hotch to laugh and start after her.

As they ran Y/N let herself enjoy the way it felt to be so close to Aaron. She loved getting to spend time with him and Jack, he also loved the fact that they were starting to spend time alone as well. She couldn’t deny how attractive he looked in his work out gear. She could see his muscles flex and glisten as he ran next to her. Whenever they stopped to take a break, it took everything she had not to jump him right there. She loved kissing him but she couldn’t deny she wanted more, she had to shake that idea. He hadn’t even asked her on a date yet. She couldn’t risk rushing and ruining what she had with him. She couldn’t let her attraction for him win out over her feelings. She was scared to get too involved and he was doing everything he could to show her that she didn’t need to be scared with him. She had to trust him and knew that waiting would be worth it with him, especially if he could make her feel this way just from jogging next to him.

Meanwhile Aaron was having some pretty similar thoughts about the beautiful woman jogging with him. He was not going to rush her in anyway. He would make due with just holding hands if he had to earn her trust. He felt lucky enough just to get to kiss her. He’d let her set the pace forever as long as she was next to him.

As their run came to an end, they began to slow to a fast paced walk to cool down. They started chatting about Jack and work, anything that came to mind. Just as they reached the car they heard Aaron’s name being called behind them. They turned around to see Margret James jogging up behind them in a little track suit. ‘Oh great’ Y/N thought ‘more flirting’.

“Hey Aaron it’s so nice to see you” Margret said putting her hand on his arm and blocking Y/N out of the conversation with her body.

“Hey Margret how are you?”

“Great now that I’ve seen you.”

“Y/N you remember Liam’s mom?” Aaron said as he moved to her side. She watched as Margret got frustrated and turned toward her reluctantly.

“Yeah I do it’s nice to see you.”

“You too” the other woman said rudely as she turned back to Aaron.

“We should head out, get ready for work. We’ll see you around Margret.” Aaron quickly said as he moved to take Y/N by the hand and pull her away. Y/N but back a smile at the sour face Margret made as Aaron referred to the two of them as ‘we’ again.

“Bye” Y/N smiled as politely as she could muster.

“Mm bye” Margret grumbled.

“Now I get why she doesn’t like me” Y/ N said quietly as they approached.

“What?” Hotch asked stopping in front of the passenger side door.

“She’s into you Aaron.” Y/N scoffed lightly fidgeting with her hair.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re a profiler and you don’t see she’s interested “ she said laughing. Aaron could hear the amusement she was trying to convey in her voice, but knew her well enough to also see her walls going back up as she thought about the other woman.

“I guess but I’ve been hoping I was wrong.” He admitted.

“Nope she likes you.” Y/N said as she pulled her now loose hair back again.

“Well she’s gonna have to get over it” he smirked and moved closer to her, hands landing on her waist.

“Why?” She said shyly, hands falling half heartedly on his shoulders as he pulled her slightly toward him. He hated seeing her lose confidence again.

“You have to ask?” He ducked to catch her eyes with his.

“I’m sure she’s less complicated than me.” She practically whispered and Aaron’s heart broke.

“Hey don’t do that.”

Y/N looked down and started to shrink into herself the way she did when Aaron had first met her.

“We’ve been doing so good, don’t start telling me you aren’t good enough again. Please Y/N.” He moved his hand to cup her face. She looked up at him with watery eyes.

“Aaron-“ she started

“Y/N no.” He cut her off, voice soft but commanding. He refused to hear her question herself again. “You know how I feel about you, nothing has changed that and nothing will. Not Margret, not anyone. You are good enough! More than good enough and I’ll spend every day proving that to you if that’s what it takes.” He moved closer and cupped her cheeks in both hands. “but please don’t pull away again.” He breathes out and she heard the worry in his voice.

At his sweet words, the tears she was holding back escaped and Aaron quickly wiped them away with his thumbs.

“Hey don’t cry. I-“

She cut him off by capturing his lips with hers. The kiss was sweet, but she poured everything she had into it. And he matched her movements perfectly.

“What was that for?” He panted as they pulled apart.

“To prove I’m not pulling away, as much as my anxiety is screaming to run. I’m not going to, because you’re worth it. You and jack, you’re worth fighting for Aaron.” She smiled up at him.

“Mmm I’ll kiss to that again!“

He said pulling her back for another kiss. This one was more sweet than intense, but still made her heart rate triple.

“You know I think your kiss served two purposes.” He whispered against her lips.

“What?”

“I think she gets the picture now.” He nodded behind her to see Margret scowling at them and stomping away.

“Oh no! That’s gonna be awkward.” Y/N said as she buried her face in his chest.

“Why?” He chuckled

“I mean I’m glad she got the picture , but I’m gonna see her at jacks events. She’s gonna be all weird.” She looked back to Aaron to see him with a goofy smile.

“What?” She asked

“I like how much you wanna be around.” He admitted softly.

“As much as you’ll let me.” She gave him one of those smiles that made his heart swell.

“So always?” He said before kissing her cheek.

“Mhm.” She nodded before reminding him he needed to head to work.

The Friday night after their run together Y/N was cuddled up on the couch with Jack and Aaron again. This time Y/N was curled into Aaron’s side with jack on their laps. Aaron’s thumb rubbed up and down her side, her head rested on his shoulder and sweet Jack was tucked under a blanket sitting part way between Aaron’s and Y/N’s laps leaning back between them. Looking in from the outside a stranger would think they were a family. Y/N couldn’t deny that she loved the feeling of having both her boys curled up with her, she wished she spent every night like this. She shook that idea from her head, the two of them hadn’t even been on an official date yet and she was planning forever.

Little did Y/N know that Aaron was having the same thoughts as he sat watching Moana with the woman he was in love with and his son who loved her just as much. He wanted to make her theirs but knew he had to take it slow, he would never forgive himself if he pushed her away by moving too fast. He was just going to enjoy his time with her as it was for now.

As the movie came to an end Y/N snuggled into Jack and Arron and said

“ohhhh I don’t wanna get up I’m so cozy, why don’t we just see whats on tv for a little bit.”

“That sounds like a good idea to me” Aaron said as he switched over to the tv.

“me too” Jack said snuggling deeper into the adults arms.

they spent the next half hour curled up into each other laughing and being silly while watching tv. when it was time for Jack to go get ready for bed he turned to Y/N before getting up and said

“hey Y/N/N?”

“yeah bud?” she answered, turning to him with a smile

“I’m glad you hang out with us.”

“Me too sweet boy” she said as she placed a kiss to his head.

“Daddy likes that you hang out with us too, he told me so.” He said before climbing off their laps, kissing Y/N good night and running to get his PJs on.

Aaron smiled shyly. he knew his son never meant to be a little match maker, but he always succeeded.

Y/N’s smiled as he got up to go tuck Jack in made the nervous pit in his stomach ease up a bit. He knew they’d talk about what Jack said when he got back, but he had a feeling Y/N already knew how much he enjoyed his time with her.

About 15 minutes later (movie night always made Jack super sleepy and quick to nod off from staying up later than usual) Aaron came back into the room and sat down, wrapping his arm around Y/N’s shoulders.

“sooo, You talk to your son about me?” she said with a teasing smile. She secretly loved the part Jack played in their relationship. He was always so good at bringing up topics she was too chicken to bring up on her own.

“I do.” Aaron said with a smirk as he took her hand. “He told me before I even really knew you that I should ask you on a date” He added.

“Oh yeah?” Y/N said snuggling closer, as Aaron nodded his answer.

“You gonna take his advise?” she dared to ask. She loved how confident and forward she could be with him, and He loved it as well.

“I am” He answered matter of factly.

“When?”

“You call the shots remember?” He whispered as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

If it was up to him he would have asked her out weeks ago, but he wanted her to be comfortable. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t turn a date down, however he couldn’t risk it.

“Mhm and I can say no if I want... but I can’t say yes unless you ask.” Y/N said softly as she reached up to stroke his face.

“The saying no part is what I’m afraid of.” He whispered, leaning into her touch.

She hated the nervous look on his face and decided she needed to get rid of it. She leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before assuring him.

“I won’t say no Aaron.”

He pulled away smiling.

“In that case, will you go on a date with me tomorrow night? We can still go slow, take things one step at a time but I’d like to take you out just you and me.” He said with a smile as he brought a hand up to cup her face.

“I’d really like that.”

“me too.” He said leaning in to kiss her softly. She decided it was time to kick their kissing up a knotch. She knew he would never take it any further than she led, and while she wasn’t quite read to take him to the bed room, she was certainly ready for some making out on the couch.

He had no objections as she pulled him, ton\unge asked for entry his mouth that he gladly granted. She pushed herself up to straddle his lap, his hands fell to her side and he groaned, which made her smirk against his lips.

“Y/N wait”

“too much?” she asked pulling back.

“ no, no, not at all. but i don’t want to push you.”

“You’re not Aaron. I’ll be upfront, id rather wait to go all the way until after at least a date but i am entirely okay with making out and maybe a little more. If you are that is.”

He nodded, dipping his head down to kiss down her neck.

“Oh i defiantly am” he whispered against her skin.

“one condition.”

“hmm?” he hummed looking back into her eyes.

“i’m not made of glass, i will tell you if i want to slow down. You don’t have to be afraid to touch me or to let things happen how they happen okay?” he nodded “ meant it Aaron, I want you. I want all of this as much as you and while it’s been a long time and i know we’re taking things slow, I can assure you I want all of this with you. So don’t be scared.”

“I think I can agree to those terms, if you promise to stop me if i go too far.”

“I promise, same goes for you.”

Aaron chuckled.

“I’m serious Aaron, I know you want this. But just because your the man it doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to want to slow down and take a breath. you’ve been through a lot too.”

He pressed his forehead to hers.

“I promise Y/N.”

“okay then, kiss me again,”

that night they engaged in an awful lot of making out on the couch like teenagers before Y/N went home, insisting she couldn’t stay over because she had to prepare for their date. She couldn’t help but feel flush every time the she thought about how Aaron touched and kissed her. If thats home making out with him made her feel, she couldn’t imagine what actually Sleeping with him would be like. Well she did imagine it, often, but she knew her imagination could probably never compare to the real thing.

@badassbitchqueen @violetclifford @kyleetheeditor @diesinspanishbcimhispanic

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner

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set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years ago

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mistake

prompt: mistake

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hi here is my second whumpmas in july fic! it’s set around s3 and there is like. very little plot. do not think about anything too hard and it will be much more enjoyable :)

Nick’s arms are wrenched behind his back, trapped tightly by another, much larger, set of arms. His shoulders ache and he wonders for a second if they can get dislocated by this. Probably, he figures.

He kicks out with his feet, but the man standing in front of him kicks him right back, in the knee, and his leg buckles. The arms holding his arms are the only things holding him up for a second. His shoulders are on fire and he fights to regain his footing and finally manages to get his feet back under him. When he does, his legs are shaking slightly, and his knee really hurts.

“What do you want?” he asks. He imagines the answer will be nothing he hasn’t heard before - the only real question is whether it’s related to his work as a cop or as a Grimm.

“You know what we want, Morris. Where is it?” asks the man in front of him, standing uncomfortably close, so that Nick can see the little details of his face in the twilight.

And okay. He hasn’t heard that before.

“Who’s Morris?”

The man punches him in the stomach. All the air in his lungs leaves him with a painful gasp, and he tries to bend forward, to curl over on himself protectively, but his arms are pinned so he doesn’t make it very far. He winces and straightens back up.

“I’m not in the mood for jokes. I’ll ask you again. Where. Is. It?”

“What are you talking about?” Nick asks, slightly breathless.

This time, the man’s fist strikes his face. His head snaps to the side and his jaw throbs with pain. He turns his head back towards the man and glares.

“James Morris, I don’t know what the hell you’re on, but if you don’t tell me where the key is, I’m going to get nasty.”

“And you’ve been treating me so nicely up til now,” Nick can’t resist saying.

The next punch hits him square in the nose. Blood starts pouring down his face, sticky and hot and warm, and he’s really angry now.

“What do you want?” he asks again, the anger in his voice somewhat dampened by the thickness of it, courtesy of his bleeding nose.

“I’m not doin’ this again,” grumbles the man in front of him. His next sentence is spoken to the man holding Nick. “Apparently, Morris has forgotten our…what is it again? Five year long business relationship?”

“My name isn’t Morris,” Nick says, realizing he probably should have said this a few punches ago.

Both men laugh. The “sure it’s not,” is accompanied by a punch to the side of his head that makes his ears ring.

“I’m not whoever you think I am,” Nick insists. “My wallet’s in my pocket. Whoever you want, it’s not me.” Blood drips into his mouth and he spits it out. Right onto the shoes of his attacker (which he hadn’t exactly planned). He gets a slap across the face for his trouble, and it stings and makes his eyes water.

“Please,” he says, blinking hard. “It’s in my front left pocket. Just check. My name is Nick.”

The man in front of him sighs. “What, got yourself a fake ID in there?”

Nick just shakes his head. The man reaches into Nick’s pocket and pulls out his wallet, flipping it open like he’s expecting to have a nice little told-you-so moment, which never comes.

Nick watches as the man pulls out his (very real) driver’s license, his credit card, debit card…all with his name on them.

“Shit,” says the man. “You’re really not him?”

“No,” Nick says, stressing the word as much as he possibly can. “Now will you leave me alone?”

The man looks pensive. “You gonna tell anyone about our little...mistake?”

Nick shakes his head. He really doesn’t want to have to explain this to anyone. And honestly, the only thing he’s interested in right now is getting home, cleaning the blood off his face, and sleeping for several hours.

“Let him go.”

The man holding Nick shoves him away, and Nick stumbles, falling to the ground. His palms scrape the concrete and a jolt goes through his body, and when he looks up, the men are gone. His wallet is on the ground next to him, lying open, and nothing is missing from it. He grabs it and staggers to his feet, bracing a hand against the wall. The wallet goes back into his pocket, and Nick goes home.

He has never before been glad that Juliette is out of town, but tonight he is. If she were here, she’d worry over him, ask him if he’d be willing to go to the doctor, ask him what had happened. Though Nick appreciates that sort of concern, he also doesn’t want any of it right now - he’s not hurt that bad, he definitely doesn't need a doctor, and he’s perfectly content to pretend like this had never happened.

Nick stumbles through the front door into the empty house, taking extra care to double check that he’s locked himself in, and makes his way slowly to the bathroom.

Nick looks at himself in the mirror. There are bruises forming on his left cheek and on the right side of his face, in front of his ear. His nose is slightly swollen, and there is faint bruising appearing on either side of it, but he’s pretty sure it’s not broken. Dried blood is streaked across the bottom half of his face and down his neck.

All in all, not bad.

First things first, the blood. Nick wets a washcloth and carefully wipes the rusty-red blood away from his neck and face, wincing when the cloth makes contact with his aching nose. He then extricates himself from his shirt, wiping away still more blood that has found its way under the collar.

There’s a bruise forming on his stomach, too, he discovers, and when he bends down to open a drawer, he feels it twinge. That’ll be just great to deal with at work for the next few weeks, he thinks.

He finds what he’s looking for in the drawer - a bottle of ibuprofen - and takes two. If he hadn’t been alone, he wouldn’t’ve taken any (this isn’t exactly what qualifies as a bad injury for him), but there’s no one here to see him hurting (and he is hurting, though he is loath to admit it), so he lets himself do something to make it hurt less.

Two somethings, actually. After he takes the ibuprofen, he leaves the bathroom, tossing his shirt with its bloodied collar into the laundry hamper. He changes into some pajamas and tries to ignore the livid bruising appearing on his knee, which is now aching fiercely. He walks (or rather, slightly limps) down to the kitchen, grabs a couple of ice packs from the freezer and some towels from the drawer, then carefully lies down on the couch. He wraps the ice packs in the towels, then sets one across his aching knee, one on his stomach, and presses the third to his face. They’re slightly uncomfortable, but he can already feel the cold starting to dull the pain.

He tries to think of the men and the alley and work out just why, exactly, they thought he was someone else, and what they had wanted from that someone else, but he’s tired and the pain is starting to fade away, and he just falls asleep instead.

thanks for reading this! like i said there was not really any kind of plot here...idk who these guys are or why they thought nick was someone else but idc i just wanted to beat him up a little :) i hope you liked it!

#whumpmasinjuly #mistake #grimm #nick burkhardt #my writing #i say things #beat up

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nothingbutimagines · 5 years ago

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Elizabeths (Chapter II)

Pairing: Bad boy!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, death, mentions of suicide

Summary: Y/n is part of her high school’s most powerful and most popular clique, but she disapproves of the other girls’ behavior. When Y/n meets the new boy in school, Peter Parker, and begins dating him, what she has known to be her clique begins to unravel. Starting with the death of the clique leader, Liz Allan, one by one, people Y/n doesn’t like begin to die by her and Peter’s hands. Soon, she realizes that Peter is killing students he hates and begins to try to foil his plans, all while clashing with the new clique leader, Elizabeth “Betty” Brant.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. It’s a Heathers AU!!! This is going to follow a similar plot to Heathers, but of course, I won’t keep everything the exact same. Here, we meet our protaganist, Y/n, and our love interest, JD Peter.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

Dear Diary,

I know I said I only fuck with the college boys and to hell with the high school ones, but goddamn, I can’t take my mind of off Peter Parker. Especially with him pulling that shit he did with the gun in the commons.

