#you have seven seconds to change course she's giving you a chance to rethink

[vullcanica]

I've just been informed this is a casually terrifying statement to make

[plus-size-reader]

Rejection

Percy Jackson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1572 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader confesses to Percy but is rejected and kinda embarrassed and ends up ignoring him. It isn’t until they aren’t talking that he realizes how much he cares about her.

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You had never really bonded with any of the other campers before. 

You just remained as distant as humanly possible, because you never felt that the other demigods understood you. You weren’t strong like Annabelle, or vicious like Clarisse. 

If you didn’t have any of those attributes that would be useful on a quest, or in battle, no one seemed to care…

And you just didn’t have it. 

If anything, you were soft, and cautious, doing your very best to keep your cool from moment to moment. However, there was one person who made you rethink all your decisions. 

Percy. 

Percy Jackson came into your life like a whirlwind, practically slaughtering a minotaur right outside the gate of the camp, and taking your heart with it. 

Though, you hesitated when it came to talking to him, and actually communicating the way that he made you feel because you felt like you couldn’t. 

It was pretty clear that he had his eye on someone much better than you, but you knew that if you didn’t tell him soon, you never would and you would always regret it. 

...And that just wasn’t in your nature. 

If there was one thing you had learned from your father, or the stories that were told about him, it was that he was never afraid to go after what he wanted and you needed some of that today. 

You needed that courage to actually tell Percy the truth, and this morning you had made up your mind...Today was the day. 

You were going to confess your feelings over the bonfire tonight, and it was all going to be perfect. Percy wouldn’t care if you weren’t the most brave, or athletic, or confident. He would see the things about you that were worth it. 

He would understand your value, and he would love you for you, assuming that everything was going to go the way you wanted. 

For once, you would feel worthy of the things you wanted.

Though, perhaps you should have known better than to believe that. 

Bonfires had always been the lifeblood of demigods around here and they were the one thing that you really enjoyed more than anything else. Outside of training and constantly fearing for your life, you could let loose and not worry about anything. 

You actually got to be normal for once, and it was all you could have wanted.

All you had to do was harvest the smallest bit of confidence and you would no longer have to worry about anything. At least, that was what you were hoping. 

You actually thought that if you could figure this all out with Percy, that you would be happy. 

...You should have known better. 

It was a total fail. 

You thought that in the noise and hype of the bonfire, no one would be paying much attention to you as you made your way over to where Percy was standing but that wasn’t the case. 

In fact, when you approached him, you could practically hear the surrounding teens whispering in shock. After all, you didn’t ever really talk to anyone at all, and now you thought you could just make friends with Percy Jackson. 

It was crazy, but no one stopped you anyway. 

Looking back, you wished that they had. 

Instead, they stood where they were and just watched the events unfold. They watched as you found your way to his side through the crowd. They watched as you stuttered through your words, but more than anything, they watched as Percy rejected you. 

You had never been more humiliated in your life. 

Even now, as you sat in your cabin, sitting on the ground with your knees brought up to your chest, you were sure that it was the worst thing you’d ever done to yourself. 

Who were you to think that someone like him would ever want to be with you? That a hero like Percy Jackson would waste his time with you when he could have someone like Annabeth. 

She was everything you wished you were. She was beautiful, strong, and slim. She was perfect, and if you had been in Percy’s position, you wouldn’t have chosen you either. 

...But that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

You had been stupid enough to think that all this time, maybe Percy felt the same way about you but that just wasn’t true. No amount of wishful thinking would ever change that. 

You two weren’t even friends to begin with, only talking once and a while in passing or when he would help you adjust your form in training. There was no real reason for you to believe he cared for you. 

That was just the truth in the matter. 

By the time that you’d finished thinking it all over, you came to the conclusion that you would just never speak to him again. If you never addressed what had happened, eventually everyone would forget. 

They had to. 

It would hurt to never talk to him again, sure, but it would be nowhere near as painful as being rejected had been. If anything, it would be easier to just never draw attention to it. 

That was all you could do, the only way that you could retain any amount of dignity in any of this and you were going to do anything it took. 

You couldn’t let them see you cry. 

~ 

You didn’t see anyone until lunch the next day and by that time, you had decided to act as if the events of last night never happened. 

Which, of course, lasted all of seven seconds. 

“Hey Y/N, I think I have feelings for you” someone called from the crowd, eliciting a gaggle of laughter for everyone else. It was hilarious, or at least, it might have been if you cared. 

You didn’t care anymore, no matter what they threw at you, you were determined to not let it affect you. It was all you could do and you weren’t about to let that facade crack. 

Though, it did take some damage when you saw Percy across the way. 

He had been looking at you since you’d made an appearance, just thinking about how everything had gone down last night. If he had given it any thought, perhaps he would have reacted better but you just caught him by surprise. 

That was the last thing he’d expected you to say. 

However, he had clearly hurt you last night, and something had to be done about that. So, before he could talk himself out of it, Percy got up from where he was sitting and made his way over to you. 

“Hi Y/N” he started, sitting down across from you, at the picnic table you’d decided to have lunch at. 

Nothing.

“I just wanted to tell you that I feel really bad about last night. I should have handled it better” 

Again, nothing. 

You wanted to talk to him of course, but you had already made up your mind. Percy had made it very clear how he felt about you, and now it was your turn. 

If you let yourself accept his apology, you were letting yourself be walked all over and that was something you just couldn’t do. Times like this made being Ares’ daughter all worth it. 

If you had to, you could just turn that pesky desire to comply off. You didn’t have to do anything to make anyone feel better, especially not after they hurt you. 

It just came with the territory. 

Should have handled it better? What was he talking about? You had poured your heart out to Percy and he just laughed at you. It was ridiculous, but he didn’t mean to hurt you. 

You knew that. 

Still, you weren’t in the mood to deal with his feeling guilty right now. Instead, you were going to just keep living, in the only way that you knew how. 

You were going to keep quiet and pretend not to know what he was talking about. 

*Bonus*

You hadn’t spoken to Percy in three days, and he’d had just about enough. 

For whatever reason, you had decided that night at the bonfire was the last night you were ever going to speak to him or look in his general direction and it was starting to bother him. 

Perhaps he just didn’t say the right things, but whatever it was, he was over it. 

