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catgirlthecrazy · 5 years ago

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Muse and Knight

Warning: this fanfic contains major spoilers through Tiamat’s Wrath.

AO3

Summary: The transition from uneasy allies to family doesn’t happen in a single moment. Not even a dramatic one. It’s a slow change, like a sunset. You can’t see it happening, just see the results when it’s already happened.

Holden and Clarissa’s relationship, through the years.

The coffee machine was broken. Again. Holden pressed his forehead into the cool brushed steel surface of the machine. “I don’t ask for much. Really, I don’t. Is this so unreasonable?” The red text of the error message shown even through his closed eyelids. It seemed almost irritated at him for expecting it to perform the function that was the entire purpose of its existence.

The galley door slid open. “Oh,” a soft voice said. Clarissa hovered at the galley door.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re up.”

Clarissa seemed to teeter on the edge of leaving. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were awake."

Holden shrugged. "Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d start shift early. Or, I was going to." He gestured helplessly at the red error message. Holden’s head already ached in anticipation of caffeine withdrawal.

Clarissa frowned and crossed the galley, inspecting the error message. "It’s not working?” She power-cycled the coffee maker and hit the brew button again.

“Already tried that,” Holden said. As if agreeing, the machine buzzed angrily and spat out the same error message as before.

“Hmm. Let me take a look.” Clarissa left, and returned with a bag of tools and parts. A minute later she had the machine on the floor, back panel removed and parts exposed to the open air. Not for the first time, Holden was struck by a sudden sense of surreality. Just a handful of years ago, this woman had tried to destroy him and everyone he loved. He could still remember the murderous rage she’d inspired in him. Now she was fixing his coffeemaker, and he was weirdly ok with that.

He’d like to say that the assault on the slow zone had been the tipping point. The moment when she’d moved in his mind from “person who’d tried to kill him” to “part of his crew.” But these sorts of things never worked like that. It was like a sunrise: you couldn’t see the sky turning from black to blue while it was ongoing. You could only notice the results after they’d already happened.

“Ha!” Clarissa pulled out something metallic and charred, with little dangling wires like tentacles. “Power leads burnt out.”

“Is that hard to fix?"

"No, this part swaps out pretty easy.” She opened a utility organizer labeled Replacement Parts: Galley in neat handwriting that definitely wasn’t Amos’. She pulled out the pristine twin of the burnt out part and wired it into the machine. She put the machine back together, and ran diagnostics. This time the message was a happy green. She made a little animal noise of satisfaction. “There, all fixed.”

Holden clapped her on the shoulder. “You are my favorite person in the solar system.” He turned to the machine and started a new brew. “You want me to make some for you?” When she didn’t answer, he turned to look at her.

There was an odd expression on Clarissa’s face, one his caffeine-deprived mind couldn’t quite decipher. “I… yes, I would love that,” she said.

Weeks later, Holden would learn that Clarissa actually hated coffee. That morning, though, she drank the whole cup.

***

Pátria was a big colony. To Holden, a child of cramped and crowded Earth, that still felt a little strange. Pátria only had a few settlements, and only one that could rate the label ‘city’- barely. But by the fledgling standards of extra-solar colonies, it was a metropolis. It had paved roads and a sewage system and real buildings not made from scrap and mud. And it had recreational swimmers.

The day was uncomfortably hot, the kind of hot that made his shirt damp. A few families with young children were splashing in the local lake on the outskirts of the town. A floating platform had been set up in a deeper part of the lake. One adolescent took a running leap off and cannonballed into the lake, splashing his friends and prompting screams and shouts. A few nearby waterbirds croaked their annoyance and flew off. Holden found himself grinning.

“People do this for fun ?” Bobbie’s voice was acrid with disgust and amusement.

“What, swim? It’s not that uncommon on Earth,” he said.

“Those birds have been pooping in there. And the fish. And whatever the hell kind of microbes they’ve got.”

Holden shrugged. “That’s true on Earth too. People still swim in ponds and lakes there. Remind me to tell you about some of my family’s trips to Flathead Lake.”

She shot him a look. “Yeah, and that's also disgusting. But at least Earth lakes have our flavor of shit and microbes in it. This will have alien shit and microbes in it. Who knows what that does?”

Holden opened his mouth to answer, but Clarissa beat him to it. “They test the water regularly here. It’s not safe to drink without treatment, but you can swim in it just fine. So long as you don’t swallow too much, anyway.” She was taking off her shoes and rolling up her jumpsuit pantlegs as she talked. “I looked it up before we landed.” She set her shoes aside, socks neatly tucked in, and walked purposefully towards the water. It took Holden a second to understand why. Then he grinned and shucked off his own shoes.

Bobbie groaned. “If your feet melt into green slime, don’t come complaining to me,” she called.

They both ignored her. Clarissa was already up to her ankles by the time Holden reached the water. Her face was turned up to the sun like a flower, her expression pure bliss.

“I don’t think I’ve been anywhere near a real lake since I was a kid,” Holden said. The water was delightfully cold. The soft wet sand slid comfortably between his toes.

“Last time I was near a lake was when me and Amos were trying to get off Earth. Not much time for swimming then.”

“And before that?”

“Probably the same lake, the last time I summered there with my parents. We used to go there every other year. It was… nice.” She had the same distant tone she got, discussing her old life. He’d never pressed her much about it. So Holden changed the subject.

“I forgot how good cold water feels on a hot day,” he said. He crouched down and started splashing water on his face, careful to keep his mouth closed as he did so.

Clarissa was digging out handfuls of sand out of the lake bottom and watching them flow through her fingers underwater. “I know. I almost want to just dunk myself in and float for a while."

"But?”

“But I don’t fancy walking around in a soaking wet jumpsuit the rest of the day.”

“Those colonists got their swimsuits from somewhere. We’ve got a few hours. We could go get some. Have some shore leave on the beach.

"You think anyone else will be interested?” Her tone was amused. Holden glanced behind him. Bobbie was still shaking her head at the whole affair in amused disgust. Amos was staring at them with the blank non-comprehension of someone watching a foreign religious ritual. Alex and Naomi were back on the Roci, but he suspected their reaction would be much the same as Bobbie’s. Lake swimming wasn’t something people did outside of Earth- or it hadn’t been until now. And Baltimore didn’t have any bodies of water a sane person would want to swim in. It occurred to Holden that, though Clarissa wasn’t the only other Earther on the crew, she was probably the only one who shared any of his fondness for the place.

“Maybe not,” he said. “Do we need anyone else?”

She smiled. “I guess we don’t.”

By the time they were done at the lake, the day was nearly gone. The two of them walked back to the Roci’s landing pad, chatting animatedly, beneath a sky transitioning from blue to azure to black.

***

When you lived day in and day out with the same people on a small ship, a certain level telepathy emerged. From the tone of Naomi’s humming, or the way Bobbie took a ladder, or the rhythm of Alex’s fingers on the controls, Holden could take a barometer reading of each of his crew. So when Holden saw Clarissa sitting in the galley, gripping her mug of tea in a very particular way, he knew something was very wrong. Unfortunately, the telepathy didn’t tell him why.

To buy himself time, he started making coffee. Holden knew so much detail about his crew personal and work lives that, whatever their mood was, he usually had plenty of context to guess what the cause was. He didn’t know of anything in Clarissa’s life that could be behind her anxious mood. She hadn’t had any fights with the other crew that he knew of. There weren’t any looming mechanical problems or existential threats. He wondered how to go about asking what was bothering her.

Holden sat down at the table across from her. “What’s bothering you?”

Her eyes focused on him, like she’d only just noticed he was there. Then she laughed. “Always the direct approach.”

He grinned and shrugged. “I’m not very good at this.”

She grinned back for a moment. Then it faded. “I got a message from my sister.”

Two thoughts collided in Holden’s head: I thought your sister was dead slammed into I hope she’s doing well and jumbled together in his mind. Just barely, he stopped himself from blurting I hope she’s dead out loud. He knew Clarissa had siblings besides Julie. She never talked about her birth family except in the past tense, so it was easy to forget that most of them were still alive.

“Not good news, I take it?”

“My father is dead.”

The news was like a dropped tool in an empty cargo hold. Her father. Jules-Pierre Mao. The man who had probably held the record for bloodiest hands in the solar system until Marco Inaros came along to steal the title. It was hard for Holden to think of the arrogant man he’d encountered on Luna so many years ago as related to the tired looking mechanic in front of him. The Venn Diagram between the two had so little overlap these days that they were nearly separate circles in his mind. “Um. Wow.” He took a long pull from his coffee. He couldn’t make this about his own feelings right now. “How are you feeling right now?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, but Holden chose to wait and sip his coffee. He didn’t have to wait long. “When I was young, he defined my life. Father was like a gravity well. So much revolved around him, and you couldn’t pass near him without accounting for how he’d alter your trajectory. Now he’s gone, and it’s hardly worth a story on the news feeds.” She smiled wryly. “He would have hated that.”