“God, they won’t expel him. They’ll probably just suspend him for a week or something.” Lizzie insisted, clacking her croquet mallet against your own as you both chuckled.

“He used a real gun.” Liz scoffed. “They should throw his ass in jail. Doesn’t he know today’s climate? Hasn’t he heard of Columbine?”

“No way.” You argued, leaning forward on your unused mallet as you watched Liz retie her ponytail with that red scrunchie you always hated. “He used blanks. All Peter did was ruined two pairs of pants... maybe not even that...” You and Lizzie began giggling. “I mean, can you bleach out urine stains?”

The sound of Liz knocking her mallet into the red ball and the red ball hitting Betty’s green one was a response enough. The sound was almost deafening as silence fell between you and Lizzie.

“Ah, yes, Peter.” Liz finally spoke up, “You seem pretty amused. I thought you were over high school guys.”

“Never say never.”

“What are you going to do, Liz? Take the two shots or knock me out?” Betty asked, her doe like eyes meeting Liz’s, making it clear she had not been paying attention to the conversation at hand.

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?” Liz snapped. “First you ask if you can be red, knowing I am always red...”

You watched as Liz took a step forward, her foot firm on her red ball as she hit the mallet against it, the red ball sending Betty’s green into the flower bed, causing you to wince as Liz grunted triumphantly.

Liz hit her ball again, this time falling short of the wicket as she groaned, rolling her eyes. Always too cocky too early, Liz.

“Damn.” She cursed. “Anyway, I can say never to high school boys. Especially when I have Steve.”

“Ah, yes. King Steve.” Lizzie chuckled, taking her shot and getting the yellow ball through the wicket as she squealed.

“Maybe when you get older and actually reach maturity, you’ll understand the difference between Columbia University man like Steve and a Midtown High boy like Brad “nut-and-bolt” Davis.”

Lizzie shrugged. “I think Brad’s sweet. Your turn, Betty!”

Betty pouted, a whine escaping her throat as she navigated getting into the flower bed, trying to avoid the peonies your mother had planted earlier in the week.

“No pain, no gain!” Lizzie teased.

“Give it up, girl!” You added, both of you howling at Betty.

You watched as Betty furrowed her brow, leaning down a bit as she hit the ball. You chuckled as it bounced off a tree and then hit the fountain in the yard before rolling perfectly through the wicket.

“Holy shit!” You gasped, howling in laughter.

“That was incredible!” Lizzie squealed.

“What. A. Shot.” Liz added, shaking her head, a mixture of pride and jealousy in her smirk.

You began setting up your shot as Lizzie spoke up, your attention half on her and the other half on getting the shot.

“So, tonight’s the night. Are you two excited?” Lizzie asked, glancing between both you and Liz.

“I’m giving Y/n her shot. Her first Columbia party. You blow it tonight, girl, and it’s keggers with kids all senior year.”

You groaned, having missed your shot. As you dropped your mallet, bending down to pick it up, you rolled your eyes as Liz’s attitude.

“Damn.” You cursed. “So, who’s this Bucky guy I’ve been set up with? Witty and urban pre-law or an idiot and savant art major?”

“Don’t worry.” Liz rolled her eyes. “Steve says he’s very. So he’s very.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered, knowing full well the only boy you wanted to be set up with is the bad boy wannabe from the commons.

“Lizzie! Your mom is here!” Your mother called before Liz could open her mouth to say anything further.

“Come on, whoever wants a ride!” Lizzie announced. “Bye, Y/n. Good luck.”

“Yeah, good luck.” Betty agreed as she rushed past, following Lizzie and Liz up the stairs.

You dropped your mallet and followed behind the girls, waving them off as they cut through the side of the house and off the property. You took a seat at the table on the patio as your father took a seat beside you, James Patterson book in hand as you mother joined you both, salsa and chips on the platter clutched in her fists.

“So, what was the first week of Spring Break withdrawal like?” Your father asked, leaning past your slouching figure to grab a chip.

“Hey, kid, isn’t the prom coming up?” Your mother asked before you could answer your father.

You shrugged with a smile. “I guess it is.”

“Any contestants worth mentioning?”

“Maybe. I guess you could say there is a bit of a dark horse in the running.”

“Goddamn. Why do I even read these damn Patterson books. Bastard probably doesn’t even write them.” Your father chimed in, looking up at you.

“Because you’re an idiot.” You beamed, laughing alongside him for a moment.

“Oh, yeah. That’s it.”

“You two...” Your mother smiled, shaking her head.

“Thanks for the salsa.” You rose from your seat. “But I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that party tonight.”

Dear Diary,

When you fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly. Columbia is Liz kicking my ass out of the nest, whether I like it or not. And to be honest, I don’t wanna fucking fly.

You opened the car door, the cold night breeze chilling you to the bone as you slammed the door shut, wincing as you knew Liz would scold you for your improper behavior later. Tugging at the length of your sleeves, you walked towards the 7-11.

“Corn nuts!” Liz yelled, half her body out the car window as she yelled at you.

Without looking back, you waved her off, tempted to just give her the middle finger and call it a night.

You swung the door open, the warm draft greeting you as you made a beeline to the Corn Nuts, hoping to get in and get out and get this goddamn Columbia party over with.

“You going to get a Big Gulp with that?” A voice erupted from behind you as you turned around, the bag of Corn Nuts you needed in hand.

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a Slurpee.” You teased, meeting Peter’s eyes, or rather, eye, as the other was covered by his falling bang. “You sure do know your 7-11 slang.”

“I’ve moved around all my life; Baton Rouge, Vegas, Dallas, Suburbia. There’s always been a 7-11. The only stability. Any town, any time, I can pop a chicken sandwich in the microwave and feast on a tornado. Keeps me sane.” He explained, his hand shaking next to his head at the end of his speech.

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t know, I mean, that thing you pulled today was pretty severe.”

“The extreme always makes an impression, but you’re right, it was pretty severe. Did you say a Coke or Cherry Slurpee?”

“I didn’t.” You pulled a red vine from the open box at the counter. “Cherry.”

You smiled, taking a bit out of the vine as you twirled it between your fingers, Peter matching your expression. You took the Slurpee from his hand and followed him to the counter, the silence between you comfortable as he paid for the snacks you collected and you followed him outside.

You shivered in the cold air, the thought that getting a Slurpee was a good idea now turning in your mind.

“Great bike.” You nodded to the motorcycle as Peter took a seat on it.

Liz honked her horn, causing you to tear your gaze from Peter as she gave you an agitated look, only for you to return the gesture with a glare and turn back to Peter.

“Just a humble perk from my uncle’s construction company or should I say deconstruction company?”

“I don’t know, should you?”

“My uncle seems to enjoy tearing things down more than building things up. Seen the commercial? ‘Bringing every State to a Higher State.’“

“Oh, shit.” You gasped, connecting the dots as you playfully hit Peter’s shoulder. “Peter Parker... Your uncle’s Big Ben Parker Construction. Must be rough, moving place to place.”

Peter shrugged. “Everybody’s got some static in their life. Is your life perfect?”

You scoffed. “Sure, I’m going to a Columbia University party.”

Liz honked the horn again, letting her hand rest on the horn for a little longer as you frowned.

“It’s not perfect.” Your tone was serious. “I don’t really like my friends.”

“I don’t really like your friends either.” Peter shook his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“It’s like they’re just people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.”

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation.”

Liz’s horn blared again as you waved at Peter, starting to walk away. “You’re telling me!”

Dear Diary,

The day I take a vacation, that’ll be the day Liz Allan is dead. Until then, I’m stuck doing my job being her popular lap dog and sucking her dick by telling her how hot and popular she is.

You could barely suppress a look of disgust as you followed Liz and Steve through the crowded dormitory hallway and into Steve’s dorm. You hated Steve. Sleazy, sweaty, somewhat mediocre looking Steve. You could feel the clot of bile creep up your throat as Steve held the door open for you, the sick smell of cheap beer and sweat so pungent your eyes teared up.

“You can just throw your coats down on the bed, girls.” Steve instructed as both you and Liz slipped off your coats and did as you were told.

You watched as Steve walked away for a moment, you assumed to get Bucky as you looked at Liz, who was watching them as well, the doe like look in her eyes telling you that she was in love with him. That for some reason, the clever bitch fell for the disgusting college guy.

“Y/n, this is Buck.” Steve introduced the other boy, his hand clasped on his shoulder as he guided him to you.

“Excellent.” Bucky nodded, his eyes tracing over your form as you held back a frown. “Did you girls bring your partying boots?”

“Yeah, let’s party.” Liz smiled, jerking you to get you to do the same.

Steve chuckled, throwing his arm around Liz as he looked at her. “What can I say? She loves to party.”

Dear Diary,

I want to kill and you have to believe... damn pen!

“So, are you a cheerleader?” Bucky asked, his back against the tacky blue and grey striped wallpaper.

“Not at all.” You gagged, the smell of beer and cigarettes on his breath making you nauseous as you took a sip of the drink in your hand.

“You’re pretty enough to be one.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s so great to be able to talk to a girl without having to ask ‘what’s your major?’ I hate that.” Bucky took a sip of his beer before continuing, “So, when you go to college, what do you think you’ll study?”

You have to believe it’s for more than selfish reasons. More than a spoke in my menstrual cycle. You have to believe me.

Bucky had given up on conversation, you could tell by the way he shifted on his heels uncomfortably. It’s not like you minded, nor cared, since you debated finding Liz’s coat and stealing her car, leaving her in your dust.

Goddamn Liz. Goddamn Columbia guys. Goddamn you for agreeing to be here.

“So, what do you say we go up to my dorm and have a real party? I’ve got the best rap mix in the whole dorm.” Bucky’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as another boy approached.

“Buck, man,” The boy jerked Bucky around by the shoulder, “Nick’s been looking for you. He says he owes you for blow and he just got some shit himself.”

“You’re kidding. Asshole really scored some of his own?”

“He’s in Nat’s room. Go, man. Party on.”

“Excellent.” Bucky finally turned to you, as if he forgot you were even there, “Y/n, you ever do coke?”

“Ever since writing that DARE essay in fifth grade, I refuse everything.”

“DARE? Are you sure that shit still works?”

You smacked your forehead lightly. “Oh, geez, right! I wrote that at eleven. Might as well do drugs now since I’m not so stupid!”

You groaned, pushing through the crowded hallway back to where you and Liz had thrown your coats.

“Hey, don’t run off, now!” Bucky called out, following behind you closely.

Seventeen is the last year Mom buys the Twinkies. When you make the jump from working at Pizza Hut on the weekends to working thirty years at I.B.M, when you lose something, not innocence - power.

You swung open the door to the room, throwing yourself on the stack of coats on the couch beside the door. Setting your glass of vodka in your lap, you pulled out the matchbook you’d gotten at the 7-11. You struck a match, holding your hand over the flame, bringing it closer and closer until the red light licks your hand, causing you to shriek in pain. You dropped the match into the glass, shocked when it catches fire. Giggling to yourself, you toss the glass out the open window; out of sight, out of mind.

“There you are.” Bucky’s voice has you rolling your eyes as you turn to him. “How’s my little cheerleader? Now I know everyone at your high school isn’t so uptight, come on.”

His hand was coated in sticky sweat as it touched your tight covered thigh and his breath was hot and warm as his leaned in too close to your face.

“Hey, I really don’t feel so great.” You argued, shoving him away from you as you shot up off the couch.

“Let’s do it on the coats.” He grinned, oblivious to your side of the conversation. “It’ll be excellent.”

“You know, I have a little prepared speech I give when my suitor wants more than I’d like to give him. Gee, Blank, I had a nice-”

“Save the speeches for Malcolm X. I just wanna get laid.” Bucky chuckled, cutting off your sentence before you could even get the bulk of it out.

You yanked your coat out from under him, sending him sliding off the couch and to the floor.

“You don’t deserve my fucking speech.” You huffed, stepping over him and storming out the door.

You slow as you realized you now gained Liz’s attention, along with Steve’s as Bucky emerges from the “coat” room. You can tell by the falling smiles on both Steve’s and Liz’s faces as Bucky spews some words you can’t hear that they are more than pissed at you. You watch, your eyes widening as Liz slides her beer glass on the table beside her, steel-faced as she approaches you.

“What’s your damage? Bucky says you’re being a real cooze.” Liz snapped.

“Liz, I feel awful, like I’m going to throw up. Can we jam, please?”

“Hell no.”

You couldn’t help it, the sudden clot in your throat was replaced with actual vomit as you leaned against the wall, rendered unable by your sudden fatigue to make it to the bathroom. You leaned over, vomit spilling onto the carpet and splatter hitting Liz’s red heels. Groaning, you charge down the hallway and out the door, determined to make it back to the car as Liz follows close behind.

Christ, I can’t explain it, but I’m allowed an understanding that my parents and these Columbia University assholes have chosen to ignore. I must stop Liz.

“You stupid cunt!” Liz roared, the trash can fire casting shadows on her face as you shivered in the cool night air.

“You goddamn bitch!”

“You were nothing before you met me! You were playing Barbies with Cindy Moon! You were a Brownie, you were a Bluebird, you were a Girl Scout Cookie! I got you into a Columbia University party! What’s my thanks? It’s on the hallway carpet. I got paid in puke!”

“Like it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.”

“Monday morning, you’re history. I’ll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No one at Midtown is going to let you play their reindeer games.”

Cindy Moon was a real friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatchdogs and Diet Cokeheads. Killing Liz’d be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West. Or is it East? West! I sound like a fucking psycho. Tomorrow I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Liz. A world where I am free.

You couldn’t help but fling your diary across the room, the satisfying thud from it hitting the wall beside your window soothing you as you wallowed in anger. You gasp as you hear a sound at the window, looking up, you tear off your glasses and make eye contact with one Peter Parker.

“Dreadful etiquette, I apologize.”

“It’s okay...” You replied breathlessly.

“I saw the croquet set out back, you up for a match?”

Your heart was still racing, however instead of the initial shock, it was now revving up with anxiety as you looked at the boy in your bedroom. Was he even really there? Or was he just an anger fueled hallucination?

“Sure. But I’m blue.”

Dear Diary,

When did my life become reminiscent of a YA novel? When did I come to believe it wasn’t weird that Peter Parker was coming through my window? Did Twilight finally condition me into believing odd behavior was true romance?

“Now I can see why you looked so mangled when I came up.” Peter shook his head, his voice soft.

You shifted so that your head was on his bare chest, your eyes focused on the pile of his clothes that sat beside him.

“I’ve always treated Liz’s drama queen plays as bullshit, but I’m honestly really scared. Who am I going to sit with at lunch on Monday?” You groaned, leaning back onto the grass, the blades pricking your bare shoulders. “God, I sound like I’m from Riverdale.”

“Are girls really that bad?”

“It’s a dog eat dog world.” You shrugged. “It feels like it’s either kill yourself or get told to kill yourself.”

“Geez.” Peter shook his head. “That was my first game of strip croquet, by the way. I thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a lot more interesting than flinging your clothes off and going at it on a neighbor’s swing set.”

“Well, I don’t know, there’s something to be said for- ouch!”

You chuckled as the blue mallet that was stuck in the ground fell over and hit the boy. He handed you your panties that fell along with the mallet before sliding on his own underwear.

“What a night.” You giggled, slipping on your panties as you kissed him softly and stood up. “What a life. I almost moved into high school right out of sixth grade because I was some sort of genius. But of course, my mother was too scared I wouldn’t make friends, so we chucked the idea and blah, blah, blah.”

You searched the yard for your clothes, cursing Peter silently for allowing you to toss them around instead of into a neat pile like he had done. You picked up your shirt and pants, gathering up your socks and slippers before putting them on as you spoke.

“But now blah-blah-blah is all I ever do. I use my grand I.Q. to decide what shade of lip gloss to buy and how to hit three keggers before curfew. Some genius.”

“Liz Allan is one bitch that deserves to die.” Peter blurted out, making it clear he wasn’t listening to you.

“Killing her won’t solve anything.”

“A well time lighting bolt on her walk into school on Monday morning, all the other Elizabeths, shit, the whole school, would be cut loose.”

“Well, then, I will pray for rain.” You chuckled. “A flowerpot falling from the window sill would work just as well, more likely to happen too.”

“You see those condoms in the grass? We killed it tonight, Y/n. We killed our baby.”

“Hey, it was good for me too, imbecile.”

“I’m just saying. It’s not hard to end a life.”

“There’s a big difference between killing the prom queen and busting into a condom.”

You both laugh as Peter finally starts getting dressed.

“I guess I don’t know what I’m talking about. After all, there’s only one genius here.”

“I know exactly what the hell you’re talking about and you’re right, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t we just graduate, grow old and be adults, and then die?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“But before we do that, I want to see Liz Allan spew chunks so we can call it even.”

_____________________

Tagged: @thewinchesterchronicles @spookyanairwin @audreylovespidey706 @asonofpeter @halparkebitch

message me to be added to the taglist!

