#and it’s self-fulfilling on some level too. I’ve learned that and want to do better at the next opportunity.

[lukasagitta]

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[dancingbirdie]

This request is really out of the blue but, i need I CRAVE i require a fic where tav and astarion finally find a cure for his vampirism (in dnd5 it can actually happen yay!) and he manages to see his reflection again and finally have his natural eye color again (blue bc he's prob a moon elf but I don't mind other colors too). The fangs can stay or not, idc, i just want my boy happy, in love, and cared for. Bonus points if there's cuddles too

OK first of all, thanks for this prompt!! Second, I had to break this up into two parts because I'm afraid of how unwieldy it would get otherwise. So see part 1 below. I'm actively writing part 2 and should have that posted within the next few days. Hope you enjoy!

UPDATE: Chapter 2 available here!

I Promised You (Chapter 1)

Rating: G

Pairing: Astarion x GN!reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings/Tags: mentions of unconsciousness, cheeky banter, domestic life, post-events of BG3, potentially problematic levels of self-sacrifice by reader.

***

“All right. I think you’re ready,” Gale affirmed as he peered over your shoulder, analyzing your hand movements as you practiced the incantation. 

“You think? Shouldn’t we wait until you’re sure?” you replied, heavy skepticism coloring your tone. 

“I can’t give you my complete assurance because you haven’t actually cast the spell,” the wizard sighed. 

The two of you had had this argument many times over the past several months as you studied and practiced. And studied and practiced some more. The conclusion was always the same, but your anxiety always managed to convince you that a different outcome would be had if you just asked him again. 

Conjuration magic was one of the most difficult forms to master. Yes, you had specialized in it during your formative years, under the tutelage of several learned wizards across Faerûn, but this spell was perhaps the pinnacle of feats in conjuration. Only a handful of wizards could perform it. Thankfully Gale was among that number, which is why you had come to him for help.

“As I’ve said, this isn’t a spell you can just cast for practice runs,” he continued. “You have one chance. And if it works, the sheer power of it is undoubtedly going to knock you unconscious.” 

“I know, I know,” you grumbled. “I just… I need to be absolutely perfect. I have to do this. For him.” 

“Have you told him what you’re planning yet?” Gale prodded.

“No. Not yet. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Or have him tell me how unlikely success will be. Not until I was absolutely sure I could do this.” 

“I see,” the wizard returned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, tonight is as good a time to tell him as any. There’s nothing more I can teach you to prepare for this. You know the incantation by heart. You perform the gestures almost through muscle memory now. You’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” you repeated, as if saying the words would will it to be so. 

“Send me a missive if he wants to go through with this. I’ll come to the cottage and oversee the spell’s casting.”

“All right,” you nodded.

“It’s going to work. You have to believe it’s going to work,” Gale encouraged, meeting your eyes with a serious, stern sort of expression.

“It’s going to work,” you agreed. “It’s going to work.” 

***

It was dusk by the time you returned to the cottage. It was a modest home you shared with Astarion, situated just outside the city walls. It had a lovely view of the rolling hills that surrounded Baldur’s Gate, and proximity to the Chionthar River gave the air a refreshing, misty feel. Pastoral communities dotted the countryside with sheep and cattle grazing freely during the day, though they had returned to their stables long before your return.

Astarion was no fan of the bucolic lifestyle, as he was wont to remind you. But you both agreed that this living situation afforded him better meal prospects than the rats, cats and errant stray dogs that dwelled within the city limits. At least this way, he had more fulfilling options for food, since the livestock attracted their fair share of large predators. A mild, perpetual confusion charm that you cast kept the neighbors from questioning why – unlike their peers in neighboring villages and towns – their animals were never plagued by roving bears and panthers. 

Astarion was lounging listlessly in the bay window of the den when you entered your home, one leg dangling off the ledge of his reading nook while he carelessly flipped through a book. Probably one he had pilfered from Gale’s stockpile a few weeks ago, you surmised. There had been an uptick in the wizard’s grumbling about discrepancies in his library catalog of late. 

“Anything interesting?” you asked as you shrugged out of your traveler’s cloak and hung it on the coat rack by the door. 

“Ugh, hardly,” Astarion grouched. “Nothing but debunked theories and philosophies from bloated scholars who died a hundred years ago.”

“You’re going to have to return Gale’s books to him eventually, you know. He’s beginning to realize how many from his library are missing.”

“Haven’t the slightest clue what you’re referring to, darling,” he replied breezily.

“Of course, love,” you chuckled, planting a kiss on his forehead as you passed him by to make your way into the kitchen. 

“Care for a glass of wine?” you called.

“Mm, yes,” Astarion returned. “Red, please, dear.”

Uncorking the bottle and pouring the glasses gave you a brief moment to collect your thoughts. To steel your nerves for the conversation looming before you. Drawing a deep breath in and exhaling it slowly, you made your way back into the den and braced for the inevitable. 

“Darling, do you have a moment?” you asked as you offered Astarion his glass before taking a seat next to him. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Gods, it must be serious,” he teased, straightening from his reclined pose to take the proffered glass and make room for you. “You like you’re about to be ill. Go on then, love, before you faint and spill this vintage all over the floor.”

“It is rather serious, in fact,” you began, clearing your throat that had suddenly become tight with nerves.  “I’ve waited to tell you until now, but I’ve been researching some more difficult conjuration magic with Gale the past few months…”

“Oh?” Astarion prompted as you paused. “For what purpose, darling? I thought you had already mastered the school of conjuration.”

“I have. But this is a more specialized form. More… niche, I guess one might say. And, well…” you trailed off again, hesitant.

“Go on,” he encouraged. 

“I’ve-been-researching-a-spell-that-cures-vampirism-and-I-think-I’ve-found-a-way,” you spat out all at once, the words tumbling into each other like a wagon train gone wild. 

Astarion met your eyes with a blank stare, seemingly forgetting that his one hand had been in the process of lifting the wine glass to his lips. 

“I beg your pardon?” he asked hoarsely.

You coughed to clear your throat. “What I mean to say is: I’ve been working with Gale for months now to learn a spell that can cure your vampirism. He and I believe I’m ready to perform it. If you would allow me to try, that is.”

“If this is your idea of a joke,” he murmured, a slight quiver in his voice. “Then I have to tell you, it’s absolutely not funny at all.”

“It’s not a joke!” you assured. “I swear to you, Astarion. It’s not a joke,” you continued, squeezing one of his hands in yours. 

He nodded absently, his gaze trained on your thumb as it soothed over the knuckles of his fingers.

“H-how?” he whispered finally. “How can you cure it? I’ve read every tome I could get my hands on for over two hundred years. Nothing, nothing, I’ve read has ever offered a solution.”

“Because this is a highly guarded spell. It’s only passed down through oral tradition among wizards who specialize in conjuration magic. Which is why I’ve needed Gale’s help,” you explained. “I broached the topic with him some time ago, told him how we were going to look for some way to cure your vampirism. Being a master of magicks himself, I thought he would be a good source of information for me to begin my research. I wasn’t even aware of the spell until he shared it with me. He’s been teaching me the mechanics of it since then. It’s been a difficult spell to master but–” 

“What’s the cost?” Astarion interjected suddenly, meeting your gaze with a new intensity.

“It will cost you nothing, obviously,” you retorted, disliking where the conversation was heading. 

Astarion huffed through his nose. A caustic, frustrated sort of sound. “Don’t play cute with me, darling. You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t,” you hedged.

“What will the spell cost you,” he bit out through a clenched jaw. 

You bit your lip, hesitant to reply. Astarion’s gaze never wavered. 

Finally you sighed. Better to reveal the consequences of it all than attempt to hide the downsides from him. Even though they were negligible in your eyes, compared to the wonder that would be returning his elfhood to him, you knew he would resent being told only partial truths. You couldn’t fault him for it. You would feel the same, were the roles reversed. 

“It will permanently weaken me. There’s a small, very small, chance it could kill me if I perform it wrong,” you confessed.

“No,” Astarion responded bluntly, without a hint of hesitation. He rose from the bench and made to leave the room. As if the matter had been settled and it was time to crack on. 

“Wait! What do you mean, ‘no’?” you blurted. Jumping to your feet, you snatched at the sleeve of his nightshirt. 

He turned to peer at you with a haughty gaze, one eyebrow arched delicately. “Exactly that. No. You’re not risking your life on the off chance of this working.”

“But it’s not an off chance. It will work! And the likelihood of me dying is incredibly slim!” you protested.

“But the likelihood of you being ‘permanently weakened’ is essentially certain, yes?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounds. And besides, I don’t mind. I want to do this, Astarion.”

He scoffed. “Have you gone absolutely mad? ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ Do you even know what will actually happen to you afterwards?” he shot back angrily.

“No,” you admitted, a bit quieter. 

He deliberately widened his eyes at your response, crossing his arms across his chest as if to say See? My point proven. 

“But I know I can handle it! And I love you enough to try!” you retorted.

That appeared to be the wrong choice of words. You realized it immediately as his expression morphed from outright anger to something darker, icier.

“Well then, it seems we’re at an impasse, darling,” he growled. “Because I love you enough not to have you go through with this.” 

You opened your mouth to object once more, but he continued, ignoring you. 

“AND, since it is my body and my life we’re discussing, it means I have the final say on the matter. My answer is no.”

You had anticipated this conversation going many different ways. You thought you had prepared for the most likely scenarios. But, in all your pondering, you hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Astarion would reject this opportunity outright. 

Your eyes welled with tears. Hot, angry, disconsolate tears. 

“Astarion,” you murmured, desperate. Angry though you both were, you couldn’t resist the urge to curl into his embrace. Gently, you pulled at his arms in an attempt to un-cross them. With a soft sigh, he allowed you to manipulate him so that you were pressed chest to chest. Your arms banded around his waist, locking him against you. Slowly, he raised his arms to mimic your stance, peering down at you.  

“Astarion, my darling, this is your chance. It’s the only chance we’ve found in over two years of searching. I know I can do it. And you can win it all back. I can help you. Let me do this,” you pleaded. 

“Darling, how could I ever ‘win it all back’ when there’s a possibility I could lose you forever? Or that you could be seriously harmed in the process?” he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, smiling sadly. “I would never forgive myself if you were harmed in an attempt to cure me.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. “Please. I know I can do this. Please let me do this. I want to do this for you.”

“Come, pup, no more tears. I’ve given you my answer,” he murmured, swiping a thumb across your cheekbones to catch each tear.

You opened your eyes to glare at him. “If the roles were reversed, would you want to try this for me?”

“Of course,” Astarion huffed. “But that’s obviously different, I –”

“WHY? Why is it different?” you cried, clutching him. 

“Because you’re worth it!” he implored, arms vibrating as though he were resisting the urge to shake sense into you. “Your soul is worth a thousand of mine! It’s not marred by death and torture and sacrilege. Can’t you see that? Don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t,” you argued obstinately. “Because you are worth it to me. Your soul is priceless to me. I love you. You’re the love of my life.”

Astarion said nothing, just stared at you with sad eyes. You couldn’t tell if his silence meant you were persuading him, but you couldn’t relent without giving at least one more desperate plea. 

“I promised you. Remember? After everything that happened, I promised you we would find a way for you to walk in the sun once more. I didn’t make that promise lightly. I want to do this for you.”

“Darling…” he murmured sadly, shaking his head. 

“Astarion, please,” you beseeched, shifting to clutch his face between both of your palms. “I’m literally begging you to let me try. Gale and I have been practicing for almost a year now. He wouldn’t tell me I was ready unless he was certain. I know I can do this. Please. Let me try.”

“Don’t you have any regard for your own life?” he whispered. “How is it that I’m more concerned for your well being than you are?” 

“Darling, all of us have the slightest potential of dying every single day we continue to breathe. Anything poses some risk to our lives. I’m telling you, the risk of me dying from this is the same as the risk I take casting any other magic.”

“But there’s still a permanent cost to doing this. Have you even asked Gale to elaborate on what that entails?” 

“No,” you admitted a bit sheepishly. “I didn’t really think about it.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes but planted a kiss against your forehead. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”

“I’m sorry that I was so ecstatic about finding a cure that I leapt straight into studying it!” you said defensively, although your tone lacked teeth. 

He chuckled and wrapped you in a tighter embrace, resting his cheek on the top of your head. The two of you stood like that for some time, arms wrapped around each other, lost in thought. 

After a while, Astarion cleared his throat. “I want us to speak to Gale. I want to know the full details, the consequences of a spell like this.”

You jerked your head up in surprise, staring at him with wide, elated eyes. 

“I’m not saying yes,” he clarified, attempting to tamp down your burgeoning excitement. “But I’m willing to hear more about this… possibility.”

A delighted squeal rocketed up your throat. Quick as a flash, you jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. Long used to your ebullient antics, Astarion caught you with a practiced ease. His arms banded under your thighs and across your lower back, squeezing gently. 

“I love you, you daft, feral thing,” he chuckled, nuzzling your cheek. 

***

“I would have gone over this months ago, had you afforded me the opportunity,” Gale had groused upon arriving at the cottage the following evening. The three of you shared a bottle of barrel-aged Callidyren while Astarion peppered the wizard with umpteen questions about the spell’s mechanics. To his credit, Gale managed to assuage Astarion’s concerns. At least for the most part. 

The permanent effects of casting the spell, you both learned, would diminish your inner well of magic, rendering you unable to cast as many spells as you currently could before resting for a longer period of time. Almost as though the cost of performing the spell would revert you back to the strength you had had as an apprentice so many years ago. You would still be powerful, capable of wielding even the most intricate of spells. But your endurance would be shorter, more concentrated. It was a price you were more than willing to pay. Even more so now that you had actually allowed Gale to describe the effects in detail. 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t press for more details,” Astarion grumbled. 

“It didn’t seem important at the time,” you sniffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Still doesn’t, in my opinion.”

“You know, in some schools of thought,” Astarion countered dryly, “people believe the difference between bravery and complete idiocy is so fine a line that it frequently gets crossed.”

“So I’ve heard,” you crooned. “But, alas, I’m nothing if not an incredibly adept fool in love.” 

Gale observed the two of you warily, as if uncertain whether this exchange constituted harmless domestic banter or an undercurrent of severe agitation. 

“Yes, well,” he interrupted awkwardly, “as I said before, you’re as ready as you will ever be to perform this magic. I’ll be here to supervise and intervene, if necessary, though I don’t think it will be.”

“Bully for us. Is there anything else we should be prepared for, if we’re to go through with this?” Astarion snapped. “Sudden onset sliminess? Gills? Frothing at the mouth?”

You winced. He was always his most discourteous self when he was afraid. Gale might not realize it, but you knew him well enough to tell when his rudeness was obfuscation.   

“Ahem,” Gale coughed, clearly affronted by the impertinent question. “No, nothing of that sort. But this spell is incredibly demanding on one’s body. It’s very likely they’ll fall unconscious once it’s been cast. The effect shouldn’t last for more than a few hours. Enough time for a proper rest.”  

“You failed to mention that yesterday,” Astarion said peevishly, glaring at you from across the dining table. 

“Because it’s the equivalent to me needing a good sleep after a tiring day,” you quipped. 

Gale winced. “It’s a bit more serious than that, I’d argue.”

“Thank you,” Astarion intoned. 

“Tsk. An inconvenience at worst. Nothing unmanageable,” you retorted. “So, what say you, darling? Are you willing to give this a try?”

Astarion’s glare shifted between you and Gale, studying you both. 

“And you both swear to me that all information is now disclosed, yes? No partial truths, no hidden side effects?”

“I swear,” the two of you responded in unison. You reached for Astarion’s hand across the table. 

“My darling, this will work. I’m going to be fine. And you’re going to be cured,” you smiled gently. “Please, trust me.”

He squeezed your hand, crimson eyes boring into your own. 

Finally, after a moment, he gave you a terse nod.

“All right. Let’s try,” he agreed.

[azimachra]

You know what’s annoying? The fact that people are right about exercise. For years and years I told myself that I wasn’t an athlete. I’d tried more sports than I could count on my fingers and I was bad or disliked all of them. I’m slow so track didn’t work. Ice skating was fun but everyone started so much younger than I did and I felt like I would never catch up. My hand eye coordination and reaction time are actually terrible so tennis was a disaster. The list goes on.

Eventually I convinced myself that sports just weren’t for me. Everyone told me that being active in some way or another would improve my mood and help me get better sleep. I knew from experience that sports and being active would do nothing but make me (more) miserable. I relegated myself to the position of the eternal nerd. I didn’t need *sports* to live a fulfilled life or to feel good in my body.

Cut to a year and a half ago. I had some childhood experience with martial arts (I stopped in middle school because it wasn’t feminine enough or something like that) and decided after some of the quarantine restrictions lifted that I wanted to try again. the place I trained when I was younger went under during the height of covid and that sport was pretty rare so there was nowhere else to train. I chose a martial art I’d heard about at random - Brazilian Jiu Jitsu - and tried it.