Holden frowned into his coffee. “You know, now that you mention it, that’s kind of weird. I mean, yeah, it’s been a while since he was in the news, but he was kind of a big deal back in the day. I’m surprised I haven’t heard more about this.”

“I’m not. He was held in Mossoró when the rocks fell. They were hit bad by tsunamis. They couldn’t find most of the bodies. It’s only now that the courts have made it official.” Clarissa’s voice was so flat, like she was reading off a list.

“So you’ve known this was coming.” Holden wondered if that was the reason for her mood. He could remember one of his grandmothers, who’d been gravely ill for so long before she died that he’d felt more relief at her passing than loss. And with that relief, guilt.

“I suppose I did.” Clarissa cocked her head in bemusement. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that. You’re the one who put him in prison.” There was no hint of reproach in her voice. Almost, they could have been talking about a famous football player whose career Holden hadn’t kept up with.

Holden shrugged. “Honestly, I kind of stopped giving a fuck about him once he was in prison. So long as he couldn’t start wars, I didn’t really care.” Holden winced. “I uh, may not be the most comforting person to talk to about this.”

Clarissa just smiled at him. “I think he’d hate that even more than the lack of news coverage.”

Holden wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. “So… You sound pretty calm about this. But I can tell something’s bugging you. Anything you want to talk about?”

Clarissa frowned into her mug. “When I got the message that he was dead, my first thought was 'good.’ I don’t like that.”

Holden took a long sip from his coffee to buy himself time. “No love lost between you two, then?”

“I don’t feel anything about him. No love, no hate. I’m just very, very glad that he’s gone forever now. And I don’t like that I feel that way. I didn’t think I was that kind of person anymore.”

“I mean, to be fair, it makes me a little happy to know he’s gone for good.” Clarissa looked up at him sharply, and he shrugged. “It probably doesn’t speak well of me as a person. But I think it’s just part of being human.”

“Maybe.” She stared at her drink. “I still feel like I’ve failed somehow.”

Holden strongly disagreed. But he knew by now that she didn’t really want him to prove her wrong. Just listen while she worked through it on her own.

And the truth was, Holden could sympathize with her sorrow, but he couldn’t entirely empathize with it. Mao was her father. He understood intellectually why parent-child relationships could fall apart so completely and irreparably that she could react this way. He could agree entirely with the reasons why. He knew that the only right you had with anyone in life was the right to walk away. But he couldn’t really feel it. He had always gotten on well with his own parents. It was hard to imagine anything different.

He took her hand. “Well, for what it’s worth, I like the person you are now,” he said.

“And who do you think that person is?”

“The person who fixes things. The person who won’t let so much as a squeaking hinge stick around for long. The person who builds things.”

She didn’t answer him. She just smiled a small smile. They sat together in companiable silence for a long time.

***

When his interrogators told him about the body on Medina, Holden thought they were lying. Surely, it was a tactic to make him admit something. Surely, the photos and autopsy reports were fake. Surely, they couldn’t have found Clarissa Mao, shot twice amidst a half dozen dead Laconian soldiers. When Holden finally let himself believe them, he waited for them to tell him who else in his family had died. Months, then years passed, and the news never came.

He couldn’t grieve. He couldn’t afford to. If the Laconians knew just how deep a weakness it was, if they understood that she was more to him that a mere crewmate, they’d never stop hammering away at it. So he threw all his efforts into diverting them. He opened up as much as he could on the alien threat. The Tempest anomaly. The Ilus artifact. Elvi Okoye.

When he finally got free, he was too preoccupied to think much about older pain. The flight to the gate, Bobbie’s death, Amos’ strange resurrection: all of these overwhelmed his attention like a well lit room overwhelms a single candle. When the grief reminded him of its presence, it wasn’t how he expected it.

The cabin door squeaked. It was such a soft little sound, it took Holden weeks to notice it. He was so wrapped up in the joy of being back on the Roci, of not being on Laconia, that most other things were background noise. But as time went by, as they passed through the Laconia gate, through the slow zone and into the Gossner system, Holden noticed the small rattling whine of a mechanism not quite in alignment.

“It’s just a squeak.” Naomi shrugged with her hands when he mentioned it to her. “I can have Amos put it on the to-do list, but I guarantee you he’s got a couple dozen other items on it already. This might never make it to the top.”

“I know it’s pretty minor in the grand scheme of things,” Holden said. Experimentally he cycled the door a couple more times to see if the noise was consistent. “I just can’t remember the last time a squeak stuck around this long."

He meant to sound casual. Evidently he failed, because Naomi’s expression softened. "I miss her too.”

Holden sagged a little, like a spring losing tension. “I wanted to believe it was a bad dream. Or a lie to make me admit something. The Laconians sprang it on me suddenly. I think they were trying to surprise me into letting something slip.” He could still remember the feeling like a dunk in ice. Like a confirmation of his worst nightmares.

“Did they tell you how it happened?”

“Some. 'Likely involved in terrorist activities’ was I think how they put it.”

“She saved my life. She saved the whole underground.” And Naomi told him the story of the jailbreak, the traitor, and Clarissa’s last stand.

Holden couldn’t speak. In broad strokes, what Naomi told him wasn’t far off from what he’d already guessed. But he hadn’t fully appreciated just how much he owed to Clarissa’s sacrifice. Naomi’s life was one item at the top of a very long list.

Naomi pulled him into a hug, and Holden broke. His body shook with the quiet sobs that he’d never allowed himself on Laconia. She murmured soothing words whose content mattered less than their tone. He could feel some of her tears wet on his forehead. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that. He had the raw sense of having burned a deep infection out of a wound.

“I’ve got a few spare hours,” Naomi said. “I could grab some tools. We could fix it together."

"That,” Holden said, voice still ragged, “would be great.”

#the expanse #Jim Holden #Clarissa Mao #fanfic #spoilers #Tiamat's Wrath Spoilers #my fanfic #my post

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vinylackles · 6 years ago

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pinned

word count: 1,800

summary: sam has never had much luck with homes, but you’re on a mission to change that

all my works || request imagines here

You loved the bunker, you really truly did. It’s concrete walls and long hallways had become so endearing to you over the years you’d spent there with the boys. It held memories for you - cooking in the kitchen with Dean, your first kiss (any many there after) with your boyfriend Sam. Reading over lore books with Cas, making popcorn for the movies you watched when you could. It had really become home to you... you just wished Sam felt the same way.

Every time you went into Sam’s room you couldn’t help but sigh a little bit. It looked almost exactly as it did when he first stepped foot in it, besides the pair of shoes on the floor, the empty duffle bag in the corner, and all the books he had lugged in from the library. You’d convinced him to buy a new blanket and lamp, but that was about all he would muster in terms of personalizing the place. And you understood why.

No matter how much Sam tried to deny it, he never really wanted to call anywhere home anymore. Why would he? His first one burnt down, and then his apartment after that. Everywhere he put down roots and tried to make his own just fell apart, the life he had there crumbling with it. He had decided long ago to stick to dingy motel rooms and the passenger seat of the impala. You’d first caught on when he talked about how the bunker was where you all worked, not where you lived. But when you asked him about it later he’d explained how he felt, and you could tell that something was just holding him back from truly making it somewhere for him to live.

Which is how you ended up stuck with bags on each arm, lugging them into the bunker after a long day of shopping. You were determined to make that place home for him, no matter what it took.

Lucky for you, Dean had actually listened to you and managed to get him out of the bunker for the afternoon. He’d rummaged up a story about needing a specific herb for a new ritual he wanted to try, and how it only grew in one specific place. Day trip for the boys, decorating time for you.

You took all the bags back to your and Sam’s room, leaving again to track down a hammer and nails. Once you had everything together that you needed, you got to work hanging, arranging and brightening up the space as best you could before the boys got back.

SAM’S POV:

It was oddly quiet when he got back to the bunker. He knew that Y/N was there, and he’d expected to hear her music or a TV on.

“Well, um, I’m going to go organize the.... herb drawer,” Dean said very matter of factly, starting to walk away in the opposite direction of where they stored their ingredients.

“Since when do we have an herb drawer?” Sam asked, his suspicion growing.

“Since... now?”

“Okay, what’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“I’ve been acting weird all day? Pshhh, you’ve been acting weird all day. You weirdo.” Dean deflected, slowly inching his way down the hallway. Always so skilled with the come-backs.

“Uh-huh.... right,” Sam narrowed his eyes, prepared to follow his brother until Y/N appeared through the other entrance, a nervous smile on her face as she came up to him, pulling him into a hug. Something was definitely up.

