#but it didn’t work so I redrew them until I got tired and gave up

[snotbuggle]

The Lawquane family (before moving to Saleucami). Idk I just love them all so much and I have been thinking about how the family came to add Cut in.

In my own version of their story, the family lives somewhere other than Saleucami when they meet Cut. After the crash, he’s suffered minor internal damage and a severe fracture to his patella. While he heals he helps prepare the family for eventual evacuation which results in choosing Saleucami to further themselves from the war.

I tried to get Suu’s facial features to be more unique, but it’s hard to follow the guide you made yourself earlier when the entire face is less than an inch tall on your sketchbook. In my reference for her, I gave her hooded eyes and a more unique nose that didn’t show well here. I also tried to give Shaeeah (shortened to Shea on paper) hooded eyes as well but ended up changing them because I couldn’t get it to look right.

Since the kiddos changed a ton between tcw and tbb, I wasn’t too worried about what they looked like. Nonetheless trying to combine the designs is difficult considering how drastically different they are. I hc that the skin patterns change frequently. Also I was too lazy to design their clothes :,)

[rainydaymiddleearthimagines]

The Arrangement Pt6

Warning: mentions of blood, injuries, attempting to fix said injuries and yet another near death experience

Note: The next chapter will be the end to the story, however a new one will begin. This is where backstory begins to get a little shaky because I don’t know certain time frames but I am trying.

You sat in the window, hair braided back as you watched the leaves fall. Arwen noticed your look, your far off look. Usually when this happened you were listening to nature, hearing the trees converse. Arwen didn’t even have to tell you that Aragorn had arrived, you could feel the change of the air. You got up slowly, stretching as you did. “Hear anything of interest?” She asked. “Nothing that I didn’t already know.” You shrugged. 

You walked down the stairs, seeing Aragorn with his horse. He was older now, as were you. Fifteen years had gone by, his old wounds now scars hidden by his clothes. You smiled softly, him turning to you before engulfing you into a hug. You chuckled. “You’ve been near the Shire.” you said, smelling the tobacco on his clothes. “Nothing ever gets past you.” He said with a chuckle. He brushed a loose strand aside and you blushed, chuckling. “Where are we going this time?” you asked. “I was thinking you choose the destination.” He suggested. “Any special reason as to why?” you asked. “I assume the trees could get us back if we got truly lost.” He said making you chuckle. “You do realize that would be we would just wander the woods for hours if I had my way.” you said. “Then we shall wander.” he said. 

And so you did, eventually camping in a clearing that night. The fire crackled and Aragorn warmed his hands. “I love the woods.” you said softly. “I know. Your eyes seem to get brighter when we’re going through them.” He said softly. You smiled, looking down. He smiled, stepping over to the log you were sitting on and sitting next to you. Neither of you said anything. It was silence around you with the exception of the pops of the fire. The silence was one of comfort, giving you both a pleasant feeling. You looked at the flames, watching it dance for a little while. “You have something on your mind.” He noticed. You nodded without thinking. “What troubles you?” He asked. 

The answer was sitting next to you on a log. Your mind was always thinking of him. Sometimes you’d sit in the woods to tell nature of your problems. Oh how tired they must be over Aragorn’s name. A light breeze swayed the direction of the fire, almost encouraging you to say something. You were actually good at keeping your feelings in on this subject, after all fifteen years of experience was tucked under your belt. He looked at you confused. 

Speak to him Undomiel.

You sighed. “These royal lessons are getting more strange. Last week I had to learn the differences in... Dinner forks.” you said making Aragorn snort. He expected something more.. Profound than a complaint on your father’s insistence of you learning royal etiquette. “Then I had to learn three different forms of curtsies. Who in the hell does three different curtsies!?” You asked. Aragorn laughed at your increased frustration. “Oh laugh it up, I would threaten to stab you but I’m not entirely sure what fucking knife to use for the job.” You said with a slight laugh. Aragorn’s laughter finally subsided and he cleared his throat. "I know you better than that Y/n, what is bothering you?" He asked.

You looked at him and then back at the fire. Occasionally you'd open your mouth to speak but your anxiety was so bad that you closed your mouth. "I'm... Going to get more firewood." You said finally. He rose a brow as you walked off into the woods. You sighed, running a hand over your face. You were 2,467 years old for God's sake. S crush shouldn't be this hard to admit but when it came to Aragorn the man made you crazy. You were terrified that you would destroy the close bond by admitting your feelings. You hated this so much.

Not alone.

You looked up and frowned, reaching for your dagger by your side. "Na- -yes Aragorn? (Is it Aragorn?)" You muttered.

No. Different.

You swallowed. "Na- ha safe? (Is it safe?)" You asked.

Unsure.

You stepped back, facing the darkness when you bumped into someone. You jumped, Aragorn raising a brow. "You didn't come back, are you sure you're alright Y/?" He asked. "We're not alone." You said. He frowned, drawing his sword. You heard a twig snap and you braced yourself.

Then... A figure walked out and you readied yourself. "Wait." Aragorn halted. He recognized that armor. "you're a long ways from Rohan stranger." He said. "I've seem to be very lost. Yes." The voice said, revealing the person to be a woman.

Safe.

You sheathed your dagger and Aragorn rose a brow. He soon sheathed his sword. "Might I hear the name of the person whom I nearly skewered?" You asked making them chuckle. She stepped into view. "Liliana. And you?" She asked. "Y/n. This is Strider." You said. She nodded. "So.. where am I exactly?" She asked. "Well, you're not completely off course but you're closer to Mirkwood than Rohan." You said. "Stupid Wargs." She huffed. "I truly mean no offense, but how did you obtain the armor?" Aragorn asked. "It's my father's. I wanted to prove myself worthy for battle so I took off. Planned on hunting a bear. Instead found a very pissed off warg and it chased me until I got to the woods.

It did not leave.