“Y/N, I need to talk to you” he decided finally, catching you off guard with his sudden approach. He had no idea where he was going with this or how you would react. 

He just knew that he had to give it a shot. 

“I’m sure we’ve done all the talking that we can do” you huffed, over it already. You had nothing to say to him, not really and he needed to understand that. 

Percy had made a fool out of you, and you weren’t going to forget about that just because he felt bad. 

“I have feelings for you too, I just didn’t realize it before” he gasped, catching you by the wrist before you could leave his side entirely. It wasn’t as smooth as he would have liked, but it had to happen. 

If he didn’t come out with it, you would have left and he may not have gotten another chance. 

If he lost you, Percy would never forgive himself. 

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 36 Pt 1

The days between moving in with Gustaf and New Year’s Eve were filled with never ending chores, because despite Gustaf wanting her to relax and take it easy, Sildie wanted her apartment done. Boxing up the remaining things she put them in storage, still not at ease with getting rid of anything just yet. The hard reality of what if they split still plagued her mind, once bitten twice shy. She had to keep it real, had to think of the long term back up plan in case it all went to hell in a hand basket, especially with four children in the mix. Even more of a chore was deciding on whether to keep the furniture or sell it, what to do with the apartment, did she leave it all as it was or rent it out, sell it, renovate it? Then there was the unpacking of all her stuff in Gustaf’s apartment, their apartment, cleaning, trash pick up, the list never ended. She’d come to the realization moving just sucked.

“Ok stop.” He said one night as they sat for tea and pulled her into his lap. “You haven’t stopped all day. Let it be.” He grabbed and kissed her fingers as she went to tidy up the stack of papers on the table and secured her body to his by wrapping those outrageously long limbs around her and kissing her neck.

“Sorry, I just wanted to get it all done so we can enjoy the New Year’s Eve party.” She huffed.

“You keep running around like this you won’t make it to the party because you’ll be exhausted and asleep by seven.” He kissed her neck and bit down gently. “Let it be.” He growled as she struggled against him to free her arms so she could just tidy up those papers and be done. “We can deal with the rest after January second.” He would stipulate a time as well if required.

“Fine.” She sighed and gave up, relaxing into him. “I just wanted it clean.” She mumbled taking a sip of her tea when he finally let her go, pushing those papers further away from her, she wasn’t going to budge him on it. He was right of course, she’d been hell bent on getting everything squared away before the end of the year. “I just want to start fresh next year.”

“I get it love, I do, but I also want to see you relax.” He kissed that one spot below her ear that made her weak for him.

“That’s not playing fair.” She sighed, that clever mouth bringing her undone.

“Didn’t say anything about playing fair.” He chuckled. “Ready for the party?”

“I guess, just nervous. It’s your family and we’re leaving the kids there overnight.” She was terrified, first night away with grandpa and she had all sorts of horror stories running through her head.

“The kids will just be upstairs with dad, they’re close and with someone I trust emplicitly.” Stellan and Megan had jumped at the chance to have the kids stay over. “I think Valter is staying as well so Brendan will have someone older to hang with and Oona is staying over to hang out with Lily.” He sipped his tea and squeezed her to him.

“I know I just worry.” She mumbled, feeling a little stupid.

“It’s your job, but don’t, they’ll be fine. It’s not like they have far to come if they need us.” It was handy that his dad lived in the same building a few floors up.

“What time’s the party?”

“Starts at six and goes all night, we can disappear whenever.” He kissed her neck and sucked on her pulse. “You and I are going to have an adult New Years.” He growled, her sinful giggle made his cock twitch, he had a plan, an erotic one.

“Are we now?” She leaned back into him and snaked a hand up the back of his neck and onto his scalp, toying with the soft dusting of hair, he’d let it grow out over the holidays.

“Mmm hmmm. We’re taking this year out with a bang.” He smirked against her skin.

“Oh god Gustaf that was terrible.” She scoffed and laughed at his pun.

“Yeah, but accurate.” He kissed her temple and sipped his tea. “I also booked the cabin for January 4 through 15. A little longer than planned but the few extra days were free with the deal.”

“That sounds so good. The kids will love it. Anything we need to take care of first?” She turned so she was sitting sideways on his lap. The kids weren’t the only one looking forward to some time away. She wanted to decompress with just the six of them, giving the kids time to bond with Gustaf. It was important, for all of them.

“Just clothes and maybe some snacks, board games. There’s lots for them to do outside, but it might be good to have some indoor activities in case we get a storm. We’ll need something for them to do that’s not TV and video games.”

“It’ll be a good break. Give you boys some bonding time.” She kissed him sweetly.

“Yeah.” He smiled and hung his head thinking.

“It bothers you doesn’t it? The dad thing.” Her fingers trailed his scruff and he looked at her, those eyes of perfect blue, she drowned in them every time.

“Not bother, more, different, I just need to get used to the idea.” Her kiss was tender. “It sounds so weird to my ears.” He chuckled. “If that makes any sense at all.”

“I’ll talk to them.” She said gently.

“No.” He shook his head and kissed her hard. “No. Leave it alone. They need to do what feels right for them too love. It’s just not something I ever expected from the boys. Lily I can understand, she never knew Quinn, but the boys, it was a shock, still is.” He tangled his fingers into her hair and kissed her, long and slow. “We need time, that’s all.”

“Just know I’ll talk to them if it’s too much.” She wouldn’t see him wrecked over it, hurt over it.

“No.” He smiled at her. “That’s something we need to figure out for ourselves. The four of us need to be comfortable with it and work through the awkwardness of it.” He kissed her softly. “You can’t bail me out of this one love, and I don’t want you too, not if we’re going to be a family. It’s important to them and to me that we work through it no matter how much it terrifies the hell out of me.”

She studied that handsome face, her finger playing with his scruff. “You’re a good man.” He dropped his head and her hand cupped his cheek. “You are. Look at me.” She kissed him sweetly. “Not many would do what you’ve done for them. It makes you so special.”

“I love you, I love the kids. It’s pretty simple really.”

“Sweet man I know you do, and I hope you also know that we love you too, so much.” He kissed her, the slow devastating kiss of the only man that could render her incoherent.

“My goddess, you and the kids are my world.” He rested his head against hers. “It’s been a good year. Sure there’s been some shitty bits in there, but I met you. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me love.”