“I’m assuming you have something to do with why he’s been so keyed up all day?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow as he looked down at her. Y/N shrugged, stepping up on her tip-toes to kiss him. He kissed her back, not really caring about what was going on with Dean for a moment. He’d missed her, even if it’d only been a few hours.

“Maybe,” she grinned.

“You wanna fill me in?”

“Promise to have an open mind?” She asked, using her best puppy dog eyes. She only pulled those out on rare occasions, and it gave him a bit of a pit in his stomach. There was no telling what she had been up to.

“I’ll try?” was all he could muster.

“Good enough for me. Come see.” She took his hand, so small compared to his, and pulled him down the hallway and to the right. He did a bit of a double take to make sure he was in the right room.

It looked... different. There was a new rug on the floor, some small decorations on the dresser. The books that had been stacked on the shelf by the head of the bed were up on a bookshelf - he recognized it later as the one from the basement that had been cleaned up. Where they had stood were picture frames, all different sizes. And as he went down each one, he couldn’t help but smile.

There was one of him, Bobby and Dean when he was about 12, all of them sat up on the couch before a football game in Bobby’s living room. Next was one of him and Dean from when they were kids, one of the few pictures John took of them after Mom died. Dean had him in a head lock, a wide smile on both their faces. Next was a picture of him and Y/N after a hunt, both of them covered in bandages but laughing uncontrollably - Dean had told them they looked like mummies and snapped a picture. She still looked just as beautiful. He didn’t finish looking at them as the map on the other side of the room caught his eye.

It was rather large, covering most of the empty wall space with the outlines of the states, but that wasn’t what was interesting. He stepped closer, fingertips running over the multicolored pins that were carefully placed throughout the states, each one with a tiny little tag on it. It took him a moment to place the names that were scribbled on them in Y/N’s scrawl. Diana in Baltimore, Lucas in Wisconsin, Tyler in Connecticut. It clicked for him after that. All names of people that he had helped save, scattered all across the map, from coast to coast.

“How long did this take you?” He asked in awe.

“The pins only took a few hours, but i’ve been working on the list for a while now. The pictures came from some of your and Dean’s old stuff. I hope it’s not too much,” she murmured, and he knew she was beginning to second guess herself for redoing the room. He had been reluctant to it before, that was true.

“Are you kidding? I love it!” He exclaimed, and he couldn’t help but pull her to him and kiss her. He could feel the surprise on her lips for a moment, but she melted into him like she always did. He pressed her to him, his hand against the small of her back.

“Really? You really love it?” She asked, beaming.

“Yeah, it really makes it feel more like h-”

He cut himself off before he could finish.

“It’s okay Sam. Say it,” she encouraged, offering him a soft smile as she ran a hand over his cheek. He leaned into her palm automatically. He wanted to give into it so bad, but it terrified him. It sounded irrational to him when he tried to explain how he felt about the whole concept, but it wasn’t something that he could help.

“Baby,” he whispered, unable to say anything else. He turned his head a bit, pressing a kiss to her hand, hoping she understood his silent apology.

“I know it’s hard, and I know you’re scared. But we’re safe here. Nothing bad is going to happen to me, or Dean or you or Cas or anybody in these walls, okay? It’s where were gonna keep building good memories, not make any new bad ones. It’s our home. We’re home.”

He could only nod, a bit surprised at the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He had never realized how much being ‘homeless’ had really weighed on him until now. She wiped them away with her thumbs.

“Yeah... home.” He tested out the word, letting it bring a cautious smile to his lips. Y/N looked as if she was going to burst with joy, but she held it in as best she could, rocking a bit on her heels in excitement as she gave him time to process.

“C’mere,” he chuckled, pulling her into another hug. He lifted her up off her feet this time, spinning a bit until they were on the bed, her falling on top of him as he landed on the pillows. He brushed her hair back from her face, watching her beam down at him.

“Thank you, for all of this. I love you.”

“I love you too, I’m glad you like it,” she smiled, leaning down to kiss him. Her hair fell through his finger, tickling at his cheeks.

“By the way, next time you need to hatch a master plan, you should probably enlist someone other than Dean as your cover. Pretty sure we drove all the way to Missouri so he could buy some oregano,” Sam teased.

“I have limited options you know,” she countered, scrunching her nose. She yawned halfway through, making it quite possibly one of the cutest things Sam had ever seen.

“Tired hmm? Wanna take a nap?” He hummed, running a thumb along her cheek.

“Decorating is hard work you know. Plus, that bookshelf is made of some heavy duty shit. That thing was weighs a ton,” she explained, tucking her head down and resting it on his chest. His arms went around her automatically - it was how they usually slept, both arms around her. Nothing could get to her if she was in his arms, he was sure of that.

“Sleep then. I could go for some shut eye myself,” he assured her, even though it was a lie. He knew she’d never go to sleep if he was still up, not after he was gone all day.

“Okay,” she sighed, cuddling herself closer to him. He rested his cheek on the crown of her head, pressing a few kisses into her hair and beginning to hum as she held onto him, her breathing getting deeper and deeper as she fell asleep.

He had mastered the art of retrieving the blanket from the end of the bed without waking her - she fell asleep on him often - and as he pulled it over the both of them he reminded himself of a new pin he wanted to place when she woke up.

A bright red one, right in the middle of Lebanon, Kansas.

And he would label it home.

#I still dont know if I like this lololol #but who knows maybe some of you will!!#i just want sammy to be happy man #sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #spn imagine #spn fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #writing

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lakes-of-consciousness · 6 years ago

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This is from a collection of very short (micro-?) stories I recently started on. Let’s just call it, “The Candle.” Writing this one hurt a little; it describes a particular feeling of something like loss that I’ve experienced a few times.

The food bank bit is based on countless instances of firsthand experience.

After nearly three months of living in a resettlement shelter, Nadiyyah was finally able to move into a tiny apartment in downtown Baltimore. Her furniture consisted of a single mattress, and her refrigerator and cabinets were empty. She went to a nearby food bank where she was given three grocery bags of food. When she got back to the apartment, she found that most of the food she had been given was spoiled. She put away what was still edible and took the rest down to the dumpster in the alley beside the building.

That night, sitting on her mattress and eating canned ravioli, Nadiyyah looked out the window and noticed a flickering light across the street. Someone had placed a candle on their windowsill. For the next few nights, Nadiyyah found herself staring out at that candle, missing whoever had lit it each time. One night as she watched, a young woman appeared in the window. The woman saw Nadiyyah before she could duck away and waved at her. Nadiyyah looked around, then hesitantly returned the wave. The woman across the street smiled at her and Nadiyyah smiled back.

Every night for the next two weeks, Nadiyyah watched the candle and the woman across the street smiled and waved at her, the flickering light dancing across her face. Nadiyyah found a simple, tender joy in this nightly ritual. She began to think that she might cross the street and meet her kind stranger. She went to sleep with this idea buzzing pleasantly in her head.

The next night, the candle was not there. The woman did not appear. Nadiyyah waited until she could no longer keep her eyes open. She went to bed feeling as though she might cry. Despite her exhaustion, sleep was a long time coming.

Nadiyyah never saw the candle or the woman again.

#short fiction #short story #microfiction #possibly I don't know

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omegaverse-council · 6 years ago

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Underneath all that Skin, Were Just Beasts in the End

HANNIGRAM FAN-FIC BY UNKNOWNMUSING

Summary

Prime Alpha: A rare form of Alpha, which possesses the ability to communicate by a mark on their wrist shaped in either shape – diamond, rectangle, square – depending how many mates that the shape represents or a tattoo in the shape of a tree, flowers or ferns; can communicate with this Mark, telepathically with the other mate/mates; can cause them pain, by pressing down on a certain part of the Mark shape/tattoo to stop them from doing anything threatening or advancing on one of the other Mates, when they are not ready;

They were considered a threat to society and because they were known for the occasional violent Rutting – which occurred when they chose to mate – they were culled as to stop it, leaving behind only the normal Omega and Alpha. Their scent, also can affect Omegas who have not been bonded.

Prime Omega – This another rare breed. Mostly keep to themselves and prefer to be in the company of Betas, who they can sympathize with. Heats last longer and can usually result in them producing an addicting scent which Prime Alpha’s and even Normal Alphas cannot avoid.

Prologue

Snow is falling, spiralling down onto the surface of the frozen river and coating it in a soft blanket as they keep their eyes closed, listening to the wind going through the branches of the barren, skeletal trees; the creatures of the night, burrowing through it to try and find food and soon hear what they are listening out for.

Opening their eyes, they see the “Omega”padding on all fours towards them and came up to them then lowering themselves down onto my hands and knees, pad around them as they do the same in the soft snow.

Both, stare at each other and padding closer to them, inhale deeply their scent – while they do the same to the “Alpha”then fully place their body up against mine, nuzzling against their soon to be mate’s cheek, with a quiver running through them and they hear them gasp softly. “Prime Alpha.”