You redrew your dagger. "What's wrong?" Aragorn asked. "The warg followed her." You said. "How do you--" "Do you have a weapon?" Aragorn asked. "No, it broke." She said. "Then get behind us." You said. She nodded and you all stood in silence before you saw those eyes. Those animalistic eyes. You sprinted forward, attacking the creature.

It was more of a one on one attack as you fought it, it on top of you. "STRIDER!" Was all you yelled, him running over before it bit your neck. You let out an agonized scream before Aragorn plunged his sword through the warg. Aragorn shoved the creature off of you, him kneeling. "The son of a bitch bit me." You winced, blood dripping down your neck. "I have herbs in my pack." He said softly. You sat up slowly, wincing as you did. "I am so sorry." Liliana apologized. "wasn't your fault." You assured, though your vision was hazier. Aragorn noticed your sudden stumble forward, you keeping a hand to your neck. "Y/n move your hand." He said. You slowly pulled your hand away. It was deeper and you were losing a lot of blood, very fast.

"Shit." He murmured, Liliana gaping. You stumbled again, this time seeing dark spots. Your legs felt weaker, your vision was failing and you collapsed into Aragorn's arms. He caught you, holding you close to him. Liliana pondered. "We're supposed to be near Mirkwood aren't we?" She asked. "I don't see how that's supposed to..." He paused. "I know this is a long shot but can you alert Legolas of her life being in danger!?" Aragorn asked the trees. "Who is Legolas!?" Liliana asked, very confused as a gust of wind travelled through the trees. There was a small chance this would work and that's what was keeping him somewhat calm.

Aragorn made his way back to the camp, you in his arms. The Evenstar necklace had a blood splatter on it now, your armor being coated with it. Liliana was helping in whatever way she could, actually showing an aptitude with medicinal herbs. He took a cloth, pressing it to your neck before frowning. "We need to cauterize the wound." Liliana said. "I know. It's going to be excruciating though." He muttered. "Do you have anything to help?" Liliana asked. He shook his head and she looked through your bag, finding a piece of metal that would do the job. She stuck it in the fire, waiting a few seconds before handing it to Aragorn. He took it, beginning the cauterization process. You whimpered in your sleep, breaking Aragorn's heart.

He heard rapid footsteps Liliana looking over her shoulder before an elf sprinted out of the woods, kneeling by your side. "How long has she been like this?" He asked. "A few minutes. Legolas it's bad." Aragorn said. "Our healers can fix this. You have a horse?" He asked. He nodded to his steed along with yours. "Good. Follow me, ride with your friend. We're taking her to Mirkwood." He said. Aragorn nodded, Legolas taking your horse and riding, Liliana riding with Aragorn on his horse. "come on Y/n... Stay with us." Legolas murmured, holding you close.

Arwen looked up, shocked look on her face. "FATHER." She called. Elrond looked up at his daughter, noticing the panic. "Something's wrong with Y/n. She's going to Mirkwood with a woman, Aragorn and Legolas." She said. Elrond's eyes widened. "Arwen, are you sure?" He asked. "Yes! Something happened!" She said. "Go get your horse, we'll leave for Mirkwood." Elrond said. Arwen nodded, both of them running off to prepare for the journey. Elrond was silently praying that you would make and Arwen was solely relying on that feeling of you. She ran to her horse, Elrond already mounted and ready to leave before she halted, a hand going to her mouth. "What's wrong?" Elrond asked. "She's drifting to the fade."

Legolas was wishing you had been closer to Mirkwood, seeing as you were getting colder. "We need you Y/n, don't you dare pass over." He breathed. Aragorn rode in silence, clinging to that hope that you would still make it, unaware that your sister was already alert to the danger and on her way with Elrond. Relief washed over Legolas as he entered Mirkwood. "FATHER!" He called, Thranduil turning around and seeing you. Legolas practically leapt off the horse, you in his arms. "I need healers, medicine, something." He said, handing you off to a healer. They ran off with you as Aragorn rode in. "You brought the man with you." Thranduil muttered. "I don't have time for your dislike towards others father, my best friend's life is in danger." Legolas snapped. Thranduil gave his son a disapproving look but said nothing. "How did this happen?" Thranduil asked. "It was my fault, I accidentally--" "It was not your fault. I should have been more alert and gave her my sword when she sensed danger." Aragorn halted. "It was a warg attack." He said. "wargs can be ruthless creatures." Thranduil said before halting. "Elrond and her sister have left Rivendell." He said.

Aragorn frowned. "She's passing over." Thranduil said, filling Aragorn with anxiety. “Is there a way to ensure she survives?” Aragorn asked. “If there is one, it’s not coming to mind. I should tend to her myself.” Thranduil said before leaving. “I’m so sorry.” Liliana mumbled, looking at the ground. “It was not your fault. That warg was going to find us eventually.” Aragorn assured. “Though you should probably return to Rohan.” He added. “I don’t know the way back.” She said. “Aerin can show you.” Legolas said, halting a man from walking. “Show her the way back to Rohan.” He said. “Yes your hign--” “Ah. We talked about this.” Legolas halted. “...Yes... Sir.” The man nodded before walking away with Liliana. Aragorn sat on a nearby bench, putting his face in his hands. 

Legolas sat down next to him and breathed. “She’s strong. She will make it.” Legolas said. “I can’t let her die.” Aragorn muttered. “Y/n has survived much worse Aragorn.” Legolas assured. He sighed. “Is this what it’s going to take every time? A near death experience to have a shocking revelation?” Aragorn asked. “What shocking revelation have you had?” Legolas asked. “That I need to tell her that I love her.” He said. Legolas nodded, looking at the ground. “It’s about time.” He said. “What-- You knew?” Aragorn asked. “It’s not hard to see. You look at her like she’s the light of your life, you always do things to make her smile, you’re more affectionate with her than anyone else, you give her small pet names in her native language, it’s amazing she hasn’t figured this out yet.” Legolas said. Aragorn said nothing and Legolas stood up. “Have you eaten?” He asked. “No.” Aragorn said. “Come on. Someone will come to us if something happens.” Legolas said.