I’d like to say that I was a prodigy, that I understood the sport instinctually, that I was praised by my coaches for my natural talent. That, unfortunately, would be a lie. I was downright terrible when I started. Everything was so difficult. Other people understood the principles and applications in a way that I couldn’t. It seemed like everyone was either way more advanced than me or twice my size. The first few months, I was learning techniques and training but I still didn’t get it. My coach told me that the instinct would come with time. I was worried that this would just be another piece of proof that I’m not athletic, that I don’t have the body or mental fortitude. I was scared of failing, but I loved the sport. Since then, I’ve massively improved. Some things that I struggled with before have fallen into place and I’ve found new things to struggle with. I’m competent for my level and I even competed in a tournament. Has it been easy? No. Do I always feel confident in my ability? Absolutely not. But BJJ has undeniably changed my life for the better. I feel more comfortable in my body, I’ve gotten stronger and more resilient, found a new community, and yes it totally has helped with my sleep schedule and emotional wellbeing.

While I love BJJ I am not promising that you will too (although it is amazing for self defense, a skill everyone benefits from but is extra useful to women and femme presenting folks in our current society). What I’m trying to say is that despite my years of disbelief it turns out that everyone was in fact correct about physical activity/sports being good for you. It also turns out that I was wrong about my belief that I was inherently un-athletic. I also want to say that you can do this on your terms. There are so many more ways to move your body than just hitting a ball with a stick or running in circles. Don’t let yourself stay trapped in a cage with fictional bars; in an 80’s movie trope where you can only be a jock or a nerd; in a mindset that limits you from being happy and healthy. Find something that makes you excited to do because I promise, it is out there.

[tadpolesonalgae]

CBMTHY is quite literally my favorite thing right now, the past 3 parts you've posted I've hidden in the bathroom at work and read (sometimes twice) and I genuinely can't get enough. I love angst and your writing definitely fulfills that craving i have for it (please do more eventually).

You have such a realistic (delightful may i add) portrayal of azriel's not so good tendencies. i feel like he would push away someone who genuinely likes him away in favor of someone unobtainable. especially if she wasnt traditionally beautiful compared to someone like elain who could bring kings to their knees, nesta who is so effortlessly graceful and stoic, and feyre who is literally high lady and bagged not one, not two but THREE highlords (she could've had tarquin if she wanted lets be so forreal).

In comparison anyone would be plain, so reader being overlooked makes sense. And so az getting jealous that she of all people is getting attention from males after learning about her initial attraction to him is PERFECT. Because elain doesn't like him back, not with her having a mate and def not now that she knows her sister likes him. So azriel. to feel better about his rejected advances uses reader's affections to validate himself.

And don't even get me started on Eris 😭 this is the best writing for him ive seen. because hes an ass, he knows hes an ass. but with the way reader fought back against him after the swan incident you can practically FEEL that hes pleasantly surprised because who in their right mind is that unfiltered in front of a future highlord? and its only cemented with the conversation about the orrery. if he knew it bothered azriel on a personal level im sure he would do even more things for reader, (which id love to see), but i think that his gift in this most recent part is evidence enough that he respects her far more than az has in his entire time of knowing reader.

i definitely want to see azriel grovel, but i dont want her to accept it. she deserves to be respected by someone from day one. someone who can challenge her and match her energy, and i think that eris is that person long term. *maybe bas for short term ;) *

anyway, thank you so much if you read this. i look forward to reading your next part while hiding away at work

-a new reader 🤠

🥹🫂 well I really hope it continues to be as fulfilling as you’ve so far found it to be!

‘please do more eventually’

Going down a slightly more depressing path, I have found myself speculating about some other fic ideas that, quite frankly, I’m not sure they would even still count as angst? They seem to be leaning much more into general misery with no redemption? And I’m kind of liking it?

Returning to the whole idea of mental illness within the acotar universe, I’m wondering about self-esteem, too? Everyone in the Inner Circle has a “use” I guess? I’m wondering what it would be like to be surrounded by such powerful, capable people for two years and being the only one who has nothing to show for the time spent feeding off their charity.

Eris really scares me in terms of writing his character with a semblance of realism 😭

We haven’t really gotten a chance to see him being “nice” to anyone which makes me wary of a potential relationship between him and Reader? It’s a stressful like to walk, is what I’m saying, so I’m happy you’re finding it believable 🧡💛

‘if he knew it bothered azriel on a personal level im sure he would do even more things for reader’

Definitely agree with you there 🤭

‘i look forward to reading your next part while hiding away at work’

Well, I’ve been trying to get started on part 7 so hopefully you won’t have to wait too much longer (just make sure you don’t get caught🧡💛)

[beta-adjacent]

AGGHHH YIPPEE :strained smile emoji: I GUESS YALL ARE GETTKNG MORE FEELS TODAY: autism edition (not me having autism, I don’t think, unless this is related to that somehow. Idk my Brian is genuinely so scatterbrained rn I don’t know what to do with myself. Like all my organs are unraveling bc I kept them too compact last week. Sorry, worse stuff under the cut :’)))))))) sorry again)

Bro, my empathy is so fucking bad because I feel too much of people’s emotions and then I just. Assume something I read is something everyone experiences.

Like, number one, got called ~The Spectrum Whisperer~ during the holidays this year ayyyyyyyyyyy let’s go (they all marvel at me, like understanding autism is somehow to be marveled?????????? Skill issue, that’s what they all have.)

Number two, I sometimes feel like a really really bad whisperer (I shouldn’t actually call myself a “whisperer” because again, this shit isn’t hard, people are just assholes or just aren’t taking the time to learn. Fucking skill issues y’all!!!) because I Know I can’t assume or generalize things, but I still do.

Like, ohohoho my god, my anxiety around the thought of autistic people getting their schedule thrown off because of me?????!?!? I want to break down crying and eject my organs out of my body bro. Because I know that feeling!!!! Losing control because you don’t know what’ll happen in your day is fucking angering and confusing and makes you feel terrible!!!!!!! And that’s coming from someone who (probably) doesn’t even have autism.

So good golly, it makes me sick to my stomach to think I’ve ruined someone’s schedule. But I am a human and schedules often go wrong and I feel so guilty everytime it does. I can’t ever tell if it’s better to just suffer through and let the schedule run its course (save their schedule) or if I should just say I can’t do it (and save my schedule).

What’s worse is that I think the majority of the autistics I’m surrounded by rn don’t actually mind schedule changes that much!! It’s a fucking me emotion and assumption I’m imposing onto them, like a total asshole!!!!!!!! It makes me want to break out in hives or pull my bones out of my body, like that level of anguish y’know???!?!?!?

So then of course now I’m the self-fulfilling asshole prophecy who’s ruining my own schedule and torturing everyone else by trying to make everyone fit in my schedule. Which of course I’m aware of and that contributes to just another feeling of self-loathing and doubt.

And what sucks about that is the autistic people in my life rn really prioritize honesty. It’s been so hard to remember to be honest. I kind of forgot why I lie in conversation or about anything at all. No one likes dishonesty. Except those rare times when they do. But I can’t always tell that so I just play it safe by lying about random things all the time. Am I lying to you all right now by explaining this story? I might not be, but now I’ve planted the idea in your head!

anyway uhhh. Right, there’s a rarely seen desire in the people I care about in my life to be truthful about everything. “Ew gross,” I think to them, “even lies of omission?” They reply in my head “especially that!!” I groan, and turn away from them, but then I get scared they disappeared, as if I’m some child and they’re playing peekaboo just to fuck with me. So I whip my head back and they’re still fucking there. Tormenting me, I tell you!! But of course they aren’t actually, it’s just my fear again. Silly fear.

….wow I totally lost track of everything I was talking about. But I’d love to talk to my Good Honest Friends about this stuff, but after all of this, do you really think I’d allow myself to tell them? My Good/Bad Dishonest Friends definitely wouldn’t get it. My Bad Honest Friends actually might…. But they might hurt my feelings if I tell them. Lord forbid they do as I fear and actually say I have a skill issue!

No I’m kidding. None of this is real. I made it all up. I’m perfect and have no such feelings or flaws or worrries. And if I did I’d certainly feel like I could tell absolutely anyone about them other than my therapist who I’ve even started to suspect hates me for my withdrawn nature.

Ok I read through everything I wrote. This is a good skill I learned a long time ago. If I don’t know what I’m saying, I pause and then I think back and then I try to reformulate my thoughts before the anxiety of taking too long to think eats me. So I’m trying to say that my empathy levels of really kind but really really stupid, because I’m imposing my own issue onto others, and instead of just owning up to my issue and working with people on a mutually agreed upon midpoint, I try to cut corners by meeting them exactly where they’re at, which isn’t often where I’m at, and praying I didn’t stretch myself too thin, except they can always tell when I have because I’m so fucking easy to read that it’s embarrassing.

I don’t know what I’d do with myself if they hate me for what I do or think or say. Probably unsavory things. I wish I didn’t care so much. Maybe this isn’t empathy. It’s just some ugly curse I’ve been born with. But I love them so much. But I hate myself so much. I’m so tired.

TLDR uhhh. Purposefully bulldoze over people’s schedules, especially mine.

[vizthedatum]

Self-validation but slightly angry vent

One of the great things about my healing journey has been my own self-validation.

I think “moving on” for me is not about leaving the past behind, but it’s about letting go of people, ideas, and things from your current and future life by brutally and explicitly confronting what happened in the past.

I do not want to forget, and I won’t stop talking about any of it, including all the good stuff.

A lot of people have silenced me, starting with my parents. I learned how to silence myself. And then I’d forget/ignore and repeat all my toxic cycles.

There is very little I can change about how I’m perceived in this world. There will always be people, regardless of any community I’m in, who will judge me on the way I communicate, my neurodivergence, my pain, my gender fluidity, my choices, my varying levels of productivity, etc.

I am going to unfairly judge people too no matter how aware I think I am. I will disappoint people and be straight up wrong. It’s inevitable.

This is what I’m working on now: I want to “move on” from the fear of perception and the shame of my own biases.

I know that, at the very least, I’ll grow and learn if I do this.

I want to revel in MY PRIVILEGE that I worked so hard for by being so unapologetically me: the ugly crying, the meltdowns, the laziness, the makeup, the art, the infodumping, the friendships, the breakups, the lessons, the silliness, the way I move in this world, the anger, the eating, playing with lots of toys, liking cute things, saying what I want… all of it.

I want to not care when I tell people I’m gender fluid and that it is important. I want to tell and show people who I am. I want to bind my breasts in public so bad and be flat and topless - but not every day. I want to snap and be mean to people who don’t use they/them for me. 

I want to be neutral and firm in my beliefs about how I’m not going to guess what anybody wants out of me anymore and how I won’t accept advice that makes me feel uneasy. And I will get upset about anything I feel is remotely discriminatory even if you’re the most “woke” person alive (because if I hold myself to self-reflective standards of trying to understand where I went wrong, why should I not do it to you?).

I don’t care about your feelings about who I am or what I do if you can’t communicate with me. If you don’t like that I identify as a feminine man who is non-binary, sapphic, so thoroughly Bengali, and very spiritual… then what are you doing? Using me for entertainment or an exercise in self-hatred (you’re paying me with your time, money, or energy either way)? I can be compassionate about your pain, and I honestly think it’s pathetic when people cannot be for mine. 

If people think I’m not conforming to their beliefs or that I’m not spending enough (or less) energy/time with them without putting in the effort to communicate, then they can remove themselves from my life (or they will be removed).

I have cut out several friends this year because I deserve so much more alignment than what I settled for in the past. Part of why I’d end up in jobs I was in miserable in, rollercoaster relationships, and friendships with people who could not meet my needs… was because I wasn’t meeting my own needs.

I am an extremely burnt out brown trans person who wants to be free and do spiritually fulfilling work for the world but instead I am perceived as a brown woman who works in academia who gets sexualized when I don’t want to be, used for my kindness by people who think I’m too naive to know any better, lectured by ex-family and ex-friends about how I should act, and straight-up trampled. People have been trampling all over me, and I’ve let them… sometimes I even encouraged it as a form of sick self-harm. 

Maintaining autonomy under capitalism, white supremacy, and paternalistic patriarchy isn’t easy - so I’ll play by some rules so that I stay safe. 

But for now, I validate myself by knowing I’m worthy and fine by being me. Perfect and flawed. My emotions and choices don’t make me crazy. My perceptions are valid and evolving. My body is my body. My career doesn’t define me. I love my relationships. My existence is valuable and priceless.

[varunvenaik]

Why to cut back on sugar

In this article I want to share the reasons why we should all be striving to cut back on the amount of sugar we eat, and how you can achieve this whilst still having an enjoyable and fulfilling diet.   I used to be a self-confessed sugar addict. A day didn’t feel complete without a row or bar of chocolate or without a spoonful of sugar in my tea or coffee and if I had to go a day without having something artificially sweetened I would feel lethargy accompanied by intense withdrawals and a raging headache. I always felt that I had a reliance on sugar and my life would be incomplete without it.   A few months ago, prompted by increasing weight on the scales and a desire to start improving my health and well-being, I decided I would cut down on my sugar intake. The first two weeks of no sugar were difficult – the cravings were relentless and I felt constantly exhausted. But after those two weeks passed I noticed that I felt different – my energy levels were higher, my attention was sharper and my moods were much better overall. After a month’s time the benefits were even more pronounced – I started to lose fat on my belly and felt fitter and stronger.   Beyond these noticeable differences, a small amount of research also revealed a number of other internal health benefits that result from cutting back on sugar.  

IMPROVED HEART HEALTH 

Lowering our sugar intake reduces the level of triglycerides in our bodies, which are a fat that can be detrimental to our cardiovascular system. By reducing sugar, we reduce our risks of having heart attacks, strokes or other serious cardiovascular diseases.  

IMPROVED SKIN AND TEETH

Aspiring for better teeth and skin is more than just an aesthetic goal. Better skin and teeth mean fewer visits to dentists and dermatologists, which can save you a huge amount of money! Lowering our sugar intake can have enormous benefits for skin and teeth – think lower likelihood of acne and fewer cavities and decay.  

REDUCED RISK OF SERIOUS DISEASES

There is an extremely well-established body of research that demonstrates that eating too much sugar vastly increases the likelihood of getting serious diseases such as liver disease, obesity, diabetes and cancer. Lower your sugar intake and you drastically reduce your risks of developing these sorts of diseases.  

SO HOW CAN YOU REDUCE YOUR SUGAR INTAKE?

Reducing your sugar intake is not hard as you may think! For me, I focused on completely cutting out added or artificial sugars, whilst still consuming a moderate amount of naturally occurring sugars (e.g. sugars found in fruits).   The easiest way to do this was by replacing my usual chocolate bar with a small quantity of fruit, such as an apple, pear or banana. If this isn’t satisfying enough, you can try spreading some peanut butter or other nut butter on your fruit to make it a little more exciting.   I also took steps to replace soft drinks with other healthy fizzy drinks. For example, I replaced my occasional coke or sprite with a kombucha or a low sugar ginger ale. Investing in a soda stream has also been invaluable as it provides soda water on demand – which can sometimes be all that’s needed to satisfy a craving for a fizzy drink!   Finally, I completely cut out sugar from my daily tea and coffee. While it was initially difficult for me to consume sugar-less hot beverages (the taste was initially very unpleasant), after a few weeks I got used to the taste of coffee and tea without sugar and actually started to really enjoy it!   One thing I’ve learned with sugar is that it is all about training your body to adapt and being patient with it while it develops new habits. I’d encourage you to completely invest in cutting out sugar from your diet for a few weeks and you’ll see how manageable it is to maintain these new positive habits.  

[snow-in-the-desert]

Dramione Recommendations

Ok so, 2020 has been A LOT but on a personal note one of the most surprising things to happen was me discovering Dramione fanfiction and becoming unashamedly obsessed with it. I really didn’t see that coming but I’m here now and I’m here to stay. 

I think I started reading in the Dramione fandom around mid July last year?? (In all honesty I’ve lost any true sense of time’s progression at this point so I could be well off the mark with that) And I’ve decided to compile a list of all my favourite fics I’ve read so far. Why? I really just want to gush over all the amazing writers I have found through this fandom because y’all deserve it. 

Side note: If any of the authors actually sees this post just dm so I can buy you coffee or post you writing supplies or something idk I feel like that’s the least I can do for all your amazing work x

Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing

Ok I have to start with RN because this fic is pretty much the sole reason I decided to create an account with A03 or a tumblr or just decided to get involved with this fandom at all. 

I headcannon this story hard. But I think even if you aren’t a fan of Dramione you should just read this because it is so unbelievably good and well written and poignant and Draco’s sarcastic personality in this is truly a thing of beauty in this - I relate to his inner monologue’s on a deep personal level. 

I could rave about this story any time, any day of the week, just ask me. In fact, maybe I’ll just start a HeyJude19 fan club to fulfill that urge.

There are so many elements that I love but for the sake of brevity, RN is a beautifully told story of Draco and Hermione finding love and healing in a post-war HP setting. Heyjude19 had the very special ability of making me want to simulatenously laugh, cry and swoon with the power of her words. Just stop what you are doing and go read it now if you havent already, ok?  