“A crazy woman who blubbers in your lap after sex, with four kids in tow.” She chuckled. “Yeah, the best.” Her tone thick with sarcasm.

“Wouldn’t change it for anything.” He grinned. “And I blubber, you fall apart.” He flicked her nose playfully.

“Me either.” Her chuckle light. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

“We do.”

“So confident.” She giggled.

“Just calling it how I see it. You make one kick ass mum you realize that right?” He said softly.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She scoffed.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Four happy kids after what they’ve been through, that’s pretty fucking phenomenal.” Yes he knew he’d been a part of it, but she needed to hear it. Their lives had turned to shit in a blink, she had brought them to a place where they were thriving. He tried to keep the nudge out of his tone, the one that told her he wanted kids with her. Not your choice mother fucker, he cautioned silently, leave it there. He would not manipulate her no matter how much he wanted it. “Come on.” He said tapping her thigh and squeezing. “Bed, sleep. We’ve done enough for the day and I have a need to hold you close.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit either.” She said softly as she stood and took the teapot to the sink.

“You did all the hard yards love. Take a moment here and there to look at them, really look at them, they’re happy. Sure they’re still grieving and will continue to, but they’re happy.” He tucked a wave of copper over her ear. “You did that, you should be proud of it. Especially as there are so many other ways it could have turned out. Take the win love, you deserve it.” He kissed her sweetly.

“But you’ve helped where I couldn’t, you give them the missing pieces.” She kissed him tenderly. “Remember that ok?”

“I’ll remember. Bed. Come on.” He took her hand in his and tugged it to get her moving.

They snuggled in bed, Sildie almost passing out as her head hit the pillow. Sleep always took her hard, or maybe that was because she didn’t stop during the day, he thought with a wry smile. He let his mind wander as his fingers stroked her head, lips kissing her brow, breathing in her scent soothed him.

The last few days had settled him once he realized Lily was safe and Ana wasn’t going to get through the front door. His nightmare had scared him to the deepest parts of his soul, the thought of losing Lily, any of the kids had him rethinking his life. It wasn’t just him now, he had a family, responsibilities, that if he fucked up, they would feel the repercussions. He would be better, work at being a better man for them.

Next year would be busy, twelve week shoot starting in February, a premier, and hopefully more work. Maybe he’d take something closer to home, he thought, it caused him physical pain to think about being away from them for so long. They’d figure it out, they’d make it work, it was just going to tear at him.

He was hoping Sildie took the partner offer, she’d worked hard for it and wasn’t going to let anything get in her way if she decided to take it. A nanny, a housekeeper, something to take the load off when he wasn’t here. His mind chewed it over, flitting from one idea to the next until he drifted. His last conscious thought before joining Sildie in the sleep world was of a brood of kids of their own, it was often on his mind. The heart wants what the heart wants.

“Ok Lily, I’m coming. Good grief.” Sildie groaned as Lily screamed her head off through the monitor.

“Uk?” Gustaf mumbled as she pulled away from him.

“Yeah I’ll get her I’m awake now anyway.” She grumbled.

He watched her pull her robe on, the silk hiding all those delicious curves, and grinned into the pillow. The things he was going to do to her tonight, he mused as he listened to Sildie soothe Lily through the monitor.

“Lily bear, my goodness.” She cooed picking up the screaming child.

“Mum mum mum.” She sobbed as she snuggled in and hiccuped, the tiny girl was well beyond it. “Let’s get you cleaned up huh? Then some snuggles?”

“Mum mum mum.” She was a hot mess, tears and snot, that little flushed face.

“Yeah yeah, I’m here.” She sighed as she cleaned her up and dressed her in some warmer pajamas. “Were you cold little lady? Hmmm? Is that what it was? Cold and needed a snuggle?” She sat in the rocker and tucked the blanket in around her as she curled her in.

He hugged his pillow and smiled at the softness in her voice. There was no doubt in his mind she’d be a good mother, if she could only hear herself with Lily, with the boys. Getting her to see it for herself without pushing was another story.

“And you’re not going to drop any hints either asshole. Her body, her decision.” He mumbled to himself. “God I want kids with you.” He whispered into the dark as Sildie started to hum to Lily.

Pulling the covers back he climbed out of bed and found some clean sweats. It was ridiculous to be up at 4 am when they had nowhere to be until 6 that night. Padding out to the kitchen he put the kettle onto boil and dumped the tea leaves in the teapot. After the tea had steeped he poured Sildie a cup and took it in with him to Lily’s room. He smiled at the sight, his heart melting and constricting all at the same time. His two best girls fast asleep in the rocking chair. Placing the tea down he took a throw from the bed and covered Sildie up, propping her head up with a pillow so she wouldn’t get a crick in her neck. He took her tea back to the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Drinking his tea alone he had something to eat before heading into his workout room to burn off some energy, hopefully he’d be able to nap later in the day. Slipping on the gloves he started out light, letting his body warm up before going a full hour until his muscles screamed at him.

There was no anxiety, no anger, just the ebb and flow of thoughts and ideas. Things he needed to do next year in his career, with the kids, Sildie, his life had changed, dramatically, from single to father of four. He stopped suddenly and tapped the bag lightly with a fist thinking as it swayed.

“I guess this is how you feel my lovely lady.” He murmured to the bag as he thought on that epiphany some more. “Drowning doesn’t seem to cover it.” He muttered. “Single to father of four.” Maybe that was why the whole dad thing was brutally overwhelming him, he thought, maybe it had been too much, too soon. “Single to father of four.” He repeated and continued with his workout.

His thoughts drifted to their future, what he wanted, what he wanted to give them, provide for them. Sure, he wanted kids of their own, and that decision was out of his hands, at least for the moment. The punch landed softly when marriage fluttered into his mind, he still wasn’t sure if she’d want to be married, or if he was even ready to take that plunge again.