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subsonicspeeds · 5 years ago

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(Crazy For You) Not That Crazy

siege on the mind lately. i entirely planned on this being a segue into me trying out nsfw fics but uh. it ended up going domestic. i’ve got another chapter to redeem myself

pairing: smoke/mute

length: 1.6k~ words

you can also read it on AO3

Smoke never realized how hard it was to be away from the people he really cared about. Mute reluctantly agrees.

Things got lonely real easy for Smoke. He was so used to being up everyone's ass, especially the people he cared about. It was his way of showing his appreciation, despite all the protests. But he had no plans on changing how he was. If people didn't like that about him, that damn well sucked for them because he wasn't going to do anything about it.

But either way, it was painfully obvious he was getting stir crazy from this operation. They'd been gone for about a month now, just waiting out at a high target area. Apparently the White Masks made a ton of threats on the area, and of course they couldn't have that, eh? Yet so far it was just bluff after bluff, but Six wanted to guarantee the civilians and general area was safe from any threat. So it was him, Valkyrie, Clash, Kapkan, and Wamai. Not people he necessarily… meshed well with. They were professionals, sure, they could work together just fine. Socially, however? God they were leagues different from him.

The only person Smoke could find some comfort in was Wamai, and he in return would humor him. Sorta reminded him of his boyfriend, the absolute love of his life, Mute. Minus the whole… snarky and sexy part of him. Maybe they weren't too alike, but he nonetheless had a calming presence. And those two were friends, perhaps that's what got him thinking like that to begin with.

Whatever the case was, Smoke was currently sitting with his back against a corner, legs sprawled out with his shotgun just an arms reach away. Valkyrie had already yelled at him numerous times for being too relaxed, but bloody hell no one was going to come at this point and he knew it. Only near the beginning of their deployment were any shots fired. Local enforcements were worried about how the place would manage without Rainbow watching over them, so they were taking their sweet time getting soldiers trained and equipped to deal with this type of situation. Milking the five of them for all they had, essentially.

They weren't meant to leave, but with how long they'd been deployed, they would take turns going on walks every so often. Smoke, though? He was sneaking out every chance he could get. For either a cigarette break or just to get out of that dingy ass building, he was just glad to feel the fresh air on his skin again.

And honestly? Sometimes Smoke just wanted to abandon them, just for a few days. Maybe pretend something happened and create an elaborate ruse. Though that'd just get them stuck there for longer, probably. But christ, it would make something interesting happen. He just needed something to spice things up without completely saying “fuck this” to the mission.

Sighing in frustration, Smoke reached for his phone. He took off one of his gloves for easier usage, in case he needed to send a few texts out. It was possible to press the screen in his gloves, but actually typing words? Not a thing he could do. His notifications were mainly spam, scrolling through for the first time in hours. He had to give himself credit, not checking it constantly despite how fucking bored he was. Once he neared the bottom of the list, he noticed something important. The notification read:

💓💕 The Babe 💘💞

Picture Attachment

Mute… never sent pictures to him. Even during this operation, it was mainly phone calls, texts, and the occasional video chat if Smoke could pull it out of him. His heart began to race at the thought of just maybe getting a new picture of his partner, after having to just stare at old pictures in his gallery or relying on his imagination. Rushing to open the message, he was greeted by something even better. He couldn't help but audibly gasp and smiled widely underneath his mask. It was a selfie of Mute and Charlie, Smoke’s daughter. He could feel his heart bursting at the seams as he overanalyzed the picture, taking in every little detail about the two most important people in his life.

From the way that his daughter was absolutely beaming at the camera, her hair completely drenched. To Mute’s unmistakable resting bitch face, but Smoke could tell by the slight curl to his lips and the way his eyebrows were much less furrowed, that he was having a good time. His hair was soaked too… What did the two get up to?

Before he could even text the question, Mute replied with a simple:

‘Got caught in the rain. And she misses you a lot.’

This was too much for Smoke’s heart to handle, and he felt like he was going to burst. Mute was left in charge of Charlie for the time being, and since the two got along surprisingly well it worked out perfectly. There was some protesting from his daughter, saying that she was sixteen now and could handle herself, but Smoke frankly didn't care. He trusted Mute to make sure she didn't set the house on fire.

Once his hands stopped shaking (When did they start? He hadn't even noticed.) he texted his partner back.

‘god you can't even comprehend how much i love and miss you two’

Watching the “...” appear and hover on the screen was too much for him. They could have a real time conversation, and Smoke didn't plan on dropping the phone for anything. If those Masks came, they'd have to wait for him to send a text to the love of his life, because he should at least know he was about to get shot at.

‘Charlie said that's gross and cheesy, but she loves you too.’

Pursing his lips, Smoke knew Mute was avoiding sharing how he felt out of habit. It would just take some coaxing, he'd done this hundreds of times before, and Mute would feel comfortable enough to share. It was just one of his quirks, and he didn't mind it too much.

‘She wanted to call, but we needed to go to the store and as you can tell, nature said fuck us. She's hopping in the shower and finishing up her schoolwork.’

Alright, maybe there wouldn't have to be a lot of coaxing, given that he's already double texting. Smoke knew Mute inside and out, each one of his tells and habits.

‘remind her i always got my phone on me. service might be wonky but she can call/text me any time she wants’

‘I'm sure she knows, she just wants to seem more like an adult and be tough. Teenagers and all that.’

‘reminds me of a certain bloke i know’

‘...Thanks James.’

‘only muckin about. just hurts to not see my dear marky not head over heels and ready to confess his undying love for me, even over text’

‘Oh shut up.’

There was a bit of silence, and Smoke knew to let it hang there for a bit, as much as he wanted to reply again.

‘I love you, dumbass. Happy now?’

Oh yes was Smoke happy, he was smiling like an absolute oaf underneath his gas mask. He was glad he had it on for now, even if it did make the screen a little hazy. At least he didn't have to hold back his facial expressions.

‘that is the sweetest thing you've ever said to me, god just put a ring on me now babe’

'You're making me want to make sure you never go to a jeweler.’

‘cmon you know you miss my sweet ass’

A pause for a minute or so, before a short reply of:

‘A little bit.’

Smoke just snickered to himself, knowing Mute had to debate on whether to really admit it or not.

‘well i know i miss you a whole fucking lot. every little thing about you. you know how much it sucks sleeping on cots again? ALONE too? miss having my face pressed into a giant, personal space heater named mark chandar.’

Hopefully that'll make him give a bit. He was always cold through text, since he could catch any slip ups before sending. Mute didn't like having evidence of him going along with Smoke’s antics. He was very much a behind closed doors person.

‘And I miss the chemist that would kick me in the middle of the night if I didn't twist our legs together.’

Another low chuckle from himself, closing his eyes and just remembering what it felt like to be by Mute’s side again. It was tugging at him, the desire to go back home. To his family.

‘I think I miss him more than I'd like to admit.’

Smoke’s eyes stung a bit as he let his thoughts travel around, revolving around just how homesick he was. Genuinely he felt like he was going to cry, it was a strong and sudden urge. Who knew Mute’s blunt words still held weight through text, instead of coming off as bland and disinterested.

'mark i really want to go home.’

There was absolutely no hesitation in the next text from Mute.

‘I know. I want you back here, too.’

That set Smoke off, tears falling down his face, his puffy red eyes thankfully hidden. The only thing that kept him from responding to Mute with a disgustingly heartfelt message, was Valkyrie trying to get everyone's attention.

“Great news, everyone! Six left us a message and said we are set to head home tomorrow morning!” The four of them cheered, with Clash yelling a grand “Fuck yeah!” Smoke kept quiet, too busy being overcome by what all this meant. The timing was all too perfect, with him finally complaining about how he just wanted to go. And now he really did get to go.

He wasn't going to tell Mute that, though.

#i tried to wrap things up but it just kinda felt odd #so it's now a 2 chapter thing #still feels kinda odd but whatever #also i cant remember who came up with the name charlie for smoke's daughter but thank you so much i love it #smoke cares about two things: mute and his daughter #r6s #rainbow six siege #rainbow 6 siege #smoke r6s #mute r6s #smoke/mute #smoke #mute

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bffhreprise · 5 years ago

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Entry 332

“James, dear!” I called as I hurried over to hug him. Over the past couple weeks, my husband and I had spent countless hours discussing what being grandparents could be like now that our son was married. We were absolutely certain that we’d never keep up, and that our son and daughter-in-law would be exceedingly busy. No child of those two could be normal, and I worried about getting a chance to visit with them being so busy… I needed to get as much of their attention as I could before they became too serious about having a child.

“Don’t forget our new daughter-in-law.” teased my husband, looking startled when L-Lady—No. Alma—when Alma hugged him.

“Of course not.” I assured him, releasing our son to hug Alma as well. Her strength was still very noticeable. “How was the honeymoon? Did you two have fun?”

“Quite eventful.” replied James, looking amused. “You’d be amazed how much we can accomplish in two weeks.”

My husband laughed, saying, “Not really, not with how incredibly fast you two are.”

“I’m pregnant.” stated Alma as she stepped next to James.

My mouth was on the floor, and I took a while to find it again. Reminding myself that only two weeks had passed since their marriage, I asked “Isn’t it a bit too soon to tell?” I knew my son. There was no possible way that Alma could have been pregnant before the wedding, she seemed just as careful as he was!

“Alma’s not quite human, so things work a bit differently. I assure you that she is.” insisted James, looking as happy as can be.

After another brief pause, my husband said, “Well, I always did want to be a grandfather.”

“Congratulations to you both!” I exclaimed, not wanting them to think I disapproved. Shock. Shock was mostly what I felt. “Do the others know yet?”

“Sorry, but your son couldn’t keep it a surprise till you got here.” replied Alma, smiling lovingly up at James.

James shrugged and said, “Sorry, I’m a bit excited.” Then he waved for us to follow him, saying, “Come in, please. We have something to show you.”

“Another surprise?” questioned my husband, obviously trying to mentally prepare himself.

James nodded.

“I’m sure it’s not as surprising as this.” I told them, knowing nothing could be at this point. “Any idea when the baby will be due with the umm… differences?” Adjusting to superhuman individuals in one’s life was difficult.

“December, we think.” replied Alma.

“Are you planning on finding out if it’s a boy or a girl? That seems pretty common these days.” suggested my husband. He wasn’t precisely great with surprises on his good days, and all of our plans for activities with the newly weds would obviously need some adjustment now.

“Probably.” replied James. “We figure that’ll give us more time to come up with a name.”

“If you have a boy, are you going to carry on the tradition?” questioned my husband hopefully as we approached the ballroom.

With a slight nodd, Alma said, “That seems quite likely. I like how easily the name would pass in my country too.”

“What if you have a girl? I’ll gladly help with names.” I offered.

“We already decided on Dani for our first girl.” replied Alma, spinning round and smiling at me.

“Oh? Is there a story behind this?” I asked, feeling intrigued. Catching a pink blur, I focused on an incredibly exotic-looking girl running toward me. She had long eyelashes, amethyst eyes, and a slightly upturned nose with full lips under it that had a distinct cupid’s bow, none of which were her most relevant features. Her skin was a soft pink color, which didn’t remotely distract from her cobalt blue hair.

“Mom, are these them!?” exclaimed the girl, bouncing with excitement as she put her hands together hopefully and grinned with all of the excitement of a toddler seeing cake.

“Dani, meet my parents.” replied James, motioning to us. Then he looked my husband and me in our eyes and said, “This is our adopted daughter, Dani Lyshaa Somerset.”

“Uh… b-but... “ started my husband awkwardly, looking even more awkward as Dani hugged us both. His eyes shared all of the confusion racing through my head.

Then the girl looked at James, making almost musical noises.

“English in front of your grandparents.” ordered Alma, sounding perfectly like a mother lightly scolding her child, which was apparently the case.

“What uh language is that?” asked my husband.

Language!? Oh… She really was speaking then.

“Oh, that’s from Dani’s home. The circumstances were a bit unusual, but she’s part of the family now.” insisted James, looking at my husband and me meaningfully.

“Dani, I love your hair and umm skin.” I told her, reaching to touch her hair before I thought better of it. When she leaned into my hand, the incredible softness caught me by surprise. For some reason, I thought the cobalt hair would feel coarse.

“It’s all natural!” insisted Dani, grinning at me with perfectly white teeth. At least something about her seemed somewhat normal.

“Is she… uh… similar to the ones in your forest?” questioned my husband, obviously struggling to find a more delicate way to ask.

“No, she’s not a fey, but she does sense the emotions of those around her.” replied James.

“The fey!” exclaimed Dani, jumping and spinning around to face James. “I forgot about them. When can I meet them!?” She was bouncing again, perfectly excited.

“Let’s plan on tonight for most of them. You’ll meet one sooner.” James assured her. “Just don’t let her know how long we’ve been back, since she’ll be disappointed that I didn’t come see her first thing. For now, let’s head to the dining room. Marco’s probably done preparing dinner by now.”

“Almost, Master.” stated Mila from the nearest speakers. “We’re putting the finishing touches on at the moment.”

“Perfect.” insisted James as he led the way.

Reaching up to loop her arm around James’, Alma said, “I have missed his cooking. This will be a treat.”

“Marco’s cooking is always a treat.” agreed my husband as he and I followed with Dani happily bouncing along between us. “Dani, how old are you?” he questioned, pointedly not looking right at her.

“Almost fifteen.” she told him, almost sounding flirtatious.

With her cosmetic differences, I hadn’t really paid too much attention to what the girl was wearing. The violet shirt was incredibly form-fitting and had strategically placed slashes throughout it. Her black shorts were just as tight with matching slashes up the sides, small as the sides are. Though I had seen plenty of girls wearing similar clothes these days, this outfit seemed to be taking the idea of showing off one’s figure another step farther, and why was she barefoot? Were her nails really that white, or were they painted?

“When’s your birthday?” I asked.

Her head whipped around, so she could stare into my eyes. Her eyes really were beautiful… and large. “Uh…” she muttered, looking as if she were thinking.

“April nineteenth.” called Alma.

“That’s the one!” exclaimed Dani, not the least embarrassed.

“How long have you been studying English? You’re doing quite well.” I told her.

“I’m not too sure.” she shrugged. Her eyes darted forward, locking onto James’ tiny fairy instantly.

Visions of flight and feelings of joy followed immediately. Speaking with and riding on a squirrel was a new experience for me, but the fairy made that seem quite enjoyable.

“Daddy, she’s adorable! I want to ride on the umm… the squirrel!” insisted Dani. “I want to ride on a squirrel. I guess they’re pretty small for her to ride them like that, but wasn’t that awesome!?”

The diminutive fairy seemed interested in Dani, flying over to hover by Dani’s face, and a few seconds of silence passed.

“I’m still not accustomed to feeling that. What did you think, Dani?” I asked.

“Oh, Mom’s shown me things like that before, so I’m used to it.” she told me, seemingly not at all surprised.

“Will the others be joining us?” I inquired, surprised that the dining room was empty.

“You can count on it, the ones who are here at least.” insisted James. “A couple are out on jobs. Jemal and Kayla should return soon. He’s probably picking her up from her friend’s or on his way back with her already. The ones here are just giving us a few minutes privacy while you get to know Dani a little.”

“Isn’t it amazing how pretty all of Daddy and Mom’s friends are!?” exclaimed Dani, looking to me for confirmation.

“I couldn’t agree more. My wife and I would feel remiss in our apparel were we to leave home in anything too casual for a visit here.” replied my husband with a laugh.

“You’re quite beautiful too, Dani.” I told her.

“Thank you, grandmother!” she replied, grinning at me again. Her smile was certainly the type that lit up rooms… and stole the hearts of boys.

Still, I couldn’t get past what she called me. Was I really a grandmother already? “That will take some acclimation.” I admitted aloud. “I wasn’t expecting to be a grandmother this morning.”

“I blame Aaliyah.” stated James. “She insisted that Dani go with ‘daddy’ for me. Alma wasn’t about to be called ‘mommy’ but she didn’t want to have things sound too formal when I’m ‘daddy’.”

Danni happily said, “And they thought ‘grandfather’ and ‘grandmother’ seemed right for you two.”

“I suppose.” admitted my husband with a nod.

“You three already seem so casual together. If you’ll pardon my asking, Dani, but wasn’t being adopted by someone as young as… as these two… a bit odd?” I asked.

Dani’s grin didn’t falter, only widening, as she told me “I feel like I’ve been with them for years.”

“But they’re really not too much older than you.” insisted my husband.

“Dani looked like she was going to argue, but snapped her mouth shut instead. She was obviously amused by something.

Alma, who had glided closer to us, took my husband’s hand in both of hers and said, “Getting used to the idea of me dating your son took a while too, but families can come about in the strangest of ways. Please trust us on this.”

He looked surprised, but nodded again. “Life in this household will never be normal. I have come to terms with it.” Then he smiled at her and said, “I think marriage suits you.”

“It really does.” she insisted, easily matching Dani for a beautiful smile. Even next to Dani, Alma seemed otherworldly.

“Let’s all take this end again.” suggested James as he walked to the far end of the table.