It felt like deja vu for Legolas, him having to take care of Aragorn this time rather than you. Hours passed, eventually Aragorn sleeping on the ground against a wall near where they took you. His cloak kept him warm, Legolas occasionally walking by to make sure Aragorn was fine. The sounds of horses riding in though, eventually woke him up, Arwen running over to the room you were in. By the time Aragorn had woken up it was morning. He noticed a strange tension, elves standing with sad looks. That immediately rose alarms as he ran into the room. Arwen was weeping over a body. 

Your body. 

You were gone. This was confirmed by the unmoving chest, the paleness of you and worst of all, the state of everyone around you. Healers had their heads bowed, Legolas was frozen, unmoving with a blank expression as tears ran down his face and worst was your family. Your brothers joined your sister and father after they heard talk of something being wrong and they all stood in the room. Elrond was sobbing, holding your small hand in his as your brothers didn’t say a word. Arwen though, was inconsolable. She was broken down and sobbing.

Sound drowned out of Aragorn’s ears, him slowly walking towards you. Arwen looked up and she watched as he moved hair from your face. His fingers barely touched your skin but he could feel it. You were cold. You were dead. He shook slightly, looking at your face. “There... Has to be something we can do.” He muttered. “She’s gone Aragorn, what more can we do?” Elrohir asked. Legolas finally spoke. “P..Perhaps Gandalf would have an answer to why this happened.” He said. “She died. There’s your answer.” Elrohir muttered. “Elrohir.” Arwen snapped. “What? She is lying there and she’s...” He saw his baby sister’s face. “...She’s gone.” He muttered. “I agree... Something about this was too quick.” Thranduil said. “What should we do?” Elrond asked. “Call upon the council. And find the girl who was with you when you entered.” Thranduil said. Elrond nodded and Arwen looked down, closing her eyes with some sort of focus. “There was a woman?” Elrohir asked. “From Rohan. Are you sure she didn’t do this on purpose?” Legolas said.  “Yes, I’m sure. If I was unsure, I wouldn’t have even let her come with us.” Aragorn said. “Are we even sure we can trust his judgement?” Thranduil asked. Elrond opened his mouth “She trusts him with her life, that says something about his character, does it not?” Arwen said. “You speak as if there is a chance of life.” Thranduil. “There is.” She said. 

Elrond looked over. “Y/n has not passed over, not completely. She is very close but she’s clinging to a point that she couldn’t physically handle.” Arwen said, her eyes closed. “Can you feel her presence?” Elrond asked. “Galadriel has greeted her. She knows.” Arwen muttered. ��Is there anything we can do Arwen?”  Legolas asked. She shook her head. “It is strictly up to Y/n.” She said. 

Aragorn’s gaze went back to you. This was happening again. Is this how helpless you felt when he almost died? He at least was breathing the whole time but you... You were clinically dead. It all was up to you and your choice. You were going to stay though... Right?

[rosyredlipstick]

Would it be possible for you to write a Conchell fic for me? Quarantine is really getting me down, and I hope you’re staying safe and healthy. Could you write something maybe where one (or a few?) of Mitchell’s siblings gets in a fight w him or gets mad at him and he gets really sad and is crying. And Connor comforts him and then tells the sibling(s) off until they apologize? I love protective Connor

i left my apartment for the first time in 2 weeks for a cat food run. i understand where you’re coming from anon, hope you’re doing well xoxo. 

also, I couldn’t write anything BUT a cabin quarantine fic. sorry!!

-

They had been stuck inside for five hours now, and they were near their breaking point. 

Ever since that mysterious purple fog that drifted out from the--whatever, the Hermes kids had been working on at Arts & Crafts, they’d been stuck inside. 

The Aphrodite cabin had just been getting ready for horseback riding when it happened. Connor had shrugged his counselor’s duties off on Travis for the day, so he had tagged along with the Aphrodite cabin to “annoy Sebastian and hog Mitchell’s attention”--his own words--when Chiron’s megaphoned order to take shelter in the cabins until further notice! had echoed across the camp. 

That was five hours ago. Now, late into the afternoon and much past dinnertime, they were at the breaking point. 

Sebastian and Piper had been snippy with each other for the last hour, and Stefan and Drew couldn’t stop exchanging glares. Every time Lacey and Sophia burst into a loud bit of laughter, Micah looked up from his thick fantasy novel to shoot them an annoyed look. Valentina had put in her headphones around twenty minutes ago but, before that, had kept rubbing at her twitching eye--a headache, most likely. 

Mitchell, curled on a top bunk, had been keeping track of it all despite Connor’s, who was also curled on the top bunk with him, best efforts at distraction. 

“Wow,” Connor clicked his tongue as he dragged his marker across the mini whiteboard. “Another win for me.” 

Mitchell gave him a small, but anxious smile. He clenched at his uncapped marker. “Oh, you’re just too good at this for me.” 

“What can I say,” Connor wiped off the ink with his sleeve and redrew the same overlapping four lines. “I’m a tic-tac-toe king.” 

Connor drew a small O--the top middle, the worst place to start. Mitchell added an X to the middle. 

Mitchell had bodily shoved each of his siblings back into the cabin--they had begun to spill out on the porch to watch in amusement as Connor waxed upon all the things they could dash off to do if they skipped out on their duties. He had curled his hand into Connor’s sweatshirt in panic and pulled with an unforeseen strength until he was up the steps, in the cabin, and Mitchell had slammed the door after them. On the hillside, he saw dark purple fog rippling across the grass. He and Piper sealed the windows, Connor stuffed a towel under the door frame, and they all tried to breathe around the adrenaline. 

Mitchell added another X to the board. 