His first marriage wasn’t bad, it wasn’t a picnic either with his addiction hanging over them both like a consistent third partner in the relationship. That was half the problem, their relationship was already on shaky ground before it had even had the chance to grow, to flourish. “I’m a different person now.” He muttered, and he was, he was clean and sober for a start. He’d disassociated himself with toxic people, mainly Ana, but there were more. Greedy, lecherous people only interested in him for what he was, his fame, or money, or his family connections. That’s where Sildie was different, she saw him for who he was, fucked up bits and all. Yes, he was different, he’d changed, and had the most incredible woman in his life. “Next year.” He said softly. “Sometime next year I’ll be asking you.” He grinned. He just had to figure out if it was something she wanted. “That’ll give me something to plan while I’m on set.” He chuckled.

Ripping the gloves off he sat for meditation and let his body relax, inviting the calm in. His breathing leveled out from the exertion and the peace flooded into him. This was a peace he’d fought hard for and a peace he was only able to obtain because of Sildie. She hadn’t given it to him directly, she’d given him understanding, support, and compassion. She’d given him a reason to be a better person, a reason to fight his demons after Ana, because if he was being honest, that fucking bitch had almost put him in the bottom of a bottle again. He’d been teetering on the edge when he’d save a few wayward oranges on Sildie’s threshold.

This year had taught him a lot and given him much more. He’d had his bad days, but the good ones had outweighed those dramatically. Most of all he’d stayed sober, he’d stayed clean, and his state of mind was clearer than it had ever been. Calm and peace settled in his mind, and he’d not been at peace with himself like this for a long time, if ever.

Getting to his feet he wiped down the bag and stowed his gloves before heading for a shower. By the time he surfaced in clean sweats and a t shirt, the boys were at the kitchen island for breakfast.

“Where mum?” Brendan asked as he started making pancakes, Gustaf’s lips twitching a smile at his endearment for Sildie.

“She’s curled up with Lily in the rocker. Lily woke up screaming at four this morning.” He yawned, putting the kettle on to heat up for a fresh pot of tea.

“Ouch.” The teen winced.

“Yeah. It was a little rough.” Gustaf chuckled. “Let them sleep, we’ll stick to quiet time this morning ok?” He looked at the twins and they nodded.

“Can we play Harry?” Finn asked as he snatched a hot pancake from the plate.

“Volume down low and we might go for a walk later, get out for a bit if the weather is good, so no grumbles when we do ok?” Both boys nodded, they knew the rules, grumbles meant shortened game time. “What about you B? What are you up to today?”

“Chokladbiskvier, I thought we could take them to grandpa’s tonight.” He said flipping a pancake.

“Only if you want to, there’s no need to. My dad has the party catered.” Gustaf saw the kids eyes light up. “Christmas is for family, New Years is a little more of a party.”

“I want to.” The teen grinned.

“Then have at it. And. Yum.” He elbowed the kid playfully before pouring the water over the tea leaves.

“If I have time I might even make Kladdkaka.” Brendan said on the sly.

“Shit kid you’re killing me.” He groaned.

Once the boys had eaten and off to do their designated quiet time activity, Gustaf settled into the one seat with his book, content to have some down time of his own while his girls slept.

“Mum mum mum.” Lily said softly, tapping Sildie’s face with her tiny hand.

“I’m up.” Sildie said, inhaling sharply. “Hey there little lady.” Lily crashed into her and hugged her tight. Sildie smiled as she kissed the toddlers head. “Shall we get cleaned up and go have some breakfast?” She laughed as Lily bounced, happy and content on her lap with her usual chatter for her dad dad. Her ass was asleep and she smiled at the throw and pillow tucked in around her. Gustaf had obviously come to check on her at some point. With a clean Lily she shuffled out to the kitchen and a wonderful smell of warm cookies. Brendan had been cooking up a storm again and she was so thrilled for the boy, something that brought him so much happiness in a year where things had gone to shit in more ways than one. They’d all come a long way since their parents passed. Maybe Gustaf was right, maybe I am good at this mum thing, she thought and then snorted before kissing Lily’s head. It was only better because of Gustaf, she was drowning before he came along and swept her off her feet, cleaning pasta sauce from her floor.

He loved that look on her face, her body, she’d slept and slept hard, total relaxation. Saving his page he got up and wrapped his arms around her waist as she sat Lily in her high chair with a pancake.

“Morning lovely lady.”

“Morning.” She yawned. “Did you get some more sleep after this one made a ruckus?”

“No, but I’ll take a nap later.” He kissed her temple and let his hand wander under her robe out of the line of sight of the boys. He growled and palmed a breast gently. “Fuck I love the feel of you.” He nipped her ear as her soft moan escaped, that spot below her ear betraying her as he kissed it. “You might want to nap today, you’re gonna need every ounce of energy for what I have planned for you tonight kitten.” He murmured, turning her so she faced him. He gently gripped her chin and kissed her slowly, patiently devouring every inch of her mouth. She was breathless and struck mute by the time he let her up for air.

“I love it when you kiss me like that.” Her chest heaved, pussy throbbed, god she wanted him to bend her over the table and fuck her.

“I know.” He kissed her again tenderly. “Sit down I’ll get you some un mangled pancakes.” He chuckled at seeing Lily’s shredded breakfast on her high chair table, the child quite content making an absolute mess of herself and offering crumbs to Sildie.

The man certainly knew how to kiss a woman, she thought as she sat near Lily and watched Gustaf walk to the kitchen. How was it he made her tummy flip just by looking at those thighs, that ass, the roped muscle of his arms, those hands? Because you know what’s under all those clothes, the little devil on her shoulder whispered, and you like what he does to you, all of it. “Yes I do.” She muttered and smiled as Lily tried to feed her some squished pancake.

After Sildie had eaten Gustaf forced her into the one seat with her book. With his hands braced on the arms of the chair he leaned down and kissed her. “I don’t want to see you get out of that chair unless it’s for the bathroom.” He murmured and kissed her again. “Rest love, please. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends these past few days and I don’t want you burning out or getting sick.”

“Only if you rest too.” She trailed a finger down his jaw, over his scruff, along the column of his throat, before fanning out her fingers over his chest. That chest, she thought, all hers and damn it if she didn’t love curling into it, the safety and security she felt when she did.

“I’m going to entertain Lily, which is rest enough.” He kissed her again and left her to read.