The little fairy was obviously excited about the upcoming meal. Thoughts and tastes of food entered my mind in rapid succession.

“I want some of everything.” announced Dani wistfully.

“She really is remarkable. I should show you some of the paintings she’s inspired if you ever visit.” I suggested to her.

“Daddy’s told me that you paint! I’d love to see your work.” replied Dani hopefully.

“You should paint together.” encouraged Alma with a mischievous smile. “Dani has talent and has been well-trained in the arts.”

“Really? I’d love to paint with her.” I gladly admitted. Painting was always fun, but painting with someone was a great way to bond, and I’d need to bond with this girl… my granddaughter. The word still seemed strange.

“Please forgive her if she cheats at times.” stated James.

“What do you mean, dear?” I questioned, not able to guess how someone could cheat at painting. Art was expression, and expression could take many forms.

“Daddy, it’s not cheating!” insisted Dani indignantly.

“Dani has a gift for magic and uses it when painting.” explained Alma.

I hadn’t even considered that magic could be used for painting, at least not seriously. Well into the meal, I was still marveling over the newest addition to my family. She seemed to have endless reserves of energy as well as enthusiasm, acting as if everything was new and exciting.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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ncstings · 4 years ago

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spots to kiss #20: georgia & benjamin a kiss on where the back of the neck turns to shoulder.

“Did you see who they were?” She’s got a bag full of groceries under her arm as she leads out of the elevator, walking down one of their long hallways.

“Only briefly. But they were carrying things, it didn’t seem appropriate to stop them.” Benjamin says mindlessly over the phone. She caught him while he was working and he said he could talk, because how could he say no to her, but it’s clear he’s doing something on top of it.

“Shame, Ben. For shame.” She hisses. “I have to do everything myself. I’ll have to take one of the bottles from the fridge as an impromtu gift. Unless you have a fruit basket laying around.”

“I’m sorry, is that something you think people just... have?” He laughs.

“Don’t joke, you never know when you’re going to need a gift basket. Before moving in with you, I always had supplies for making a spa basket on the fly.” She looks around her, rounding another corner. “How do you think I got to be so successful.”

“I wont question your ways.”

“Oh shit---!” Georgia stops dead in her tracks, seeing a door wide open. “They’re home.” She hisses.

“Why are you acting like they’re outlaws? They’re just new neighbors. They looked perfectly approachable. A little young, but, who am I to question anything.”

“What, like, how could young people afford a place like this?” She pauses. “How young we talking?”

“I don’t question people’s income. But certainly under thirty.”

“Wow, good for them.” She stands up straight. “I should say hi, I hear music playing.”

“Why is their door open?”

“I don’t know I haven’t talked to them yet.”

“Seems strange is all. You don’t think they’ll cause any problems do you? Have lots of parties or anything?”

“You’re the one that’s met them, Benjamin.”

He hums, then there’s a pause for a second before he finishes. “Well I should go, you go investigate and report back.”

And she did just that. Georgia hung up her call, rushed her groceries back into the apartment, and grabbed a bottle of wine from her fridge before she dipped back out into the hallway.

Music still poured from the open door. Nothing loud, and it was rather slow and sensual rhythm and blues that she couldn’t really complain about the music choice. When she neared the corner, she was shocked to find a baron apartment, with some furniture with tarp over it. There was tarp over pretty much everything in fact, and a small woman standing on a stool, painting the wall a lovely mint color.

She was petite, tan, and Georgia couldn’t see her face but from her rather toned body, she imagined her to be beautiful. He hair was tied back in a bandana and her clothes were splattered with paint.

He knuckles tapped against the door frame, gathering the woman’s attention in the large condo. When she turned, her suspicions were confirmed, she was utterly beautiful. And very young.

Benjamin refuses to question income but in a place like this, she can’t help the questions.

“Hello!” Georgia chimes. “I just wanted to come by and say hello. We’re your neighbors across the hall. I’m Georgia. My fiance Benjamin is at work but he says hello in spirit.” As she speaks, she’s watching the woman get down from her stool, and start to approach her in the doorway, wearing a smile.

“Hi,” She says, her voice light, a bit breathless, but in a way that just sounds like that’s her voice. It’s alluring, no doubt. “I’m sorry if having the door open was bothering you, I just wanted to get this place aired out with all the painting.”

“Oh no, it’s totally okay, it gave me the nudge to come by and say hello, I just got home from work early, went to the store, now I’m here, saying hello.”

The woman laughs politely and nods, then holds out a hand. “I’m Laney, My partner James lives with me but he’s out ... “She pauses, her smile looking the fondest it could. “I’m not sure, sitting at a cafe thinking something whimsical or buying furniture, who knows. He’ll be back later.”

Georgia laughs in return, taking the outstretched hand to shake. “Seems very far from my fiance. I don’t think whimsy is a concept he even comprehends, but we definitely have a friend like that.”

“Yeah, he likes his alone time though. As do I.” She smiles. “I would love to show you around the place but as you can tell, it’s really not ready.”

“Oh no, that’s totally okay. When I moved in with Benjamin I nearly redecorated the whole place. He’s a man with very good taste but you know, not my kind of taste.” She winks playfully.

Laney laughs lightly, and it sounds like clouds and sparkles and she can imagine just about anyone would fall for her. “James is a very fashionable person, though he’s been hanging around all kinds of fashionable people since he was very young.” Her eyes crinkle, and she looks behind her. “He picked out the mint, but we’re doing something a little different. Patterns and stuff.”

“Oh, that’ll be interesting.” Georgia nods. Maybe they’re a little different. She’s not getting the vibe that they’re much like the modern architects that live in the building. People her and Benjamin’s age who work downtown in the finance district. It’ll be a breath of fresh air.

She sighs, and then looks down at the bottle still in her hand. “Oh! I wanted to bring this by to you guys, a little welcoming gift. This is my favorite dessert wine, perfect for a date night.”

She watches as Laney looks at the bottle, her smile turning quaint with her lips in a thin line. For a moment, Georgia considers that she picked the wrong wine. Or maybe it was too cheap? Who knows with these guys, they might be far too out of her pricerange.

“Thanks,” She says softly, looking up to meet her eyes. “We’re actually sober, though.”

Well at least it wasn’t her. “Oh gosh, of course! You know, I was talking to Ben over the phone, told him we should keep an emergency fruit basket around. I’m sorry about that.” She tucks the bottle under her arm, then reaches out to squeeze the other’s arm gently. “You know what, why don’t you guys come over for dinner? Neither of us are that great at cooking but we can make one thing really well so our treat!”

“That’d be nice, yeah. James and I are free tomorrow night, is that okay?” She lets out a nervous laugh, as if thankful for the interaction.

“Perfect! Just give us a knock okay?”

//--//

Georgia moves around the table to light the candles before rushing back to the kitchen, where Benjamin stands over the stove. “This has to look perfect. Something in my bones just tells me they’re way cooler than any of us and I want to impress them.” She huffs, reaching into the fridge where she’d picked up raspberry soda. Something made in Brooklyn where the guy said it was frequently sold out. “You don’t think they’re too cool for soda, do you? I told you they don’t drink but like... I don’t want to make them drink just water. Oh god, this is why we don’t make new friends. Why did I invite them over, they’ll see what big of losers we are.”

She closes the fridge and bangs her head against the aluminum, only to find a pair of arms sliding around her waist, and a pair of lips kissing the back of her neck. “You do this for a living, love, it’ll be fine.” He continues kissing her skin. “You look beautiful and it was very kind of you to invite them and I’m sure the appreciate the warm welcome.”

Georgia sighs, her head resting against the cool metal. “Tell me what a cool unstoppable sexy babe I am, please.”

“No,” He says plainly, reaching down to give her ass a squeeze. “You don’t need me inflating your ego anymore than I already do.” A final kiss to her neck and he’s back to the stove, cooking the only thing Vincent really taught them to cook. But they like it enough they make it almost once a week.

It’s not long before there’s a knock on their door and Georgia launches to answer. When she does, the door swings open and she nearly gasps.

They’re a little too good looking and she nearly falls over.

When she’d met Laney, she was dressed for painting, which was obviously not her prime. But here, dressed in a tight little crop top and shirt skirt and she looks perfect. Her hair was tied back and yet immaculate.

And then the partner in question was just as perfect. Shining seafoam eyes, covered with tattoos that could mean any number of things. Dressed in some sort of pleated high waisted pant and patterned blouse that looks far more expensive than anything in her closet, yet effortlessly cool and slick.

“Hey!” Georgia coos, letting them both in as she tries to ground herself in what might be something completely out of her league. She’s never had to plan a wedding for two people that were so absolutely unapologetically cooler than her.

She turns around to find that Benjamin rounds the corner greet them, raising an eyebrow in her direction. It lasts only a second, before he steps forward to introduce herself, and a collection of hands are being exchanged in shaking.

Laney introduces James to her, who is polite and far too sweet to be even real. Then again, it took her over a year to come to the conclusion Vincent was real, so she should be accustomed to this.

Everyone gets situated with dinner. Georgia’s thankful when they say they love raspberry soda. Either she guessed right, or they were painfully polite. Both made her just a little bit more relaxed as they began eating their dinner.

“So where did you guys move from?” Benjamin starts with the simple questions, and she’s thankful for that too. To her, she feels she has to come up with wildly intricate questions to engage the table. She hadn’t even considered the basics.

“Los Angeles. But we both grew up in California.” James responds, poking around his plate. “This is really good, you guys are really good cooks.”

Both Georgia and Benjamin let out a full laugh, but it’s the latter to clarifies. “One of our close friends is a very good cook, he taught us to make this at one point. We like it because it’s easy and tastes good.”

“Carbonara fits that bill, yeah.” Laney nods, picking up more of her’s. “James and I tried to go on a cooking journey a while back. We needed something to do together after we hadn’t been doing anything at all...” Her nose scrunches when she looks to James, who shakes his head fondly.

“Needless to say, that was not the way we needed to bond together. We decided puzzles was a lot better.”

Georgia snorts, looking over the Benjamin. “Can you imagine us doing a puzzle together?”

“Georgia would spent thirty minutes trying to tell me a corner piece belonged in the center.” He grins. “After the first ten, she’d realize she was wrong but she wouldn’t be able to accept it so she’d just fully commit. Most likely to try and make me annoyed.”

Georgia playfully hits him with her napkin and rolls his eyes. The couple across from them laugh, and after a few seconds, she sighs. “I mean he’s not wrong, I would almost certainly do that.”

The table laughs again.

Georgia picks off a piece of her bread, adding onto her statement. “Explains a lot though, being from LA, you guys give off a very coastal cool vibe.”

“Do we?” Laney looks at James, her hand reaching over to, what Georgia presumes, squeeze his thigh. “We don’t feel very cool. In terms of Los Angeles, and where we come from, we are extremely uncool.”

James nods, sucking in his bottom lip as he moves thing around his plate, and then takes another bite.

The air’s a little stiff, so Georgia decides to move on. “So how did you guys meet?”

“Rehab.” James says after swallowing his bite.

The air gets a little more stiff. Georgia’s holding her fork in mid air and she’s not entirely sure what to do with this information. She looks to Benjamin, who’s eyes are glued to the couple, and he’s just continually nodding his head.

“I’m sorry.” Laney laughs nervously, rubbing James’ leg again. “We’re trying this thing we learned in therapy where we’re a lot more open and honest with ourselves and the people around us. Secrets and being closed off didn’t really do us any favors.”

“Okay.” Georgia nods, taking a sip of her soda. “I’m sure we could do some good with that.”

Benjamin snorts, then takes another bite of his food.

“How long have you two been together?” James changes the subject, pushing a smile forward.

Georgia looks to Benjamin, eyebrow raised. “I think... less than two years? Got engaged about six months ago.”

“Congratulations.” James nods. “Love is a beautiful thing, and an important thing to cherrish and hold onto.”

Georgia nods, reaching out to squeeze Benjamin’s forearm. “Had some rough patches but no one puts up with me quite like this guy.”

He pats her hand before she pulls it away, and the two look to the young couple to find them soft-eyed, looking at them with adoration. “That’s lovely.” Laney says softly.

“We had our own, too.” James says, looking over at Laney. “Though who’s surprised when you come to meet the love of your life while you’re both trying to get clean.” He huffs in amusement, then looks back to the others. “We do a lot of therapy now. We’re kind of at the point where we’re not interested in things failing again, and we want to put in the work. It’s taken a lot of time but it’s good.”

“That’s so nice.” Georgia feels herself sighing, unable to help getting wrapped up in their romance. “And you guys decided to move to the East Coast?”

“Yeah,” Laney adjusts in her seat. “Just needed to get Los Angeles off of us. All the bad reminders and the enablers. Plus, my work is easier to do here, and James is kind of between things now.” She looks to her partner, who nods.

“Oh, what do you guys do?” She’s itching to know, considering how tastefully expensive they both look.

“Laney is the most talented fashion designer on earth.” James grins before she can interject.

“Oh god.” She huffs, sinking lower into her seat.

“Wait, really?” Georgia’s eyes beam.

“Now you’ve done it.” Benjamin shakes his head, digging deeper into his plate.

“Like, what kind of fashion? Couture or like with a store or what?”

Laney shrugs. “I got to show my stuff in Fashion Week for the first time last year but that’s only after James wore my suit to his red carpet.”

Georgia’s eyes gape, and she leans back in her chair, bringing a hand to brush back her hair. “Whoa, hold on a minute, who the fuck are you guys?” She doesn’t mean it to sound so brash, but now there’s mentions of a red carpet and she might faint.

“James makes movies.” Laney says simply.

She looks to see that James’ cheeks are pink, and he’s looking down, “I wrote And End a long time ago, I was a script doctor for a while. Couldn’t really make anything good because I was too busy snorting cocaine. Uhm... and then two years ago I wrote and directed and produced Over Sunset Drive.”

The room is quiet. Georgia slowly looks to Benjamin, whose face has now gone pale. He’s got a single spaghetti noodle hanging from his lip and it takes him a second to realize it before he chews and swallows his bite.

“He makes me watch And End all the time.” Georgia points to Benjamin, then looks back to James. “You wrote that?”

“At nineteen, yes.”

“What?” Both Benjamin and Georgia say in unison.

“I am thoroughly impressed.” Benjamin adds. “I don’t want to act inappropriately, but I loved both of those films.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s no inappropriate, you guys have pretty reasonable reactions. It’s always weird to bring it up. But it’s even weird to not bring it up and then have that come up way down the line.”

“So you’re not going to make any more movies?” Georgia frowns.

“That’s a bold thing to say. I’m not so sure. I write a lot of poetry. Sometimes Laney tells me I should publish all the love notes I write I quite like them being just for her. But I have a lot of personal stuff that could get published. I also like to paint. I’m fortunate enough that I can spend some time, figure it out. I also just want to support Laney on the direction her career has taken.”

“God that’s so sweet.” Georgia pouts. “You two are so adorable, you have to be our friends.”

The couple laugh, and look between each other. “We don’t really have much for friends here since moving, so we can’t really turn that down.”

“You guys would love Maggie and Vinnie, they’re the most sickeningly sweet disgusting couple there ever was.” Georgia leans forward. “And they’re out best friends.”

“That’ll be fun. People used to call us gross.” James laughs.

“Yeah I’d like to see you guys try and compare to them. Though who knows, they could use actual good competition.” Ben adds in.

“You know what though, I know for a fact Zebby is in all the cool New York circles. If you want the art circle, I’ll get you her number too.” Georgia wags a fork at them. “She’s also probably closer to your age.”

“Oh, really, you guys don’t have to do that. We appreciate your warm welcome as it is.”

“No no, Georgia wont stop with this until you have too many friends you don’t know what to do with.” Benjamin looks over to them with an annoyed look, which only lasts seconds until he looks back over to her, sees her with her phone out, and shakes his head with an endearing smile. “Love, why don’t we do dessert, we can do that later.” His hand reaches out, slowly taking the phone form their hand so they can continue their evening.

#> ◦ georgia & benjamin .

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bestfriendforhire · 4 years ago

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Children of BFFH, Entry 82

Looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings, I fought to hold back tears. Hamchopper, the giant cleaver Mom had given me, was lost forever now, buried under too much dirt to reach even if I knew where to go. Perseverance had died with the rest of us, so my Divine Charger wouldn’t be summonable for a week of game time. That overly stocked backpack gifted to me by Nekopawpaw herself… A tear slid down my cheek.

“Yes!” exclaimed Crazy, sounding overjoyed by something. When I looked at her, she was grinning in a way that suited her nickname too well.

“What!?” I asked in exasperation.

She looked at me, too adorable for someone who looked so nuts, and said, “The tracking spell works!”

“Tracking spell?” I asked, having no idea what she meant.

Nodding excitedly, she told me “Didn’t you cast the spell from the backpack’s inventory list?”

“Huh?” I questioned, not following what she said at all.

“The spell! When you pulled out the list from the backpack, there was a spell for binding the backpack to you, creating a tracer if it’s ever stolen. The thief needs to crack Nekopawpaw’s storage spell before they can actually get to the contents, so you have time to retrieve your stuff! We know where we died, Layla!” she exclaimed, perfectly happy.