He flexed his hand. Connor’s sweatshirt was still wrinkled. 

Another X. 

For the third time in five minutes, Scarlett let out a loud huff of frustration. She’d been pacing for the past few minutes but no one had said anything yet--they all knew it was bound to bubble up soon enough. He glanced down at the board. Despite Connor’s best efforts, Mitchell was still losing. 

Mitchell shot Connor an apologetic look as he capped his marker and passed it over so he could climb down the bunk. Connor, of course, followed. 

“Scarlett,” Mitchell asked, leaning against the wall. Connor’s shoulder brushed his own. “Are you okay?” 

Scarlett threw her hands in the air, “What the fuck kind of question is that? We can’t fucking leave the cabin, of course, I’m not okay! What’s going on out there? Why haven’t we heard anything?” 

Piper stood from her bunk and shared a look with Mitchell before she spoke, “They’re probably just busy dealing with whatever out there. Annabeth said things are fine, they’re just making sure it’s safe to go out.” 

Scarlett stopped in her pacing just to give Piper a disgusted look, “How can things be ‘fine’ if we’re still not allowed to leave?” 

Mitchell took a breath, “We’re all feeling cooped up, Scarlett. I think you’re just freaking out -” 

“Freaking out?” Scarlett yelled, “Oh, and you’re the picture of calm? All you’ve been doing since this happened is freaking out to your boyfriend who, in case you forgot, is the reason we’re all stuck in here in the first place!” 

Behind them, Drew didn’t hesitate to scoop up Sabrina in a smooth movement, threw her over her shoulder, and grabbed Sophia and Lacey each by a wrist to drag them into their large closet, her expression hard as Scarlett’s voice rose in volume. Micah followed, his hand tight on Stefan’s shoulder to pull him in. 

Piper waited until the closet door was snug shut behind their youngest siblings before facing Scarlett. “Cabins are in lockdown until Chiron gives us further notice,” Piper said calmly. “We’re stuck together for now, so picking fights won’t do us any good.” 

“I’m not ‘picking a fight,’” Scarlett mocked, “I’m just stating the obvious!”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” Sebastian drawled out, looking bored as he examined his nails. Scarlett glared at him. 

“Yes. This is the Hermes cabin’s fault, and now we’re stuck in the cabin with a fucking Stoll.” She threw her hands in the air again, an explosion. “All because poor baby Mitchell has to spend every waking moment with him and can’t go 10 minutes being his own person.” She crossed her arms, “Gods, can’t you exist on your own? Are you really that pathetic that you can’t-” 

“Alright-” 

“Scarlett-” 

Mitchell pulled back with a wordless hurt expression, his siblings talking over each other. He clenched his hands. Can’t you exist on your own? 

Gods, Scarlett knew to hit where it hurt, even in the midst of all this anxiety.  

Sebastian was in her face now, like they were want to do in their biggest blow-out fights. They hadn’t had one of those in a while. 

Mitchell turned away from them, extremely aware of how they were probably all looking at him but there was nowhere else he could go. He sniffled and tried to take a few deep breaths around his tight throat. 

Connor appeared in front of him, his siblings going quiet behind them. 

“Hey, babe,” he said casually and smooth, identical to his everyday greeting as he came up behind Mitchell to tuck his hand in his pocket, or every time Mitchell walked into the Hermes cabin. “What’s up?” 

Mitchell looked up at him--he wasn’t crying, but his face was definitely ready for it with red cheeks, watery eyes. “I’m so stressed,” he only said very, very quietly--just for Connor. “And this is making it worse.” 

Connor looked him over, his eyes going over every inch of Mitchell’s face, before nodding briskly and leaning in to press a quick kiss to Mitchell’s forehead. “I’ve got this. Wanna wash your face?” 

Mitchell almost burst into tears at that alone--the fact Connor knew exactly what he liked to do after crying, what would refresh him and let him step back from the stress for just a few moments. 

Mitchell nodded and miserably walked off, letting the door click behind him as Connor watched him. 

And when Connor turned back to the rest of the cabin, he was grinning. 

“Hey Scarlett,” He said, his voice perfectly even and composed. “We’re not going to be yelling at each other anymore, okay?” 

Of course, that only set Scarlett off in a pattern of cursing and snarling, her perfect face screwed up tight with anger, rage, and an undercurrent of anxiety. Gods, they were all so stressed. 

“Okay,” Connor said, his lips still perked up in a calm smile. “We’re gonna take some breaths then, okay? Breathe with me -” 

Scarlett let out a twinkling laugh, “Tell me what to do in my own cabin one more fucking time, Stoll. I dare you.” 

“Guys,” Valentina’s eyes shot toward the closet door. “Try to keep your voices down.” 

Scarlett rolled her eyes, “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely what we should be worried about right now. Good thinking, Val.” Valentina wilted slightly as Connor’s eyes sharpened. 

“There’s no need to speak that way to your family, Scarlett,” Connor said her name firmly, no trace of humor in his voice. “You need to take five. Chill out in your bunk with some headphones, or we can clear out the closet and you can take some alone time.”

“I”m not going in the closet for a fucking time out.” 

“Okay,” Connor agreed easily. “That’s fine. But you can’t blow up at us because you’re stressed.” He took a small breath, “I take responsibility for my sibling’s action. I don’t know exactly what they did, but I know that they would never want to seriously hurt anyone. This is all probably just precaution against like,” He made a loose gesture with one hand. “A laughing gas prank gone wrong.” 

Impossibly, that seemed to calm her just the slightest. Connor continued, his voice gentle. He could hear running water in the bathroom.

“I am not your sibling and no one can tell you what to do,” Connor stated, staring her down. “But I think you should apologize to your brother when he comes out.”

Scarlett was shooting her siblings a bewildered look like are you backing him up on this? but they all just stared at her. 

Sebastian crossed his arms, unimpressed. “The fuck you waiting for?”