They gasp out, breathlessly and turning their face look straight into the Alpha’s eyes then lunge at them, causing both to roll in the snow, until the Alpha manages to flip them onto their back, their body between their open thighs.

“Prime Omega” They purr out, bending my head down as the in the far distance the chorus of Wolves howling begins as they sense the beginning of a “Mating Ritual” as keening wails and growling, echo in the frosty night air of the large forest near the outskirts of Wolf Trap, Virginia.

10 YEARS LATER

Location: Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane

Jarin’s P.O.V:

“Jesus Christ!!? Someone get the Medic. That is the 18th Omega, been affected again.”

“Seriously!!? I’m new here and you’ve had 18 Omegas, been affected by this unknown scent”

“Yep, come on. Help me with this.”

They walk me out of the back entrance to the Baltimore State Hospital, while I hear those words before the solid door closes behind me then looking down the stairs, see standing near the Escort van is an old friend of mine and the oldest Alpha in the F.B.I – Detective Jack Crawford of the F.B.I. Behavioral Unit.

I’m lead down to him, the handcuffs chains on my ankles and wrists clinking slightly in the process and see he is trying to keep a calm composure at the fact I had been locked up for…a Crime, which people were still trying to understand.

No-one knew though, what I really was under the surface and it would stay that way until I found my “Mates” because I was the last of my kind.

I wasn’t Omega or Beta or even Alpha.

No, I was the rare kind – which had been culled right up onto the 20th Century – and that was “Prime Alpha” – a species, considered so dangerous that even the “Ruts” were violent and more savage than gentle.

A scent hits my nostrils, causing me to stiffen when it wafts through the gaps in the clear plastic mask that covers the lower half of my face and recognizing it, turn my face immediately making Dr. Chilton, stumble backwards at the look I give.

His stick, clattering to the ground.

Meeting Hannibal Lecter

Jarin’s P.O.V:

The building of the F.B.I Behavioral Unit Headquarters, which brings back many memories of working there is welcoming sight as I’m brought out of the Escort van by the orderlies. It not changed at all.

Still the same faded brickwork, with ivy crawling up one side of the walls and reaching my hands up, take the plastic mask off myself as the straps had been loosened by one of the orderlies than allow the straitjacket to fall onto the gravel of the car park.

I stretch like a cat, arching it’s back after a very deep sleep with my hands above my head, while cracking my neck side to side for the satisfying pop of air in my bones then lowering them slowly back down when I’m done.

Jack, is watching with amusement and the fact I was making even the orderlies embarrassed by the groaning of releasing the tension in my body then begin to walk to the double glass doors, which swing open to reveal the polished corridors.

The high heeled men boots - because I had changed my shoes in the Gent’s, chucking the other one’s given to me from Baltimore State Hospital in the bin - echo of the polished floor of the corridor.

Passing faces of some old and some new, which makes me see that a lot has changed since I’ve gone and come to Jack’s office, stopping when the door opens to reveal Will Graham.

Both of us are not surprised to see one another at all, because we were both firmly attuned to eachother - him being an Omega, thinking I was a Beta - and steps out the way, heading off to his lecture as my nostrils are soon filled with scent of a very thoroughbred Alpha.

The man with slicked back blonde hair, maroon eyes and distinct face - which looks like it could of been sculpted by a Greek artist - is standing having a look at a map that has pictures pinned to it of Five girls - which had all gone missing when I had been to some people elsewhere or on Holiday - then he stills, standing up with his back straightening up.

He turns fully around to see, who has come in and that is when the mark on my arm chooses to throb so intensely it is blinding as I move a hand to squeeze it to stop the pain.

He watches with curiosity at the action of it and comes up to me, causing me to quickly move over to the map myself to have a look to distract him.

“Sorry, Ex-Military wound still twinges on bad days.” I say, knowing it is a lie and it was actually the fact I was meeting one of my “Mates” for the first time.

“Hannibal Lecter.” He says, introducing himself to me and holding out his hand to shake, which I do so then he leans closer to me, scenting my neck like every Alpha did when they met either a “Beta” or “Omega” in their life.

I keep myself still, resisting the urge to bare my fangs at him and he pulls back with maroon eyes flicking up to look at me then thankfully Jack, comes in to distract him from going any further with me.

But I think what would have happened if Jack, hadn’t appeared.

Among the Hidden Desires We have for Each Other, We Find Each Other Again

Chapter Summary

Author Notes: Me: Enjoy this real gem I have written with the scenes thankfully inspired by listening to my “Musing Again” folder on my Youtube Channel where I found some really good Hannigram Music Videos. Hannibal: (Comes up behind an Author, wrapping arms around their waist) Missed me? Me: Maybe…Hannibal. Enjoy the chapter, folks. (Walks off and keeping an eye on one’s spleen)

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

Jarin Thorne, had first been adamant in coming to my house for Dinner and yet, changed his mind for some reason when I said it might help relax.

So, we could get to know eachother better and understand about his friend Will Graham.

“Thank you.” He says, allowing for his Cajun accent to slip more from him as I pour some more wine into his glass, while the both of us sit on the large chaise lounge in the sitting room.

Both of our thighs, are so close that any closer and they would be touching then he turns his gaze to look at me, beautiful eyes of stunning lilac – which seems to swirl like mist rising from the ground on a Winter’s day – and gulps slightly.

This action causes his Adam’s apple to bob slightly in his throat and leaning closer to him, bend down his neck to inhale deeply a mixture of scents on him – the shower shampoo; fake “Beta” perfume and underneath it, the faint ting of it his own natural scent – then feeling bolder, fully press my lips against his throat and bring my hand up to entangle it into his hair – soft, fine and long enough to pull his head back for me to expose his throat more.

A breathless gasp escapes him, followed by him quivering against me and starting to purr in a certain way that is usually associated with an “Alpha”in alcohol-fueled pleasure.

He presses more into me, arching his back slightly and pushing him backwards get between his thighs – which he spreads open for me – then begin to trail my lips up and down his neck.

His hands close to my waist unclench and clench on the soft fabric of the chaise lounge and seem to want to hold me. Yet, he seems to be thinking should he do it or should he not. Moving away from his neck, I kiss my way downwards to his lower half looking at the bulge in the confines of his black leather trousers then unbuckling his belt, un-pop the button and pull the zip down to allow his musky scent to fill my nostrils.

Flicking my eyes up to him, I see he has his head laid to one side on the creamy cushions and looking flushed from the alcohol in system – a rosy hue covering his cheeks – as well as an evident arousal in his body then his hand comes up, taking hold of the back of my head to push downwards into his groin area.

“Haa…Just…do…it. Make me…cum.” He gasps out, huskily with a deep “Alpha voice” and smirking at him, pull his leather trousers down along with his boxers then bend my head downwards, hearing a breathless gasp of my name come from him.

“Hannibal!!?”

Francis Dolerhyde’s P.O.V:

“Uhhhh……No…Stop, please…UHHHHH!!!”

“Good little Omega…That’s it…Clench your tight thighs around this Alpha cock.”

Afterwards, when they finally release me and their knot goes down, allowing me to collapse on top of the bed cover with my body still trembling from the aftereffects of what had transpired with the “Alpha” who I can hear walking about as they pick up their clothes from the bedroom floor of the bed-chambers, hear them muttering under their breath.

“Bloody, waste of time trying to breed you, if you don’t except an Alpha’s seed.”

I try to move, only to bite my bottom lip at the pain which radiates from lower half through my spine to where…. I don’t want to think about it….and just lay there, with the release trickling down the side of my thigh along with some slick and blood.

How long have I been here in this…mansion belonging to the Verger’s?

It feels like…what happened between me and Jarin only happened a couple of nights ago.

How long…will you keep me here, Mason Verger?

Jarin, if only you were here for me.

Jarin.

Jarin’s P.O.V:

“Jarin” A ghost like whisper of my name, causes me to shoot my eyes wide open and stare up at the ceiling of Hannibal’s large bedroom with feeling that have dug my claws into where my “Tattoo” is and drawn blood, which is starting to trickle down the sides of my arm.

I manage to sheathe them, pulling my hand away from it and bringing my arm up begin to lap up the blood small blood stream running down my arm allowing for my saliva to heal the small claw marks then lowering it back down, know it deep down it had been Francis through the “Bond” that we shared.

Oh, god!!?…. Francis, if only I could I reach back to you.

Where are you, my Great Red Dragon?

Who has you captive in a gilded cage, which you can’t escape from? Who?

Turning my head on the pillow, I look at where Hannibal, is sleeping with his hand curled in front of his face on the one of the pillows then swinging my legs out from underneath the cover, I place my feet on the carpet.