I shrugged, though the news did make me feel marginally better. “We’ll never be able to get to our stuff.” I told her, quite certain we couldn’t have fought that thing.

Crazy laughed wildly. “You really underestimate us.” she insisted, tears of joy coming to her eyes. As she wiped them, she called “Oh, Messy! Would you mind?”

“Seriously? You want me to go immediately, by myself?” asked Messy over the game’s telepathy system.

“I’ll come along if you want.” stated Crazy with perfect confidence.

“You… Oh, nevermind. I’ll go.” replied Messy, and then her character disappeared.

“What!?” I exclaimed in surprise.

“Messy and I inherited admin abilities, remember?” replied Crazy with a grin that somehow seemed even wider.

“The Jaggagawaroeth is still here.” called Messy in a slightly distressed, almost song-like voice.

“Mind watching it for us while the rest of us look around for anything useful?” asked Four, not sounding at all bothered by the fact we all just died.

Sounding a little sad, Aid said, “We won’t have time. Dinner’s about done.”

“Stormcrow and I will have to build new coffins first thing when we finish eating.” added Luce with a bit of glumness in her voice.

“Stone ones. That’ll be heavier. Oh! The wagon! Think we can repair it?” he asked worriedly.

“Probably not.” replied Ella. “As I saw things, the left wheels splintered immediately, the axle would have broken from the rocks coming from above it as the side of the wagon was pushed up, and the bed would’ve been crushed with the axle. Even Auntie Raine can’t build something to withstand the mass of the Jaggagawaroeth.”

I still had trouble understanding how most of these kids were younger than me and so… brilliant! Ella seemed absolutely certain about what happened, and I couldn’t remember anything except my panic. Hadn’t they said her memory was bad?

“Fairy incoming!” exclaimed Crazy gleefully.

“What? Really!?” I asked, panning my view everywhere to try spotting it. Was she using some spell? An admin ability? Suddenly, I felt like I was dreaming. I was flying down the stairway, which was massive now. There was a brightness around me and a sense of joy. I knew where to go and felt the joy of seeing my friend. I dove into a room and whizzed past several chairs to reach her. Crazy! I was really excited to see Crazy. The vision changed, showing me James Michael Somerset III. He was a giant! He was just… writing, but I was happy about it? This was one of those fey things Crazy said I could learn.

I turned to Crazy, planning to ask her who was doing this, and then I saw a tiny, radiant lady. She moved, and I wouldn’t have been able to follow the motion if not for her light showing where she was. She caught sight of me and was suddenly by my face. I felt her curiosity, her joy, her… recognition?

The dreams in my head changed, and I was seeing a forest with giant trees with thick-looking bark. Oh. There was a lady there, roaming naked. She looked… odd. Her grin widened as she caught sight of me. She had wild, thick hair curling down to her thighs and slanted eyes. Her ears were long and… furry… with spots. Then she vanished. The vision moved and I felt a sense of searching… and happiness. Suddenly, she appeared next to me, and that vision ended.

“Wow. She knew your great, great, great, and so on grandmother! That’s pretty cool.” stated Crazy with interest.

“Huh?” I asked dumbly.

“That’s a fey thing. They recognize people by more than appearance, and they’ll always know any fey heritage you have better than you do.” asserted Luce, who had swiveled her hair around to watch the fairy.

The fairy suddenly jerked to the side, looking around. Then she flew off, all visions cut off.

“What happened? Why did she go?” I asked, still struggling to understand how that could have been real.

“The Boss came back. I only was able to snag her for you while he was off on some errand.” replied Crazy with a cute pout. “She’s spoiled.”

Several of the kids laughed as if that was some sort of joke.

Seeing my confusion, Luce said, “She really is! Father doesn’t shoo her out of the house very often at all, despite not allowing most of the fey to leave the forest. She might spend more time with him than even Mother.”

“She likes stealing food from his plate too. Gets pretty funny.” giggled Aspy.

Another vision came, cloudier and feeling less real. This one showed the tiny fairy struggling to keep a sausage link from a fork as James casually stabbed at it with a smile. The fairy seemed determined to eat the entire thing—which was longer than her body was tall—by herself.

I laughed, and found that I wasn’t the only one. The other kids had joined us.

“Let’s head to dinner.” suggested Four, his beautiful eyes looking between everyone. “Maybe the Jaggagawaroeth will wander off in search of more prey by the time we’re finished.”

#Children of BFFH #Children #of #BFFH #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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marketingatlightspeedreadin-blog · 7 years ago

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Games You Might Not Have Tried #11 – Find New Games – Extra Credits

youtube

I sure hope you folks enjoy watching these as much as I like making ’em, because… I don’t know, these are fun! These episodes always take us a couple of months to put together, so by the time each one comes out, James has already got a new batch of games to recommend. Anyway! You know the drill. We don’t promise that all these games are good, just that they’re different.

Their design is interesting in some way, even if the most interesting thing about them is how they failed to achieve what they’re setting out to do. Anyway, enough talk. Have at you! Zero Time Dilemma. Years ago, we recommended 999 in one of these episodes. It’s been quite the journey since then, but now the franchise (or at least this chapter of it) is coming to a close, and the story is perhaps one of the best yet in the series. The graphics… not so much, but don’t let that deter you. This game may handily demonstrate just how much better 2D graphics can look, and that switching to 3D isn’t always the best choice, but, if you’ve followed the series so far, you owe it to yourself to finish this one out. And if you haven’t checked these games out yet, well, maybe get on that. Inside. We would be remiss if we didn’t mention this one.

Brought to you by the creators of Limbo, this is a dark and mysterious run through a puzzle-filled testing facility. James didn’t find it quite as compelling as Limbo, but it’s still a solid title, and the atmosphere alone is worth your time if you want to learn how to build that sort of oppressive feeling into your own games. Reverse Crawl. James just tore through this one. It’s one of those, “just one more battle” type games that’ll have you so sucked in that you won’t realize the sun is rising and, oops, you didn’t sleep. The really interesting thing about this game is that it takes the “Heroes of Might and Magic” or “Kings Bounty” formula, and does away with the exploration.

Now, that might sound terrible – James felt that way too, at first. I mean, exploration kind of seems like the lifeblood of those games. But by doing away with the exploration, Reverse Crawl is able to make the combat much tighter, with specifically designed encounters and a progression system that really makes the player consider what they want to be able to play with. Add to that the fact that the player can’t just barge into battle with a ridiculously broken combination of units, but instead has to pick from a wide variety of pre-made unit groupings for each encounter, and you get a tightly designed experience.

You can even beat it in one night if you don’t sleep. I don’t recommend it, but, I’m just saying, you could. ([evil laugh]) (And this, my distinguished gentlebots,) (is the new SteamWorld!) SteamWorld Heist. Since we’re talking strategy games, let’s talk about this pleasantly surprising little gem. This is a game that takes all the conventions of our isometric or top-down tactics games, and puts them on a 2D plane. And it works! It works because the designers considered how 2D might change the formula, what they might be able to do with the design in 2D that’d be harder in one of those other formats. And the conclusion they came to was to make you aim manually.

Yep, this is a tactics game like any other, but sort of like Valkyria Chronicles, when it comes time to shoot, you’ve gotta eyeball it. With no reticle to guide you, this makes variables like cover become a much more interesting and interactive element of the game than we saw even in games like XCOM. So, if you’re looking for a quirky tactics game, or even just like thinking about how we can push the formula, you might want to check out SteamWorld Heist. (And of course it all went according to plan…) Now, a whole lot of you asked if we could talk about some tablet and mobile games on one of these lists, so let me just throw a slew of those at you before we get back to the weird PC games. Let’s start with Galactic Keep. Galactic Keep is exactly what I always wanted a storybook adventure to be when I was young. It takes some of the work done in Steve Jackson’s excellent Sorcery series to the next level and really makes you feel like you’re playing a solo tabletop role-playing module.

Seriously. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more like I was at the Barrier Peaks without a GM screen on the table. Out There. This game has no combat, and yet, it is brutal. It’s a roguelike survival adventure where you are the last surviving member of humanity trying to make it home. Its vignettes are excellently written, but unlike most story driven games, you will not easily reach the end of this story. I think it’s the very fact that Out There presents a harsh universe where you will die time and again before ever being able to see one of its many endings that kept drawing James back. If you like sci-fi, if you like roguelikes, if you like narrative and are interested in a brutal challenge that never once involves firing a blaster, you better check this out.

Icebound Concordance. Speaking of writing, here is a game that is all about writing. Or rather, it’s all about rewriting. The game itself is a conversation with an AI built from the mind of a writer, and you are there to help it edit and rewrite its last book. That’s pretty interesting in its own right, but then you get to the real bit: the Icebound Compendium. If you’re willing to pony up $25 to pick up the companion book, you are in for something…

Novel. I can’t say much about the Compendium without spoiling things, but, suffice it to say that periodically throughout the game you will be prompted to search through the book for pages related to some of what’s going on on-screen. Then, the game will use your iPad camera to scan the pages and to make the book itself come to life. My only complaint here is that the book itself is poorly made. The cover fell off the binding of James’ copy before it even got through the mail. Of course, that’s a sample size of one James, so hopefully yours will be sturdier. (♪ This is the Guild of Dungeoneering,) (♪ On our quest, we’re never fearing…) The Guild of Dungeoneering.

This game is here simply as an example of what a difference platform can make. James found this to be a mediocre strategy title when he first played it on PC, but on a tablet, its lighter shorter sessions and more casual strategy experience really works. If you want a relaxing strategy game to play on the go, it’s worth trying. Really though, this game is worth buying for the songs alone. (♪ The Guild of Dungeoneering!) (♪ Curse and swear, but don’t despair,) (♪ The way out appears to be over there,) (♪ I think we’re lost, but what do we care?) (♪ The Guild of Dungeoneering!) Templar Battleforce.

I haven’t tried this game on PC, but the mobile version was exactly what James was looking for in a slightly more hardcore tactics game. If you want to play Space Hulk, but the actual modern Space Hulk video game didn’t cut it for you, get Templar Battleforce. It’s everything Space Hulk should be. It’s got an interesting class system, a varied advancement tree, multiple ways to customize units of the same class, and yet the levels are short enough to play on the go. Alright, that’s enough mobile games. Let’s return to the PC, and let’s get weird.

Cat Lady. We so rarely get to recommend adventure games, so I’m glad we get to talk about this piece of weirdness. There are a lot of counter-intuitive design decisions in this game: sometimes on purpose, sometimes as pitfalls of the old-school adventure game ethos, but if you’re looking for something surreal, creepy, and dark, Cat Lady has you covered. The art style perfectly fits the madness, feeling at times like Monty Python channeling Poe.

And the decision to do away with the mouse entirely in an old-school adventure game and streamline things by going with a keyboard interface alone? That’ll put you on a “Games You Might Not Have Tried” list. Fran Bow. We can’t talk about horror games without talking Fran Bow. If you want disturbing and strange, this game has it in spades, but it’s the ambiguity of this game that I love. I’ll try not to spoil anything, but let’s just say, the game leaves itself open for interpretation, and I think that’s great. Too often, horror stories try to explain all their nightmarish surreality, and in doing so, kill the horror. That’s not to say that horror stories shouldn’t make sense, but leaving your nightmare world as an ambiguous metaphor is often so much better than feeling like you have to tie up all the loose ends by saying something like, “See? It was a dream all along!” Fran Bow is an excellent example of this.

Killing Time at Lightspeed. I love the premise of this game. You’ve left Earth. You’re traveling away at light speed, but you can still see your Facebook feed. But here’s the catch: at relativistic speed, every time you hit refresh, a year has passed. You can touch base for one snapshot of everyone’s lives back home then it whirls past and time moves on – for them, if not for you. My only complaint is that most of the time, most of my friends back home simply talked about the news, and for me at least, that’s not how social networks work. That’s a big part of it to be sure, but it’s in the background of all the tiny day-to-day things that people post. I would have loved to have more emphasis on the personal, on the relationships of people and their daily lives, as that backdrop would have given the big events of the world that much more impact, seeing how they affected the people I loved even as I whipped away from them at the speed of light.

Anyway, neat game. Try it out. And finally, Quadrilateral Cowboy. What happens when you mix stealth capers with command line hacking and a PS1 visual aesthetic? Well, you get Quadrilateral Cowboy. Your mileage may vary with the art style, but there is something so cyberpunk about actually hooking up a computer to a jack and having to turn off a security laser with a series of semicolon delineated commands. Am I alone, though, in this making me long for a multiplayer game where one player plays the stealth action hero, and the other one plays their off-site hacker buddy? Like, unlocking the doors and shutting off security cameras in the nick of time with a command-line interface? That would be rad. Somebody, get on that. Anyway, I think that’ll do it for today. Thank you for watching; recommend some of your own weird favorites in the comments below, and we will see you next week..

For More Info : Visit Here : Light Speed Reading

#Reading speed test #Speed read test #Read faster #Read fast #Speed read #Mental Photography #reading at light speed

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pour-allumer · 7 years ago

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INTERVIEW: JOHN + GUS OF ACID CAROUSEL

By: Sloane Lenz

I happened to catch Acid Carousel at Saturnalia Festival in Austin a couple weekends back and was blown away by their presence and energy on stage. Lined up perfectly across the inside stage at the Sahara Lounge, you could tell they were there to pump out some sound. Three guitars and a bass on the front line, backed up by keyboards and a drummer, the room was in awe from the first song. Birthed almost two years ago from the minds of John Kuzmick and Gus Baldwin, now based in Denton, TX, the guys have been traveling and releasing music at a shockingly rapid rate ever since. With a current lineup of 6 members (John Kuzmick (21) on vocals and guitar, Gus Baldwin (19) on vocals and guitar, Ian Salazar (20) on bass and saxophone, Lucas Martins (18) on guitar, Fielder Whittington (21) on drums, and Drew Wozniack (21) on keyboards) the stage is always full of a rotating crew of musicians, nearly busting at the seams, but effortlessly getting their point across. They’re a great blend of heavy psych vibes, while incorporating dreamy pop elements and classic rock and roll energy behind it all. They have a new mini record titled Street Cowboy coming out soon on Dreamy Life Records, as well as three full lengths set for next year. I had a chance to chat with John and Gus and hear a bit about how the band was birthed, who inspired them, and what we can look forward to coming from them in the next few months. Check out the full interview below:

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INTERVIEW:

Sloane: “How was Acid Carousel born?”

John: “Acid Carousel was born when I decided to record a few songs I'd had for awhile that I wasn't going to use for the band I was in at the time. I released one of those songs as a single on Facebook where Gus saw it. He commented that he was going to play bass for the band and I just said alright.”

Gus: “Yeah, and eventually I wanted to play guitar too so I did that.”

Sloane: “Describe your sound in three words.”

Both: “I guess you'd describe our sound as like enamored, sexy pop. (laughs)”

Sloane: “I read that you guys try to stay on a strict release schedule of putting something out every three months. What made you make that decision to work towards a goal like that?”

Gus: “Three months I guess is just the amount of time it takes John and I to get bored of our last release and get antsy to put out something new. We don't necessarily keep up a release schedule that tight, but we just like the idea of always working on a new release. Always.”

Sloane: “Who are some of your main influences musically?”

Gus: “My main peeps I try to draw inspiration from are people like James Brown, Tim Presley, Captain Beefheart, Ray Davies, Can, Serge Gainsbourg, and some heavier stuff like the Damned and Sabbath and things. But we listen to anything we can find so our music tends to sound like a weird blend of all the different things we like.”

John: “I get a lot of inspiration from Anton Newcombe, The Beatles, mid-sixties Brian Wilson, Brian Jones, Spoon, The Olivia Tremor Control, Syd Barrett, Donovan, etc. I could go on, but we try and draw inspiration from as much as we possibly can.”

Sloane: “What's your writing process like? Does everyone have a certain "job" in the process, or does it vary song to song?”

Gus: “Writing process is usually all John and I. We'll both write songs to either bring to the group to learn, or we'll bring ideas to each other to help finish. Recording wise its usually just a free for all between us two and a few other people, but generally John ends up writing all the bass lines, which I'll then put drums on top of.”

Sloane: “Has music always been something you knew you wanted to do? Or do you remember a moment that you realized it was a path you wanted to pursue?”

John: “There hasn't really been a moment in my life I can remember where I didn't want to be involved in a band or just making music. Even through some of the dumb phases I went through in middle school, like thinking I could play football, I was always thinking about how a certain artist might have gotten a certain sound or how I could write music like my influences.”

Gus: “I guess I started playing music around age 6 and kept playing. Music was the only thing I would consistently be interested in or any good at, so eventually I just stopped doing anything else and made it my full time obsession.”

Sloane: “So you guys started your own label, 'Get With It Records'. What inspired that and how has that been working from both angles?”

John: “The inspiration for the label was mainly just having a platform to release stuff on. We want to record other bands or release other people's music, but we're always busy working on stuff of our own, or playing shows, so we haven't had time. I also feel like it makes more sense to release on your own label, because then you can do whatever you want.”