The rest of her siblings seemed to be thinking along similar lines, no one backing her up. Slowly, the fight drained out of her shoulders. She crossed her arms, almost looking tired. “Whatever. Fine.” She threw herself on her bunk, curling up a bit. “I’ll talk to him later.” 

Piper turned back to him with an eyebrow raised, almost impressed. Connor shrugged happily. 

“Alright,” Connor clapped his hands together. “Who wants to see if I can get the Hermes drones to deliver us some contraband snacks?” 

“I’ll get the kids,” Asher muttered, “and the first aid kit.”

[idrkwhatthisisimsorry]

A Secret Scent pt. 5

Summary: Dean is a Beta, and asks Y/N out, assuming her as such. She takes suppressants because she is embarrassed of being an Omega and says yes to Dean because she doesn’t want to ruin her relationship with him by saying no, hoping it can work out. That all goes down the drain when she find out Sam is an Alpha and has been hiding it for the same reasons she has.

Pairing: beta!dean x Omega!reader, alpha!sam x Omega!reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, cheating, A/B/O

Word count: 1,813

A/N: This one is kind of short, so sorry about that, but I hope you guys like it!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

You waited until the two of you got to the car before you talked about it. Why wouldn’t she give Sam the reading. What did she mean she didn’t want to give the same reading multiple times. It just didn’t add up.

“Why would she say she didn’t want to give the same reading twice? What was your reading?” He asked, still angry and confused about what happened. “I don’t want to say.” You said. It said you’d betray someone very close to you. She actually, later on told you that it would be your current boyfriend you betray with your soulmate, basically. Which you could only assume meant that you’d cheat on Sam’s brother. “Why?” Sam asked, curious what reading you could’ve gotten making you so clearly embarrassed. “Please don’t tell anyone.” you said, turning to Sam in the car that the two of you hadn’t even started. Sam held out his pinky finger, which you intertwined yours with. “Promise.” He said, smiling. “It said I would cheat on Dean. With my soulmate who would be revealed to me.” You said, looking directly into Sam’s eyes. “Wait, wait, wait. What were your cards?” He asked, shifting in his seat, possibly making a realization. “Uh... betrayal I think. Uh, unmasked or something like that and...kindred soul.” You said, confused. “Why?” You said before it clicked. The same thing twice. “Those are the same cards I got. I drew them and she told me she just must have shuffled them weird but when I redrew the cards I got the same thing again.” Sam said, smiling that he figured out what the lady meant. “What the hell does that mean?” You asked, still really confused. What the hell did it mean? “Let’s go.” You said, turning back to face forwards in your seat. Sam didn’t protest, just as confused and hopeful as you were. Did that mean-? It wasn’t possible. One of you would have known if the other was their soulmate by now.

You got home around 5:30 and went straight up to your room to change into the most comfortable pajamas you owned. After that, you texted Sam about dinner.

You: Hey, sorry. Earlier was weird and I just wanted some time by myself to think. Pizza sound good? We haven’t had it in a few weeks.

Sam: Yeah, sounds good. I’ll order. And it’s totally fine. I kind of wanted some time to think, too.

You: Glad we’re on the same page ;) But you’re definitely not ordering pizza. You’ll order a vegan or vegetarian pizza or something. I want like a meat lover’s pizza or something like that. I’m ordering

Sam: Meat lovers huh? Jk jk. It’s fine by me. Just maybe at least one vegetable...

You: Tomato is a vegetable

Sam: no.

Even after finding out that you and Sam may or may not be soulmates and you might cheat on your significant others with each other, you were still the same. No awkwardness or anything. Maybe you were soulmates.

After Sam picked up the pizza and went downstairs, starving already. “Pajamas already?” Sam asked, looking you up and down. “Yes. These are my favorite pajamas on planet earth. Don’t judge me I wanted to be comfortable.” You said in an attempt to defend yourself. “Whatever.” Sam said, smiling at you. “Why are you smiling so much?” You asked. He hadn’t stopped smiling since you came downstairs. “No reason.” Sam said, still smiling.

--

“Fuck!” Sam shouted from the bathroom. You ran down the hall to see what the issue was. The door was wide open, so you looked in to see what happened. He didn’t seem hurt, but he was looking inside a pill bottle.”What’s wrong?” You asked him, worried. “I forgot I was out of suppressants. Shit.” He said, still angrily looking into the bottle before throwing it against the wall. “What’s the big deal?” You asked, confused why he always wanted to hide his scent. “Are you really asking me that? You do the same thing. Unless you want to share yours, you can’t say anything.” Sam said, angrily, immediately regretting it. “Sorry.” He said. “No, it’s fine. I understand. Not completely because I actually don’t know what you present as, but I don’t like mine either. It’s embarrassing.” You said. “I don’t really feel embarrassed by mine, I’m embarrassed with the people associated with it. Total assholes. I know that might give it away but it will probably be about a whole week before my new ones come in. Goodnight. Love ya.” Sam said, putting his hands on your shoulders to move you out of the doorway so he could get to his bedroom.

After about 10 minutes, you got a text from Sam.

Sam: Almost forgot to tell you. If you smell an unfamiliar smell, it’s probably me. But check just in case it actually is an intruder. But I’d probably already be on it. But you probably knew all of that already. Goodnight <3

You: Got it. And Sam, I just want to let you know that whatever you present as, the people who are the same aren’t you. I don’t care what you are Sam. You’re Sam. My best friend. Goodnight. Love you <3

Sam: Thank you. And I want you to know the same. You’re you.

You: This is probably something we should talk about in person, but it just makes me feel vulnerable.

Sam: We can talk about it in person if you want.