I also really enjoyed reading Bells on a Hill, Beers, Potions and Unwise Notions and A Shift in Focus, if you are looking for smaller fics, definitely give these a go. They are all funny and heartfelt stoires that will make your tippy toes wriggle with glee. 

The Rights and Wrongs Series by @lovesbitca8

The Right Thing To Do, All The Wrong Things and The Auction are the holy trinity of Dramione writing. I have christened it thus, so mote it be. And frankly I’m not interested in any other opinion than that one, thank you very much!

After reading this series I don’t think I’ll be able to look back on the orginal HP books without thinking of Hermione’s and Draco’s memories of their time at Hogwarts in these fics as anything other than strictly cannon. 

So many things to love about this series but I think one of the major highlights was Hermione and Draco’s use of occlumency. LoveBitca8 created such beautiful visuals with how occlumency works as a magical practice and seeing Draco and Hermione so devoted to eachother to the point of safeguarding their inner most feelings to protect eachother was unbelievably romantic and poetic. 

Also the smut is divine ;)

Manacled by @senlinyu​

My heart will never be the same after reading this story. Like I actually can’t think about this fic without getting a lump at the back of my throat. I have never felt so emotionally ruined after reading anything, compared to the likes of this fic. Just please, please read it. To badly quote HP, reading Manacled will make you suffer but you’re going to be happy about it.

The flashbacks are a rollercoaster in of themselves but the way Hermione inadvertently refers to them when she is still in a state of memory loss was so heartbreaking to read. My heart still aches for them both. Also its a truly satisfying to see Draco and Hermione written in a way were they are both so fiercly protective of one another. They make my insides go soft. 

I also really enjoyed Snow Fall, Now Is A Gift and All You Want by the author but to be honest anything written by Senlinyu is always thoroughly enjoyable and worth a look. 

The Erised Effect by @adaprix​

Ada is QUEEN of dramione smut but ‘The Erised Effect’ is top tier. Its equal parts funny, romantic, sentimental and oh so sexy. Ada really knows how to build and build on sexual tension and doesn’t disappoint on the final delivery. I’m a big admirer of her writing style and just veraciously read whatever she posts but ‘The Erised Effect’ is just golden. A must read. (Also Pansy’s sexual fantasy in this story is a visual I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remove from my brain so thanks for that Ada)

Also quick side note: Adaprix’ stories were the first I read when I was looking into this fandom and it was enough to get me hooked on the pairing from the get go so I have that to thank Ada for too. I remember devouring all the stories she had posted to A03 and when I was done I was like... now what am I supposed to do with my life?? And that’s basically when I began to look deeper into the fandom and thus the course of my life in 2020 changed for the better. 

Some other stories I love by her are Break for Me, All My Sins, The Big 4-0, The Fucklust Series and The Flat in Bath. 

Clean by @olivieblake​

This 6th Year AU where Draco and Hermione work together on a class assignment and end up falling in love had me feeling all kinds of ways when I read it. I almost don’t know where to start but I think one of the stand out things for me was how immersed I felt in reading it. 

Hogwarts is captured really well, you get a good sense of class atmospheres, character nuances and behind the scenes of events that happen in HBP but from a Draco and Hermione’s perspectives. It’s well executed and intricate tapestry of a fic. With an excellent plot twist ending! 

Also Hermione and Draco’s relationship in this is equal parts fluffy and smutty and it just ticks all the right boxes that you want to see for those characters ;)

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by @onyx-and-elm​

The angst in this one is just *chef’s kiss*

God I love this fic. The way Draco is portrayed is very true to his defensive and tetchy character in the original books but he is also given so much more depth. The way his diary entries are written are just so well executed. It’s a true testament to the author’s creative writing skill. And I LOVE how even though Draco is clearly in such a messed up place, he still has a basic level of self respect and dignity that he won’t tolerate being used or undervalued in his relationship with Hermione. 

Yep, I really love Draco’s characterisation in this one if you can’t tell.  But Hermione is also well written too. Her stuggles and trauma of returning to Hogwarts after war is described in a believable and grounded way. And my heart definitely ached for them both. I just wanted to wrap the pair of them in a big fuzzy blanket and tell them that everything will be alright. 

WANDS OUT! by @persephonestone​

This murder mystery / Dramione / Theo x Harry / AU crossover is everything I didn’t know I wanted until I read it. I felt like I was picked up and plonked right into an alternative dimension where all the characters of HP are just living it up in an Agatha Christie novel. 

It’s a funny and clever story that I found refreshing to read amongst all the other fanfics that are usually cemented in the HP timeline or universe. Theodore Nott in this fic is perfection he should be written like this in every fic from now on in my opinion. I couldn’t stop giggling any time he had a scene in the story.

And the ‘only one bed’ trope in this fic is 10/10. I don’t want to give spoilers but ohmygod. It hits all the right notes. 

The One With Technical Difficulties by cassielassie 

Cassielassie has an excellent three part series of Dramone called ‘The One with...” but I have to give special credit to this story in particular for one main reason. ELEVATOR TROPES. I can’t get enough of em. I think I have my early childhood viewings of NCIS to thank for my obsession with elevator tropes they just do something to me that simply cannot be explained with mere words. The palpable sexual tension of being in a broken down elevator with an ‘enemies to lovers’ pairing, a heated arguement breaks out followed by a discovery of mutual feelings and a romantic embrace...

Eugh. It gets me everytime. And this fic is no exception. I loved it for all the reasons I’ve already stated above but also for the attention to detail in Draco and Hermione’s careers makes this one particularly immersive. The dynamics between them established in this one-shot are convincingly portrayed and the chemistry between them is so undeniably hot. 

The Light is No Mystery by @masterofinfinities​

Yooo if you want to read a dramione fic that is a deep dive into Pureblood culture and Post-War recovery but is also a perfect allegory for discrimination and today’s political landscape of moral grandstanding for votes then look no further than this one. 

This story has a bit of everything. Intrigue, mystery, ptsd and recovery, enemies to lovers / secret relationship, government conspiracy and humour, to name a few. I eargerly await every update to this story and am anxious to know how it ends!

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen 

Finally! A fic that gives me the Ravenclaw representation I crave. I think I could recommend this fic on the lore depicted of Ravenclaw house alone. ‘The Stacks’ and Rowena Ravenclaw’s own ‘come and go room’ are just such cool details that I could see being real in the HP universe. 

This fic is so cosy and makes me feel like I’m just popping back into Hogwarts for another year. You get to see all the usuals like prof. Mcgongall, Nearly headless Nick, PEEVES, Hagrid, as well as learn more about minor characters from the other school houses. The story follows Hermione going to her day to day classes and there are interesting concepts about magic and alchemy that are explored. 

Draco and Hermione’s relationship in this one is of course very fluffy and heartfelt. But it’s the attention to detail that really makes this fic outstanding and the experience of reading it feels fleshed out and true to HP universe.

A shorter fic by HeartofAspen that I recommend is one called Set in Stone, it has an adventurous, Indianna Jones vibe to it, that I am so down for. 

Teachable Moments by @purplesugarquills

In this fic Hermione is an innocent little virgin determined to learn everything about sex. And Draco Malfoy is her tutor. If that isn’t enough to get you on board then I don’t know what is. Both Heartfelt and Steamy. PurpleSugarQuills writes smut so well but it’s the progression of their growing attachment and the nervous treading of new uncharted waters of romantic relationships for both of them that just adds a whole other level of feels to the story. Also chapter 9 is like reading poetry - its so good. Eugh just give it a read if you haven’t already.

Les Pèlerins by @pacific-rimbaud

This story is high art. It’s transcendent. Reading this story feels like the emotional equivalent of standing around a hundred glowing fairy lights, sipping hot cocoa and being wrapped in the loving embrace of a s/o. I can’t speak my praises highly enough or even become passably coherent in my words when I try to articulate a review. 

From the very first paragraph I felt like I was just whisked away on a Parisian holiday and I’ve never even bloody been to Paris but damn it if this story didn’t make me feel like I was there. The writing style is just so tactile and intense it’s like I could feel the cold winter air brush against me as I read it. Eugh I just completely fell in love with the story and the writer. 

New Year’s resolution. Read everything PacificRimbaud has ever posted online. 

[hrtiu]

you can pry this rarepair from my cold, dead hands.

All of Piltover was in chaos for weeks following the attack on the Council. Viktor spent several days recovering in the hospital, for once confined to a bed for reasons that had nothing to do with his failing lungs and crippled limbs. As much as he was growing to hate the sight of the academy hospital’s gold-and-white walls, he knew he had been one of the lucky ones. Several of Piltover’s most respected citizens hadn’t made it out of the council chambers at all.

When Viktor was finally discharged, he hobbled his way back to his lab. The nurses had encouraged him to get some more rest at home, but he didn’t see any point in wasting what little time he had left sleeping. He’d already arranged things with Jayce. The attack on the Council had delayed his plans for a while, but his mind was still made up. Tomorrow, Jayce would be destroying the hex core.

Viktor fumbled with the key as he unlocked the door to his lab. The long, opulent corridors smelled strange to him, as if the few days he’d been away had allowed an unprecedented level of dust to accumulate. It occurred to Viktor that this was the longest he’d been away from his lab since he was a teenager.

He entered his study and walked to his dest, eyes skirting past the pulsating hex core across the room. He sat down at his desk with slow, pained movements, then pulled the top drawer open. There it still was, Sky’s aqua-colored notebook containing her work and dreams and pure, whole-hearted optimism. It had been weeks since the accident, and nobody had asked Viktor where she was. It hadn’t occurred to anyone to ask.

She was dead, and soon he would be, too.

Viktor stared at the pulsing hex core, its once-promising glow casting a menacing purple haze across his lab. It was for the best that Jayce had kept him from jumping off the ledge earlier. If he’d taken that route then maybe the hex core would have survived, and maybe it would have claimed another victim. That had to stop, and it would stop tomorrow when Jayce fulfilled his promise and destroyed the damned abomination.

The hex core pulsed, as if sensing his thoughts. Viktor shot it a hateful look, then pulled a fresh sheet of paper from his desk. He set his pen to the paper, his hands only trembling slightly as he set his final words in writing.

To My Friend Jayce,

If you are reading this, you have destroyed the hex core and I have died. Please don’t fault yourself for this--it is what I wanted and it is the right thing. Sky Young is dead, and it is because of my reckless use of the hex core.

I should have told you this in person. Like me, Sky didn’t have any next-of-kin, but that only makes the way I hid her death even more unforgivable. She didn’t deserve this, and she definitely didn’t deserve the cowardly way I’ve behaved since her passing.

I always said my goal was to improve peoples’ lives with science, but these last few months I have been motivated by fear. I pushed my work to a reckless degree, and Sky paid the price--and all because I couldn’t stand to face death. The hex core is dangerous, and it’s clear to me now that I can’t control it.

Farewell, my brother. Please take comfort in knowing that this ending was my fate to begin with, and please learn from my mistakes. I know you will do better than I did. Despite it all, I still believe in our hextech dream.

-Viktor

Viktor set his pen down and held the paper up to drie, his eyes darting over the words as he waited. The self-loathing surged up to meet him, the black-and-white of what he’d done threatening to overwhelm. He fought to push the despair down. His guilt wouldn’t do anything to help Sky. Actions were what mattered. He had to make it right.

Eager for a distraction, Viktor opened Sky’s notebook again. Inside were illustrations of plants, along with notes, measurements, and several pages of citations to researchers in the fields of biology and medical sciences. He hadn’t read the notes too carefully before, so overwhelmed by her death he’d been, but now he focused on the figures. Sky had put many hours of time and effort into this, and she’d come to him after hours to share it with him. Paying her work the attention it deserved was the very least he could do.

As he scanned the neat lines of notes, Viktor’s eyebrows raised. She’d been trying to solve his problem--trying to save the plants that had been dying after their interaction with the hex core. Viktor hadn’t told Sky that he’d experimented with using the hex core on himself--had told no one about the shimmer. And yet she’d sensed the urgency of his work, and dedicated her own time to solving the problem.

Her theories were still nascent, but as Viktor devoured page after page, he realized she was onto something substantial. The connections she’d made, the hours of careful thought she’d put into it--this was really something. Maybe if she’d come to him even just a few hours earlier-

No. Maybe if he had waited just a few hours longer. Maybe if he hadn’t been willing to risk everything just for a few more years of life.

Heart sinking into his chest, Viktor shut the notebook. Hypotheticals were irrelevant. The hex core was too dangerous, and so was he. They’d both be destroyed tomorrow.

Viktor set the notebook down and walked over to the hex core, hating the way his limbs strengthened with each step he took. He stared down into the core, wrinkling his nose at the toxic purple sludge that covered it. How could he not have seen its corruption?

He sat down in front of the hex core and rested his head against the side of the table. He wrapped his arms around his knees, the metal of his new hand cold even through the fabric of his pants. He shut his eyes, and tried to empty his thoughts, willing himself to peace.

“Viktor.”

And now he was hearing things. What else would the hex core torment him?

“Viktor. You inspire me.”

His eyes snapped open. That voice… He knew that voice.

...To be continued???

[justlookingvm]

Tessa Virtue’s leap from Figure Skating Olympic Champion to Executive MBA | Kneading Dough Canada

https://youtu.be/JAAkEDRFJ1A

Host: Vinay Virmani

T: If you’re going to build something, you need options in your life. I’ll say this especially as females, it’s important to be independent. To feel like you can be self-reliant and to take care of yourself.

[Intro presented by Tangerine]

V: Tessa, welcome to Kneading Dough Canada.

T: Thank you so much for having me.

V: It’s a pleasure. Kneading Dough Canada is a financial empowerment platform as you know, where we talk money, we talk mindset, we talk about financial lessons that you’ve learned along the way to hopefully inspire the next generation.

T: Well I’m so grateful to be on, I really appreciate it. I think it’s always refreshing to hopefully lend that female lens but also maybe that perspective from the amateur sport world too.

V: Yeah, you know Tessa you’ve accomplished so much, both in your personal and in your professional life. As an athlete you have achieved so many incredible honours, you’ve represented us, this country of Canada at the highest of international levels, but what I’m really excited about is you’re about to add another accomplishment in the form of three very special letters, MBA behind your name. Talk to me about that decision.

T: It’s been you know lingering in my mind for a long time. Education was always a priority in my household growing up in my family, and I thought about law school for quite some time and then I retired at 28 or 29 and thought maybe that’s too long (giggle) and realized also I wanted to flex a bit of a creative muscle. So this MBA program has been a dream of mine for quite some time. I want to be a student again in every sense of the word and I’m eager to learn the ins and outs of the business realm and that corporate sphere that I’ve had a unique perspective of, you know for 10 15 years, but if I’m going to take on a new role whatever that may be then I really want to feel like I’ve adopted that rookie mindset once again, and earned my stripes, I’ve gotten the credibility to to deserve a place there.

V: I want to take it to the world of figure skating though, because the world of figure skating is so glamorous as a sport. You know

T: I wasn’t sure where that sentence was going to land. It could have gone so many directions.

V: I I’m so like fascinated by the world of figure skating because the glamour, the imagination, the costumes, the drama, the whole production value. It looks so beautiful and elegant, but behind it there’s also rigorous routine, training and it’s not cheap.

T: Uh huh

V: So growing up, dd you have those conversations with your family and did you understand the investment that it was taking to sort of put you through the highest levels of figure skating.

T: The 2 things that my parents were always wiling to invest in or prioritize were education and sport. And it was important to them that we were exposed to as much as we could be. I’m the youngest of four. You know I’m of two minds because on one hand I do believe they tried to shield me from the burden of that sacrifice, that they made for all kids and for you know all of these adventures. But I was also keenly aware of it. I knew the the toll and I knew the cost and um you know I felt that responsibility…

V: Was there anything that you remember early on where there was an incident or a moment where you were like, I recognize like you talked about the toll.

T: My parents were so conscious to ensure that I wasn’t carrying that weight, and yet I moved away from home  when I was 13 and I was kind of budgeting at that age for groceries and 7-eleven runs (laughs), whatever it is that a 13 year old needs. Taking taxis everywhere and I made a decision when I was 15 um to be able to do it on my own. My mom was always quick to say you know you have to look after yourself and you always have to make your own way and she was all about sort of creating that sense of security and freedom, so that I had options.

To be honest I had a tumultuous relationship with my father when I was a teen and I think it was just a decision, at that point. I didn’t feel right.

V: Yeah

T: I didn’t feel right accepting that kind of support anymore um and maybe it was a bit of pride you know, not wanting to

V: You don’t want to be dependent on anybody.

T: Totally. Yeah, and that’s not to say that I’m not aware of the privilege that I had growing up to have those opportunities. It was just a real marker of OK, if this is the path I’m choosing, um and I really need to make sure that I can I can do it on my own or in a way that really isn’t such a burden.

V: You know talking to you today has reinforced independence. You know being independent, not being dependent and and just being self-sufficient. And how gratifying that is, you know I think a lot of people, especially as you said, I hope a lot of young women watch this show and and really listen to your advice. And the fact that you took that decision at such an early age.