Gus: “Yeah if anyone wants to be our label CEO feel free to hit us up (laughs).”

Sloane: “If you weren't playing music, what do you think you'd want to do for the rest of your life?”

Gus: “If I wasn't playing music I'd probably wanna be a goat farmer or a butler or something hot like that.”

John: “I'd be a vagrant.”

Sloane: “If you could collaborate on a song with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?”

Gus: “I wouldn't wanna collaborate with James Brown because that would just be silly, but I'd give my right arm to play in the J.B.'s for like ten minutes.”

John: “I'd probably wanna work with Brian Jones, he could play anything he wanted and write such amazing parts. We could make a super Middle-Eastern vibe record together, I feel like.”

Sloane: “Stylistically, were you guys all on the same page about how to dress and how you guys present yourselves? Or was it something that sort of developed into what it is?”

Both: “The street cowboy life chose us, so thats how we present ourselves to the world.”

Sloane: “What's your dream venue to play one day?”

Gus: “My dream venue to play has been the Paradiso in Amsterdamn ever since I went there a few years back. Old church. Sound Huge. Lots of Dutch too, they're really nice. But I think it would be cooler to do a set on the international space station, or one of Richard Branson's spaceships if we could.”

John: “I feel like we need to be the first band to tour space. We can do a several planet, solar system run that'll have the aliens going crazy.”

Gus: “We're gonna throw a huge festival 53 miles West of Venus.”

Sloane: “What's been your favorite gig so far?”

Gus: “My favorite set we ever played was when we played to 15 people after a sold out Walters show and got our power cut after 3 songs cause we got too rowdy.”

John: “My favorite set was when we played a house show festival with 15 or 16 members as Acid Carousel and The Tangerine Dream Machine.”

Sloane: “How was the name Acid Carousel decided upon?”

John: “I came up with the name Acid Carousel from Brian Jonestown Massacre references. "Acid" being another name Anton Newcombe released a few songs with in the early 90s, and "Carousel" which is a song from the If I Love You EP.”

Sloane: “What message do you hope to get through with your music?”

Gus: “I guess my songs don't really have any message, they're just a way for me to have fun expressing all the weird things I find entertaining about life.”

John: “A lot of my songs are about actual experiences I've had or things I see going on around me. There's a lot of memories I write about, just expressing how I feel or felt about those.”

Sloane: “Anything new in the works you can tell us about?”

Gus: “We've got this new EP mini album thingy wingy called Street Cowboys that’s gonna be out on cassette from Dreamy Life Records very soon that we’re really excited to finally be done with and share with people! Other than that, for the new year we’re planning on recording a new record we've been making with a dear friend of ours named John David Bartlett, who used to be active in the Texas psych scene back in the late 60s, also for Dreamy Life. We're also about to hopefully start recording the first parts of this rock opera we wrote about a cult that our drummer is the leader of.”

John: “We're always writing new stuff though, so who knows, we might have even another record this upcoming year, but I wouldn't say for sure just yet.”

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Keep up with Acid Carousel on their Facebook here:

https://www.facebook.com/Acid-Carousel-935297826554283/

#acid carousel #allumer #interview #music news #new music #texas

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fictionadventurer · 8 years ago

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Father Brown Reread: The Flying Stars

“The most beautiful crime I ever committed,” Flambeau would say in his highly moral old age, “was also, by a singular coincidence, my last.

This flips the regular detective story in multiple ways. The focus is on the criminal, rather than the detective. We’re trying to find out why he repented, rather than how he got brought to justice.

In one sentence, we see Flambeau showing some shocking character development. Not only does he stop committing crimes--he becomes “highly moral.”

Once again, if we know what Flambeau was like in his old age, when are the Father Brown stories supposed to take place? Given that Chesterton later mentions some “old Victorian chandeliers”, and that he often discusses “modern” political and philosophical fads, I think he’s engaging in a bit of literary time travel, where the stories take place in the “present day” but give us glimpses of the characters’ futures. (Sayers sometimes does something similar in the Peter Wimsey stories).

This is a strong contender for my favorite Father Brown story. I’ve read it at least six times. (It’s been a Boxing Day tradition for a few years. I’m listening to Christmas music right now to get me in the spirit.) As such, I may have a lot to say. I’ll try to restrain myself.

It was committed at Christmas. As an artist I had always attempted to provide crimes suitable to the special season or landscapes in which I found myself, choosing this or that terrace or garden for a catastrophe, as if for a statuary group.

Flambeau, here’s a hint: most criminals don’t care about the aesthetics of their crimes. You’re not a thief. You’re an artist. Your trouble is that you create your works of art using other people and their possessions.

Did Flambeau ever really need the money? Or was he just carried away by the romantic idea of being a trickster and creating those types of tales in real life? Brown’s speech at the end suggests he used the latter to justify the former. (“I’m not a criminal. I’m an artist.”)

I really think my imitation of Dickens’ style was dextrous and literary. It seems almost a pity I repented the same evening.

So Old Flambeau has repented of his crimes in a moral sense, but he still appreciates them on artistic terms. He’s reformed, but he hasn’t lost that flair for the overdramatic, or that arrogant self-confidence.

I’m suddenly struck by the desire to see Flambeau meet Lord Peter Wimsey. They’d be two obnoxiously self-confident artistic snobs who’d end up getting drunk on the good wine and doing ridiculous acrobatics to break into someone’s house.

Flambeau would then proceed to tell the story from the inside; and even from the inside it was odd. Seen from the outside it was perfectly incomprehensible, and it is from the outside that the stranger must study it.

Why does the stranger have to study it from the outside? We heard the first part of the story from Flambeau. I want the rest of Flambeau’s version!

Not that I dislike this version, of course. It’s too much fun to wish for any change, and we do need to keep some aspect of the mystery intact.

Here she gave an exclamation of wonder, real or ritual, and looking up at the high garden wall above her, beheld it fantastically bestridden by a somewhat fantastic figure. “Oh, don’t jump, Mr. Crook,” she called out in some alarm; “it’s much too high.”

I believe my first suspicion was that this person was Flambeau--he would do just that sort of acrobatic nonsense. The suspicion’s quickly squashed, but it’s a nice little misdirect.

It took me a ridiculously long time to realize that Chesterton was trying to mislead us by naming one of the suspects “Crook”.

This is also a parallel to Father Brown’s conversation with Flambeau at the end of the story.

“I think I was meant to be a burglar,” he said placidly, “and I have no doubt I should have been if I hadn’t happened to be born in that nice house next door. I can’t see any harm in it, anyhow.”

Even if Mr. Crook’s not literally Flambeau, he’s certainly a symbolic parallel. This is the sort of philosophy that Flambeau uses to justify his crimes. Perhaps Flambeau was a bit like this before he became a thief--which makes it more meaningful that he reforms at the end of this story.

With him also was the more insignificant figure of the priest from the neighbouring Roman Church; for the colonel’s late wife had been a Catholic, and the children, as is common in such cases, had been trained to follow her. Everything seemed undistinguished about the priest, even down to his name, which was Brown; yet the colonel had always found something companionable about him, and frequently asked him to such family gatherings.

I can only imagine Flambeau’s dismay at discovering this priest showing up yet again. (I doubt that he knew about this family habit beforehand). After making such elaborate preparations for the heist, he couldn’t just abandon it on the fear that Brown would recognize him.

Did this make it more fun--a chance to finally pull one over on the priest? Or did it make it more awkward--the guy did convince him to repent last time, after all.

“I’ll put ‘em back now, my dear,” said Fischer, returning the case to the tails of his coat. “I had to be careful of ‘em coming down. They’re the three great African diamonds called ‘The Flying Stars,’ because they’ve been stolen so often. All the big criminals are on the track; but even the rough men about in the streets and hotels could hardly have kept their hands off them.

What made you think these would be a good present for your goddaughter? Just what every girl wants--three diamonds that’ll draw every big-name criminal to her house.

Also, why put them back in the tailcoat? I imagine the house has a safe, if he thought they could keep the present. Unless they plan to put them in a bank later?

... What do you call a man who wants to embrace the chimney-sweep?” “A saint,” said Father Brown. “I think,” said Sir Leopold, with a supercilious smile, “that Ruby means a Socialist.”[...] “A Socialist means a man who wants all the chimneys swept and all the chimney-sweeps paid for it.” “But who won’t allow you,” put in the priest in a low voice, “to own your own soot.”

I’ve always loved this bit. Father Brown shows that religion doesn’t necessarily line up with any political fashions.

The major philosophical tension in this story is the question of property--who has it, who deserves or doesn’t deserve it, how we should distribute it. Crook supports redistributing property and attacking policemen in theoretical terms. Flambeau takes the initiative to do so in practical terms.

"Why couldn’t we have a proper old English pantomime--clown, columbine, and so on.

As in “The Blue Cross”, Flambeau’s artistry is his downfall. He could have stolen the jewels by sleight-of-hand at any moment and been gone long before the policeman arrived. Instead, he decides that a much better plan is to throw together a pantomime.

But no matter how insane the plan is, I have to respect how well he pulls it off. He gets the whole household in on the plan in a matter of minutes, and no one thinks to question him about this “actor friend”.

I adore this whole section. The wild energy of their slap-dash little play is infectious, and very Christmassy.

The harlequin, already clad in silver paper out of cigar boxes, was, with difficulty, prevented from smashing the old Victorian lustre chandeliers, that he might cover himself with resplendent crystals. In fact he would have done so, had not Ruby unearthed some old pantomime paste jewels she had worn at a fancy dress party as the Queen of Diamonds.

I know Flambeau would have adored smashing that chandelier (and I love the image of him trying to do it) but he really lucked out that Ruby had some paste jewels. If he’d smashed those chandeliers, I doubt her father would have been in a mood to let the pantomime go on.

He was supposed to be the clown, but he was really almost everything else, the author (so far as there was an author), the prompter, the scene-painter, and, above all, the orchestra. At abrupt intervals in the outrageous performance he would hurl himself in full costume at the piano and bang out some popular music equally absurd and appropriate.

I’m surprised at how much Crook gets into this. He’s almost as enthusiastic as “Blount” is.

The fantastic @isfjmel-phleg has located recordings or sheet music of all the songs mentioned in this story. Definitely a post worth checking out.

The climax of this, as of all else, was the moment when the two front doors at the back of the scene flew open, showing the lovely moonlit garden, but showing more prominently the famous professional guest; the great Florian, dressed up as a policeman.

How did Flambeau explain the lack of policeman during the rehearsal? Everyone was okay with the explanation of “He’ll show up in the middle of the show”? For that matter, how did they open the doors just when he showed up? There’s no mention of him knocking.

“Wife!” replied the staring soldier, “she died this year two months. Her brother James arrived just a week too late to see her.”

Flambeau knew that Fischer had the diamonds two months in advance? And ingratiated himself to the family that long ago? Talk about elaborate planning. Was there really no other moment he could he could have retrieved the diamonds? I suppose the day of gift-giving would be when they were most vulnerable.

“Chloroform,” he said as he rose; “I only guessed it just now.”

Apparently Flambeau carries chloroform on him at all times. Nothing like being prepared, I suppose.

Father Brown’s detective style is the opposite of Sherlock Holmes’. It’s truly deductive reasoning--starting with the “big picture” and finding details to support it. So far, we haven’t really seen Father Brown collect clues. He’s just living life, quietly observing, until he gets a sudden flash of inspiration. Only then can he pick out the little details to support his theory and show how the crime was done.

There were hollows and bowers at the extreme end of that leafy garden, in which the laurels and other immortal shrubs showed against sapphire sky and silver moon, even in that midwinter, warm colours as of the south. The green gaiety of the waving laurels, the rich purple indigo of the night, the moon like a monstrous crystal, make an almost irresponsible romantic picture; and among the top branches of the garden trees a strange figure is climbing, who looks not so much romantic as impossible.

Here Chesterton shifts from past tense to present tense for a page. There’s no explanation. Sayers does these kinds of shifts sometimes, too. Were writing rules different back then, or is this a failure of editing?

The present tense does give it a bit of a “stage show” feel, paralleling the dramatics of a moment before.

“Well, Flambeau,” says the voice, “you really look like a Flying Star; but that always means a Falling Star at last.”

Does Father Brown practice these one-liners?

Flambeau’s disguise must have been pretty good if Father Brown didn’t recognize him until now. But once Brown understood the crime, it must have been easy to figure out the criminal’s identity. Who else would do something so overelaborately artistic?

You were going to steal the jewels quietly [...] You already had the clever notion of hiding the jewels in a blaze of false stage jewellry. Now you saw that if the dress were a harlequin’s the appearance of a policeman would be quite in keeping.

The stage jewellry can’t already have been a part of Flambeau’s plan, not if he planned to steal them quietly.

However, just before he got his letter, he was ready to applaud Ruby’s idea of a little show. Perhaps Brown meant that this gave him the idea to use a Christmas show to hide the jewels, and he got the idea for a pantomime a moment later when he heard about the policeman?

“I want you to give them back, Flambeau, and I want you to give up this life. There is still youth and honour and humour in you; don’t fancy they will last in that trade.”

Father Brown already got Flambeau to repent and return his stolen goods once before. This time he has to be more specific. It’s not good enough to just give back the goods. He has to give up this life entirely.

Flambeau may be the criminal, but there’s an innocence about him. Father Brown, for all his cloistered lifestyle, has a much grittier and more realistic view of the world. Yet another example of how these stories invert the typical detective story tropes.

“...I know the woods look very free behind you, Flambeau; I know that in a flash you could melt into them like a monkey. But some day you will be an old grey monkey, Flambeau. You will sit up in your free forest cold at heart and close to death, and the tree-tops will be very bare.” [...] “Your downward steps have begun. You used to boast of doing nothing mean, but you are doing something mean tonight. You are leaving suspicion on an honest boy with a good deal against him already; you are separating him from the woman he loves and who loves him. But you will do meaner things than that before you die.”

This page is one of the best monologues in fiction. This entire speech gives me chills, but the ending is especially powerful.

The restoration of the gems (accidentally picked up by Father Brown, of all people) ended the evening in uproarious triumph; and Sir Leopold, in his height of good humor, even told the priest that though he himself had broader views, he could respect those whose creed required them to be cloistered and ignorant of the world.

Chesterton loves highlighting this bit of irony. It’s also a nice bookend to “The Blue Cross” where this irony was the turning-point of the whole story.

After the chilling dramatics of the garden, it’s nice to end on this lively, cheery, Christmassy atmosphere.

I wonder how Flambeau first got back in touch with Father Brown. The next time we see him, he and Brown are already good friends. It must have been an awkward, dramatic, and epic moment when a fully repentant Flambeau reapproaches the man who convinced him to reform.

#father brown reread #father brown #the flying stars #g.k. chesterton #flambeau

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 8 years ago

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Hey Angel Chapter 79

Ever since you and Harry decided on getting married. You two had been in wedding planning mode as well as getting everything ready for the babies. You two had decided on a date, which would be in a little over a month. You both had written down the list of everyone you wanted to be there, which included your close families and the One Direction boys, as well as Abby and Jeff and Glenne, and James and his family.

You had told anyone yet about the wedding because you sort of wanted it to be a surprise. Plus, you and Harry were trying to figure out where you wanted to have the ceremony in the first place.

“I would love to have it at the beach we had the pregnancy photos taken,” you said.

“That place was gorgeous, but I’m not sure how we’d keep it private,” he said.

“True,” you said nodding.

“What if we had it in our backyard?” He asked. “We have an amazing view, it’s spacious and we know it can be private. No one will think on they’re having a wedding there, just a big Barbeque.”

“That could work,” you nodded. “Oooh, what if we invited everyone down and said we were having an engagement party and then we announce that we’re actually getting married.”

“So, like a surprise wedding?” He laughed.

“I guess, yeah,” you giggled.

“I think that would be perfect,” he smiled. “Especially since it would help keep the wedding under wraps and we wouldn’t have to worry about it getting leaked anywhere.”

“Exactly,” you smiled. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“Well, you better believe baby because in a few short weeks you’re going to be Mrs. Styles,” he smirked wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“I love the sound of that,” you smiled.

“Me too,” he smiled kissing your cheek. “And then two or so months after that, we’ll be adding two more into our little blended family.”

“Yeah, we will,” you smiled. “And speaking of that, there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Okay, what is it, love?” He asked.

“Ella has my last name right?” You stated. “Well, I’ve been thinking about changing her last name to Styles. I would love for you to adopt her officially, but unless we get Simon to sign over his rights, that won’t be happening. And plus, since we have all that court stuff going on from the accident, I don’t think that’s ever going to happen anytime.”

Harry smiled. “Are you sure? I mean, that you can change her last name without me officially adopting her?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’ve talked to my lawyer about it. It’s not really any different than me changing my last name once we get married,” you said. “But I mean, would you want that?”

“Of course I want that,” he smiled widely. “She’s my daughter, Y/N, maybe not by blood and DNA, but she’s mine and I would love for her to share my last name.”

You started to tear up a bit. “Fucking hormones,” you laughed wiping your eyes. “I’m really glad you came into our lives. Ella deserves a father who loves her and would do anything for her and she has that thanks to you.”