You: Na, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed. ttyl

Sam: ttyl

--

You woke up around 9:30 which was late for you considering Sam getting ready for his run at 7 always woke you up. You thought that day would be a good lazy day, so you stayed in bed. For as long as you could. You loved being wrapped up in the covers watching your favorite TV shows and reading your current book. It was heaven. Until that scent slowly started creeping into your nose. Alpha scent. Even putting your covers over your head and pressing your face into your pillow didn’t stop the scent from finding it’s way over. You wanted it to smell bad. A bad alpha smell. But it wasn’t. It was the best thing you had ever smelled. Far better that Dean’s beta smell. You tried pushing those thoughts out of your head, but you couldn’t stop them from flowing in. And then the cramps came. The most painful ones you had ever had. Before you passed out, you tried rushing to the bathroom to take some of your suppressants and maybe an advil or 6, but you couldn’t keep yourself from falling to the ground from pain. Sam was down the hall in his room when he heard you suddenly run down the hall and collapse.

He ran down the hall towards you, scared to death you had hurt yourself. “Y/N!” He said, running to your side, seeing you lying on the floor, curled in a ball. The second he entered the bathroom though, he got a whiff of your scent. “You’re an omega?” Sam asked, genuinely surprised. “Yeah, and you wouldn’t know if your goddamn scent hadn’t brought on my heat. Did you know that I’m on the strongest suppressants in existence?” You said, chuckling a little bit. “Are you okay?” Sam asked, sitting you up. “Sam Winchester; do I look okay?” You said, looking into his eyes. Another one of those looks. He leaned down and kissed you. Much more intense than the previous kisses you had received from him. You broke the kiss as you felt another painful cramp in your stomach. “Sam.” You said in a low voice, and he knew what that meant. You needed him. It was his fault you were like this, and he needed to help you.

Sam lifted you up, wrapping both your legs around his waist, kissing you hard. “You’re my omega.” Sam growled, throwing you onto his bed. “I’m your omega.” You said. Your favorite pajamas needed washed after this. You knew that your slick had no doubt soaked through your bottoms. But, they were soon ripped off of you and thrown onto the floor. You and Sam practically ripped each other’s clothing off, you needed each other so badly. “Sam, please.” You begged, as Sam kissed down to your stomach towards your dripping pussy. You writhed underneath him as he placed kisses on your thighs right next to where you wanted him the most. Finally, Sam got the hint and brought his mouth to your core. Helicked up and down your folds, tasting every bit of your slick before taking your throbbing bud in his mouth. “Fuck!” You cried, loving the feeling of Sam’s mouth on you. As Sam continued to suck on your clit, he pressed two of his fingers into you, earning a hearty moan from your mouth. Soon, Sam had you screaming his name in pleasure as you came. “Fuck, yes! Sam!” you screamed. He kissed back up your stomach as you came down from your high. “Sam.” You said, wanting him inside you. “Who?” Sam asked, his eyes filled with pure lust. “Alpha.” You moaned, as Sam gave you what you wanted. Sam lined himself up with you and slammed into you fast and hard. Keeping a fast pace, it wasn’t long before you were screaming again. “Yes! YES! ALPHA!” You screamed as you came again, Sam not letting you come down easily this time, still keeping the pace. He leaned down and growled in your ear, “My omega.” He said, making you moan. “My alpha.” You said, grinning at him. “Can I kn-” Sam said before you cut him off with your own words. “Knot in me, Alpha.” You said, returning him the same lust filled look he had given you earlier. “Fuck!” Sam growled, coming as his not expanded inside of you. He just lay on top of you, waiting for the swelling down as he began kissing and sucking at the sensitive parts of his neck. “Don’t mark me, Sam.” You said, although you did want him to. “Why?” Sam asked, looking hurt. “We need to talk to our significant others first. Break things off. You know how hard that would be to hide?” You said, sudden guilt washing over you, realizing you had just fucked your boyfriend’s brother. “I get it. That would be kinda hard to hide.” Sam said, chuckling. “Sam, believe me, if I had it my way, you would have claimed me a long time ago.” You said smiling at him. Sam, his knot finally swelling down, pulled out of you and rolled over next to you, pulling you into him. “I love you so goddamn much and I’m so sorry that I didn’t do anything about it sooner.” He said, kissing you on the lips.

Part 6

[purgatoryandme]

Really though, I didn’t want to go off too much about good teachers and parents cause like...most people on here aren’t old enough to try and be those sorts of things themselves? But it’s also A Big Important Subject to me.  Good teachers have been the only reason I have progressed as far as I have. I’ve fluctuated wildly between between an average student to the top of my class. I’ve been a fantastic athlete who then immediately dropped the sport. I’ve half-learned dozens of things. My successes, the things I stuck with, all hinged on good teachers.  I don’t just mean the kind of people who teach material well. I mean the people who teach PEOPLE well.  I hated physics in high school. I was bad at it right from the start. I’m a perfectionist, so I wanted to leave the subject in the dust and never come back to it. But my PHYSICS TEACHER was a huge pain in my ass.  You see, after fucking up innumerable times, I finally went to his desk in near-tears and asked him to explain something to me. He tried in like...three different ways. It didn’t work, I got angry (with myself), then I tried to leave.  Now listen, this man had made fun of me and everyone else in my class on countless occasions. He was kind of an asshole. But he stopped me from walking off and asked me to work on my homework in the room while he trained the rowing team after school. He said he’d check on it for me.  I wanted to say no SO BADLY, but his offer was clearly genuine and I just...I wanted to stop screwing up.  I did everything wrong lmao. I would start off right, then wander completely off course with the problems. He wouldn’t let me say I was bad at it, though. He also wouldn’t make excuses for me. Instead, he pointed out what I did right, found the first thing I had done wrong, and went back through the problem with me from the beginning.  I’ve never forgotten how to do kinematics. It’s been years and I still know how to do it right. Because it was important to him, it was important to me.  I loved that man. I was a surly, bitter, stressed-out teenager when I started that class. By the end of it, I treated that man like he was my father. I still remember when he offered popcorn to the class, a kind of “congrats on the end of the semester” thing, and nobody took it. As I said, he was kind of an asshole.  But I remember the look on his face when I took some. And when I gave some to other people.  He was absolutely delighted. He really just wanted us to be happy and I’ve never gotten over it.  He was even happier when I took the next level of his class.