T: You know it’s interesting I found old journals not too long ago, and there was a page in one and I don’t know, judging by my handwriting I might have been 12? 11 or 12? And I had written my goals and that were, you know the to win the Olympics, be on Oprah, which I’ll settle for uninterrupted and Kneading Dough, uh buy a cottage, like buy a family cottage

V: Right

T: And at 12 that was on my mind and the feeling of walking into this cottage that my mom and I were able to dream of and then buy together, is so visceral and it’s it’s so much about, like I think back to being young and maybe not having, especially for her like that sense of security and and just really feeling like that can be a safe place now. Um so again it’s more of the representation of that.

V: I’ve heard you say something that has really resonated with me always because it’s something that I believe in. That the highs are so much better when you’ve experienced the lows. And obviously Scott Moir and yourself accomplished so many great things together. Something that I always try to tell the younger generation is, sometimes you have to just sit back celebrate your failures.

T: Well we learned to embrace it by making it part of our process, in that, not only did we anticipate failure and expect it and embrace it, well, we practiced it. So we learned to fall on demand, get back up, refocus, and

V: OK

T: be back into our program still trying to amalgamate as many points as possible.

V: You know I remember once um I must have been in grade school and I and I failed a few subjects. I was never a good student.

T: OK

V: And you know we didn’t have a lot of money at the time and I remember my my dad, I was really afraid to tell him that you know I’ve failed these courses and blah blah blah, but he said to the family, he said, alright everybody get ready we’re going for dinner. And we went to this restaurant that was only saved for like birthdays or anniversaries. And so we get there and he’s ordering all these great things on the menu and I’m like “dad, I don’t think you heard me like I failed, like I failed and here you are taking it t the restaurant.” And I remember he looked at me and he said “You know I want you to celebrate this failure. I want you to take it in because if you’re winning all the time, you’re not going to learn anything.”

T: Wow, and obviously that stayed with you

V: Oh yeah, you’re always going to learn so much more from the losses.

This next set of questions is called the two cents round, so you can’t overthink these things.

Tessa, we all know about your discipline but what do you splurge on?

T: Clothes

V: Clothes, OK, all right. What part of your budget are you working on lowering?

T: Clothes (big laugh). Actually not really because I will say, it’s more what it represents like part of that is like my I love it and it’s become also intertwined with my career and my brand if you will. Um

V: Its an investment in yourself.

T: I think so, that’s how I twist it

V: So, what is us the best financial decision you’ve made so far?

T: Hire the right people

V: Building the right team around you.

T: Yeah absolutely.

V: Describe your financial persona in just one word.

T: I want to say careful?

V: Careful.

T: Careful in that I’m strategic

V: I like that, OK

T: But I’m willing to have some fun.

V: OK, all right. Tessa if you could run any business, what would it be?

T:  My own.

V: Your own. OK. All right I’m not going to push you more. [Tessa laughs]. They say patience is a virtue, how long did your first paycheck last?

T: I mean I spent my whole career basically operating at a deficit, so everything went back into training. I worked towards certain things and the you know I was really fortunate to get some funding and bursary grants, and then eventually sponsors and um was able to build this little nest egg, but mostly  it went right back into training.

V: Tessa, this year we’ve been having such important and meaningful conversations about women in sport. And you know of course there’s such a long way to go for those conversations really to achieve equality, but as somebody who’s such a big advocate for women’s empowerment in sport, how do you feel that you want to lend your voice to those conversations?

T: I think, currently the biggest impact I feel I can have is really connecting with those young female athletes at that precipice of maybe dropping out um for all the heart breaking reasons that we’re learning about through research. Whether that is you know body image, or lack of self-confidence, lack of self-worth, it’s just not good enough. Like the access to resources, there are opportunities, um I think those conversations are really important and that’s where I’ve been feeling most fulfilled, when I’m able to connect with those athletes and you know I’ve been able to benefit from all of the lessons and the opportunities that sport has lended it uh to my life. And I just so want that for other female athletes. And you know we’re seeing that there are more mentors, more representation, more access to viewing these formidable female athletes, and I hope that resonates.

V: Tessa, we’ve uh had the opportunity to work on a few branded campaigns together. There’s this Tessa grace, and there’s this element of everything being held to a certain standard. In everything that you do, especially things that are public facing. Talk to me a bit about that.

T: I hate the word brand but I’m going to say it, my brand has been

V: I mean you definitely have a very strong brand

T: Well it’s been built on the very foundation of me and my personality and if those values aren’t upheld in every sense of you know the word, then I’m I’m not useful to anyone. Then I’m then no brand would want to hire me, um because it if it gets diluted, then I then I just think um it’s losing the very essence of what resonates with people. And I’m really careful about that like I only partner and pair with brands that I would authentically stand behind and feel really good about promoting.  

V: I love that

T: And I’m conscious of where I lend my voice and my likeness, a very clear mission statement, and you know I love to be hands on but that’s where like the creative fulfilment comes in

V: Right

T: And honestly that’s where the most successful engagement also comes. If I’m involved and it’s a collaborative process, um it’s much more successful for the brand too.

V: You know, over this past year, there’s been such a strong connection to mental health and financial wellness. Many Canadians have a very high debt to income ratio, which can be very stressful. For you, how do you protect not only your mental health, but when it comes to financial wellness. How do you really protect your sanity?

T: As an amateur athlete I grappled with that um day after day. I think it’s important to find purpose in saving and planning. So, you know my mom started those conversations with me when I was young but that was all to sort of plant the seed of like you need to plan for this. And if you’re going to build something you need options in your life. For me you know it’s helped having a corporation for example, because a lot of my money is tied up there and it it’s great um but, it’s also made me very careful and strategic in how I spend it.

V: What is your one big piece of financial advice to all young women out there?

T: Surround yourself with the right people and set yourself up for independence.

V: I love that. Financial freedom.

T: Financial freedom.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: INFP with social anxiety here. I have a therapist but we're focusing on some other issues right now. In the meantime, I was wondering if you had some advice for me. I know you're not a professional (you say that multiple times in your posts) and of course I'm not asking you for a fix for my social anxiety with this - I'm just asking your help to understand what part my cognition could be playing in all of this cause I'm really curious.

Basically, my problem is the time frame right BEFORE I meet someone and, sometimes, immediately after. I don't really have problems socializing in the "middle", if you get what I mean; I'm easily adaptable and once I'm relaxed, once I realize no one is there to attack me, my mind starts getting ideas and I kind of know what to say, even though I'm a bit out of practice and I still have problems convincing other people of my emotions (like, mirroring their emotions so that they know I agree with them and stuff like that; for some reason they never ---believe me when I say it with words).

When I make plans, anyway, and I still haven't met the person, I get this anxiety: like I would rather stay home than go there because it's going to be "boring" and I'm probably going to feel like an idiot or make some sort of social gaffe. I mean, I do kinda get bored after a while anyway, but I also know I tend to overestimate that level of "future boredom" to the point it hurts me to even think about showing up and forcing myself to think of stuff I can-- say.

I get anxious because I start thinking about the way people used to treat me in the past (I've always been the black sheep of my family and/or my social circles and I vividly remember some bad things they used to say to me) and I start worrying that, deep down, they still think of me like that and they're never going to forget that "preconception of my identity" and open their eyes to who I am now, or I guess to who I've always been.

I do realize it doesn't make much sense, this "who I ----really am" part - but I've always had the impression that I was a bit different than the "me" they percieved, maybe because after many, many years of being accused of "selfishness" and "inability to tune in with the emotional atmosphere" I learned that in order not to ruin the "social mood" I should've adapted myself to the group - but the problems is that I suppressed "myself" in the meantime (and with myself I mean, like, my real interests, the things I'd like to talk about for ages without-- having to be interrupted or looked down on because, quote unquote, "ok, cool, but we don't really care").

I understand now that if they don't give me hints of actually caring about the subject I should stop rambling like a fool, but this is making me feel like I have nothing "useful" to offer them and therefore bringing the anxiety I'm struggling with. It makes me scared that I'll never be able to be myself around them because of the "social rules" I want to respect to be accepted, & to make----it worse I'm out of practice like I said before and sometimes it just gets too awkward and I want to get out of there.

I bet I'm doing something wrong because friendships and relationships in general are not supposed to be "boring", am I right? And yet until I don't get distracted by the actual conversation, I feel like it's going to be really boring and uncomfortable and sometimes going through it is SO horrible... most of the time I end up making up some excuse to go home earlier and talk----my internet friends instead (thank God for the internet!!!!). Anyway, thank you if you'll answer! And have a good summer vacation c:

-----------------------

The first thing I notice is that your thought process bears a very striking resemblance to many INFJs who struggle with social anxiety due to poor Fe development (see past posts). As a general rule, if I have good reason to suspect that someone might be mistyped, I won't provide info about function development until they undergo a proper type assessment. Otherwise, they might adopt the wrong method of improvement.

You say you want to understand what part your cognition plays in the social anxiety you experience, so I will mention the aspects of your cognition that seem most significant:

1) No Chill: You overthink things to an extreme, to the point of self-sabotage, perhaps even creating a self-fulfilling prophecy (i.e. when expecting the negative actually makes the negative happen). Overthinking means that you're not confronting the real obstacle getting in the way of your socializing. You're constantly trying to envision, imagine, or predict what will happen in a social interaction? WHY? What's the point of that overthinking? It's how you avoid confronting your fear head on.

2) Insecure: Your "predictions" are too often faulty because of being tainted by your underlying insecurities. You're insecure about being attacked, being accused, being misjudged, doing something wrong, being deemed of no value or unworthy of care, not being accepted or acceptable, dying of awkwardness, feeling bored, feeling uncomfortable, and on and on. You've described your thought process in detail. But nowhere do I see you confronting your insecurities, digging deeper into them, in order to understand the root of them. Insecurities are a manifestation of fear.

3) Control: Irrational anxiety is oftentimes about trying to control things that you shouldn't be trying to control or cannot have any control over - it wastes mental energy and leads to futile behavior. As long as you're trying to control social situations and their outcome, you are either trying too hard to make reality match up with your expectations or you're fumbling whenever reality unfolds outside of your expectations - you become rigid and frail. You claim to be "adaptable" but everything you say after that only proves you don't know the meaning of the word. You can't handle unpredictability, hence, the attempt to be in control by trying to "predict" everything. Do your attempts to control actually work? Do they help or hinder you? If they mostly hinder you, then isn't it time to change your strategy? Anxious people often believe that having more knowledge or control is the answer to their fear. But, in your case, the huge cost of being controlling is being incompetent. What's worse, the fear is still right there running the show.

4) Unresolved Trauma: You attribute your troubles to your past. Fair enough. Growing up in a social environment that did not respect and appreciate you is painful, even extremely traumatic for certain personality types. It also makes people too hungry for validation. It's natural that you wouldn't want to feel the pain of it again. However, if that pain remains unexamined and unresolved, you will unconsciously keep seeking to resolve it, which means re-enacting the trauma over and over again throughout life. The proof? Every time you meet someone, your first stance is defensive, because the first thing that comes into your mind is that you don't want to be attacked or invalidated. That old pain is running the whole show because you are deeply afraid of experiencing it again, yet you don't realize that YOU are the one calling it back up and rehashing it. What are you doing to resolve the pain rather than indulge the fear?

5) Self-absorbed: Social anxiety makes people too absorbed in their own thoughts, feelings, hopes, and expectations. They are too preoccupied with what they want, what will happen, how they will be perceived, how they might make a mistake, how they might be attacked, etc. This means they're not truly present with people, so the relationship can't really go far. Driven by fear and insecurity, they are always behind a wall, too difficult to reach.

Even if you happen to meet the right people, do you make it easy for them to befriend you? It seems that you can't open up with ease, you can't go with the flow of the other person when they don't live up to your expectations, you can't keep your emotions in check and misjudge situations, you get bored when it's not about you, you run away instead of making things better. Looking at yourself objectively from the outside, would you want to be friends with someone like that?

If you want to have good friends, you first have to BE a good friend. You want care, love, and validation? We all do. The best way to receive it is to be the first to give it. By being more aware of other people's needs and doing more to show that you care about them, you put them in a better position to care about you and meet your needs in return. This is the difference between actively trying to "make" a friend vs passively wishing for a friend to drop into your lap.

Being a friend isn't about what "value" you have, as though you're some kind of object being appraised and sold. Being a good friend is quite a simple matter of putting out the energy to care and show that you care. When you meet someone who's moved by your care, they will care for you in return. When you meet someone who's unmoved by your care, figure out the real reason why, in order to determine whether you should keep trying or put your energy elsewhere.

You never really know who you'll hit it off with. One of my favorite experiences in life is making a friend in the unlikeliest of places. As an adult, meeting new people is a numbers game. All you can do is keep pushing yourself to meet new people. The more people you meet, the greater the odds of clicking with someone. If you're looking to meet like-minded people, go to places that are likely to have people who share your interests. If you don't hit it off with someone, simply move along. You don't have to be friends with everyone, do you?

Yet, you take every little social interaction so seriously that each step is like life or death - that's what makes socializing tiring, laborious, and unfun. Why not enter into every social interaction with an open mind and an open heart? Why not truly go with the flow, without having to undergo the repetitive ritual of predicting what will happen or fussing over what did happen?

6) Poor Emotional Intelligence: This point is the common thread that runs through the previous points, which is why I keep repeating the word "fear". You have extremely low tolerance for negative feelings and emotions, which means you really need to work on learning how to deal with your emotional life better. Any little sign that things won't turn out the way you want and you start to panic, overthink, blame, or flee. Why do you recoil from yourself and your own feelings and emotions? Why are you so easily shaken by boredom, awkwardness, invalidation, failing, other people's negativity, etc? Why do you react so badly to these things (when others just brush it off and keep going)?

7) Low Self-Awareness: It's not enough to just name the fear ("I'm afraid of____"). Does the label explain why you have this particular fear and not some other fear? It's not enough to blame the past ("It's because of ____"). Why did someone else with a similar past as yours not develop this fear? To get to the root of fear, you have to identify, in exact terms:

what aspect of you has to change to overcome the fear

what aspect of your identity has to "die" (i.e. be let go of) in order to evaporate the fear

Until you answer the fear properly, it won't go away.

[hatboyproject]

This is very long, but it might be of interest to someone, somewhere. I was asked recently about the direction I'm taking this romance in and whether or not I'll be addressing certain disability specific subjects within it. The answer, of course, is yes - I have always planned to do this in one form or another. Whilst no single piece of media can address everything I'd like to say on the subject, and I am working within the bounds of a larger story with its own pacing and focus to consider, there's still room to touch on some of these things.

I'm aware that my interpretations won't always be the same as others'. They are my interpretations, coloured by my experiences and feelings, and ultimately, this is my mod - I'm writing it for everybody who 'wears the ballcap,' so to speak! But, it's my interpretation of this character that I'm trying to share with everyone. Different people "took the helm" (laugh, I'm hilarious!) on writing Jeff across the trilogy, and as time has gone on I've been trying to convince myself that it's okay to have my turn at doing that, too - albeit in a non-professional capacity. So... Let's get into my interpretation of Jeff, where his stuff comes from on my view, and how things went to get him to where we are at the beginning of ME3, where the romance can occur.

A lot of how I interpret him comes from experiences in my own life with my own issues, and with those of my loved ones, some of whom are physically disabled in similar (but not identical) ways to Jeff. Some of this carries an element of catharsis for me.

Mechanically and narratively speaking, what draws me to writing this romance is the contrast between how these two characters are strong. It's this core idea that strength doesn't have only one manifestation in a person. That loving somebody doesn't have to be done only one way, that it can be beautiful and passionate and fulfilling - even if, when it gets physical, the headboard can't exactly be made to shatter with the force of it all. For me, it's also an exercise in insecurity and dealing with feelings of frustrated inadequacy - something that has plagued me my whole life.

Yes, yes, he's fictional - but the only way for me to really get into a character is to think about them as if they're a real being. When I look at Jeff as a person, I see many things... Some very positive, some pretty negative... I try to see him as a complete person with strengths and flaws.

On the surface he is often defensive, dismissive, sarcastic, and emotionally avoidant. But why is that? He is highly skilled, dedicated and capable, and knows it, but at the same time is a person who is constantly overlooked, underestimated, and asked to work thrice as hard to get the same considerations. Even then, his validity is questioned often by almost everyone around him. Over time, combined with the realities of living with his physical condition, this has given him some deep-seated insecurities. He feels the need to brag about his skills because they are, ultimately, the one thing about himself that he is absolutely certain has real worth. He overcompensates for this by abusing rules and technicalities wherever he can, because I think he knows that if he played life by the rules, he'd never have gotten anywhere. It's a stacked deck, so why not hide some aces up his sleeve? When you don't fit in the box provided, you question the value of every box you see.

When a person lives with this long enough, it can get hard to swim against the tide of society's expectations and still remain chipper about it, let alone not internalise some of it. It can cause a person to create a shell constructed out of distrust and untruth.

Living with a disability can really suck sometimes, and the suck is compounded when having to deal with your own frustrations plus those of others. In my personal experience, that happens a lot.