She watched him stretch out on the floor, his body caging Lily against the corner of the room, she’d have to climb over him to get out. Looking around the apartment she smiled, the twins quietly figuring out the next puzzle on Harry Potter, Brendan in the kitchen baking, experimenting with whatever flavors he desired, happy. On the last day of the year, there was this surreal calm that had enveloped the apartment and the people in it, and she couldn’t deny that it felt really good. Gustaf was right, the kids were happy, she’d brought them to a place where they could be settled and start their life again. It wasn’t just her though, she thought, as she watched Gustaf. They were happy because of this gorgeous man laying on their floor playing with a child that wasn’t his by blood, but his in every way that mattered. He’d given them a home, a family unit.

I want more days like this, she thought, that was her goal for the coming year, more time with the kids, more time with Gustaf, more peace in their lives. What about making partner, the little voice in her head said softly, what about your dreams, your hopes? If Dana could manage her own firm and three kids with another on the way, I sure as shit can manage the four she handed me, she thought with an indignant huff. She’d thought about what Gustaf had said, get a housekeeper, a nanny, she didn’t have to do it on her own anymore so why make it harder on herself? A housekeeper would be helpful, laundry, pick the kids up, get dinner on, especially if she was working late, and especially when Gustaf was away. The only issue was cost, because she wasn’t going to expect Gustaf to pay for it all. Quinn and Dana had used one but they had dual income, maybe she could get Alice to come work full time? Do the half and half payments with Gustaf? “Now there’s a thought.” She mumbled and kept reading.

She was so engrossed in her book she didn’t notice Gustaf had fallen asleep until Lily started to get upset that dad dad wasn’t playing with her anymore. Sildie climbed out of the chair and lifted the child out from her makeshift compound. She took her to get changed and had Brendan watch her for a moment. Kneeling beside Gustaf she gently lifted his head and placed a pillow under it, grabbing the throw from the couch she covered him enough to keep his torso warm, he was out cold and she couldn’t bring herself to wake him.

“Sleep love.” She murmured, before collecting Lily from Brendan and sitting with the child to read to her.

He woke up with a tiny child using him as a jungle gym. The place was quiet apart from Lily chattering dad dad, how long had he been out? Those lips he craved pressed against his temple and he snaked an arm around Lily so she didn’t fall as she flopped over his hip with a giggle.

“Time to wake up sleepy head.” Sildie murmured, kissing his temple.

“Wow I bombed.” He yawned rolling to his back.

“You did. It’s nearly four.” Her chuckle was humorous.

“What! Shit!” He huffed. “Didn’t mean to sleep that much.” Scrubbing a hand over his face he sat up and pulled Lily into his arms, the child hugging her dad dad. “Did you get a nap?”

“Sort of, this one crashed out for about two hours. We snuggled.” She helped him to his feet and went to make tea as he wandered into the kitchen, Lily curled in, that wonderful cookie smell still lingering on the air.

“Damn those look good.” He said to Brendan at the sight of the chocolate coated Chokladbiskvier.

“These are for us, I packed up the rest for the party already.” Brendan said quietly.

“I can have one?” Gustaf grinned at him like the big kid he was at heart.

“Yeah.” B chuckled shyly, the teen was still getting used to having free reign of the kitchen.

“Yeah?” His eyes sparkled as Brendan pushed the plate over to him. Instead of taking one or two, Gustaf grabbed the entire plate and took it to the table.

“I meant one cookie.” Brendan laughed.

“Ahhh but you didn’t stipulate. I’m taking one. One plate, that just happens to have all the cookies on it.” He bundled the kid into him for a hug. “They look and smell divine. I won’t eat them all I promise.” He chuckled.

“You have to watch this one.” Sildie said to Brendan as she brought the teapot to the table.

“Apparently.” The kid laughed and hugged Gustaf tightly.

“Go take a shower and get cleaned up, make sure you’re packed for tonight.” Sildie said gently. “Finn, Liam, you too. Finish up your game, go pack and get cleaned up.”

“Mum mums cracking the whip.” Gustaf mumbled to Lily, kissing the girls head as he snagged a cookie.

“I heard that.” She scoffed and stared at him, the cheeky twinkle in his eyes made her smirk as she poured the tea.

“Keykey.” Lily chattered to Gustaf, her little hand squeezing in and out of a fist at the cookies.

“You want one?” Gustaf handed her half a cookie and she demolished it. “Chocolate fiend.”

“You good with her while I go shower?” Sildie said sipping her tea.

“Sure.”

“No more cookies.” She chuckled as that little hand reached out for another.

“I don’t blame her they’re really good.” He kissed Lily’s head and pushed the cookies away from her. He needed to stop eating them too or he’d end up the size of a house.

Sildie showered and dressed, hiding a new set of black lace under her dress. It was a simple figure hugging black wrap dress with a plunging neckline and knee high skirt, enough to have her man drooling before she set foot out the door. She topped it off with a string of moonstone beads.

“I’m going to take Lily’s por...” His sentence stopped there as he laid eyes on her, all wrapped up in black velvet.

“Going to take Lily’s what? Where?” She smirked biting her bottom lip wickedly.

He stalked across the floor, those long powerful legs eating up the hardwood flooring. Gripping her chin gently he looked at her, those ice blue eyes finding his from under her lashes. “That’s a very dangerous game to play kitten.” He growled, that low rumble making her pussy ache for him. His kiss was slow and sensual, yet demanding, his thumb gently prying her lip free from between her teeth. “One day you’ll tease me once too often.” He warned. Oh how he wanted it to be tonight, he thought, silently begging her to do it again.

She felt the power ripple off him, his presence unmistakable raw domination and she loved playing this game with him. Would he spank her tonight if she pushed him, she wondered? Her body betrayed her as a shiver skittered over her.

His low chuckle against her lips told her it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Finish getting ready kitten, I need to take Lily’s portable crib upstairs.” He murmured, lips ghosting hers seductively before he devoured her mouth, leaving her breathless. “I can’t wait to taste you.” He purred as he pulled away from her.

He left her dazed as he walked out of the room chuckling. Collecting Lily’s crib and the boys overnight bags he headed to his fathers. This would be a New Years she wouldn’t forget in a hurry, he’d make damn sure of it. A night to leave all the shitty bits of the past twelve months behind them and start fresh tomorrow.

By the time Gustaf came back for a shower the boys were dressed, and Lily had her sunflower dress on. It was a favorite of his, something he’d found on sale before Christmas and bought it on a whim. Simple yellow gingham with embroidered sunflowers along the hem, perfect for his little ray of sunshine.