“I’m glad that I’m able to give that to her,” he whispered holding you tightly. “And you, I mean Jackson already had the best mother ever, but I had hoped that whoever I fell in love with would love him and for him to have two damn good mothers and he has that.”

“Are you trying to get me to turn me into a blubbering mess?” you laughed. “God, I better make sure I use waterproof makeup at the wedding or I’m going to look a hot mess.”

He laughed. “You’ll look beautiful either way,” he smiled.

The next day was a big day for you and Ella. You two were going to go dress shopping for the wedding. You still weren’t comfortable driving yourself around since the accident and plus, it was quite hard to drive with your belly hitting the steering wheel in general.

Harry got Ella in the car while Jackson got himself in. Harry was going to drop you and Ella off at the dress shop and he and Jackson were going to have a father-son day looking at tuxedos.

“Are you excited to go dress shopping with Mummy, Ella?” Harry asked as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Ya! Gonna wook pwetty!” She giggled.

“Yes, you are,” Harry smiled. “No matter what you pick out.”

“Now, Jackson, I’m going to hold it to you to not let your Daddy pick out some random tux to wear, okay?” You said. “Nothing too crazy.”

“Kay Mummy! No problem!” Jackson smirked.

“Hey now! That’s not fair!” He whined.

“Babe, I love you and I’m all for your fashion choices when it comes to performing or going to award shows, but I’m not going to get outshined by fiance because he decided to wear a pink or some crazily patterned suit,” you laughed.

He laughed. “Okay, okay, I got this,” he said. “As long as it’s not patterned or pink, I’m good,” he shrugged.

“I’m being serious,” you laughed hitting his arm causing the kids to giggle.

Harry pulled up to the dress shop and parked outside. “I’ll get Ella out,” he said.

“Thank you,” you smiled getting out of the car. Jackson rolled down the window and smiled. “Have fun with Daddy today,” you smiled.

“Kay Mummy! I love ya!” He giggled.

“I love you too,” you smiled before taking Ella’s hand from Harry.

“Call me when you’re ready,” Harry smiled. “We won’t be too far from here.”

You nod giving him a quick kiss and walking inside the dress shop.

“Welcome, what can we do for you today?” The worker asked.

“Uh, yes, I had an appointment for my daughter and I. We need some dresses,” you smiled.

“What’s the occasion?” She asked.

“Well, my fiancé and I are having an engagement party to celebrate our engagement, obviously, but we’re looking for some nice, elegant, but still simple dresses. And I need one to fit all this,” you laughed rubbing your belly.

She laughed. “Don’t worry, we can find anything and if we do happen to find something you like, but it isn’t maternity, we can definitely make alterations to it,” she said.

“Great,” you smiled. “We should probably get hers first, just because I don’t want her getting fussy waiting around.”

“Okay, that works,” she smiled kneeling down to Ella. “What’s your name pretty lady?”

“Elwa,” she blushed.

She smiled. “Nice to meet you Ella, my name is Amy. Do you want to come with me so we can find you some pretty dresses?”

“Ya!” She giggled taking her hand and walking with her.

“You can have seat here and we can bring some dresses to you, if you’d like. Do you know of what style you might want?” Another lady asked.

“Um, I would love to have a dress that fits tight up here around my chest and then maybe is really flowly at the bottom. I want some lace and some gems and as far cut, I’d like strapless or the sort of straps that connect from the chest area and just hit the shoulders about right here,” you said showing on the middle of your bicep.

“Okay, I think we have a few things that have at least a few of the things you’d like,” she smiled. “Would you like some water or tea?”

“Um, water would be great,” you smiled.

“I’ll be right back with that and your dresses,” she smiled.

It took a good two hours before you finally found a dress that you loved for both you and Ella. As soon as you put the dress on, you knew it was the one. A few things needed to be altered, but for the most part it fit you perfectly.

“What do you think Ella?” you smiled. “Do you think Daddy will like it?”

“He gon wuv it! So pwetty!” She clapped.

You smiled widely and started to tear up a bit.

“I think that’s the one,” the lady smiled.

“i think so too,” you giggled.

Once you changed out of the dress, you paid for it and called Harry to pick you and Ella up.

Meanwhile at the other shop, Harry and Jackson were having a little too much fun.

“This is amazing,” Harry said grabbing a blood red suit off the rack.

“Nu uh, Daddy,” Jackson said crossing his arms. “Mummy said no crazy.”

“It’s not! There’s no pattern and it’s not pink,” he pointed out.

Jackson just shook his head, while Harry groaned. “Okay, so maybe not for the party, but I’m still getting it,” he mumbled.

“Ooh look at this one!” Jackson gasped touching another suit. “It feels soft!”

“That’s because it’s velvet,” Harry said. “And it’s black, which means it would fit Mummy’s wishes and my fashion choices,” he smirked.

“We also have one in the little man’s size,” the tailor said.

“Really?” Both Harry and Jackson said at the same time.

He laughed, “Yes,” he nodded.

“I want it!” Jackson nodded. “Please, Daddy!”

Harry laughed. “Of course.”

“Okay, let’s get you two in these and we’ll fit them to you guys,” he said.

Once the suits were on Jackson and Harry, they both started making weird poses and taking pictures.

“Kid, if you didn’t look like my little mini me before, you certainly do now,” Harry laughed.

Jackson giggled and soon they changed back into their clothes. Just as they were finishing up, Harry got your call and loaded Jackson into the car before going to pick you up.

“So, did you find something?” Harry asked once you got inside the car.

“We did,” you smiled.

“Do we get see them?” Jackson asked.

“Sorry, buddy, you’ll have to wait till the wedding,” you smiled.

“Aww,” he pouted.

You giggled and looked over at Harry. “I’m afraid to ask if you found anything,” you said.

“We did and just so you know, they’re both solid black,” he said.

“Do you have a picture?” You asked.

“Nope, you’re going to have to wait till the wedding,” he said.

“Hey! That’s not how this goes. It’s tradition for the man not to see the dress before the wedding, not the other way around,” you groaned.

“Well, I’m making it our tradition,” he smirked.

“You know technically, as you’re stylist, I should be able to see it,” you smirked.

“That’s not gonna work, baby,” he said.

You groaned while Harry laughed. “How about we go and get some food, yeah? That’ll take your mind off it,” he smirked.

“Only because me and the babies are starving, but it wasn’t for that, I would keep asking,” you said.

“Okay, baby,” he laughed and drove to the nearest restaurant.

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Hey Angel

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ebenpink · 6 years ago

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Evidence-based coaching: Why some health and fitness pros are doing it all wrong. https://ift.tt/2NS8g3O

Ask any health and fitness professional if they’re “evidence based,” and chances are good you’ll get a resounding, “Yes!” Perhaps even an indignant one. After all, everyone uses evidence… of some sort. But if you think evidence-based practice is only about what “research says,” you’re doing it wrong. In this article, we’ll show you the right way to use evidence to inform and enhance your coaching—and drive better client results.

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Here at Precision Nutrition, we love science.

In fact, no one loves science more than us!

But is it possible to rely too heavily on scientific literature? Can you actually science too much?

Maybe.

Ever see someone:

Dismiss a coach’s successful method solely because some element of it isn’t “research proven?”

Refuse to modify a nutrition plan—even though a client hates it—“because science?”

Call a respected health professional a “quack” because they cite years of clinical experience instead of a definitive clinical trial?

(If you haven’t, you probably don’t spend much time in Facebook comments.)

In each case, the person’s inflated reverence for research could be limiting their ability to learn, and evolve as a coach. They might also influence others to follow their narrow line of thinking, causing them to miss out, too. And this is often done in the name of “evidenced based practice.”

Now, evidence-based practice, or EBP, is all the rage in certain health and fitness circles, which is a great thing. We heart science, remember? Except there’s just one problem…

A lot of coaches, though well-meaning, are getting EBP wrong. Specifically, they’re over-emphasizing “what the research says” to the exclusion of other relevant information, like their professional experience and the personal preferences and values of the people they work with.

And that’s not good for clients, business, or the health and fitness industry.

To make sure you get EBP right, use this guide to understand what the method really is, why it matters, and how to implement it effectively in your own coaching practice.

Because when used correctly, EBP is a powerful tool that’ll make you a better coach—so you can help even more people achieve lasting change and deep health.

And that we love even more than science.

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What is “evidence”?

There’s “everyday life” evidence.

In our Precision Nutrition Coaching program and Certifications, we tell our clients and coaches to use outcome-based decision making (OBDM).

Very simply, that means you decide what to do next based on the data you got from what you just did.

Did your waist measurement go up after two weeks of vacation buffets? That’s data that says, “Welcome home, maybe dial it back a little.”

Did your blood pressure go down after four months of sticking to your exercise program? That’s data that says, “Keep up the good work!”

We tell our coaches and clients to use as many data points as they can, and look for progress everywhere, including:

body measurements

blood work and other medical tests

athletic performance, such as getting stronger or faster

photos

how clothes fit

recovery

sleep

mood and wellbeing

confidence

consistency

And so on. (Here are some more ideas.)

All of these data points, collectively, give us evidence that we can use to make informed choices.

Then there’s scientific evidence.

This includes clinical or case studies, experimental research, basic research (for instance, studying cells in culture), and more.

This evidence can vary widely in quality, who is studied, and how applicable the results are to you and your clients.

However, in general, scientific evidence is one of the best ways we have to know about the nature of reality.

And though it might be obvious, we’re compelled to say it anyway: You’re looking to glean these insights directly from reputable, peer-reviewed scientific papers—not random websites, articles in magazines, or pictures of sunsets with words on them.

Finally, there’s stuff you learn on the job.

We call this “expertise.” It’s the old coach’s intuition, the senior clinician’s knack for diagnosis, the way a master carpenter can tell you if something is a quarter inch off square just by looking.

After you’ve worked with over 100,000 clients, as we have, you start to build a database of collected wisdom. And often, there’s stuff that’s hard to explain or defend—you’ve just seen it enough times that you know it’s a thing.

When we bring together experience, research, and expertise, we have a pretty good set of working hypotheses about what is likely to be effective.

And that’s evidenced-based practice. So it’s not just about clinical research.

EBP is a systematic way of thinking and application that integrates scientific data with clinical experience and the individual needs and preferences of each client or patient.

Yes, that’s the official, eye-glazing definition, but you might find the Instagram-able version even more enlightening. (See the illustration below.)

All three parts are equally important.

That’s because:

1. You aren’t coaching research averages. You’re coaching people.

Most studies report the average results of an intervention. (This is especially true of their headlines.)

Yet, if we look at the actual data of most studies, we see that individual results tend to fall on a bell curve of some sort.

Take this example, noted by James Krieger and Bret Contreras.

A study on resistance training and muscle gain concluded the following:

“Previously untrained people who engaged in resistance training three times a week for 9 weeks increased their muscle mass by 6%.”

Based on that, you might expect a client to achieve similar results on your three-day-a-week program.

But if you look at the individual data within the study, muscle growth ranged from -2.5 to 20 percent. That’s right: minus 2.5 percent. As Krieger and Contreras point out, five of the 53 participants actually lost muscle!

That’s not to suggest the research results are misleading. In fact, most of the study participants experienced muscle mass gains between 5 and 10 percent, and some even more. However, it does show the overall findings may not to apply to every individual. So don’t expect them to.

Another example is broccoli. There’s a significant body of evidence supporting the health benefits of eating this nutrient-dense vegetable.

But if broccoli makes someone gaggy or gassy, it’s not the healthiest food for them, no matter what the research says about it lowering disease risk.

These kinds of patterns happen over and over: Some people get great results from applying the research, some get very little (or negative) results, and most get results somewhere in between.

This is reality.

Research can be incredibly useful for giving us a starting point for most people. But humans differ—often wildly—from one another.

They differ in terms of their habits, mindset, physiology, environment, and personal preferences. They also differ in their ability to follow a program in the first place. And even if they stick to a plan perfectly, they can differ in the results they get.

Coach for the unique human in front of you, not for an average.

Not only will this improve your client results (because you’ll be working with their particular, practical reality), it’ll also improve your client retention (because you’ll be actually listening to them and trying to understand them as individual people, not as data sets).

When a client is suffering, they probably don’t need you to search PubMed for more evidence.

They often need you to provide a solid, trusting coaching relationship and, of course, your coaching skills. This combination can help you ease client resistance, be creative and flexible when typical solutions don’t work, and be compassionate and supportive when a client struggles with dark stuff.

2. Your professional experience really matters.

If you’re a mindful, growth-oriented coach or practitioner, it’s impossible not to develop a certain degree of experience and expertise over time.

A lot of things go into your “expertise bucket”: courses and programs you’ve taken; books you’ve read; lectures you’ve attended; mentoring relationships you’ve had; and all the practical experience you’ve acquired from observing and coaching clients or patients.

The accumulation of knowledge and experience gives you a kind of “intuition” that can help you coach more effectively.

This “intuition” shows up when you see a client perform a wonky squat, quickly identify exactly what’s wrong, and make corrections to improve form.

It shows up when you perform a client intake, and based on their answers (Just had a baby! Prone to perfectionism!), you can anticipate what aspects of a program they might struggle with, and how you might help them.

Or it shows up when you do a postural assessment, and immediately know which exercises to avoid and which could be helpful.

Much of the time, this is knowledge you could have never learned simply from reading studies. It requires time working with people, and exposing yourself to new ideas and methods, including those that have yet to be studied.

But there’s a challenge here, too. The knowledge we gather from our experiences is very prone to human error: Our memories are unreliable, we see patterns that may not actually exist, and we discount information that doesn’t conform to what we already believe.

How can we reduce human error?

First, be aware that bias and error exist… yes, even for you.

Take notes during or after client sessions, and use a variety of validated measurement tools—such as weight, body measurements, pictures, mood scales, and sleep quality scales—to track the effectiveness of your advice.

Get mentorship and feedback on your practice. Coaches need coaches. Or, find a like-minded group of professionals with whom to collaborate. (That’s why we developed the Precision Nutrition Level 2 Certification.)

If you’re aware of the errors you’re likely to make, and take steps to moderate them, you might start to see some reliable, overarching patterns.

Like that very rigid meal plans don’t work for people in the long term. Or that people can only train so long and so hard before they burn out.

Or a thousand other possibilities experienced coaches notice, but perhaps haven’t been fully validated by published research.

If you’re just starting out and don’t have the experience gained from coaching many people over many years, you can “borrow” insight from mentors or other coaches with more reps under their belt.

Drawing on the wisdom of your (or a colleague’s) accumulated experience is an essential part of being a good practitioner.

3. Science will never have it all figured out.

The evidence is always evolving. Nutrition research in particular is a relatively new area, and there’s still a lot to be learned.

Plus, some things are really hard (or downright unethical) to test in a research setting, and so we may never have scientific evidence on it.

Even if it is possible to test, quality research takes a long time to gather. Usually, one study isn’t enough to “prove” something true or false. But waiting for multiple studies on a specific topic, or better yet, a meta-analyses (which is kind of like a poll of the research) may require a lot of patience. Maybe decades.

And yet, we still have to help our clients and patients make informed decisions. Like, now.

That’s where evidence-based practice comes in.

The RIGHT way to use EBP.

You can formally apply the EBP process to coaching decisions that feel especially important or uncertain.

EBP offers one of the best tools to help you reach a decision that’s most likely to be safe and effective, and that’ll also make sense in the context of your client’s life.

Follow these 6 steps to see EBP in action.

1. Assess the client.

Identify their unique abilities and needs.

What are their strengths?

Where might they need help from you?

What are their precise goals?

What are their identities, values, and beliefs?

Gather this information by asking questions, using intake forms, and taking measurements. This’ll help you create an initial plan of action and also provide a baseline against which to gauge progress.

Plus, as you collect data on many clients, you’ll be accruing practical evidence that can aid with decision making in the future.

Let’s use a hypothetical client to apply these steps.

Her name is Nora. Her goal is to lose fat, and she’s also interested in intermittent fasting. Through your initial assessment you learn that she’s begun to show signs of perimenopause, and her sleep isn’t great these days.

2. Find your research question.

Before you jump to a solution, get clear on the problem you’re trying to help your client with.

Then, turn the problem into a question that’ll help you isolate the evidence you need for your recommendations. This question should incorporate the problem, as well as relevant factors about your client or patient.

Nora’s main goal is to lose fat, and she’s curious about intermittent fasting. Important factors to consider: Nora is a woman and she’s perimenopausal.

But you’re not sure if intermittent fasting is safe (or effective) for losing fat. And you’re definitely not sure if it’s safe (or effective) for a perimenopausal woman.

So your research question might be: “Is intermittent fasting safe and effective for fat loss in perimenopausal women?”

3. Gather the evidence.

Search for info using an online database like PubMed or Google Scholar. (If you don’t know how to use online research databases, here’s a PubMed tutorial.)

Using a research database will curate your hits so you’re only getting original, peer-reviewed research, rather than someone else’s (potentially biased) interpretation of it.

To find relevant research for Nora, a good keyword combination to type in a search box could be “intermittent fasting + fat loss + menopause”. These keywords contain the intervention you’re interested in learning more about, plus information about Nora’s unique goals and life stage.