There is a certain sense of alienation that it can create, and it can become a kind of Sword of Damocles. It can be easier to anticipate rejection and others' assumptions, inabilities to understand or relate than to keep reaching out, only to have the same tired conversations about being different. I see a lot of this in him. I understand the chip he has on his shoulder.

I also see an extremely sensitive, empathetic, devoted and boundlessly loving person under all that. In fact, it's because of these things that I think he actively tries to distance himself. At the core of his being, I see Jeff as somebody who loves quickly and completely. I think he sees that as a vulnerability, incompatible with what he's learned he has to do to survive... and also with the machismo thing that comes with being a pilot. I think on some level he's terrified of that about himself, but he also can't help it. Jeff is ride or die. So, he tells himself he doesn't care and never lets anyone in. Any time anyone showed interest, he'd shut them down, alienate them, distance himself, and get in the seat of something that flies.

I think up until now, (ME3) he's seen intimacy both as a thing he longs for, but is also afraid of because of his fundamental knowledge that he is different. He thinks he can't "measure up" to what he sees all around him. He sees romance as something that will lead to his inevitable rejection and being crushed, emotionally - and if he's not careful, physically, too. I think he's embarrassed about that as well. He's very interested where it comes to all that, but the things he likes to watch, he knows he can't do like that. His only experience is second-hand as a voyeur, so some of his perceptions about that are unhealthy for him. I think any kind of attempt by the medical professionals in his life to broach the topic and offer support on, he's angrily changed the subject, or stopped listening to, because of the entire mess above. I think Jeff is kind of a lonely person, and some of it is self-imposed, though the reasons for him thinking it's the right thing to do aren't all within his control.

All this is difficult for him to reconcile with, because he has been desperately in love with his commanding officer since almost the moment s/he met him, but entirely unprepared to face it.

I think at first it was easy for him to dismiss it as a stupid crush. Everyone gets them when cramped up in close quarters in stressful situations and the Commander's magnetism was hard to ignore. But then it became clear that Shepard really hadn't read his file and really hadn't made any assumptions at all about him. S/he just wanted to know him, and as time progressed and that actually bore out, it got hard not to really feel something powerful, even though s/he was the Commander and it wasn't strictly appropriate to think that way. But, then there was that thing about not fitting in the box provided...

I think he agonised over coming to Shepard with it, but ultimately decided it would be selfish with everything they were going through. I think there was a part of him that decided s/he'd never be interested anyway, not when there were other, healthier people to choose from... People who didn't have these hangups or need special accommodations made for them. I think he decided to keep it to himself, for what he felt was both their sakes.

If/When the Commander quietly hooked up with someone else, I think he had a lot of feelings all at once. On the one hand, the person he cared for most was finding some peace in all the craziness. On the other, he wished that particular brand of peace was shared with him. Most of the time there were more important things to worry about, but during downtime, I think it was on his mind a lot.

I think he feels very sheepish about it, but occasionally his jealousy got the better of him and he interrupted Shepard at moments that got too hard to watch on the security cams. He watched the cams around the ship lot, and listened in on all the others a fair bit. I think because he saw himself as being at a remove from most people in a lot of ways, it was easy to justify that to himself. I think he saw it kind of like listening to a podcast or a soap opera or... Nature documentary, almost, or something. He got to know all of them in this way... Parasocially at first, but gradually, socially too. He felt better about trying, because he had this secret edge. Not the greatest stuff he's ever done, but... Complete person. Strengths and flaws.

And then, the unthinkable happened. He couldn't accept that the ship was dying. He was sure he could save it... But when Shepard's hand touched his shoulder, when s/he'd come back for him, he knew it was over. And then, it really was over. Shepard paid the price for his arrogance. The person he wanted to protect the most spun off out into space. The communicator between his mask and that helmet was still in range for long enough that he could hear the choking. For a long time afterward, even hearing people cough made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The Alliance grounded him. I don't think he even had the capacity to be mad about it. I think that was a hard time for Jeff. I think between being burdened with the knowledge of the Reapers, the loss of Shepard, and the weight of his guilt, he was pretty close to the very, very edge when Cerberus knocked on his door and made him a bunch of promises. Pretty sure those promises had nothing to do with leather seats and everything to do with Project Lazarus. I'm very sure that the promise of Shepard coming back is the reason he even let Cerberus pay for the surgeries he agreed to undergo, because I don't think he valued himself much at all at that point. I'm pretty sure it was being ready to help Shepard that he was thinking about when he was learning to walk on his painful legs without crutches for the very first time. When Cerberus offered him a big shiny reset button I think he took it without hesitation because there wasn't anything else to hope for. I think seeing Shepard in the docking bay galvanised him and without ever telling them so, he pledged his life to them even harder than before. I think he told himself that he would support Shepard in every way he could. He would go wherever, do whatever, and when dealing with him, try to give them what he knew they needed; a goddamn break.

So, fast forward again, and now we are here. With all of this in mind... Shepard might have had a dalliance with someone else, or might've been too damaged by their previous love interest on Horizon, or whatever. Either way, I think Jeff saw it as not his business to even dream about that. I think the guilt tore him up every time he looked at Shepard. I think he felt like on some level, he deserved the pain of unrequited feelings which only ever got more intense. If he didn't think himself worthy of it back then, doubly so now. I think during the six months of house arrest, he tried to visit, but the Alliance denied his every attempt. Then the attack on Earth happened.

And so now we have Jeff, who, just like other humans is confused and groping about for a sense of what's up and what's down. Fortunately for him, Shepard is part of that sense of stability. He's just better at hiding it, because avoiding it and telling himself to focus elsewhere is second nature to him by this point. But things are a little different, now. Shepard seems looking around for a connection too. Future days seem short in number and the rulebook less and less important by the minute. Denying it to himself becomes impossible, and even EDI prods him about it. Shepard won't stop being so goddamn nice to him and even responds with things that if he didn't know better, he could interpret as... But then all the old insecurities come rushing back and he's walking on his own damn eggshells again. Fuck it. It's time to admit it. To come clean. S/he has to know.

So he asks. And s/he accepts. He's equal parts thrilled, stunned and terrified. He's even on some level, suspicious. Is s/he setting him up for a fall? Are they angry about his responsibility? What do they want out of this, actually? He hasn't explained what it'd be like. That what they're doubtlessly expecting of him is unrealistic. That he's completely inexperienced. I think at this point, he's a bit pissed off with himself and feeling a lot of dread because he's pretty sure how this is going to go. He realises he's got so caught up in it that he's done things in the wrong order. Damage control. He has to talk with Shepard and explain what s/he should expect from him, because it will be different. Manage expectations because he's had to manage his own. He goes in steeled.

But s/he knows it will be different, it turns out. As ever, Shepard has made no assumptions whatsoever. S/he only wants to get to know him. Wants him for everything he is, and accepts what he is not. It was never an issue for them beyond understanding how to work with it, because he is worthy just as he is, and has worked hard enough. He has to teach them about his limitations, about underestimating and overestimating... But where there's a will, there's a way. Time for a few shared moments of peace before the end of days, and through all the craziness, something feels right at last. He feels safe enough to let Shepard in properly. Thus begins his reassessment of himself and reckoning with letting go of the insecurities he has that aren't actually his own, but come from outside.

Also he totally gets to sext the Commander now when s/he's on missions. Nice.

So. There's a lot more I could say and expound upon but it's been hours and I have stuff to do. That's my direction. It's not going to suit everyone, and I doubt I can get everything across... But I'll try. I'm just one person, with just one perspective, with just one version of this story. But I hope people like what I come up with surrounding this framework, because I have lived a lot of it myself. Just a few less Reapers in my version. Not everyone's experiences and responses will be the same.

[skinsharpenedteeth]

RNM After Dark - Friday - Down to Earth

Here's my submission for @rnmafterdark

Day 1 - Down to Earth.

It features... dom/sub behavior, discussions of kink and safewords, impact play, cock and ball torture (CBT), masochism, sadism, a little bit of humiliation, and a school bus converted into a sex dungeon...

it's 6400 words, rated E-AF for Explicit As Fuck.

Also posted on AO3 for your kudos-ing, commenting, and bookmarking pleasure!

-

"What You Need and What You Want"

.

Alex didn't know why he needed it. He'd thought he was past needing to be yelled at after basic and living with his father, but the drill sergeants could only yell at you about the most superficial weaknesses. He could be called soft, pretty, or a mama's boy all day and it wouldn't even tweak a nerve. But late at night in foreign cities stateside and abroad, in clubs he’d found for people like him, people who needed something more, he had found other men who got closer to making him feel the way he needed to feel. Their rough hands, their sharp words, and the way they weren’t moved by his tears unless he said a word to make them stop, had turned out to be exactly what he’d needed that was more.

Then Alex had come back home from combat and anonymity. He’d tried to move into his old life, tried to fit into the version of himself that was normal, and found out that so many things were not what they seemed. But he hadn’t been able to get what he needed in a small town. So he’d driven to Albuquerque, looking for someone to fill that part of himself that needed to wallow in punishment and pain. But Albuquerque wasn’t big enough, wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t learned enough to know the difference between dominance and cruelty. It was close enough though. Close enough for Alex to fill in the gaps with his mind of the things he was missing.

Michael had noticed his trips. Michael noticed everything. He’d noticed that Alex wasn’t coming home calm, but haunted. He'd come home with the edge taken off, but not the need taken care of. Not fully. Never fully. The itch was always there, just sometimes more manageable if he'd let someone slap him around for a bit. The trips had been to someone who would do just that. But they didn't know him. Not really. He’d been the one to point out to Alex that he really wasn’t getting what he needed. Then, after an out-of-town trip that had left Alex with one too many bruises and scratches and a significant limp, Michael had begged him to let him help instead of continuing to go to someone who wasn’t treating him right.

"Just come to me for it," Michael had said, half order and half offer. Alex had scoffed initially. He hadn't thought Michael had understood what Alex actually wanted. Michael had leveled him with a glare and continued. "I don't like the idea of you going somewhere else for this. I don't like the idea of you trusting a stranger. And it's obvious it's not enough. Next time you have to scratch the itch, just come to me."

"Sure," Alex had agreed. He'd said 'sure’ like he meant 'not a chance'. Then he'd had a week of nights filled with nightmares. Caulfield, explosions, death, dismemberment, and ghosts plagued him whenever his body lost the fight to unconsciousness. The guy he'd been seeing was too far away and busy and Alex was almost trembling with the need for someone to bleed the tension out of him. So he'd called Michael just to see. Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could be enough until Alex could find another person or another way.

He’d never expected it to work, but he’d underestimated how well Michael knew him. Michael saw the way he seemed to bend towards harsh criticisms against him or his family. He saw how he warred with letting go of those terrible pieces of himself and holding onto them as tightly as if they were his security blanket. Michael had seen inside his mind and had rooted around for the most shameful things to use against him. Once Michael had figured out what he'd been going out of town to get, he’d made Alex an offer he couldn't refuse.

Alex stepped up into the old yellow school bus apprehensively. It sat near the Airstream in the junkyard, electric cables running to it and making it glow through the cracks. Michael had blacked out the windows with paint, making it look vaguely ominous in the blue hours of dusk. He wasn't sure what he'd find inside. What he found was a work in progress.

The cavernous space had been stripped of the seats and given a new floor. Michael had installed a drop ceiling down the middle of the bus and lined it with invisible lights around the edges. It made the ceiling dark, but the rounded walls and windows glow with subdued light. The effect was modern and sophisticated, and not at all what Alex would normally expect from Michael. Michael was watching him take in the bus's interior from a dark modular sofa that had been pushed along the side of the bus. He was wearing a loose, distressed pair of jeans and his ever-present plaid-over-tank combo. Alex felt his apprehension tighten the muscles in his back, but he pushed forward until he was standing in front of Michael looking down at him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and made a show of looking around the bus.

"So, starting an escort service?" Alex asked, watching for Michael's reaction.

"Maybe. Nothing wrong with sex work. It wasn't what I had planned for this space, but maybe there's a niche market for a mobile brothel in Roswell," Michael answered, spreading his arms over the back of the sofa and leveling Alex with a look. "I assume you didn't call to insult my decorating."

Alex scoffed. He shook his head slowly and gave Michael a wry smile.

"No. I guess I didn't," Alex replied. "So are we going to do this?"

"Sure. But sit down. We need to do some quick housekeeping," Michael said, waving to the empty space next to him. Alex sat and tried not to fidget. He didn't want to talk right then. He wanted to hurt and have the demons inside him go silent and be sated. Michael watched him silently, gaze intense and laser-focused to the point that Alex stilled himself, suddenly self-conscious.

"Okay. So, first I need to know what you want out of this," Michael started. Alex rolled his eyes, but Michael just kept looking at him, even and steady.

"I want… release," Alex bit out. He could feel a flush starting to heat the skin of his neck. This wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

"I'm assuming you don't mean orgasm...well, or not just orgasm. How do you want me to give that to you?" Michael asked. Alex's knee bounced and he scratched his thumbnail over the inside of his palm, letting the sting settle him enough to answer Michael's question.

"Yes, orgasm would be nice. But, what I need isn't just physical. I want to… I need you to… I need someone to make me make my physically feel as shitty as I need mentally. I need someone to strip me bare and then flay me alive. I need to hurt. I need to feel… empty at the end of it. Quiet, ya know?" Alex explained. His thumbnail scratched over and over, dragging across the same spot. Michael's hand closed gently over his wrist, startling Alex out of his thoughts. Alex looked up to catch Michael's eye and felt Michael pull his hand away and lay it on his thigh before taking the hand Alex had been scratching and holding it in his own.

"Do you need this to be verbal or just physical?" Michael asked, carefully. Alex tried not to let his shame overwhelm him. He wanted both. He needed both so badly and he hated how weak that need made him feel.

"Both," Alex replied just as quietly. Michael waited for a moment before speaking again. Alex watched the gears turn behind Michael's eyes, but he didn't see any pity in his expression… or disgust. A small part of him was surprised. He'd expected one or the other.

"So, hard limits?" Michael continued. He had started to rub his thumb sweetly over the red line Alex had made in his palm. It was at once painful and soothing.

"Nothing permanent. No choking, for obvious reasons. No broken skin. Don't call me ‘soldier.’ Don't call me ‘son.’ Don't make me…" Alex broke off, suddenly feeling ashamed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Michael paused his thumb over the scratch and pressed down firmly. A bright flare of stinging pain gave Alex the resolution to continue. "Don't make me feel good about any of it til we're done. And I don't need aftercare."

"Aftercare isn't optional, Alex. Not for you, not for me. That's a hard limit of mine," Michael replied, voice low and serious. Alex stared at him before huffing out a little laugh.

"How would you know what your limits are? Have you done this before?" Alex asked, removing his hand from Michael's. Unconsciously, he'd started to turn his body more towards Michael's. One leg was folded in front of him on the couch seat, his prosthesis still resting on the floor of the bus.

"You're not the only person who's found themselves with a need that wasn't fulfilled by what was easily obtained. You're not the gatekeeper to kink. You were gone for ten years and I had plenty of time to experiment and learn on my own. Stop acting like just because I've never been off the continent, I'm a fucking narrow-minded moron." Michael's voice was sharp at the end, making Alex flinch internally. He couldn't imagine a world where Michael had explored BDSM or kink. He'd just assumed Michael was drinking and sleeping around like a college frat boy the entire time. It stung Alex that he hadn't even imagined Michael really living a full life without him. He always just thought of Michael biding his time, waiting on him, perpetually looking over his shoulder and waiting for Alex to appear on the horizon. What a selfish, egotistical dick he was to assume Michael had nothing better to do than cool his heels dreaming of an idolized version of Alex (the version of Alex that he wished he was in reality, that he tried to be and failed to be every single day).

"Sorry," Alex said after a quiet span of minutes where he manually adjusted his mental image of Michael Guerin.

"Try again, Alex. And look me in the face while you do it." Alex raised his head and looked at Michael. He looked older and calmer than he had a moment before. He looked like he was wearing all the years of his life on his shoulders and he was used to the weight of carrying them. Alex felt younger somehow. He felt chastened.

"I'm sorry, Michael," he repeated, keeping his eyes locked on Guerin’s. Michael nodded once before continuing.

"What's your safeword?"

"Finland," Alex replied without hesitation.

"Mine's ‘orbit.’ Are you okay with using the stoplight system?" Michael asked easily. Alex nodded.

"So, do you want a trial run tonight?" Michael asked.

Alex took a deep breath and nodded again before clearing his throat, knowing he had to speak it out loud. "Yeah, sure. Let's give it a go."

"So stand up and take off your clothes. I'll be right back," Michael said as he stood up off the couch. Alex stood also and waited for Michael to disappear behind a partition that presumably hid the way to the bathroom. Slowly, Alex undressed himself, feeling nerves and anticipation start to flutter behind his bellybutton. He folded his clothes and laid them on the couch. Before he had to figure out if Michael wanted him to be kneeling or not, Michael came back into the room. He'd stripped off his plaid shirt and was just in jeans and a tank. Alex watched him walk across the room and pick up a remote from one of the window ledges. He pointed it towards the ceiling and the lights turned from a warm golden light to an almost sinister red.