She couldn’t help it. Biting down on her bottom lip she groaned softly as Gustaf came out of the bedroom a while later in black thigh hugging denim and a crisp white shirt. His eyes met her across the tops of the boys heads and she saw the smirk twitch at his lips, he knew what that shirt did to her. Moving over to her he pocketed his phone and keys before brushing her blood red stained lips with his thumb, prying it from her teeth again. “I’m not beyond putting you over my knee tonight kitten.” He growled before kissing her, slow and erotic as her system trembled. “Mmmm, you like the sound of that don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, because he knew damn well what the thought of it did to her.

“We need to go.” She choked, breathless and wanting.

“Yes we do.” He kissed her sweetly. “Were not done.” He growled as her finger trailed the patch of chest peeking out of his dress shirt. “Nowhere near done.”

“You’re not playing fair.” She murmured.

“All bets are off tonight kitten.” He nipped her ear playfully. “Nothing I do to you tonight will be fair, but you’ll be begging me to do it over and over again.” He added before stepping away and picking Lily up. “Well don’t you look like the little ray of sunshine you are.” He said kissing the girl until she giggled while Sildie attempted to get her hormones under control. Damn he knew how to get her going, and that shirt, she wasn’t going to be able to keep her hands off him.

They locked up the apartment and climbed in the elevator, Liam pushing the button to Stellan’s floor. “I like this dress.” Gustaf whispered, his hand cupping her ass giving it a squeeze.

“Then you’ll love what’s under it.” She purred, those eyes so seductive as he chuckled before kissing her.

“Fuck I love you.” He grinned, kissing her hard as the doors opened, that wicked smile of hers making his cock throb.

The front door was wide open, Megan greeting them and getting the kids settled, Lily was determined to stay with Gustaf for the moment and snuggled into his neck. Sweet girl I know how you feel, Sildie thought, that’s where I want to be snuggled right now too. Truth be told she wanted to get her hands on him and under that shirt, and he smelled so damn good, pure freshly showered male. With a squeeze of Gustaf’s hand she ventured into the kitchen with Brendan and the cookies, Eija wrapping the kid in an excited hug. Here we go, she thought, jump in the deep end, sink or swim with his family, because she couldn’t stay glued to Gustaf every time she was around them.

“You and I need to talk Kladdkaka.” She said lifting the lid of the container holding the cookies, snagging one and biting down. “God yes, and these.”

“About what?” Brendan asked looking slightly puzzled.

“If it’s ok with your mum I want to hire you to bake for my Sunday brunches.” She said digging out another cookie.

“For real?” Brendan’s eyes went wide as dinner plates.

“For reals kid. My brother told me you were good so I took a full Kladdkaka home with me from Christmas Day and fed it to my staff just to be sure. They asked when your first shift was.” Eija chuckled.

“But what about school and hockey?” He looked at Sildie for some help, way out of his depth, but not wanting to blow this chance.

“I think we can work something out.” Eija said gently. “We can do just the Sunday brunches for the moment, get your feet wet, see how you like it, how you go when school starts up. I can send you the order Monday, you send me the list of ingredients I’ll have them delivered. Don’t change anything from what you use now, that’s what makes it yours and special. Same brands, same everything, don’t change a thing. I was thinking you could cook Saturday and then let me know when they’re done and I’ll pick them up.”

“Every Saturday?” Brendan asked and felt his heart sink.

“No, we can do one weekend a month to start. I don’t want it to be too much. And the bonus is I’ll pay you.”

“Like a job?”

“Like a job dude.” She chuckled.

“Sick.” Brendan looked at Sildie. “Can I? Please?” Sildie could see him holding his breath, the excitement at the offer, his body vibrating.

“A few conditions. School comes first, your grades drop, you’re done. Just like hockey.” She said bluntly.

“No argument from me on that one.” Eija said honestly. “Your grades drop kid, I’ll kick your ass myself.”

“Ok, I figured that was a given.” Brendan chuckled.

“Eija’s the boss. You don’t get to tell her what you’re baking, she tells you.” Brendan nodded. “Half your pay goes into the bank, no exceptions. The other half you can save and spend on whatever you like, within reason.” She smiled at him. “Other than that if you want to give it a try, then do it. If you want to think about it, then take some time to think on it. It’s a huge deal, be sure it’s what you want before committing to it. That makes it fair for Eija as well.” She watched him chew on it. The kid wasn’t impulsive to start with, but she wanted to be sure he was thinking about things before making a decision.

“Can I think about it Aunty Eija?” He asked quietly.

“Of course.” She elbowed him playfully. “And it’s just Eija, the Aunty thing makes me feel old.” She chuckled.

“Oh, sorry.” He cringed, feeling he fucked up his chances right off the mark.

“It’s fine kid.” She hugged him tightly. “You weren’t to know.”

“I should have asked first.” He mumbled and Sildie ran her fingers through his hair to soothe.

“It’s ok love she’s not angry.” Sildie said softly.

“Live and learn slick. I don’t hate it, it just makes me feel old, like my brother.” She chuckled. “Alex is a dinosaur.” She said loudly, knowing her brother on the other side of the room heard it as his head snapped to her grinning, Brendan couldn’t stop the snort. “That’s just between you and me by the way.” She chuckled and smiled as the kid lightened up.

Valter came past and hijacked their conversation, stealing the teen away so he could help kick Finns ass.

“He’s a good kid.” Eija said when it was just the two of them, handing Sildie some champagne.

“Not for me, I don’t drink.” At least not anymore and especially when there was a gorgeous man in a white dress shirt just across the room making eyes with her. She wanted to be stone cold sober when he fucked her tonight, she wanted to remember it all. “He is. Brendan’s been through a lot, took a lot on when Quinn passed. They’ve never had aunts and uncles, grandparents. It’s all new for them. Your brother gave him back his childhood, and a family.” She said quietly and cracked the seal on a bottle of water, emotions bubbling up.

“Goose is a special guy.” Eija’s honesty struck a chord in Sildie’s heart.

“He sure is.” Sildie said wistfully as she watched Gustaf, that lean body moving so gracefully. His gaze eventually caught hers from across the room, probably sensing she was watching him. Biting down gently on her bottom lip she smirked as the fire lit in his eyes, could feel the growl ripple from him silently, her finger twirling the string of beads around her neck.