Sighing shakily, I bring my hands up to my face and drag them down it then getting up, head into the bathroom stopping at the open doorway to look back one more time at the sleeping“Alpha” with a soft smile at the sight of him just laying with a strand of his blondish hair falling in front of his face.

He looks so peaceful in his sleep, like nothing could disturb of it. I step into the bathroom, going over to the sink and filling it water then bending my face down, splash water in my face to get rid of the sweat – which coats it – and lifting it, stare at myself in the mirror.

The smashing noise, followed by tinkling glass falling into the bathroom sink disturbs him from his sleep and he shoots up, staring at me standing there with a clenched fist at my side – blood dripping from knuckles; claws unsheathed and ears now more pointed and fangs showing slightly – then breathing softly in and out, manage to relax my body enough for the tension to seep out of it.

“Sorry…. I don’t what overcame me, Hannibal. I usually have more self-control over myself.” I say, while he comes up to me and takes hold of my hand inspecting the bloodied knuckles then brings my hand up to his mouth.

His tongue flicks out of his beautiful lips, with the cupid bow above them and begins to lap up the blood – allowing for his “Alpha” saliva to heal it because of the “Bond” we had consummated last night – as I watch him, silently then his maroon eyes flick up to me, with such a look I grab hold of him and whirling him around, grab his throat with one clawed hand.

I push him down onto his hands and knees, forcing him to submit to the “Prime Alpha” – the inferior species above a normal “Alpha” and “Omega” – as he presents himself to me with his legs parting more apart as I place my hands on his ass-cheeks parting them.

I gulp down saliva, that is building up in my throat and with a growl of passiveness rising within me to protect all three of my “Mate’s” starting with him, I shove my hips forward causing him to give a keening wail, his back arching with such force – it shows the muscles in his body shifting, along with his spine showing – then still holding his hips, begin to shove mine back and forth at a fast pace into them.

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

The pain, the excruciating pain and pleasure mixed with what he is doing to me, with him shoving his… “Prime Alpha” cock in and out of me at such an intense, brutal pace causes keening wails to come from me – that are more animal like than human – as he pounds into me from behind.

Feeling a “Prime Alpha” inside my own “Alpha”body is nothing like I ever felt before, seeing as I lift my head slightly that the wardrobe mirror has been moved a certain way so it shows the reflection of him behind me and me, on my hands and knees then a clawed hand comes up, grabbing hold of my head by my hair and wrenching it backwards slightly to expose my throat more.

He goes harder, faster with each thrust within me sending a spiderweb of blossoming ecstasy through me with the movements jolting my body back and forth then I tense, clenching my thighs around him with a shudder running through me as I shoot one hand backwards to grip one of his hips tightly with my claws digging into it for support.

“Uhhhh……Oh, oh…God…. Jarin, I can’t. Please stop. Please.”

“Haa…. I’m sorry, but I can’t. Forgive…me.”

It soon happens, followed by blinding with agonizing pleasure going right through my whole body as I feel his knot swelling within me and he brings me up flush against his chest with my back against it still within me.

My head tilts backwards, resting on his shoulder with my chest rising and falling heavily with the fact I have a “Prime Alpha” knot inside me as he brings my hand up to hold my throat then begins to move again, jerking his hips back and forth into mine.

My eyelids flutter, followed by me bringing my hand up to hold the back of his head – sifting my hand through his hair – and licking my lips to moisten them, feeling myself shudder as well when I cum harder than ever with pearly ropes splattering onto the tilled floor of my bathroom, while my own knot aches to be in an “Omega” as well – especially the “Omega”Will Graham.

(TIME SKIP)

Afterwards, now driving to work and him heading in the other direction to the F.B.I Headquarters, I come to office then park in the spot, always reserved for the car.

Cutting the engine, I unclip the seat-belt and sitting back in the driver’s seat can still feel the ghostly sensation of Jarin -holding me, touching me afterwards where he had released within me, fingering me until I had cummed onto his chest and followed by him allowing me to suck his…. cock and swallow down his thick, creamy seed.

Coming out of the memories of our “Mating” from last night and the early hours of the morning, I step out the car with the sounds of the city filling my ears then close the Driver’s door behind me, seeing standing at the steps that lead to the door is…. Margo Verger!!?

I’m surprised to see her, especially since we had both promised each other not to see one another after…. that incident at Verger Mansion, with her brother Mason Verger……and sighing softly, walk up to the door stepping out of her way when she goes to reach for my arm.

I head up the steps, going inside and heading to my office, where outside sitting on the seats outside the main door to it….is Will Graham!!?.… looking pale; body shaking and the smell of what could only be the…. beginnings of a full-blown “Heat” starting within his body.

I go over to him, hauling him up and heading out with him to my car – where with growling at him in my “Alpha voice” manage to get him into the passenger seat, clipping the belt around him – then closing the passenger, quickly go around to the Driver’s side.

Inside, I reach over to squeeze his shoulder to reassure everything is going to be alright and I’m here…for him as he shivers, followed a fresh smell of slick wafting up my nostrils.

This was no ordinary “Heat”and hear him whimpering at me to just pull over somewhere secluded when we get out of the town to the outskirts with his “Omega voice” that I must reach for his neck, pressing on the pressure point that will put him to sleep for wee while then return my attention back to road, trying deep down to deny the ache between my thighs.

Will Graham’s P.O.V:

Hannibal Lecter – the “Alpha”– who I had met in Jack’s office, helps me into my house and turning my face, I stare into his maroon eyes then rest my forehead against his to breathe in his scent – a mixture of forest pine, fresh mountain dew and crisp snow – and feel it relax me for now.

I’m aching with moist, wetness of my slick – that is gushing down the inside of my thighs – and I’m glad he is taking me upstairs to the other bedroom so we don’t disturb the dogs then inside the bedroom, he holds me, watching my chest rise and fall heavily under my already sweat-soaked shirt.

“Haa……Could you help me out of my clothes, please?” I ask him, panting weakly with my rational side screaming at me not to give in and yet, I needed this.

Needed him.

He helps me, stripping of the soaked clothes and placing them over his arm, heads downstairs with them leaving me alone in the bedroom as I crawl onto the bed, pulling the duvet cover around sorting it into a “Nest” grabbing more pillows to place in it to rest my head on it.

I hear him coming back up, his own clothes falling to the floor with the mattress soon dipping with his weight as he clambers into the makeshift “Nest” soon snuggling up against my back.

He is warm, making me purr softly at him and turning my face nuzzle against his nose then he moves, getting over me on his hands and knees then kisses my shoulder, lightly followed by him trailing his lips to my scent gland – where he takes in deep, shuddering exhale of my scent – and trails them further downwards.

He stills suddenly, only to grunt again and again with little whimpers then hear him panting breathlessly, making me roll onto my back to see he is touching himself – his hand moving up and down his already leaking shaft that is becoming slicker with pearls of pre-cum running down it – and moving myself, I place my hands on his hips.

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

Will holds my hips, massaging circles into them with his hands while I now lay on the mound of pillows in the makeshift “Nest” with his head bobbing between my quivering thighs as I lay my head to one side on one of the pillows.

I slide my hand down to sift it gently through his hair, while the other I cup his jaw - stroking his cheek lightly with my thumb – with breathless gasps coming from me. I bring my legs up, slightly and begin to rock my hips slowly into his warm, moist mouth then he pulls off my shaft, straddling me with slick coating both our lower half’s.

He lifts himself up, taking hold of my…cock…in his hand and lowering himself on it with a hitched gasp, followed by me arching my own back slightly then hunch into his chest with labored gasp at becoming fully sheathed inside him – his warm, moistness with slick spreading more onto my thighs.

I wrap my arms around him, holding him close to me with my heart thudding against my ribcage – because this is my first ever time, being with an “Omega” in their most fertile “Heat”– and quivering lift my head to look up into his blueish green eyes then feel him bend his head down to nuzzle against his nose against mine, mouth opening to reveal beautiful “Omega” fangs and a soft whisper of my name.

Both us begin to set a pace, with him moving his hips up and down in a gentle figure of eight, while I push up in sync with his thrusts holding the back of his head with one hand – sifting it through his curly locks – and the other resting on his back.

It is a gentle “Mating Ritual” between us and I feel glad, I’m not in a full-on “Rut” – where from previous experiences I had lost control of myself, hence why the crimes of the Chesapeake Ripper happened because of it so I could distract myself from taking an “Omega” to chase; mate and breed with – then tilting my head backwards, suddenly find myself jerking my hips up and down with grunts breaking the silence of the spare bedroom.

I’m so close, the pressure building along with my knot within him and gripping him tightly lay back down on the mound of pillows with both my hands sliding down to grip his hips to encourage him to keep on moving over me – riding me – then trembling, hair falling in front of my eyes with sweat running down my body in thick rivulets.