"Going to murder me?" Alex tried to joke. Michael gave him a quick grin.

"Want a different color? I've got the full range. We can disco through the whole pride flag if you want," Michael joked back.

"No. Red is fine," Alex assured him. While he spoke, Michael had discarded the remote back onto the window ledge and moved to stand in front of Alex. He reached up and brushed some of Alex's hair behind his ear, watching his own action contemplatively.

"So what brought this on tonight? What are you feeling?" Michael asked, eyes seeming to float back to meet Alex's while his hand rested on the side of Alex's neck, fingers gently playing with the too long curling pieces near the nape of his neck.

"Just… stuff. Nightmares," Alex mumbled, dropping his eyes and staring at the dark patch of chest hair that showed above the scoop collar of Michael's tank. He wanted to get started. He was doubting his decision to come. Why didn't Michael just do something already?!

"What would you tell your anonymous Dom in Albuquerque or Santa Fe if they asked?" Alex's eyes darted back up to meet Michael's and he scowled. Through tight lips, he managed to spit out an answer.

"They wouldn't have asked about why I needed it, they’d just give it to me."

"Well, you gotta give me something to work with here. What feeling is causing the nightmares?" Michael asked patiently. He let the knuckles of his left hand drag down the side of Alex's bare stomach, reminding him that he was standing naked in front of Michael while he stood there fully clothed. Maybe they should've just had sex. Maybe that would've been enough.

"Guilt. I feel… guilty about a lot of things," Alex finally confessed, shame filling his cheeks with heat and color. Michael nodded, almost to himself.

"Okay. I can work with that," he replied. Then his hands slid away from Alex's body and he stepped back. He let his eyes travel down every inch of Alex's skin and back up. "I thought I told you to get naked."

Alex furrowed his brow in confusion and looked down at himself. He wasn't wearing any clothes. Michael smiled and bent down slightly to tap at Alex's prosthesis. Alex looked at him, still confused.

"Take it off. I'm going to have you kneeling on a pillow when you're finished. Arms up and behind your head," Michael instructed. Alex sat back on the couch and began to remove the prosthesis. Michael produced a square floor cushion and sat it in the middle of the bus floor, then stood in front of it and waited on Alex to finish. The floor cushion was just far enough that Alex would have to crawl to get to it from the couch. Humiliation bloomed in his stomach, and his cock twitched with interest. Michael was testing him.

Lowering himself down from the couch, Alex crawled the short distance to the floor cushion and then began to arrange himself. He sat forward on his knees, widening them for easier balance, and then slowly he lifted his arms up and interlocked his fingers behind his head. He was bared for the cool gaze Michael was giving him, and it thrilled him how very vulnerable he was in the position he’d been asked to hold. He could and would hold the position easily, but Michael could also just as easily knock him to the ground if he chose to. Alex let his eyes lift only as far as Michael's best buckle, brain beginning to quiet and settle as he did so, and then he waited.

"Very good, Alex. You look good like this," Michael complimented with a slightly mocking edge to his tone. He made a slow half-circle to stand behind Alex so that Alex could see them. "So you're feeling guilty, huh? Think you need to earn your forgiveness? Want someone to take your penance out of your flesh?" Michael asked from behind him. Alex nodded briskly, not sure if he was allowed to speak. "What do you feel guilty for? Because I can't punish you for having dreams."

"Just… everything. I'm so angry at myself for not being over shit. For failing you, for failing my dad, for failing everyone," Alex choked out, feeling like fleeing but forcing himself to stay still.

"How did you fail me?" Michael asked, voice cool and impartial. Alex appreciated the lack of emotion. It helped him keep going. He wouldn't be able to continue if he could tell he was hurting Michael with his honesty.

"I always underestimate you. You’re better, smarter, and more capable than I think you are a lot of the time," Alex admitted. Michael hummed thoughtfully.

"How many hours of sleep do you think you've gotten this week, Manes? Sixteen? Twenty?" Michael asked. Alex did the rough mental math in his head. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Fifteen-ish," he answered. His lower back muscles were starting to quietly let themselves be felt as they were continually used to keep him upright, the muscles in his thighs and arms warming up from holding him still. He felt Michael step up close behind him, legs on the outside of his own and cool belt buckle pressing into the bottom of his interlocked hands. Michael's hands slid through the gaps between his arms and shoulders and smoothed down his chest before scratching back up, nails dragging red lines into his tanned skin. He shifted into the sting, wishing for Michael to scratch harder.

"Color?" Michael asked quietly as his hands once again smoothed down Alex's pecs.

"Green," Alex answered through a harsh breath as Michael scratched back up, but harder. The bite of pain had Alex gasping in surprise, and he felt his cock starting to plump up from the attention.

"How about I give you ten on your ass and give five to your balls? If you take your punishment good, I'll help you cum. Does that sound fair?" Michael asked, thumbs rubbing roughly over Alex's nipples. The low thrum of arousal was starting to build under Alex’s skin from Michael’s words. The low level sting from Michael’s nails was already starting to put him in the right headspace. He closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the rough push and pull of Michael’s fingers on him.

“Yes,” Alex agreed out loud. Michael brought his hands back up to rest on Alex’s shoulders. He bent close to his ear before speaking again. His breath was warm where it tickled over Alex’s skin.

“Then get on your elbows and knees. I want your ass higher than your head,” Michael instructed. Alex took a deep breath in and nodded before unclasping his hands from behind his head. Gingerly, he moved until his head was resting on top of his forearms against the floor. He tucked his knees under his hips and presented himself. He was keenly aware of how exposed he was. The cool air from the A/C unit fluttered over his backside. Michael hadn’t moved as Alex had gotten into position, so he could also feel the threat of someone lording over him. He could almost feel Michael’s eyes trailing over his naked skin, taking his time, mentally caressing every curve. After what felt like an eternity, Michael moved. He knelt down next to Alex’s side. When his fingertips started to skim down Alex’s side, it made him jump.

“None of that now,” Michael said, though his tone was soothing instead of harsh, like Alex was a spooked horse he was trying to calm. His hand continued stroking gently over Alex’s side and then down his back, around the curve of his ass and down his leg. The touch almost tickled and Alex had to fight not to flinch or shy away from the sensation.

“You always think you know better than me, don’t you, Alex?” Michael asked quietly. He shifted his body, moving further down Alex’s body and behind him. He started to use both hands to tickle over Alex’s back. When he got to his ass, though, Michael paused. Carefully, he spread Alex’s cheeks to look at his hole. A light touch of Michael’s thumb trailed down the center, barely glancing over Alex’s hole, and then down over his taint until Michael could cup Alex’s balls in his hand. He massaged them gently in his palm, pulling gently at the skin of his sack. Circling his thumb and forefinger around the base of Alex’s scrotum under his cock, he used the other three fingers to cup around the fleshy sack and began squeezing gently. Discomfort and heat prickled at Alex’s skin, making him whimper softly when Michael’s hand began to tighten and loosen in a slow rhythm. It wasn’t rough, wasn’t painful, but it was uncomfortable in the way that triggered his most primal instinct to escape. Alex stayed still and breathed deeply against his forearms. The feeling was mesmerizing, so it caught Alex off guard when Michael reached down with his free hand to stroke his cock.

“Fuck!” Alex burst out, shifting restlessly knee to knee. Michael held still as he settled. The electricity of that touch crackled along Alex’s nerve endings, pins and needles under his skin.

“Color?” Michael asked, not moving.

“Green,” Alex replied, feeling suddenly out of breath. Without warning, the hand that had touched Alex’s cock came down with a crack on one of his ass cheeks. This pain too was electric, but more like a quick strike of lighting, localized and bright. Alex swore, but tried to stay still.

“One,” Michael counted. His hand rubbed over the stinging skin before he removed it. A moment later, he was using it to loosely stroke over Alex’s cock. The hand around Alex’s balls tightened, again threatening the violence that Alex wanted. He moaned, wishing for more. “I was just never good enough for you, was I? But you kept coming back. Kept slumming it with the foster kid. Did you think I didn’t notice the way you kept me secret?”

Another slap against Alex’s ass, another sting, and another gentle caress by Michael’s hand over the heated skin. The next one came faster and harder than the first. Michael learned forward over one side of Alex’s back, the roughness of his jeans irritating and wonderful over Alex’s heated skin. He leaned close enough to be able to rest his chin on Alex’s shoulder.

“Two and Three. You’re an arrogant piece of shit sometimes, Alex. You’re wrapped up in classism, just like your father was. At least you can recognize that you’re a fucking asshole for it and that you deserve for someone to take you down a peg.”

He kept his voice calm and the words stung all the more for it. Alex held his breath against their effect until he couldn’t any longer and then let it out in a long, slow breath. Michael took his hand away from the base of Alex’s balls.

“Do you think you’re better than me, Alex? Smarter? Think you need to always be the white fucking knight for everyone?” Michael asked, fingers dragging up Alex’s perineum in a firm line.

“No,” Alex said, shaking his head. A hard crack sounded and fire lit up the previously untouched ass cheek. Alex felt a throb run through his body as the heat started to radiate. His cock hung heavy between his legs. He looked down the line of his body and could see it hanging, tip wet and threatening to drip onto the floor.

“Are you lying to me, Alex?” Michael asked, nails scratching over the abused spot on Alex’s ass. His voice was quiet, threatening, teasing and starting to make Alex feel unraveled. Alex shook his head weakly. Another lick of fire, another crack, and Alex was moaning into his forearms.

“I think you’re lying to me. You think I’m stupid, Alex? Your actions speak louder than words. You think you’re the only one in the room who's aware enough to notice other people. You think we don’t have you pegged? You think you’re better than your friends, your family and me and you always have, haven’t you?” Michael asked, right before pushing up off from Alex’s back to sit back on his heels. His hands came to rest on Alex’s waist, pulling him back to center Alex’s hips back over his knees and correct his position. A hand slid up Alex’s spine and then pressed between his shoulder blades. Alex followed the unspoken direction until his chest was resting on the floor. He laid his cheek against the cool flooring and closed his eyes, letting his mind sink into Michael’s words.

“We’re halfway through your ass punishment. Your skin is getting so pretty and pink for me. And your cock is making a fucking mess on my floor. You look so fucking shameless right now. It’s a good look for you, Alex. You just needed to be reminded of how good you look when you’re being put in your place,” Michael praised from behind him.

Michael’s hands slid back from Alex’s hips to grip his ass. Alex felt himself being spread wide, Michael’s thumbs pulling at the skin next to his hole gently. The feeling of something warm and wet hitting his pucker and starting to slide over his entrance confused Alex for only a moment until he realized Michael must’ve spit on him. Hot shame and arousal flushed through him at the mental image. One of Michael’s thumbs moved in and he massaged his spit over Alex’s hole, pressing firmly but not truly trying to penetrate. Alex groaned, pushing back against the pressure of Michael’s thumb, vainly wishing he’d open him up and fuck him. He wanted to feel pinned open under Michael’s cock.

“Maybe next time. If you’re good,” Michael assured him before he took his hands away. Alex shook with need. He needed pain or pleasure or words or something. He was rewarded with a quick series of slaps, two on each ass cheek, one right after the other, heavy enough to thud through his muscle. These weren’t the stinging, surface slaps of earlier. When Michael finished, his hands massaged roughly across the skin. Alex felt a dizzying rush of blood and emotion coursing through him a moment before he felt the warm wet of Michael’s mouth and the sharper sting of his stubble as Michael nipped and kissed over the abused cheeks. His final slap on one cheek was quickly followed by a sharp bite to the other. Alex cursed and his foot flexed against the floor, toes trying to dig against the hard surface as Michael used his jaw’s grip on Alex’s skin to coax a whine from Alex’s throat. Alex didn’t need to see the floor under his cock to know it was sticky with a pool of his arousal.

“Mmm,” Michael hummed, rubbing his stubbled cheek over his bite mark, sounding well-pleased. “So warm.”

“Michael, please,” Alex managed to choke out. Michael hummed again, but Alex felt subtle movement behind him. A moment later, Michael’s hand wrapped around Alex’s cock, wet and slick and tight. His hand slid up and down Alex’s shaft and it was all he could do not to hump forward into the pressure. It felt so fucking good. Michael was still rubbing his bristled chin and upper lip over Alex’s ass, mouthing at the inflamed flesh.

“You’re doing so good. I love hearing you beg, Alex,” Michael murmured against his skin. Alex almost didn’t hear him, his attention so wrapped up in the slick sounds and tight hole Michael’s fist was making for him. He was getting close, he could tell, but he knew he hadn’t finished his punishment. Abruptly, Michael let go of Alex’s cock and sat up. Alex wailed into his arms, eyes stinging at the loss. His cock ached where it swung, newly neglected and dripping between his legs.

“You still need to take the five to your balls. Then I’ll let you cum,” Michael reminded him, tone lazy. He said this while wrapping his hand around the base of Alex’s sack again and pulling back towards him. Alex whined at the stretch, his balls had been tightening close to his body in preparation for cumming and now Michael was stretching them away. He’d stretched them far enough that Alex could imagine they looked like two pink plums in Michael’s grip, skin tight over the swollen orbs, looking fit to burst. He felt Michael’s hot breath against them a moment before the blunt pressure of his teeth resting on either side of one of his balls. Some heady mix of fear and arousal shot through Alex’s body making him tremble, his stomach tightening and hips hitching forward. “So full. I bet you haven’t cum since your last trip to Albuquerque. Maybe I should make you wait longer, see how big of a load you’ll save up for me.”

“Please, Michael, I need…,” Alex started, only to yelp in surprise at the first three-fingered smack to his testicles.

“You need,” Michael started, voice harsh and admonishing; another smack, wringing out another, higher-pitched yelp from Alex, and then Michael continued, “to let me make the decisions here. I know what you need, Alex. I’ve got you all figured out. You need to stop,” SMACK! “Underestimating,” SMACK! “Me.” SMACK!

Alex's breath was heaving from his body. He didn’t even realize he was speaking until Michael was pulling him up to sit back onto his lap, hands around his waist to help support him and Alex’s back pressed against Michael’s chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex continued to mumble thickly. Michael was shushing him softly, arms tight and comforting around him, lips delivering soft kisses to Alex’s shoulder and neck. Alex’s cheeks were hot, his eyes tight, and he knew he was crying.

“I know you are, sweetheart. I know,” Michael murmured against his skin. Alex’s breath hitched under another sob. Michael gently maneuvered him to half turn so he could wipe at the tear tracks on Alex’s cheek and kiss the corner of his mouth softly. “You did so good. I know you’re sorry cause you followed all my directions and took your punishment. So good, baby.”

Alex found himself turning more until he could cling to Michael’s neck and hug his body close. Michael stroked one of his hands up and down Alex’s spine while the other combed through his hair. The new position trapped Alex’s aching balls and still-hard cock in between their bodies. The cotton of Michael’s shirt was irritating against Alex’s sensitive skin, but Alex couldn’t bear to pull back.

“Did you want me to help you cum, Alex?” Michael asked, nose gently bumping against Alex’s, lips a hair's breadth away. Alex took a deep breath in to steady himself before nodding. He moved forward, hoping to capture Michael’s mouth in a kiss. Michael let him, opening obligingly when Alex smoothed his inquisitive tongue along Michael’s lips. Michael let Alex kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. While they kissed, Michael’s hands wandered over Alex’s naked body until his hands came down onto Alex’s ass cheeks. Alex had almost forgotten about them until the flare of fire was reignited under Michael’s grip. The pain only served to excite Alex further.

“Michael, fuck me, please,” Alex begged, lips against Michael’s cheek as he pressed his body back into Michael’s strong grip.

“Not this time,” Michael responded gently. “But I’ll help get you off. You did so well, I can let you cum.”

“Please,” Alex said again, writhing softly in Michael’s lap to get some much-needed friction against his cock.

“So impatient,” Michael griped fondly. Removing one of his hands from Alex’s ass, Alex watched as he went to a previously unseen pump bottle of lube. He pumped twice and then brought his hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Alex’s cock. The lube was slick and sticky, and Alex immediately hitched his hips to push his cock through Michael’s grip.

“Oh, it’s like that?” Michael teased, tightening his grip to slow Alex’s quickening thrusts. Alex whined, hands flexing against Michael’s shoulders. Slowly, Michael started to move his tight-fisted hand over Alex’s cock. It was too tight for Alex to get off on it, but the edge of pain kept him hard and hoping. “If you keep acting greedy like this, I’m going to strap you down and edge you until you’ve learned some patience. Would you like that, Alex? Want me to keep you hard and begging for hours? Or do you want me to just make you cum until you’re dry and begging for me to stop?”

“Both, please,” Alex gasped out after a particularly cruel twist of Michael’s wrist. Michael loosened his grip then and paused, letting Alex catch his breath.

“You insatiable creature,” Michael praised. He kissed along Alex’s jaw to his shoulder where he bit harshly into the meat of Alex’s muscle. Alex groaned and tried not to writhe against the pain, but couldn’t seem to stop his body from rocking gently against Michael’s fist.