He had to check the audible growl, the overwhelming urge to storm over there, strip her down to the black lace he knew was under that plush velvet dress, and spank her until she screamed, begged him to take her.

“I’m glad he met you.” Eija said softly.

“He makes me ridiculously happy, makes the kids happy.” Sildie smiled.

“He deserves someone like you, Sildie. Someone that loves him for who he is, not what his occupation is, or who he can connect them with.” Eija’s voice caught with emotion. She knew her brother had struggled, with addiction, with Ana, with anxiety and anger. He’d finally met someone that loved him for everything he was and more.

“He’s a very sweet soul.”

“I heard about your work party.” Eija said carefully. “Gustaf talked to me, in case anything gets dragged up in the media.” She added seeing the anger flare in Sildie’s eyes, nervous fingers tapping the island countertop.

“Fair enough.” She banked the fury, this whole Ana thing was bigger than her and Gustaf, it touched this entire family, she thought as she looked at Alex. She had to remember that.

“For what it’s worth I’m sorry.” Eija said quietly.

“Eija you have absolutely nothing to apologize to me for. Or like Gustaf likes to tell me, you don’t get to apologize for her. Ever.”

“Well if you need a hand burying the body let me know, I’ll grab the shovel.”

Sildie snorted. “Gustaf was right, we are so alike.”

“Nobody fucks with my brothers, especially Goose. He’s been through too much.” Eija was scrappy, and that’s what Sildie liked about her. She spoke her mind, told it to you straight, no bullshit, and no fucks given if it hurt your feelings. And she was fiercely protecting of her brothers, especially Gustaf. “Is your friend going to be ok?” She asked. Sensitive and emotional under it all, but fierce. “The lawyer?”

“I don’t know, the last I heard from Lucas she was out on bail, I don’t know when or if a court date has been set yet with all the holidays. I’m hoping it’s just a quick hearing and he can move on.”

“Will you keep me in the loop?” She asked.

“Sure, as much as I can. Lucas can’t tell me much as it’s an ongoing investigation, but if I hear anything I can text you.” She studied Eija. “You want to see her go down in court don’t you?”

“You bet your fine ass I do.” Her tone full of fire. “I want to see her fucking face when karma pays that bitch a visit.”

“No outbursts, no contact, no disruptions. If you do it could hurt Lucas and potentially drag Gustaf and yourself into the middle of it.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely fucking right.” She sighed. “Damn it.”

“That’s what she’ll be trying to do. She wants a reaction, don’t give her one. Promise me Eija, or you’ll get no updates from me.” Eija could see she wasn’t fucking around. “It can get much worse from here, for you, Gustaf, me, my kids, I’m trying to stop that from happening.” Sildie needed to reign Eija in, if not things could get complicated.

“I promise. I want to know what’s going on but yeah, I get what you’re saying.” She looked at Sildie and saw the fear her brother had mentioned. “She won’t get near your kids Sildie. Goose won’t allow it.”

“I know, I’m more worried about what it’ll do to him.” She said softly, the terrified look in his eyes that morning he’d had the nightmare haunted her. “I can’t watch her shit storm take that peace he’s fought so hard for from him too.” Sildie looked at her and had to say it, just to be absolutely clear. “Don’t make me lawyer you. Because I’ll do it to protect those I love Eija, including you, especially your brother. He’s gone through too much to carve that bitch out of his soul, I don’t want this thrown in his face more than it has to be.” Memories of Gustaf burning the notebook flittered into her mind, the baby bootie.

“I don’t want this to hurt my brother either. You have my word, I’ll behave. I just want to see her go down.” Eija promised.

“I’ll see what I can do when or if it goes to trial. At the moment it’s just between Ana and Lucas. With a bit of luck we’ll be left out of it.” Wishful thinking, Sildie thought, but she had to hold onto something.

“Sounds good to me. Goose was right, you’re scary as fuck when the lawyer comes out.” Eija grinned.

“Oh, I can be scarier.” Sildie stated bluntly. “Gustaf knows just how scary.” She added thinking back to the night in his workout room where he’d spiraled and she’d let him have it.

“No doubt.” The muttered reply making Sildie smirk.

He watched her as she spoke to his sister, happy that they seemed to get along, admired Sildie for having the balls to clear the air with Eija on Christmas Day, that hadn’t been easy. His woman in black velvet, curves on full display, the way her fingers toyed with that damn necklace. She caught him staring, the shy smile with a hint of the erotic goddess he knew was under it all.

“You’re so fucking gone over her.” Bill snorted, playfully punching him in the shoulder.

“Yeah.” His goofy grin said it all, totally smitten. “And this one.” He added, as he picked Lily up when she wandered over to grab him by the leg. “My Lily bear.”

“She’s the cutest thing.” Alex said, coming over to stand with them. Lily eyed him and snuggled into her dad dad, she still wasn’t too sure of the oldest brother. She would be with time, Alex was just never home long enough for her to get used to him.

Sildie watched as Gustaf put Lily down, Oona waddling over and grabbing his leg, the two girls dancing and bopping at his feet. Her heart melted as he took a hold of Sam’s three month old, his hands dwarfing the baby, but it was his face that sucker punched her. Gustaf sat and cradled the baby, joy and adoration pouring from him. Did she want that with him, could she give that to him, she wondered, as the all familiar questions kept repeating in her mind like a cracked record?

They spent the early part of the evening apart, Sildie was determined not to hang on Gustaf like a lost puppy. She was a lawyer damnit and this was just his family. She had to get used to being around them, with them, and without Gustaf as a safety net. There would be times he would be away and they would visit, and she wanted to be comfortable visiting them, with or without the kids.

She smiled as Alex walked over and put Eija in a loving headlock, she missed that playfulness you could only get with a sibling. The both of them keeping her entertained and helping her to relax. Alex was reliving an exceptionally funny story when Gustaf caught her eye, that smoldering look that had her almost crossing her legs as her pussy throbbed. His gaze raked over her body, undressing her as it went, the heat rising in her. How did he do that, she wondered? Not to be outdone she nibbled on her bottom lip and saw the desire flash in his stare. Running her tongue over her lips she swore she heard his groan before he whipped out his phone. A moment later her text tone went off.