“Haa…. Will…I’m going to…cum. I’m…going to cum.”

“I…haa…know, Hannibal. I’m as well. Cum and knot inside me.”

“Mano Meile, Will. I…. love you.”

It soon happens, causing us both to arch in mirror sync and finding myself digging my claws into his hips with bruising strength – knowing I would have to sort it in the morning – give a keening wail of pleasure of his name as he does the same with mine.

“WILLL!!?”

“HANNIBAL!!?”

The shattering, intense orgasms surges through the both of us causing tears to form in my eyes to run down my cheeks and pulling him down flush against my chest surge forwards with my fangs biting straight down into his scent gland to consummate the “Bond” as he does the same to mine then I’m cumming harder than ever with my knot locking inside him with both of us shuddering in the makeshift “Nest” followed by both of us letting go each other shoulders – where blood is starting to trickle down mine.

He lifts his head, noticing I am trembling more than he is and give another tremble underneath him, followed by me releasing another gush of liquid warmth into him then both of us collapse - with the only sounds now in a spare bedroom - our labored breathing; hearts pounding against rib-cages and the smell of a most, emotional and intense “Mating Ritual”– and lay there waiting to get our breath’s back.

I’m soaking in sweat, just like him and letting go of his hips allow my hands to fall loosely at my sides then lay my head to one side, bringing one hand up to grip the duvet cover for support wincing as my knot soon goes down and allows him to move away, only to choose to lay next to me with his head settling on my chest.

“How do you feel? I…” I begin to say, only to gulp down the saliva building in my throat and go to continue when he shushes me by placing a finger on my lips.

“Don’t talk. I’ll be in “Heat” again soon and….it may take a couple of days of you staying here with me.” He replies, making me nod in reply and settling more down allow him to curl into me as both of us fall asleep so were well prepared for what happens.

Will Graham’s P.O.V:

“Uhhhh…. Oh, oh, oh……Harder, Hannibal…. Harder.”

“Fuck!!?…. Oh, Will….” He grunts behind, swearing for the first time – well the first time I hear it – and continues to undulate his hips back and forth into mine from behind while I’m up on my hands and knees in the normal “Mating pose for Omegas” at a certain, intense pace with him sliding a hand to the back of my head.

He grabs hold of the back of it by my hair, pulling it backwards to expose my neck so hard it bends my spine more and causes me to spread my legs more widely apart then he begins to move again.

But this time, it is harder like I asked followed by squelching due to my slick – gushing more down the inside of my thighs – and how it feels pleasurable with him going deeper within me then just as his knot forms, he pulls out of me.

Soon bending down to scent me with his nose trailing near my Scent gland.

“Sorry, it’s just…your scent has changed. I think, you need to check with one of the “Omega” pregnancy testing kits, I placed in your bathroom cabinet in case something like this happened.” He whispers, with happiness in his voice that I had successfully conceived his “Pup” or “Kit” and turns me over, soon kissing me on the lips.

I kiss him back, smiling softly in the kiss and reaching into the bedside cabinet pull out the one’s he is talking about then getting out a strip, slide of the bed and head to the bathroom – keeping the door open so he can watch me. “Do want the good news?” I ask him, looking at the double pink strip – which meant in a “Omega pregnancy testing kit” that one had conceived – and he nods in reply then continue.

“You’re a…. Father.”

Never had I seen Hannibal, so emotional and when he comes over grabbing hold of me to lift me up, I look down at him cupping both his cheeks to hold as his maroon eyes sparkle with unshed tears of happiness; joy and comfort he was getting a family with me.

Jarin’s P.O.V:

Happiness, joy and something else is surging through the “Bond” tattoo on my wrist from a far distance in the other place as I sit on the windowsill of a window in – Florence, Italy – with on leg up on it, while the other is on the floor.

I know I shouldn’t have left Hannibal and Will, along with Jack – who had insisted that I should stay and yet, he back down when I told him the reason was I needed some time alone – then know what I’m feeling is that Will, has managed to conceive with his first ever fertile “Heat”and Hannibal had mated with him.

The apartment door, opening makes me turn my gaze from the view of the glittering city at night to see Francis Dolerhyde – my “Prime Omega” - being led inside by Margo Verger then he lifts his face to suddenly stiffen in shock as he recognizes me.

He walks up to me, falling into my chest and sliding down the wall, below the windowsill with me holding him close to me as he softly whimpers at the fact were both back together.

I kiss his forehead, cheeks and eyelids followed by brushing my lips tentatively against his to test my reaction – feeling them quiver against mine – so pull back, but he brings his hand up taking hold of the back of my head to pull me back down again kissing me with gentle passion.

It becomes bolder, followed by him pressing his lower half into mine with his tongue licking across my lips – seeking permission to enter – which I soon allow then lifting him up, carry him out of the sitting room up the stairs to the large bedchamber – where the “Nest” for him as been prepared.

I lay him down in it, watching as he stares wide eyes at the old fake fur blankets – that had belonged to him, when we had lived together in the sea house on one of the islands of Greece– and begins to nuzzle into them, unwittingly – but still intentional – presenting his leather trouser clad butt to me.

This makes me step closer to bed, watching silently as he stills in his nuzzling and turning to face me, keeps his head bowed – not showing me it – then with my hand shaking, reach for his chin.

I manage to cup his chin, tilting it up so he looks at me and resting my forehead against his nuzzle my nose against his, deeply inhaling his scent - a crackling fire in warm hearth, with smoking curl of whisky and mixed herbs – then clamber into the “Nest” with him, taking hold of me to pull me over him.

Purring from the both of us, begins to fill the bedchamber – along with tears running down our cheeks of happiness that after such a long time and thanks to Margo Verger, we been reunited together – and laying on my side, kiss him on the lips lightly.

He kisses back, softly and gently with his hands coming up to rest on my chest – where my heart, which thuds against my ribcage lays – and it just how we consummate for now the “Bond” taking it slowly like we were Lovers meeting for the first time.

Finding Out One’s Mate Sadly Can’t Carry No More and Sometimes it Hurts to Feel Emotions

Chapter Summary

Author Note: Me: (Running through the snow of the Forest) Okay, Hang on….Hannibal, this not funny…Ooff!! (Knocked over by snowball)

Hannibal: That is for a late Chapter. (Smirking at Author)

Me: (Whipping snow out of hair, to glare at him as he gives amused look) Bite me.

Hannibal: Don’t tempt me. (Teeth flashing with hint of fang showing)

Me: Oh, Sugar cakes….Sorry, folks got to gooooooo!!( Running off as Hannibal runs after them, closely followed by Will who is holding his side and breathing like he just run a marathon)

Will: (Sees a quad bike near a tree) Hmmm!! Interesting, yes I think will. (Pinches keys and drives off in flurry of snow, while laughter can be heard in the forest, origin unknown of it)

Francis Dolerhyde’s P.O.V:

The smell of cooking, makes me lift my head from the mound of the “Nest” to sniff the air and crawling out of it onto the floor, I pad through the to the kitchen seeing Jarin, is standing there wearing a simple tank top; white jeans and an apron wrapped around his waist.

I go up to nudging his thigh with my head, making him stop cooking to look down at me with him placing the cooking pot on the back ring then hauls me up to my feet, wrapping his arms around me. I bury my face into the crook of his neck, just feeling glad to be with him after all the time I had been separated from him and yet, I’m afraid to tell him about what had happened to me.

“Is something wrong?” He asks me, voicing deep concern for me when I pull back slightly with my arms loosely around his neck and sighing decide to tell him.

“I…was treated like a…Broodmare…when in the hands of Mason Verger. He tried…multiple times to get me to accept Random “Alpha’s” to breed me for “Pups” or “Kits” …though in his case he wanted the males from me. I…never conceived and so he had me diagnosed by a special Doctor. I’ve…. Jarin…” I say, stopping when I can’t continue my sentence so take a breather to calm myself waiting for my heartrate to settle then finally continue it. “He…by doing what he did to me……I’ve…. become……Infertile…meaning I can’t give us…what I wanted for…so such a long time.”

My voice soon breaks, causing me to slide down on the floor, with him holding me tightly in his arms as I start to cry heavily for the chance that has been taken from me – the chance of having a family with him – and begin to tremble at the fact I will never hear; hold or see little one’s playing around with the both of us.

“Oh, god!!!?…. Oh, god!!!?…Just as I find our other “Mates” and that piggish Bastard has…I kill him, I swear to you I will kill him for you with him paying for what he has taken from us.” He hisses, pulling back to look at me with lilac eyes – changed into predatory mode – and gets up, hauling me to my feet.

Yes, Mason Verger…will pay for what has done.

And, I will watch you…Jarin.

I will watch you kill him for me.

Your “Great Red Dragon” …and Your “Prime Omega”.