“That’s it. You can fuck my hand now.” He continued to kiss and bite Alex’s flesh after he said it, causing small fires everywhere his teeth touched. His mouth moved down from Alex’s shoulder to his chest, causing Alex to lean back. Alex held onto Michael’s shoulders tightly, but didn’t stop thrusting into Michael’s perfect, slick grip. Michael sucked Alex’s nipple into his mouth and let his teeth scrape over the sensitive flesh as he pulled his head back. Alex moaned and cursed at the feeling, throwing his head back. The tension in Alex was building quickly. He wanted so badly to cum, wanted to feel himself released from reality into oblivion if only for a few seconds.

“Please, Michael. Just a little tighter, please,” Alex managed to pant out. Michael kissed across his exposed throat.

“Show me, sweetheart,” he insisted. Alex pulled one of his hands from Michael’s shoulder and wrapped it over Michael’s. He squeezed until the pressure was perfect and then let go, replacing his hand on Michael’s shoulder. The hand that had been harshly kneading at Alex’s ass, encouraging his rolling hips and sloppy thrusts, came around to stack itself on top of the hand gripping him. Together they created a deep channel for Alex to thrust his cock into over and over again.

“Shit, shit, shit, Michael. I need to cum. Can I? Please?” Alex whined, even as he kept pushing his body towards the edge.

“Sure, darlin'. You can cum,” Michael said agreeably. Alex let go of any restraint, pressing close and letting his thrusts get quick and out of rhythm as he felt the pressure building behind his balls. When Alex was only a few thrusts away, Michael continued, “But I’m going to make you clean up the mess you make with your mouth.”

The last bit did it for Alex. With a strangled, silent yell, his cock swelled against Michael’s hands and then erupted white, sticky streams that dripped and smeared along the insides of his fingers and palms. When Alex was able to move, Michael let go of his slowly softening cock and Alex lowered himself onto his back on the floor. The coolness of it felt good against his overheated skin. Carefully, Michael crawled over him to straddle his stomach, careful of his oversensitive cock.

“Open up,” Michael demanded, tapping two sticky fingers against Alex’s lips. Obediently, Alex opened his mouth and felt Michael plunge his salty, spunk-covered digits in. Alex moaned at the taste of himself on Michael’s skin, using his tongue to trace every inch of skin to find more of his leftover pleasure. Michael made him lick and suck all of his fingers and then palms. When he was finished, he swooped down and took Alex’s mouth with his own, plunging his tongue in for any traces left for him to taste. When the taste dissolved into nothing they parted. Michael helped Alex up onto the couch, where he held Alex against his chest and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Want some water? Dinner?” Michael asked a little while later when Alex was practically dozing off against his chest where he was sprawled. Alex hummed noncommittally and nuzzled his head against Michael’s shirt, laying a kiss against his cotton-covered chest.

“How was it? Everything you expected?” Michael asked easily. Alex nodded, eyes still closed and mind still wrapped in a blanket of satiation.

“Anything you didn’t like or would like me to do differently next time?” Michael asked next. Alex thought about it. His hand drifted down to Michael’s crotch, completely covered, but still half hard from their scene.

“I want you to use this on me next time. Mouth, ass, hands, whatever. I want you to get off too,” Alex replied, voice drowsy but firm. He opened his eyes and locked eyes with Michael. His hand stayed resting over Michael’s crotch and he could feel it twitch against his palm. Alex raised an eyebrow in question. Michael smiled, bent his head down to kiss Alex’s mouth, and brushed his hand away.

“Next time. Promise,” Michael responded easily. Alex knew it wasn’t a real rejection, so he nodded and turned his head to lay it back down against Michael’s chest, his ear pressed to where he could hear the steady thumping rhythm of Michael’s heart. He drifted and with faint surprise, realized he was really falling asleep. He wondered how long Michael would let him lay like this if he fell asleep. Would he wake up to warm sunshine tomorrow morning? Would Michael only let him nap for a while and then wake him to get dressed so he could go home to his own bed? As if hearing his thoughts, Michael ran the back of a finger along Alex’s cheek bone.

“Do you want to sleep here, the Airstream, or your house?” Michael asked softly. Alex considered it.

“Let’s go to the Airstream. I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight,” Alex said through a yawn. Michael nodded and hugged his arms around Alex’s shoulders.

“Sure. Whatever you want,” Michael concluded. Alex only hummed a vague response before he was oblivious to anything else. He didn’t have nightmares that night.

[aquirius555-musings]

Pursuing Your Purpose Over Grabbing the Bag

The Necessity of Motivation in Pursuit of Wealth 

Being a witch with ADHD can be contradictory at times. And now is one of them. I am confident that wealth follows and it does not lead. I am comfortable not leading my life in pursuit of wealth. However, I am still a human existing on this planet, a planet where wealth not only leads, but having some form of income is a necessity for survival. For most, a steady income is a necessity for creating a comfortable, safe, and healthy environment to prosper in this decaying world. 

I am in a position where I have less wealth than I ever have before, but I have also achieved more dreams than I ever have before. I am living in a place I have dreamed about since I was young. I am living among the mountains and the great glory of this Earth’s nature and all it has to offer. I am living with and building a family of humans and animals that love me greatly and our soulmates of mine. I am living as a witch who believes in my value and abilities. 

These things drive my passion, my hope, and my willingness to do more than simply survive. My willingness to always push to be thriving. What doesn’t drive this will to live fully is paid work, perceived achievement/success, and valuing profit. 

It is very difficult for me to “show up” as my full self or with 100% energy when I am not intrinsically motivated by the values I consider most important. These are things I typically do and express in spades. Especially, in critical situations and oftentimes to a fault or to the great annoyance of others. 

However, I’ve learned the hard way in my adult years that when I try to pursue things that don’t fulfill my soul purpose or innermost values, I not only fail, but I suffer greatly, relapse, and regress. 

ADHDilemma 

As I referenced in my introductory post, I was a high-achiever growing up. This is also a result of being an AFAB person and an empath with severe ADHD. I knew all the rules, I studied hard, I hyper-focused, I hyper-felt, I had way too many varied interests that were always changing, I wanted to win, to be loved as I was, and I took rejection and torment to heart. This allowed me to rise up as a star student, star sibling, star employee. I masked the qualities and behaviors that I was ashamed of or the ones that led to torment, rejection, or guilt. 

You see,  I could read other people and knew when I was upsetting them or when they were intentionally upsetting me. This made it easy to designate different emotions, behaviors, reactions, and conflicts into different buckets in my head. There were buckets that were safe to dump out in public, within a specific system, or with certain people, and others that were not. I became a masked person instead of myself.

What societal rules mixed with my persona and neuro-status didn’t allow me to do was love myself, and therefore, it prevented me from being a star-friend, or at least being friends with those who had my best interest at heart. More than that, the lack of love I had for myself regressed my ability to be a caretaker for myself, to be spiritually aligned, and ultimately to be happy. I let so many people victimize me throughout my life because of this and therefore have accumulated my own traumas along the way.

I have now learned so much about myself, unlearned so many unhealthy habits and behaviors, worked through a lot of trauma, embraced so many emotions and qualities about myself. This makes it heartbreakingly difficult for me to face what I call “the old me”. I really do not align with this person anymore, and I don’t really feel them in me at the deepest levels, but at the surface they are fully present. 

Old Habits Die Slowly and Painfully

This “old me” knew how to present on LinkedIn, in the professional world, knew how to do what I needed to do to get the job, to fit in, to lead the group, to follow the leader. Whatever was needed of me, I did it. 

I am now in a really tough financial position. I don’t have enough money to pay my bills, get medicine, go to therapy, take my pets to the vet*, get groceries, get more soil for my plants, etc. I know that I need to make money, and I know that the thing stopping me has been restraining myself from pursuing higher-income gigs. I have been fearful that I won’t “make it” in this new field that I am pursuing and that I left my corporate job to pursue. This has been stopping me from taking the leap into freelance writing gigs, into seeking out magazines or sites to submit stories too, to recording my first podcast episode, to finish setting up my profiles for freelance sites that are connected to my LinkedIn or require examples of my work. 

*Both my pets had full vet exams in April, I have simply not been able to afford a visit to a new vet for either pet since we moved. They are healthy.

Instead of going for these things that may make me more money AND fulfill the want and need I have to try to write and create content for things I am passionate about, I am settling for much less. Getting low $/hour to do low-brain-capacity work. A big part of this is feeling like I won’t be represented as I am now and for what I want to be doing, but rather for the “old me” because of the work I’ve done in the past for tech companies or consultants. The buyers of the work I want to do won’t have any specifically-relevant work to review. And the buyers of the work I used to do don’t want someone like me and I don’t want to write for those types of topics anyway. 

So why am I stopping myself from presenting in my full form online? Why am I not believing in myself to do the things I went to school for, live and breathe and consciously learn about with my time? 

Because I was always told that to succeed in business or in any field or industry, you need experience, presentation, professionalism, etc. And these things have always been defined through a straight, white, and male-driven lens. This means no tattoos, no colored hair, no piercings, no political issues or talk (even though what I want to discuss isn’t political to me, even if it’s politicized by the public). Why, no matter how much I oppose and despise those who set these “precedents and standards” do I still give in to them?

Because old habits die slowly, painfully, and only with a lot of work and resilience is it even possible. 

Shadow Work Makes a Great Assassin!

The only one qualified to kill off these old, and frankly unwelcome, habits is with an old friend - Shadow Work. Suffice it to say, I think all of this means that Shadow Work is calling my name. It’s time to have a real focus on this as I also work to pursue my creative and professional dreams. 

Shadow work allows us all to go inside and break down these old habits, old traumas, old blocks that come back our way to try and break down our soul. Consulting, tending to, and loving your shadow self can allow one to break free of these things, or even better, allow them to work for you and propel you on your journey to achieve your soul’s purpose.

To get started, I am working with this very poignant Full Moon that takes place tomorrow at its highest illumination. I have some shadow-work journal prompts, a Full Moon spell, and a ritual planned. 

I guess sometimes, being an ADHD witch has it’s upsides too. Witchcraft is a tool that really helps me live a meaningful life despite the struggles that come with my ADHD. I am who I am, and embracing the intersections of these two identifying pieces of me allows me to pursue my soul’s purpose.

- Aquirius (July 2021)

[feelingofcontent]

I briefly posted my thoughts on the design of the YWGTTN and a couple high-level thoughts on the book itself, but I thought I’d share a few more specific thoughts, first on the mental health content of the book. 

I was pretty unfamiliar with the majority of the concepts discussed prior to reading YWGTTN. So for me, this was a great introduction. I could see how it might be pretty surface-level for someone who was already familiar with the concepts though.

I also loved the practical exercises and easy ways to apply things to your own life. I honestly can’t stand reading really theoretical self-help (or anything too theory-heavy). So I loved the focus on the practical! There are a few things discussed that I do really struggle with, so it has been nice to try to apply the practical advice to those parts of my life and see if it works for me.

Also more personally, I have someone close to me that has been struggling significantly with their mental health recently and started attending therapy. YWGTTN helped give me a better foundation for supporting them and a “shared language” to use when talking with them about mental health.

These are some of the concepts and exercises that stood out to me the most. This is probably more for me than anyone, but I’d love to hear if anyone else resonated with some of these same things, or what your thoughts were on YWGTTN in general! (Spoilers below the break.)

“It is possible to cruise through life suffering, if we don’t understand that it isn’t necessary to feel that way.” (p. 31) – Oof. This early quote hit me hard, as a reminder that you don’t always know what people are suffering with because they seem to be moving through life just fine. And as a reminder that their are some things in my own life that I just ‘put up with’ even though they make me feel bad...and that shouldn’t be the case.

Blame evolution (p. 40) – I really appreciated the discussion of how a lot of the responses we have and our brains’ evolution was to keep us safe, but now we’re not under the same threats. I liked the framing of ‘you don’t control your thoughts’ with the scientific backing.

“The best thing is to simply accept that our weird minds are just like this...” (p. 48) – I don’t know why reframing the idea of intrusive thoughts like this worked for me, but it really really did. It’s like an excuse, but true?

Key thoughts to lock in your mind during a crisis (p. 57) – I’m printing this page out and sticking it on my desk.

Exercise: Abdominal Breathing (p. 65) – I’ve been using this literally every night when I’m laying in bed and trying to fall asleep. It’s been helping a lot with that.

The anxiety equation (p. 81) – I had never seen this before and I actually love math so this one spoke to me. It’s been a good way for me to more realistically think about how bad (or not) something actually is.

“Procrastination is about fear. Fear that the task ahead of you will be difficult, that it will be overwhelming, that you might fail.” (p. 100) – It’s me. I’m definitely somewhat of a procrastinating perfectionist like Dan is. This whole section about how to address that with the simple “five minute rule” for getting started on something is pretty much how this post got written, lol.

“when we feel low we remember and emphasise the other times we feel low, and when we fell good we tend to connect positive memories...” (p. 113) – Why is this not a thing I’ve realized before? It’s a helpful perspective to have when considering how I’m feeling in a moment.

Clock-blocking (p. 146) – I felt called out again; I look at the clock way too much when I can’t sleep. I’ve been trying not to do that and doing the breathing exercise instead.

“...but you can notice the emotional benefits of just a bit of movement straight away.” (p. 172) – Hello, me trying to stand up more while working and take a walk every day (and to stop thinking about losing those 10 pounds).

“It’s not that we view other people simply as tools to give us what we want, but actually it kind of is exactly like that” (p. 181) – This is certainly an interesting way of framing social relationships. I like what he discusses about how different relationships can serve different purposes in your life and that not everyone has to be everything.

“I constantly feel like I’m inconveniencing people, even if I’m not asking something of them.” (p. 185) – I’m so bad at keeping in touch with people and I think this is why. I never want to make a decision that affects someone else or “bother” them. Gotta take that first step though.

“If you’ve withdrawn from friends and lost touch with people, it doesn’t mean you can’t reach out and reconnect with them.” (p. 188) – Yep, needed that due to the above.

“If you really want to help others the most, you need to be the best, most functional and productive version of you...” (p. 215) – I’m guilty of sometimes not taking good enough care of myself in order to help the people around me, for sure. Need this as a reminder to make time for me or I’ll end up being useless anyway.

“It should be all of our missions, in more ways than just mental health...to surpass our default programming, learn, grow, and become and honest and happy version of us, for ourselves and others.” (p. 234) – For me, this is a “you are not your upbringing” reminder, and a reminder that you can always learn and be better. Or to use an old YouTube reference from Vlogbrothers - DFTBA.

“A power we should all try to cultivate is the ability to sit with negative emotions. Not to run away from them, or suppress them, but to accept they are there and try to work with them, by looking for the thoughts behind the feelings.” (p. 273) – This is a long one, but stood out to me because I’m sometimes too good at just ignoring (or trying to ignore) bad feelings. It always comes back to bite me later, so the point about looking at the thoughts, which can actually be addressed in some way, was helpful for me.

“Protect your boundaries and don’t take on more than you can handle. Don’t agree to too much work, emotional responsibility, or cave in to demands you know you might not have energy for.” (p. 290) – I need this reminder almost daily. And even more than that, to remember to keep asserting myself even if people push back against the boundaries I’ve set.

“Life isn’t about judging ourselves for what we value and trying to fit in, it’s about learning what we truly want to do and be, and striving for it in order to feel fulfilled.” (p. 305) – This is what really resonated with me towards the end of the book, and kind of what everything else can build into. Though I’m still trying to figure out what really matters to me and then how to work towards that.

[idreamofplaid]

The Feel of a Heartbeat

Square Filled: Autumn for @spngenrebingo​; Meet Cute for @spnfluffbingo​; Heat or Rut Blockers for @spnabobingo​

Characters: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: Sam lost his Omega many years ago and gave up on the idea of ever having another, but he’s about to find out that part of his life isn’t over.

Word Count: 4161

A/N: I thought this was a oneshot. There’s a Part 2 in the works. That’s where the smut is gonna happen. 😉 This story is also asking to be even longer than that. There’s the question of why Dean needs the pie that I want to answer. 🙂

Created for @spngenrebingo @spnfluffbingo & @spnabobingo

Sam had told himself any number of lies over the years. More than once, he had told himself this was the last case; and then he was out. Out never came. He was still hunting, and it was his life now. He had assured himself that everything he’d done had been for the greater good without any selfish motives. He’d also told himself he was evil, and neither was true. Sam had learned he was more complex than the simplicity of either of those things. 

The biggest lie he’d told himself was that he shouldn’t have an Omega in his life; it was better if he didn’t. He had tried commitment once, and it had ended badly. Very badly. He had watched his Omega die, burning on the ceiling. It had taken him years to come back from that.

Thankfully, the grief had initially suppressed his ruts. It also took away his scent. This became evident to him when his ruts finally returned. Normally during a rut, Omegas would be drawn to him. They would practically surround him, needing and wanting his knot. He still got his fair share of flirting and attention, but it wasn’t the same; and for Sam that was a relief.