I had a math professor in my first year of university who was just...in love with teaching. He was awkward and nervous and so new to it...but he got to know us. He put in the effort to learn all of our names, apologized when he messed up (and would come into class the next week with determination to get it right), and tried to tell us about movies, music, and all the math things he thought were cool.  Math was a puzzle to him, so he never ran out of approaches. When someone didn’t get something, he took it in stride. There was never a,  “But it’s easy!”  Or a frustrated blank stare. Instead, he’d talk about the goal and all the many valid ways to get there.  “This equation isn’t wrong.” I remember him telling us,  “It’s not what I taught you, but you see how it fits in here? It’ll give you the right answer, though not in every situation.” His class was a class on ingenuity. He learned how all of us thought because of it. When it came time for exams or assignments, he knew our own process as well as we did.  I’ve never had a professor give me personalized hints before or after him. I still hope there’s someone else like him out there. I worked hard for him and my marks were astoundingly high. (He knew I love walling off problems with brute force, finding all the limits and closing in on them, and used my own wording to help me remember something. I’m never going to forget that) 

In organic chemistry, I hadn’t been taught a series of concepts correctly in the previous semester. I tried to express this to my professor, but wound up just saying, “I’m bad at this.” I was a little offended at first when he told me not to talk about myself like that and, admittedly, was pretty unhappy with him when he told me to stay back after lecture. It was embarrassing to go through something simple with him again and again... But he identified all my problems with the concept. Then he reworded, redrew, and generally twisted the concept this way and that until I got it.  “You see,” He told me,  “You aren’t bad this. It just wasn’t speaking your language.” He would speak to me occasionally after lecture, toying with my knowledge of his lectures, poking at the gaps that I had. He designed all of his assignments to hit on mechanisms from as many different angles as possible.  He catered to the individuals in the room, not a set average.  Nobody ever skipped his class, even though it was at 8:30 am 3 times a week.  I might not’ve done amazingly on his exam, but I have never been more proud of my performance. Having him congratulate me on the way out meant more than a 90 ever could’ve. 

I came out of my first year of university angry. I walked into my second year hopeful, then tried to walk out of it bitter beyond belief. I still think I would have crashed and burned absolutely if it hadn’t have been for the two people who proved they cared.  You see, a lot of personal interactions with authority figures in my university...wasn’t good. It was oppressive in ways that would take too long to discuss.  But there were two professors who cried when they saw me break down in tears. Who listened to my accusations and who, though they flinched away many times, asked what they could do.  Ms. S did whatever she could to encourage my work in the things I liked. She talked about her own work with me, prompted my interest in history to continue, and tried to give all the feedback she could.  Mr. H entrusted us with his heart and soul with this program. His emotional attachment to it, to us, was the only thing keeping me in class some days.  I’m still grateful to them both.

When I was still a teenager, I used to fence at a club. I think I wanted to build arm strength? I can’t remember why I enrolled. 

The instructor was a oddball who kicked my feet whenever they were out of line and jabbed at my shoulders when my stance slumped. He’d manhandle us all into position and drill us with basic concepts one by one, distracting us with stories of his blues band.  I was still so argumentative back then. Always ready to get into a fight, always a sore loser, always frustrated when I did something badly.  He’d make me practice with him one-on-one whenever I got too worked up. Tired me out with basic drills. Switched them up on me whenever I got too cocky. Ended it with a salute that said he respected me, a hand on my shoulder, and a question about my day. I was an absolute sucker for it. I worked hard to impress him, to make him proud, and I got good. And now, I’ve come back to the sport years later. I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for him.

My teachers in high school let me roam free. They let me goof off because they saw I was trying. They let me gossip with them because they saw how much I benefitted from adult interaction. They indulged my projects, set me up with advanced materials, and let me...be me.  Sure, sometimes their concern was overbearing. Sometimes their advice was unsolicited. Sometimes they straight up didn’t understand me.  But the fact that they LIKED me, wanted me specifically to do well, and acknowledged my needs brought me from a 70% average to tying for the top mark in science overall. It won me scholarships. It got me into a top university program.  Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to continue moving forward.  Good teachers are so important. Support systems mean so much more than “natural intelligence”. 

[fritalci]

2016 - A Great & Terrible Year.

Was 2016 my worst year ever or was it my best?

Actually, both.

Apparently, 2016 was the worst year ever for everyone I know. On new year's eve day, I found my news feed flooded with not so fond farewells to 2016. With the exception of two friends who had a baby, it seemed like most everyone had a bad year. Some of my friends shared their pains throughout the year: newly diagnosed depression, a miscarriage, desire for divorce, an ailment that caused one friend to drop out of a triathlon, a relationship tearing due to unacknowledged alcoholism, finding out a step mother was a heroin addict and had drained the family bank account. The list goes on. Some seemed to handle these stresses well (or they at least put on a strong show). Others were greatly affected. I, too, had my stresses. By all objective measures, it was my most difficult year. Seeing everyone post about what a bad year it was is making me wonder if I had a great year or a terrible year. Really. I’m not sure how to look at it.

2016 was a survival year for me. Dealing with my parents’ divorce, business cashflow issues, needing surgery, and a few other incredibly painful experiences just about put me over the edge. Though I think the weekend I spent in bed only getting up to get takeout or go to the bathroom might count as over the edge. Anyway. By all objective measures, none of the pains of 2016 were fun and I wouldn’t wish them on anyone. If I really examine my feelings, I don’t feel good about any of these things. They sucked. A lot. They took up a ton of my time and drained my emotions and energy, which I didn’t have in ready supply due to training for Ironman. By the time I got to Christmas I had zero enthusiasm for the holiday season. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love Christmas. This year I was 100% bah humbug.