I will…watch.

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

Will is humming some of the classical music that is playing on the radio in his kitchen, while I prepare us both some breakfast – after some gentle lovemaking upstairs on the sheets of our “Nest” and wonder how many little one’s would be running around in the future ahead – and looking over to him, begin to dish out the breakfast on two separate plates.

Picking them up, I carry them over to the kitchen island and place his in front of him – noticing he immediately he is eyeing the slices of bacon on my plate, because when an “Omega” conceived they tended to favour certain meats to conserve their chance – and before I can stop him, pinches them off my plate it makes me give small “Hey” in a joking manner at him and politely slapping his hand to stop him from taking the rest.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it. You were so absorbed in your daydreaming.” He says, making me bend down to kiss his cheek lightly, moving to nuzzle his nose as both smile at it then he playfully tries to nip at mine with his small cute – but when it came to be being in the bed, deadly – fangs as I purr softly at him.

“Alpha purrs” were form of communication between a “Bonded pair” and came in different varies of forms to show either Anger; rage; grief or even just pure Happiness at being with one’s Mate.

He soon begins to purr as well, making me nuzzle more against his neck – which I travelled down to - inhaling his scent with my eyes fluttering close at it and would have continued my ministrations if hadn’t been for his phone ringing loudly on the kitchen counter. This makes me sigh, pulling back to allow him to get off the stool and he picks it up, looking at the screen revealing it is…Jack Crawford.

He answers, listening to the man quietly without him speaking and nodding to something that makes the hairs for some reason on the back of my neck stand up for the first time.

Even though, I myself could compose myself when it came to controlling emotions – the way he had nodded was sending little warning signals in my head like sparklers being lit – it still brought some fear into my system for his safety and that of our unborn “Pups” or “Kits”growing within him now.

“I’ve got to go, Hannibal. It seems…last night…some murders happened. It…involves someone killing young pregnant “Omegas” and mutilating their bodies to point where they can’t be recognised except by the…Claiming bites on their Scent glands.” He says, causing me to immediately grab hold of him by the hips with protection rising upwards within me it causes my “Alpha” pheromones to spread out into the air like a deterrent to warn off an almost invisible “Alpha” in the room.

“You’re not going. I’m not losing you……I’m not losing you, like I did…Mis…” I begin to say only to stop myself when I nearly say my little Sister’s name – my Sister, who been the only female “Beta” in my family – and try to compose myself yet it is too late because he has noticed it and felt it through the “Bond” we share.

“Hannibal, if you’re talking about…. I mean if you’re talking about…your Sister – Mischa – I…. heard you whimper her name in your sleep…. last night.” He says, shocking me as I feel tears blind my eyes.

Before, I can even stop myself, I start to cry heavily with him, wrapping his arms around me as he walks me backwards to sit on the kitchen stool and pushes my head into his chest – covered by the warm, fluffy white nightgown – as he sifts a hand through my hair to help calm me.

“Haa…. She was the only one, I couldn’t protect…when they came for us. I wasn’t that strong, during my younger days as an “Alpha” and so was easily overpowered by the…thugs. They raped her…in front of me, Will and…. forced me to watch it.” I whisper, voice breaking with such emotion it causes me to fully wrap my arms around him to hold him closer to me and breathing in his scent to try to soothe me…which is thankfully.

“Hannibal, look at me…Hannibal, my…Love…look at me, please.” He says, his own voice breaking with words, so lift my head from his chest to look up at him seeing he is also crying with tears running down his cheeks.

“Sorry, I…. was going to tell you…. Was I going tell you, Will?……I miss her, so much….so much.” I weep out, pulling back to bring a shaking hand to my lips and just holding him close to me with my other hand.

I can’t stop crying.

It’s the first time my emotions are unleashing with such force it hurts to feel it.

It hurts to feel it.

It hurts to feel...Love from him.

Will Graham’s P.O.V:

Alana Bloom is the one raging at me, while I now sit in Jack’s office with cup of hot milk to calm my…. own to confess…. fucking nerves at what has transpired this morning with Hannibal in the kitchen, due to the fact I was now “Knocked up by own Therapist” her words not mine.

“What the hell were you thinking, Will? He’s your Therapist, not……Were you even thinking?”

“Alana, I was…in Heat when I arrived at his office. You can’t deny your body’s instincts when that happens”

“You were in……Heat?”

The way she says it, makes me lift my head to look up at her from the cup of hot milk and frown at her……You make it sound, you didn’t know or you just thought I was normal “Beta” like you……seeing how she is starting to pace back and forth, while the office door opens as Jack, comes in with Hannibal.

My “Alpha” and getting up out the chair, go up to him and feel him wrap his arms around me, kissing the top of my forehead as a “Alpha Purr” comes from him – that he doesn’t even bother to stop – then places hand on my abdomen, making me press more into him because of the endorphins running through my body then leads me over so we can both sit in the sofa in Jack’s office.

He keeps it there, resting it, where either his “Pups” or “Kits” grow within my womb and turning my face nuzzle into the warmness of his chest, while Jack smiles at the happiness he is seeing him making me feel then a phone ringing interrupts the bliss around us.

Jack, grumbles and getting out his phone answers only to stand up immediately as both me and Hannibal, hear him saying “Jarin Thorne” followed by the rest becoming confusing blur of him telling Hannibal to get his car and that he was needed at once at a place called Muskrat Farm as there had been incident that had occurred.

“Hannibal, just make it back safely.” I hear myself saying, whimpering it in a “Omegan Voice” as I lift my head up to consider his eyes and he kisses me breathlessly in reply to it, holding me close to him as something wet plips onto my cheeks.

“I will…I will.” He whispers back, voice breaking in the process.

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fathersonholygore · 8 years ago

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Hulu’s The Path Season 2, Episode 9: “Oz” Directed by Patrick Norris Written by Coleman Herbert

* For a recap & review of the previous episode, “Return” – click here * For a recap & review of the next episode – click here The unburdening tapes are being used now with more force by Sarah Lane (Michelle Monaghan). She goes to one person, then the next, the next. Using the dirty little secrets of everybody against them. Such a creepy sequence. Reminds me of something you’d see from Scientologists, blackmailing people to stay, or else their “fragile house of lies” come toppling down. Clearly Sarah knows she’s doing awful things, yet she is so tied to Meyerism she has no identity otherwise. So, she’ll fight dirty to save what she loves. Eddie (Aaron Paul) sits alone in a church thinking. A priest comes and sits with him. They talk about their life’s path, how they came to faith, their calling. He’s searching for his own answers about his calling with the Meyerist movement. In other news, Abe Gaines (Rockmond Dunbar) is in shit with the higher ups. Because the movement’s paid off their back taxes. No more leverage for the feds. This puts Abe in a tough spot. Now he’s going to try harder to catch Cal (Hugh Dancy) and the movement red-handed. And that could lead to some trouble. Eddie meets with Richard (Clark Middleton) and Felicia (Adriane Lenox) in a hotel. To talk about what’s next for Meyerism. She doesn’t totally believe what’s happening, in regards to Eddie as Steve’s choice to lead them forward. The only way she’ll accept it? He must “continue the climb” to 8R. Mary Cox (Emma Greenwell) is introduced to the cult deprogrammer Sean’s (Paul James) mother has brought in, though she isn’t interested. She can tell what’s going on, and there’ll be resistance. Finally, Sarah reveals to Cal she’s paid off the back taxes to keep them afloat. This stresses him out. He’s not the saviour, he isn’t the leader. She is taking charge like never before. You can see how it bothers him. He’s not exactly great at hiding his inner feelings, despite what he may think of himself. Note: more instances in this scene of how Cal is cast in shadow often, behind the veil of darkness, and there are other times he’s half in the light, half in shadow to convey a split sense of who he is as a person. Abe a.k.a Sam goes sniffing around the donors who helped with the tax bill. He figures out about the blackmail, something he already suspect, anyways. I only keep worrying about what’ll happen to Abe if he pokes in the wrong places.

Hawk (Kyle Allen), Hank (Peter Friedman), Russel (Patch Darragh), they all worship Sarah’s supposed good deed of saving their cult. The only one unsure, as usual, is Nicole (Ali Ahn). And more every episode I start feeling as if she’s going to play a part in Abe’s eventual plan to catch Cal and the movement in their ugliness. On top of everything, the guilt is flowing through Sarah as eager as the blood in her veins. Like you didn’t see it coming, Cal still keeps in close contact with Mary. He goes to see her before the upcoming trip to Baltimore. She talks to him about The Wizard of Oz, which she was given by the deprogrammer. He’s there because a family is what he needs, only he’s far too dysfunctional and damaged in his own right to be with anyone properly. As for Mary I’m starting to think she’s seeing the truth about Meyerism. Or at least, I want her to see. Cal: “I‘m a husk, Mary. I wanna be vapour. I wanna metamorphose. We can do it together. Swim in the sea. What do you say?” On his way up the Ladder, Eddie’s guided by Felicia into his own mind. He’s at a bus stop, and when a bus arrives it’s filled with people who have no faces. Just a head covered in skin. What does it all mean? He believes it has to do with the cult’s Denier Policy. He wants it changed, as per his vision. The faceless were those outside the movement and this isn’t any way to treat the outside world, nor is it any way to treat those who’ve been shunned as deniers.