To identify the best available scientific evidence on the research subject, use the “Hierarchy of Evidence” pyramid below. The higher up on the pyramid, the more trustworthy the information. So start your search from the top down.

In the case of Nora, prioritize finding a position stand, a meta-analysis, or a systematic review on using intermittent fasting for fat loss in menopausal women. This will give you a comprehensive overview of the current evidence. Basically, scientists and/or academics have already done the hard work—of reviewing, comparing, and analyzing the available scientific evidence—for you.

If that doesn’t exist, look for randomized control trials that compare appropriately chosen groups of people with a control group (such as a group that received no intervention, or a different intervention).

No luck there? You can expand your search to just “women” rather than “menopausal women.” Depending on what’s available, you may have to continue broadening your search and moving down the hierarchy of evidence.

Now, if you’re not well-versed in reading studies or interpreting research, that’s okay. Chances are, if you don’t find a meta-analysis or review, or—best of all—a position stand, the research further down the pyramid will be of limited use to you anyway.

If that’s the case—or you can’t find any scientific research on the topic—you might have to use opinions from other trusted experts, or develop an educated hypothesis based on your own knowledge of how physiology and nutrition work. This still counts as evidence, it’s just not as reliable, so temper your confidence in it accordingly.

All hail the position stand.

If you don’t feel equipped to navigate and interpret scientific literature, consider looking for best practice guidelines or position stands written by an authority in your field.

Position stands are official statements made by a governing body on topics related to a particular field, like nutrition, exercise physiology, dietetics, or medicine.

Here’s an example: The 2017 International Society of Sports Nutrition Position Stand on protein and exercise.

If you have a client who’s older and you’re wondering how to safely increase their training capacity (but don’t want to immerse yourself in a dark hole of research), simply look for the position stand on exercise and older adults.

To find the position stands in your field, consult the website of whatever governing body you belong to.

For example, if you’re a personal trainer certified through ACSM, NASM, ACE, or NSCA, consult the respective website for each organization. They should feature position stands on a variety of topics.

4. Appraise the evidence.

Through your search, you’ll probably find at least some evidence. This might be just a few small studies or some articles from trusted experts in the field.

Now, using the hierarchy of evidence, determine how valid and reliable those pieces of evidence are.

The more you have to broaden your question or move down the quality hierarchy, the less confident you might be about your recommendations.

With Nora, if all you find are some articles by an internet guru who’s never actually seen any real clients, you may want to present your findings as a mere idea, rather than as reliable advice.

On the other hand, if you find a handful of systematic reviews about intermittent fasting in menopausal women, you can go to Nora with more confidence about your recommendations. (Quick fact check, FYI: We couldn’t find any reputable systematic reviews on intermittent fasting in menopausal women.)

5. Create your recommendation.

Unless they ask for it, most clients don’t want to know all the complicated science stuff; they just want to know what to do.

This is where the science of coaching morphs into the art of coaching.

It’s time to see if you can actually apply the evidence you’ve found—along with your own professional experience—to the complex, real, live human standing in front of you.

Notice that the evidence by itself doesn’t make the decision. Nor does your experience, nor do the client’s preferences.

The three simply offer a more holistic perspective on a problem, to ensure you find the best possible solution for your client.

Rather than plunking down a stack of research in front of your client, combine the research with your expertise and your client’s unique circumstances to translate it into practical advice.

It could work like this: Through your research, you find that intermittent fasting is effective for fat loss. However, through your own professional experience, you’ve also noticed that most clients struggle to stick with intermittent fasting long-term. (Aligning nicely with your coaching experience, the research also shows a relatively high drop-out rate with intermittent fasting.)

You’ve also noticed that in some of your female clients, intermittent fasting seems to deregulate menstrual cycles and exacerbate menopausal symptoms.

Thinking about Nora’s unique values and preferences, you know that she wants to lose weight, but you also know that she’s had some trouble sleeping lately. In your experience with other clients, people who are sleep-deprived have an extra-hard time regulating appetite and losing weight.

So… intermittent fasting seems to be effective, but combined with your concerns about Nora’s hormonal health and sleep quality, plus the fact that intermittent fasting can be hard to maintain, you may decide not to recommend it to Nora.

After explaining to her your reasoning, explore with her what she’s comfortable trying. In the end, you may suggest some simple nutrition habits along with some short fasting experiments, plus some sleep tips.

These recommendations include what you’ve found from the best available research, your own coaching experience, and Nora’s unique preferences, goals, and challenges.

Nora’s just gotten some pretty wise, tailored-to-her advice, where you worked as collaborators to come up with her action plan.

That’s the art and science of coaching.

6. Monitor the results.

Once you’ve given your client a little time to practice what you came up with together, you can assess if those actions are working.

Consult those measurements you took in your initial assessments. Compare them to current measurements.

Are things moving in the right direction?

And talk to your client about how the plan is working.

Nora tells you although she’s applying and benefitting from the sleep tips, she’s struggling with fasting, even the shorter experiments. Turns out, it’s hard to fast when you’re having trouble falling asleep because of a grumbling tummy.

As you monitor progress, use what you find to re-evaluate goals and pinpoint where your client or patient needs more support.

Now Nora’s asking you about trying the Paleo diet instead. Looks like you have more research to do.

But keep in mind, over time, you’ll develop a solid grasp of the body of evidence on a number of topics. That’s the good part about science moving slowly: It’s not that hard to keep up.

What to do next.

Be empathetic, supportive, and flexible.

No matter what you believe is “right” or “true,” your first job is to work with your client, wherever they’re at.

Many practitioners intuitively know this, but the bond between coach and client (or patient) is extremely important and influential.

This bond is called the “therapeutic alliance,” and it refers to the level of trust and rapport between a practitioner and the person they’re helping.

Change is hard, and often scary. A strong therapeutic alliance can help a person feel supported and understood while surfing the tides of change.

In fact, some studies show the results a client or patient achieves in your care are up to 85 percent dependent on the therapeutic alliance. So, the stronger that relationship, the better the results.

If you’re constantly butting heads with your client, telling them, “But the research says!” or, “I know best!”, you can wave goodbye to a strong therapeutic alliance.

Many of the obstacles your clients will face are behavioral and emotional, rather than rational and theory-based. So more than facts, your clients often need compassion, support, and creativity to get them through the tough stuff.

Focus on the big rocks.

Given how complicated bodies and behavioral change are, it’s not surprising that science is still “trying to figure things out.”

Rather than using “cutting-edge” protocols like intermittent fasting or precise macronutrient ratios (which should really only be for more advanced clients anyway), focus on “big rocks” that offer the most bang for buck, like:

eating enough protein and vegetables

moving regularly

getting adequate sleep

managing stress

reducing smoking and/or excessive alcohol consumption

If that sounds boring or too obvious, we ask you this: How many people do you know who are consistently doing all five well? (In case you’re curious, it’s only about three to five percent of the population.)

Just managing those five things will keep most people plenty busy.

Be humble, throw out the rules, and keep learning.

The smartest people are often the ones who are most comfortable asking questions, saying “I don’t know,” and resting in uncertainty.

It’s a cliche but true: The more you know about something, the more you realize what you don’t know.

Be wary when others claim absolute certainty. It may be they don’t fully understand the complexity of the matter.

True expertise is about being comfortable with limited knowledge—while continuing to seek more and better information—and also accepting we may never have complete certainty.

Experiment wisely, and learn from both successes and failures.

Want to see how a theory works in practice? Test it out on yourself, and measure your experience as objectively as possible.

With clients, so long as there is no risk of harm, try out well-informed experiments (with their permission) that are either based on research or expert theory. Then, as always, track and measure their experiences and results to inform your next steps.

Know what you don’t know and work with other experts as needed.

Especially if you’re a beginner in your practice, it’s okay not to know stuff.

Focus on what you know best, whether that’s good lifting form, coming up with healthy meal ideas, or giving support during sticky coaching situations. But also know that some things will be out of your scope of practice.

So build a strong professional network—which could include family doctors, dietitians, massage therapists, naturopaths, chiropractors, and psychotherapists—and refer out whenever you encounter something you feel uncomfortable or especially inexperienced with.

Establishing a deep roster of experts will help clients get the support they need. And we’re pretty sure the evidence will show that’s good for everyone.

If you’re a coach, or you want to be…

Learning how to coach clients, patients, friends, or family members through healthy eating and lifestyle changes—in way that’s evidenced based and personalized for each individual’s lifestyle and preferences—is both an art and a science.

If you’d like to learn more about both, consider the Precision Nutrition Level 1 Certification. The next group kicks off shortly.

What’s it all about?

The Precision Nutrition Level 1 Certification is the world’s most respected nutrition education program. It gives you the knowledge, systems, and tools you need to really understand how food influences a person’s health and fitness. Plus the ability to turn that knowledge into a thriving coaching practice.

Developed over 15 years, and proven with over 100,000 clients and patients, the Level 1 curriculum stands alone as the authority on the science of nutrition and the art of coaching.

Whether you’re already mid-career, or just starting out, the Level 1 Certification is your springboard to a deeper understanding of nutrition, the authority to coach it, and the ability to turn what you know into results.

[Of course, if you’re already a student or graduate of the Level 1 Certification, check out our Level 2 Certification Master Class. It’s an exclusive, year-long mentorship designed for elite professionals looking to master the art of coaching and be part of the top 1% of health and fitness coaches in the world.]

Interested? Add your name to the presale list. You’ll save up to 33% and secure your spot 24 hours before everyone else.

We’ll be opening up spots in our next Precision Nutrition Level 1 Certification on Wednesday, April 3rd, 2019.

If you want to find out more, we’ve set up the following presale list, which gives you two advantages.

Pay less than everyone else. We like to reward people who are eager to boost their credentials and are ready to commit to getting the education they need. So we’re offering a discount of up to 33% off the general price when you sign up for the presale list.

Sign up 24 hours before the general public and increase your chances of getting a spot. We only open the certification program twice per year. Due to high demand, spots in the program are limited and have historically sold out in a matter of hours. But when you sign up for the presale list, we’ll give you the opportunity to register a full 24 hours before anyone else.

If you’re ready for a deeper understanding of nutrition, the authority to coach it, and the ability to turn what you know into results… this is your chance to see what the world’s top professional nutrition coaching system can do for you.

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References

Click here to view the information sources referenced in this article.

Balachandran, A. & Schoenfeld, B. (2017, March 2) Evidence-based practice in Exercise and Nutrition: Common Misconceptions and Criticisms. Retrieved from https://www.lookgreatnaked.com/blog/evidence-based-practice-in-exercise-and-nutrition-common-misconceptions-and-criticisms/

Baldwin, S.A., Wampold, B.E., & Imel, Z E. (2007). Untangling the alliance-outcome correlation: Exploring the relative importance of therapist and patient variability in the alliance. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 75(6), 842–852.

Cabaniss, D. L. (2012, May 31) The Therapeutic Alliance: The Essential Ingredient for Psychotherapy. Retrieved from https://www.huffpost.com/entry/therapeutic-alliance_b_1554007?fbclid=IwAR1NDl7sNR60OSvNFWmpTUA-GqAV65fMtxsOrOFAQ9fLM5Z5eQlcRR4APbU

Duke University. (2018). Introduction to Evidence-Based Practice. Retrieved from https://guides.mclibrary.duke.edu/ebmtutorial/home

Erskine, R.M., Jones, D.A., Williams, A.G., Stewart, C.E. & Degens, H. (2010) Inter-individual variability in the adaptation of human muscle specific tension to progressive resistance training. European Journal of Applied Physiology, 110(6), 1117-25.

Evidence-Based Medicine Working Group. (1992) Evidence-Based Medicine: A New Approach to Teaching the Practice of Medicine. Journal of the American Medical Association, 268(17), 2420-5.

Frances, A.J. (2013, June 24) What Should Doctors Do When They Don’t Know What to Do? Retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/saving-normal/201306/what-should-doctors-do-when-they-dont-know-what-do?fbclid=IwAR3ce99uT-RDXcp_yvnJ0r2aTfBPWPpngqNUvkIc5a6PBZkyr5d-Z8sgy2Y

Joyce, A.S. & Piper, W.E. (1998) Expectancy, the Therapeutic Alliance, and Treatment Outcome in Short-Term Individual Psychotherapy. The Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research, 7(3), 236–248.

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Ludwig, J. (2018, April 16) Here’s what is going wrong with ‘evidence-based’ policies and practices in schools in Australia. Retrieved from https://www.aare.edu.au/blog/?p=2822

Schoenfeld, B.J., Contreras, B, Krieger, J., Grgic, J., Delcastillo, K., Belliard, R. & Alto, A. (2019) Resistance Training Volume Enhances Muscle Hypertrophy but Not Strength in Trained Men. Medicine & Science in Sports & Exercise, 51(1), 94-103.

Wampold, B. E. (2001). The great psychotherapy debate:Models, methods, and findings. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Evidence-Based Medicine Toolbox. (2017) Retrieved from https://ebm-tools.knowledgetranslation.net/

Evidence-based practice. (2018, November 19) Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evidence-based_practice?fbclid=IwAR3ARk06zmx_lJYPIrTGA_chfBa9v_-NsW7HQbC7-rTHaq-Y7AYcSdLAk80

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greygamer · 8 years ago

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TP Countdown Day 24: Realization

I’m a couple of days behind, but I’ll be watching two eps a day for today and tomorrow and that’ll get me caught up again.

That also means by the end of today I’ll have completed the first season. And after this episode, it sure feels like approaching something big. There are many balls in the air, and some shit is about to go down.

First, we’ve got those meddling kids -- Maddie, James, and Donna -- trying to find out if Dr. Jacoby killed Laura. To do this, they’ve lured the doctor out of his home by having Maddie pretend to be Laura on a video they sent to Jacoby. It’s a sneaky move, but you have wonder how smart it is to be pretending to be a dead girl. I mean, someone killed Laura. They might be willing to kill her again, right?

Watching these shenanigans is Bobby Briggs, who doesn’t seem to concerned about the apparent return of Laura, but is super concerned about hiding a bag of cocaine in the gas tank of James’ bike. Hey Bobby, remember, you were messing around with Shelly, so maybe don’t get super jealous that Laura was seeing someone else.

And while Bobby was checking out the meddling kids, someone was checking out Bobby checking out the meddling kids. Who? Well, we don’t know yet, but whoever it was, he did some creepy breathing, and something tells me it might not be someone friendly.

And then we get to the meddling adults, also known as the Bookhouse Boys, plus Agent Cooper, who decide to investigate this One Eyed Jack’s place they keep hearing about. Problem is, it’s in Canada, out of their jurisdiction, which is why the investigation is going to be off the books and on the Bookhouse. Boys, that is.

See what I did there?

I’m not sure utilizing the Bookhouse Boys is a great idea. I would think that any evidence gathered there wouldn’t be usable in court, as both Coop and Truman would have been there illegally. But maybe they’re not that concerned with evidence. As we’ve learned, Coop does things a little bit differently.

So Cooper and Big Ed slip into One Eyed Jacks undercover, posing as oral surgeons just visiting the pacific northwest. Ed loses $300 at the craps table, while Coop seems to be preternaturally good at blackjack. I’m not sure if his comment about how if you can count at ten then you can win at poker is a reference to card counting, but suspect yes.

So, what are the boys going to find at One Eyed Jacks? Well, so far they’ve found Jacques Renault, who steps in as dealer at Coop’s blackjack table in the final moments of this episode. A bigger question is whether they’ll find Audrey while they’re there, who, unbeknownst to anyone, has followed her own investigation to One Eyed Jack’s where she’s applied for work doing, well, whatever kind of work would benefit from an ability to tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. And I think we all know what kind of work that would be.

This Week On Twin Peaks

What else is going on in town? Catherine has found out that maybe Ben Horne isn’t the best person to be conniving with -- turns out he’s planning to off her, and Catherine finds out courtesy of a previously unknown life insurance policy on her for a fat $1 million, paying out to Josie Packard. Ruh Roh!

Waldo the Myna wasn’t long for this world, I’m afraid. Just as Leo was about to put a hurt on Bobby, now that he knows Bobby’s been the one stepping into Shelly’s arms, Leo hears word on the police band that the cops had Waldo in custody, and that because Mynas can talk, they’re considering him a witness. Who might be able to say some incriminating stuff about Leo. So he races off to the station and turns his gun on the book bird, who, upon getting slaughtered, ruins a perfectly good set of donuts by bleeding out all over them. But not before he left some evidence on Cooper’s voice activated cassette recorder!

Also, Hank is around, being annoying and creepy.

#twin peaks #david lynch #tv #television #review #commentary #realization

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oovitus · 6 years ago

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Evidence-based coaching: Why some health and fitness pros are doing it all wrong.

Ask any health and fitness professional if they’re “evidence based,” and chances are good you’ll get a resounding, “Yes!” Perhaps even an indignant one. After all, everyone uses evidence… of some sort. But if you think evidence-based practice is only what “research says,” you’re doing it wrong. In this article, we’ll show you the right way to use evidence to inform and enhance your coaching—for more effective advice and better client results.