On the other hand, I *think* I feel grateful for these experiences. I say think because if I’m truthful, I don’t genuinely “feel” grateful. The emotions and memories are still too raw. But when I think back, I’ve found a weird way of thinking/feeling grateful. Ironman training gave me a crazy number of hours to be alone and think. No headphones on my training rides, runs, and swims. All of that meditating time gave me the following:

“Just ship it”

I have a habit of aiming too much and not pulling the trigger soon enough. This year that habit went out the window. I was too busy putting out fires to deal with anything other than the essential. And you know what? Everything worked out ok. Things that I felt like I was half-assing ended up not needing any more than the half ass effort. I now find myself in a new venture half-assing everything on purpose. Prioritizing shipping over quality has produced more results, and better results, in less time than I would have expected. Now I prioritize shipping instead of quality and I’ve been blown away at not only how much I’ve produced, but how little the “poor” quality has had an effect. In some ways, I feel like I’m cheating. Which gets me to my next point.

“Get up. Get going. Keep going. Don’t Stop”

Pain, setbacks, confusion, and loss typically have a negative effect on my energy and effort. I seem to need a lot of recovery time. Where others thrive on chaos and disorder, I find it paralyzing. Well, this year I didn’t have a choice. Everything had to get dealt with whether I liked it or not. It feels like I developed a way to disassociate from the pain. Ironman training deserves a lot of credit for this. Training for Ironman was not fun. The hours were similar to a full-time job. I was constantly tired. Yet the schedule demanded I train even if I was tired. “You feel tired? Fuck your tired feelings. Get up, get going, keep going, and don’t stop until you finish your training plan.” I thought I knew how to push myself. But I had no idea I was capable of this level. Learning how to push myself in my most exhausted state is something I’ll forever be grateful for. Even if the experience totally sucked.

“Whatever happens, I’ll handle it and I’ll be ok”

Thus far, I’ve generally tried to stick to things that are within or at least near my core competencies. I’d like to think that things that are outside of my wheelhouse get extra attention and focus. Though if I’m being honest, what really happens is that I avoid those things and only do them if I absolutely have to. That whole “build the wings as you fall” thing might work for other people, but it doesn’t work for me. Or so I thought. Turns out I’m actually a good enough mid-flight mechanic. Constantly facing issues that were outside of my comfort zone redrew the borders of my comfort zone. Now, I feel like I can handle anything. It might not go perfectly, but I’ll be fine. Even if I totally fuck it up, I will be totally fine. 

Flexing the “No” muscle

With my plate more than full, I simply didn’t have the bandwidth for much extra. I failed some of my friends. I worked less than usual. But what’s most memorable about that full plate is how it forced me to say “no”. I’ve never been comfortable with no. I once worked in a restaurant where the managers used to hammer into our heads a service saying that sticks with me to this day: “the answer is yes, what’s the question?” Well, that’s fine and good if you’re working in a restaurant that charges more money for dinner than most people spend on their car payment. But it is a recipe for disaster in most other parts of life. So much so that I once got fired from a job because I never told my boss no and ended up sinking under the weight of the responsibility. In 2016 that all changed. I developed a phrase mid-training run that changed everything for me: “that doesn’t work for me.” If someone wants something from me that I either don’t want to do or can’t do, I just use that phrase. Admittedly, saying “no” would be more direct. I’m not there yet. But that phrase allows me to basically say no without the negative feelings that usually come from it. Is it perfect? No. But it fits the “just ship it” ethic and gets me what I need. Problem basically solved. Keep going.

“That’s not my problem”

Much of my ability to “say” no also stemmed from deciding, as Mark Manson would say, what to give a fuck about. All around me, there are problems. Friends with problems. Clients with problems. Shit, a whole city/state/country/world with problems. Some of those problems are mine. Most are not. So I deal with what I can and leave to fate what I cannot. The alcoholic’s prayer comes to mind. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” This left me with a lot of guilt. I felt guilty for not being super proactive and helping everyone as much as I would have like to. And you know what happened? Nothing. Nothing bad happened. I didn’t help and everything worked out just fine. In the process, I learned a new way of helping. First, I wait to be asked. Sometimes people just want to vent. And then if/when they ask for help, I can truly evaluate if I want to instead of just automatically trying to be some sort of uncalled for superman.

“What needs to be done by me?”

My limited bandwidth and energy also helped me realize how much time and energy I was spending on things that I didn’t personally need to do. “Can I pay someone to handle this?” became my new favorite phrase. I hired freelancers. Some sucked. Some were great. Two, in particular, blew me away with their talent. Stephen Covey talks about Roles and Goals in 7 Habits. 2016 gave me a chance to put it into action. “Your goal is this. Here’s your budget and timeline. Call me if you have issues.” That was basically my HR strategy last year and it worked like a charm. Do I personally need to oversee packing the moving van? No, the friends who are helping me have moved plenty of times. Do I personally need to buy supplies for the house? No, I can just give someone in the house authority to just buy stuff and send me receipts for reimbursement. Now, before I do something, I ask myself if someone else can do it “good enough”. Not “do it as well as I’d do it”, but “do it well enough so that I can focus on what only I can do”.

There were a few other smaller lessons, but these are the most memorable.

So now I’m left with seemingly conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the emotional experience of 2016 sucked. I basically slept all of December and am riding through January mostly on the excitement of my impending trip to Asia. I lack the literary powers required to describe how tired I am. On the other hand, I do genuinely feel grateful for these lessons. I’m incredibly grateful for the ways that I grew and matured. F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” I don’t know about that F., but I get where you’re going with it. My ability to function certainly improved. And maybe, much like the training pain required to grow as an athlete, emotional growth requires emotional pain. It also requires healthy recovery. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have some vacation planning to finish and some gratitude to express for my many frequent flier miles.