Physically, Abe and Nicole get closer. He also gets a bit of information: the unburdening tapes are in the movement’s archive room. In the meantime, they bang on the floor in a storage room. A little secret to keep between each other. Out in the real world, Eddie goes to see Tessa Bishop (Alexia Landeau) – Sarah’s sister, who long ago broke away from the Meyerists and all their nonsense. Cal and Sarah keep on having issues. He says he can’t get up and speak with her at the conference. He says he’s having problems with his conviction. Then she admits to her blackmail for the donations. Essentially, after the murder and the blackmail they’ve both got to keep going, for one another. If only for the sacrifices they’ve made to get to that point. This is an effective point in the series overall, is that anyone who gets lost in a religion, a cult, anything of that, eventually becomes so lost they don’t even know why they’re still walking further. But Meyerists, they have a weird little ritual they do similar to the Catholics’ confession, to wash away their sins/convince themselves that their sins are washed away. Sarah and Cal find themselves on the same page again. For better or worse. Sarah (to Cal): “Make me believe” What Eddie wants to do, underneath his new leader exterior, is change the movement. To show them the truth. When Tessa walks out on him because she can’t deal with any of that, he winds up running into Ashley (Amy Forsyth), Hawk’s old girlfriend. Hmm. I wonder if she’ll play a further role, maybe to help get Hawk away from all the madness. She actually turns up at the centre to see him later. One big surprise.

Back at the hotel after their conference, Cal and Sarah become one. Not only in their emotional headspace, their wants and needs. They fall in bed together. And this just feeds into their shared delusions of Meyerism, it won’t help anything. Not to mention it’ll take Sarah farther from Eddie than she already is. Above all, she’s fallen into a black hole, one crime after another with Cal. Abe is snooping in the archives. He finds the tape of an unburdening with Don Hendren written on it. Eddie receives a visit from Hank, about his meeting with Tessa. “Our families need to be mended,” he tells his estranged father-in-law. He says Steve chose him to lead, and that soon he will replace Cal; that they can make something better out of their movement. We end on a strange moment, when Hank and Eddie embrace. Suddenly Eddie is bleeding from his side/back, almost like one of the wounds of Christ.

This second season is fantastic! I can’t believe that some critics have said there’s nothing overly enjoyable or worth fleshing out in these episodes. Are they watching the same series? I don’t think so. The Path – Season 2, Episode 9: “Oz” Hulu's The Path Season 2, Episode 9: "Oz" Directed by Patrick Norris Written by Coleman Herbert…

#Aaron Paul #Cult #Hugh Dancy #Hulu #Meyerism #Michellen Monaghan #Season 2 #The Path

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gordonwilliamsweb · 5 years ago

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Funeral Homes, Families Ponder Deaths In The Age Of COVID-19

As COVID-19 cases spread across the nation, disrupting daily routines for the living, growing numbers of U.S. businesses and families are changing how they deal with the dead.

Funeral homes — already well-versed in ways to prevent disease — are implementing even stricter protocols to handle bodies infected with the novel coronavirus.

Families of people who die from any cause, not just COVID-19, are being asked to scale back how they memorialize their loved ones by changing or postponing funeral services, limiting the number of people who can attend and increasingly using online tools.

“The overwhelming majority of families understand,” said Matt Levinson, president of a Maryland funeral home that is limiting private graveside services to 10 people or fewer to comply with federal guidelines. “They’re not happy about it, but they understand that safety is more important.”

More than 7,700 cases of COVID-19 have been confirmed in the U.S., and more than 115 deaths, although infectious-disease experts say those figures are likely vast undercounts.

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In Washington state, where more than 1,100 people have been infected by the virus and more than 65 have died from the disease, funeral homes in the Seattle area and beyond are bracing for more bodies.

“Once the medical system gets overwhelmed, who’s next?” said Sandra Walker, president of the Washington Cemetery, Cremation and Funeral Association. “That would be us.”

Across the U.S., about 7,800 people die each day from any cause, a number that is only expected to increase. It’s impossible to predict how many people will die from COVID-19 disease, with U.S. estimates ranging from tens of thousands to more than 2 million in a worst-case scenario.

That’s expected to fuel a grim rise in business for mortuaries and crematoriums, said Barbara Kemmis, executive director of the Cremation Association of North America. Nearly 55% of people in the U.S. opt for cremation, with about 40% choosing traditional burials.

“We’ve come out of the flu season and, for much of the U.S., the winter weather, where death rates are usually higher,” Kemmis said. “What a lot of funeral businesses are preparing for now is no slowdown.”

Federal government guidelines banning gatherings of more than 10 people, plus state and local directives ordering residents to shelter in place, will curtail all but the most basic rituals.

In Washington, D.C., Arlington National Cemetery is closed to the general public to stem the spread of infection. Though funerals can still be held there, at least three dozen have been postponed in the past week, said Barbara Lewandrowski, the site’s director of public affairs.

“Each individual family has a personal reason for waiting,” she said.

Jack Mitchell, a spokesman for the National Funeral Directors Association and director of a Baltimore funeral home, had a service scheduled for Thursday at a local retirement center. Amid coronavirus concerns, the center abruptly canceled the reception and post-cremation burial ceremony.

“I’m going to hold the urn and they’ll have the service at a later time,” Mitchell said.

As funeral workers handle more bodies potentially infected with the COVID-19 virus, they’re doubling down on their usual precautions to avoid disease, said Rob Goff, executive director of the Washington State Funeral Directors Association.

“We’re not sure how long the virus will last on deceased human tissue at this point,” he said.

Workers transporting bodies are advised by health officials to place masks over the mouths and noses of those who have died because bodies can exhale the virus when moved. Workers also should use double body bags to contain them, Goff said. Guidelines from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention call for disinfecting the outside of body bags and following embalming precautions for hard-to-kill viruses.

Funeral homes are discouraging touching or kissing the bodies of people who have died of COVID-19, said Bob Achermann, executive director of the California Funeral Directors Association.

“Those cultures where you may have different customs, such as bathing the body or a shroud, you may think about whether that’s advisable when COVID-19 was the diagnosis,” he said.

More funerals — and the arrangements for them — are being conducted online, Achermann added, to protect staff, families and guests from potential infections.

As a result, demand is surging for virtual funeral webcasts and other online services. Funeral-related websites, including eCondolence.com and shiva.com, have seen a “tremendous increase” in online traffic, said Michael Schimmel, chief executive of Sympathy Brands, an online marketplace.

“People just want to make sure they do the right thing,” he said.

David Lutterman, the chief executive of OneRoom, an international firm that has specialized in livestreaming funerals for the past decade, said the company’s 100,000 weekly views have spiked about 60%.

“It’s almost like the ability to stream a service has suddenly become the most important thing a funeral home can do,” said Lutterman.

Still, the crisis is difficult for families who may not be able to mourn in their usual way. At the Sol Levinson & Bros. funeral home in Pikesville, Maryland, staff members are advising Jewish clientele to forgo the traditional sitting shiva ritual that invites mourners to gather at the family’s home, Levinson said.

In Hayward, California, where a shelter-in-place order is in effect, in-person viewings continue at Chapel of the Chimes, a 61-acre cemetery and funeral home complex. But visitors there are being asked to stagger their arrivals to keep groups smaller than 10, and to follow social-distancing and hygiene guidelines.

“Our families are being incredibly gracious,” said General Manager David Madden, noting that funeral homes are considered essential businesses that can remain open.

Many funeral directors in Washington state are limiting the number of family members allowed in waiting rooms and offices, or they’re conducting business using email, remote document signing and other electronic tools. That means less in-person support for families.

“Typically, when people are grieving, they like to console each other,” Walker said. “It’s already a tough time for families, and this kind of compounds their grief.”

Walker and others are watching closely as public health experts work to slow growing numbers of COVID-19 cases. She’s seen the frightening reports from Italy, where traditional funerals have been outlawed and bodies are piling up in hospital morgues.

She wouldn’t speculate about whether that scenario could happen in the U.S.

“I don’t want to say we’re going to be Italy,” she said. “I just think we have to do one day at a time. I told my team today, It might be one hour at a time.”

Funeral Homes, Families Ponder Deaths In The Age Of COVID-19 published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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stephenmccull · 5 years ago