Sam had no interest in the attention of an Omega or anyone else. His heart still hurt too much for Jessica and the guilt he felt for his perceived role in her death was too strong. A part of him had been taken away, ripped from him in the cruelest way imaginable. A couple of times he had sought out the company of an Omega when the pain of needing to mate had become too great, but the relief his body found only crushed his heart more. None of them was Jessica, and he didn’t dare to let himself feel anything like what he’d felt for her again.

That’s when Sam started taking suppressants, and he had been taking them ever since. They had blocked his ruts and brought a certain peace to his life, but no satisfaction. He just told himself that part of his life was over; his chance to bond himself with another was gone. Over the years, he found ways to accept it and deal with the resulting emptiness. Mostly, this involved burying himself in research and killing monsters, but the loneliness never went away.

Sam’s life changed on the day he walked into Lebanon’s one and only bakery looking for pie. One of the effects of the suppressants he took was that they not only erased his scent but also the scent of any nearby Omega, taking away any temptation and the possibility of fulfillment or pain. As he stepped inside the bakery, it was more than just pie fillings and frosting he smelled. 

The scent of pumpkin and sugar was heavy in the air; but what Sam smelled wasn’t muffins. This fragrance was laced with the aroma of crisp fall air, the way the day smells when you walk through an apple orchard while the trees are heavy with fruit and the fallen leaves are crunching beneath your feet. This smell was all delicious Omega, and that was something Sam hadn’t smelled for a long time. 

He hadn’t thought about it much really. It didn’t register with him that when the suppressants took away his scent and his ruts, they also took away his ability to smell Omegas. Then Sam saw her. He was instantly overwhelmed by the combined smell of sweetness, warmth, and freshness. It made his heart race, his knees a little weak, and his cock twitch with interest. 

It absolutely couldn’t be. Sam stood unmoving for a minute, transfixed by what was happening to him. He had been barely nineteen when he’d last felt something like this. It was unmistakable, and were it not for the suppressants; he would have probably gone into rut right there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N was putting apple turnovers in the display case when Sam walked through the door. His presence filled the space as soon as he stepped into her shop; her senses tingled, and she could feel him. When Y/N looked up, she saw a man so handsome that for a moment she forgot what she was doing. 

His hair grazed his shoulders, and those shoulders were the broadest ones she’d ever seen. His eyes were a soft, warm hazel highlighted with green. Then he smiled, and her knees went a little weak. Dimples. How could a man who looked this strong also have dimples so adorable? Y/N tried not to stare at his muscles; his pecs were straining against the first closed button on his shirt, and his biceps filled the sleeves of the plaid flannel he was wearing to their limits. She silently reminded herself to stay focused.

She looked up and smiled her brightest. “Hi. What can I help you with today?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks. It wasn’t cupcakes she wanted to give him.

Sam smiled even bigger, and she could swear she saw a certain kind of gleam in his eye. It was the kind that only Alphas have. His expression was self assured and sexy, the kind of look that made an Omega want to submit and be marked. She told herself she had to be imagining it. This guy wasn’t an Alpha. If he was an Alpha, she would be able to smell him.

This tall, handsome, every bit an Alpha but the smell, man opened his mouth to speak; and his voice had a depth and a richness that calmed her on a primal level. He had the soothing tone that an Alpha would have only with his Omega. It was the way she had always imagined it, and him, to be. 

Sam interrupted the confusion of her thoughts. “I need a pie.” A bit of hair had fallen across his temple, and all the Alpha power she had sensed earlier was replaced with an almost boyish charm. He tilted his head to the side, and his hair moved over his forehead. “That is, my brother needs a pie. I need a pie for my brother.”

His awkwardness was cute, and she decided she must have imagined the Alpha thing. None of the Alphas she’d ever known could so endearingly fumble their words. He chewed at his bottom lip and tried again. “I mean I’m here to buy a pie for my brother because he’s been having a rough time lately, and pie cheers him up.”

He was handsome and thoughtful too. “Okay. I think I have exactly what you need.” There went her word choice again, sending her mind in other directions. “Do you want something with fruit? I made the cherry and apple fresh this morning. I’ve also got chocolate, banana creme, and lemon meringue, or you can order anything off the menu, and I’ll have it ready tomorrow afternoon.”

She gestured over her shoulder to the menu, but Sam was quick to answer. “No, I...um, definitely need it today.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck, and she noticed how long and thick his fingers were.

Her voice took on a softness and a certain seriousness. “Apple is a great choice for this time of year.” Whatever this situation was with his brother, she wanted to help him. She felt it was her place to help him. He had activated all her Omega senses. She was still confused about how, but it had definitely happened.

Y/N lifted the fresh baked pie from the case. The crust was beautiful. She had taken great time with it, working the crust into a work of art. She had carefully latticed the top with the strips of crust weaving over and under each other and offering a peek of the fruit underneath. 

Y/N was proud of that pie, and that was the one she wanted him to have. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, and Y/N noticed he started to take out a credit card; but then he handed her cash instead. “I’m Sam. Thanks for this. I’m sure Dean will like it.”

She handed him his change, and her fingers lightly grazed his palm as she did. “I’m Y/N.” She smiled. “Come back next week. I’ll be making pumpkin spice muffins with cream cheese frosting and cinnamon apple bread.” He nodded and treated her to another dimple adorned smile before he took the boxed pie from her and left with a jingle of the bell over the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam couldn’t stop thinking about her. There was something about her smile, something about the way he looked at her, and when she touched his hand; it felt like he had come home. There was something so familiar about her, like he knew her, but he was sure he’d never met her before. 

The next week he left his salads and smoothies behind for another trip back to the bakery. It was fall, nothing wrong with indulging in some baked pumpkin treats. He would work it off during his morning run.

Y/N was with another customer when Sam walked in. That gave him an opportunity to look at her, study her really. Her mouth was small. It didn’t cover much of her face, but her lips were full; and, to Sam, they appeared very kissable. He wondered how soft her bottom lip would be if he dragged his finger over it while he looked into her eyes before he kissed her. 

Sam’s eyes travelled down her body. He watched as she wrapped cinnamon rolls; the paper sounded with a satisfying crinkle as she placed them in the bag. It made Sam think about sharing one of those pastries with her. He imagined her breaking off a piece and putting it into his mouth. He also imagined that her fingers would be even sweeter than the cinnamon roll.

Her smile set off a sparkle in her eyes when she saw him. “Hi, Sam. Are you back for the pumpkin muffins?” 

He sank his hand into the pocket of his jeans, not quite sure what to do with it. “Yeah, they sounded too good to pass up.” 

She picked what appeared to be the largest muffin in the case while she asked him, “here or to go?” 

On impulse, Sam answered, “here.” He could think of nothing better than to stay in her presence as long as he could. 

She put his muffin on a plate, and he noticed how tiny her hands were. Sam wanted to hold her hand, lace his fingers through hers, feel connected to her. “Do you want some coffee to go with that?” 

“That’d be good,” Sam replied. 

She smiled at him again. “Go ahead and find a seat. I’ll bring it out to you.” 

Sam chose one of the round cafe tables in the corner farthest from the door. When Y/N brought over his coffee, she was carrying a second cup. “Mind if I join you?” 

There was nothing Sam wanted more. “Sure.” Her movements were fluid, graceful as she pulled out the chair and sat across from him. Sam had never been so thankful for small tables. Usually such things made him feel too big for the world, like he didn’t fit. That was a feeling he’d never been comfortable with, and he found himself trying to feel smaller in spite of his Alpha status. It was a lingering result of the guilt he felt after Jessica’s death. 

Y/N took a sip of her coffee. Sam could smell it, nutty with the slightest hint of vanilla. She said, “I haven’t seen you around before. Have you been in Lebanon long?”

“It’s been a few years. My brother and I have a place outside town. We both travel a lot with work. When I’m home, I don’t usually have a reason to go places like a bakery.” Sam’s focus was fixed on his coffee mug for a second, then he looked at her. “I have one now. This coffee is amazing.” He paused, and she could see him thinking. As he took another sip, he looked at her in such a way that Y/N knew he meant more than the coffee had caught his interest.

They talked for nearly an hour. Y/N was thankful it was a slow morning. She only had to leave the conversation once to get a loaf of banana bread for one of her regulars, and eagerly she had returned to her spot near Sam. Already, she enjoyed the feeling of being near him. He wrapped her in his presence without even touching her, and she was realizing more and more it was a place she wanted to stay.

As their morning together was drawing to a close, things between them got quieter. There were fewer words and more comfortable silence. Sam looked at her, and she could see him thinking again. Finally, he asked her, “Have you ever been to the fall festival?”

Y/N felt her stomach do a flip. She hoped this was headed where she thought. “I’ve been a couple of times. It’s great for getting into the spirit of fall, and autumn is my favorite time of year.”

“Would you like to go again...with me? You could show me the ropes. I haven’t been to many fall festivals, or any other kind really.”

Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach settle, and the calm of being around him took over again. “Yes, I’d like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It surprised Sam how much time he spent preparing for this date. Thinking about what he was going to wear wasn’t something Sam did beyond making sure it was functional enough that there was a wide range of movement and comfortable enough that he could spend a ten hour stretch in the Impala wearing it. He hadn’t even cared about clothes in his Stanford days when he was young and falling in love with Jess.

Sam had no idea which colors looked best on him, but blue was his favorite; so he decided to go with that. He chose one of his newer plaids that was predominantly blue with some gray and white mixed in, along with his best pair of jeans. At least a fall festival wasn’t fancy, so his clothes worked. He wasn’t sure how he’d feel about wearing one of his FBI suits on a date, especially one that was taking on so much importance for him.

He’d even thought about asking Dean if he could take Baby for the day, but he wasn’t ready for the kind of questions a move like that would inspire. It was hard enough telling his brother he was taking someone to the town festival at all. Neither of them had hardly given the banners announcing the Lebanon Fall Festival a second glance in all the years they’d lived there. 

The biggest decision came for Sam two nights after he’d asked Y/N out. He was alone in the bunker bathroom and staring at himself in the mirror. It’d been a long time since he’d looked at his own reflection, really looked. 

The years had aged him, not that that was a bad thing. It meant he was still alive. It also meant there was wisdom in his eyes. Sam had suffered in those years; he’d learned, and he had overcome much loss and pain. The hard edge he’d once had that was fueled by anger was gone. It had been replaced by a steadfastness, a certainty of who he was that had been defined by the things he’d endured.

It was with that certainty, Sam opened the medicine cabinet, took out his bottle of suppressants, and dumped them into the sink. He turned on the water and watched as they dissolved and disappeared down the sink. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N was practically giddy with excitement by the time she heard Sam’s knock at her door. She smoothed her hands over her hair one last time, took a deep breath, and opened it. She knew he was handsome, hadn’t been able to get the memory of that out of her head. He had been in her dreams these past few nights, but to have him in front of her again was purely breathtaking.

He led her to his truck parked by the curb. It was a vintage model, at least a couple of decades old. She wasn’t good with cars; so she couldn’t pinpoint it, but it fit the day perfectly. Sam opened the passenger door for her and helped her in.

The short ride to the fair was filled with laughter and fall sunshine streaming in through the windshield. Sam told her stories about when he was a kid. She found out he’d loved books growing up, still did, and so did she. They talked about the last books they’d read and favorite genres. They talked about the places they’d like to go. Sam shared with her that he’d seen most of the United States but not much outside of it, and he would like to change that.

She could imagine traveling the world with him, experiencing it through his eyes; but that was something she would do with her Alpha. Y/N felt a pang of sadness stab her heart at the thought of losing that dream with Sam. For now, she should just focus on enjoying this day with the fascinating man in front of her.

They played games together: ring toss, tin can bowling, and pumpkin tic tac toe. Sam was, not surprisingly, skilled at all of them. But when it came to popping balloons with darts, he was exceptionally good. He’d won the two prize limit in under five minutes. Both were teddy bears in the typically bright colors of carnival toys. She kept the green one, and the pink one she gave to a little girl waiting in the line next to them. 

When she turned back to Sam, he was watching the little girl hug her new bear with a soft look in his eyes. Y/N was mesmerized by the look on his face. Finally, she asked him, “Where did you learn to do that?”

The look on his face changed, and it made Y/N sorry she’d said anything. “My dad taught me.”

Sam was quick to recover, the melancholy gone from his eyes. “Would you like to learn?” She nodded, and he positioned her in front of him. “Pick up one of the darts.” Sam draped his arm along the length of hers and settled his fingers over her hand so he could guide her movements. “Focus on the target. Don’t think about it too much. Just keep your eye on the place you want the dart to go.”

He moved her hand in a circular motion. “Stay loose.” Sam let go of her hand and dropped his own hand to her waist. “Now, throw it.” Y/N kept her eye on the center of the balloon and let the dart fly. It landed just to the left of her target. “Not bad,” he told her. Sam kept his hands on her waist. “PIck your spot on the balloon. Focus. And let it go.” This time, the dart she threw landed in the center of a red balloon with a loud pop. 

Y/N couldn’t help but jump up and down a little. She was surprised she’d been able to do that. Sam’s hold on her tightened slightly, then he let her go and stepped back. “Throw the last one.” Her last dart didn’t pop another balloon, but that did nothing to diminish her glow. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day had a magic about it. The air was cool, and the sun was shining with a diffuse brightness in a vibrant jewel toned blue sky, the kind of a glorious autumn. Seasonal produce was everywhere. The yellows, oranges, and reds of squash, pumpkins, and apples created a rich backdrop for the sounds of laughter coming from the people playing carnival games and enjoying fall treats.

Sam felt good, better than he had in a long time. Y/N’s enthusiasm filled his veins with an excitement of his own. It was possibility. The blood of life was flowing through his veins again. Somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind, a spark of recognition flared. This is what it felt like when his instincts weren’t dulled by suppressants. This is what it felt like when he was falling in love. He reached for Y/N’s hand, and she laced her fingers through his.

Sam enjoyed the feel of her hand in his. The way their fingers wrapped together made him feel something deep inside of him that he could only define as peace. It was a rare feeling for him, so rare he didn’t think he’d ever felt quite this way before. He could feel her smiling at him, knew it without looking. When he did look, her expression comforted him somehow, wrapped around him, and gave him hope for the future. “Are you hungry?” she asked him. “You haven’t lived until you have fall carnival food.”

They passed by several concession stands before Y/N found the one she wanted. Sam had never seen anything like it; there was more junk food here than he allowed himself in a year, and now he wanted all of it. He’d never had funnel cake, kettle corn, or a fried candy bar; but it was the caramel apple stand where Y/N came to a stop. Sam had never had one of those either. 

There were green apples and red apples covered in a layer of caramel. Some had crushed peanuts on them; some had been dipped in candies, and others were decorated with swirls of chocolate. “Want one?” She looked at him expectantly.

“Yeah.” Sam answered with a smile that turned on his dimples. Y/N took her time choosing exactly the two apples she wanted. Both were Granny Smith with festive dark chocolate drizzles; one had nuts and one didn’t. She kept the one with the nuts for herself.

To Sam’s surprise, it wasn’t entirely easy to take the first bite out of a caramel apple. The layer of solidified gooeyness with the firm apple underneath made it a challenge to sink his teeth in just right, but when he did the intense sweetness of the caramel with a hint of tartness from the apple was perfect.

Sam thoroughly enjoyed the indulgence of the apple and managed to make an adorable mess. Y/N pushed a stray bit of caramel from the corner of his mouth onto his lips with her fingertip. Her touch lingered for a beat, and Sam felt something stir inside him and come to life. 

She asked him then if he wanted to try a bite of her apple. “It’s good with the peanuts.” He took a bite of the apple she offered him. His eyes met hers, and it was then that the thing awakening inside him exploded. The intense smell of pumpkin, sugar, and autumn air once again flooded over him like it had that first day he met her in the bakery. It was like a strong ocean wave that threatened to knock him down. Omega. HIS Omega.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N felt a little shy as she held out her apple for Sam to take a bite. There was still a phantom tingle in her fingertips from touching his lips. Her body was nearly humming from his closeness. It felt natural to her to feed him, like the intimate gesture was just one of many they frequently shared.

Her eyes found his, and she let herself float into the warm golden brown of his hazel eyes. For a moment, she lost herself in him and in the way he was looking at her. Then, she smelled it. It was the distinctly earthy smell of firewood set ablaze. She tore her eyes from his to look around. Had someone started a bonfire?

There was no fire. Y/N looked back at Sam, and she could only describe what she saw there as amazement, maybe even awe. He looked like he wanted to say something. She could still smell the firewood. Now it was joined by the scent of bourbon, warm and rich, kissed by the sweetness of maple syrup. It was him; the smell was coming from Sam.

Y/N’s heart started to beat faster, and her breathing was rapid and shallow. He was an Alpha, and he wasn’t just any Alpha; he was hers. She felt the slick begin to pool in her panties, and pain with a white hot intensity jabbed at her abdomen and radiated through her core. She dropped the apple and grabbed for Sam’s arm to steady herself. “Alpha?!”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

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