You’re playing a dangerous game kitten, unless you’re begging me to put you over my knee and spank you with an audience you need to stop.

She could practically hear the growl as the words leapt off her screen. Looking at him from under her lashes she bit her lip again and twirled a finger around the moonstone beads.

Promise?

She texted back and grinned wickedly.

He had to check the groan at her words, his cock twitching, he wasn’t going to make it until midnight if she kept up with her current sinful teasing, he was uncomfortably hard in his jeans as it was. Trying to have a conversation with his family while hiding a massive boner was difficult. Sitting on the arm chair he half tuned into the conversation, half watched his seductive goddess move through the room. Those curves, that mane of silk copper, those cherry red lips he wanted around his cock. The sight of her was seduction enough.

He watched her talk with his father, the slight shift in her emotions clear to him, but not anyone else. She was trying so hard to put her grief behind her and have a good night, making the effort to get to know his family where most others hadn’t bothered to take the time. First rule of the new year, he thought, love this woman with every part of my soul, every second of every day, show her how incredible she is.

“I’m sorry I upset you the other day.” Stellan said gently as he grabbed Sildie another water.

“You didn’t. I’m still processing a lot of grief, it gets in the way sometimes. If anything I’m the one that should be apologizing for running out of there so quickly, it was rude.” She’d felt bad after he’d helped them move the display cabinet that day.

“No need. You’re still finding your feet after the rug was ripped out from under you. It couldn’t have been easy with four kids on top of it.” Stellan watched her carefully, he didn’t want to dive into it too much and have her freak out.

“It’s no picnic.” She said softly.

“It’ll settle, give it time, lean on Gustaf, on us. We’ll do everything we can to make things easier on you and the kids, especially when Gustaf’s away. Anytime, day or night, Megan and I are just a short elevator ride away and she works from home most of the time.”

“Thank you.”

“I know Gustaf’s said it and I’ll say it too, you’re not alone anymore Sildie. This family sticks together, we help each other out. Sure we bicker and fight, but when we need to we rally, no questions, no judgement.” Stellan pulled Megan over for a kiss before they settled into a conversation about safer topics, his statement resonating with her, family, support, love.

She could see the pride Stellan had for his kids, what they’d accomplished, the lives each one of them had carved out for themselves. In the short time she’d been with his family, Gustaf resembled Stellan the most. That same warmth and kindness she felt with Gustaf she felt from Stellan, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. As they talked and each sibling drifted in and out of the conversation she realized how much she’d missed out on growing up, how much she missed her brother, her parents. The slow seduction from across the room throughout the night was tantalizing. Those subtle suggestive looks, the nibble of her bottom lip, the flirtatious knowing smirk he’d give her as he blatantly undressed her with his eyes. It wasn’t until 11:30 and the younger kids had gone to bed, that Gustaf stole her away from talking to his father to dance, Stellan grinning as Gustaf waltzed her around the room.

“It’s a promise kitten.” He growled at her ear as he pulled her close and swayed, the soft jazz filling the apartment. “The things I’m going to do to you.” He dipped her slowly and kissed her throat. “I should punish you for tormenting me from across the room too.” His tone was that seductive timbre that made her pussy throb. “My sex kitten in black velvet.”

She bit down on her bottom lip to push the issue and he gripped it hard, borderline painful. It always amazed her at how he managed to skate that line between pleasure and pain so deftly. Still dancing he kissed her, slow, sensual, devouring. “Don’t push me kitten.” He purred, his lips ghosting hers as he let her chin go, fingers trailing her body to wrap around hers. “You may get more than you bargained for tonight.”

“God I hope so.” She purred, those ruby red painted lips kissing that one spot on his neck that turned him to mush. “I want to feel you daddy.” She whispered.

“We’re leaving the minute after the new year.” He dipped her again. “Because I can’t wait much longer to have you. Dancing and teasing is one thing, but I want you bound and begging.” He kissed her, tongue teasing hers. “And you will be begging.”

“You keep kissing me like that and we’re not going to make it home.” She muttered as he held her close. His low chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest.

“You’ll make it home, I don’t want an audience when I fuck you slowly until you scream my name.” He felt the shiver ripple through her body, now doubt in his mind she’d be wet for him. “I’m going to take my time with you, tie you up, take you apart an orgasm at a time.” His kiss was slow and sinful and if he kept talking to her like this she was going to orgasm right in the middle of the party. “Mmm you like the sound of that don’t you kitten?”

“You know I do.” Her gaze found his, the seductive blue looking back.

“Just say the word and we’ll go.” He smirked, knowing she’d want to dance some more and see midnight, time was it’s own seduction. He twirled her around the room, content to feel her let go and have fun. This was the happiest and most carefree he’d ever seen her.

“I see where you get your jazz gene from.” She chuckled, she had to change the topic or she’d embarrass herself. “Your dad has good taste in music, that’s what we’re were talking about before you whisked me away.” She laughed as he dipped her low.

“Fuck me I love that laugh.” He murmured, his lips grazing her temple as he grinned like a fool. “Dad and I are a lot alike.”

“You are. You have the same smile.” She said softly and kissed those lips she craved. “The same kindhearted soul.” He looked at her, eyes drowning in hers.

“It takes like souls to see each other.” He tucked a wave of copper behind her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too sweet man.”

Gustaf closed his eyes and swayed with her, the joy and happiness on her face as he held her close, the tender touches as they talked and got lost in each other. He was, as Bill had put it, gone over her, so completely. This was what he wanted of for her, the happy bubble, he’d see she got more of it.

“My Sildie.” He murmured as the countdown to midnight started. “You’re the best thing to come into my life.” He rested his forehead against hers.

“Thank you for walking into mine, into ours, you are my everything love.” She felt so at peace with him, the world on the cusp of a new year, new beginnings, a fresh start. As the clock chimed midnight he kissed her, slow and long, a silent promise that he would take care of her, take care of the kids, become the family he so desperately wanted with her, and they so desperately needed from him.

“Sweet man, I love you.” She whispered, before deepening the kiss. She wanted him, this, family, the feeling of being loved for who she was, baggage and all.

“I love you too.” He squeezed her tightly and danced her around the room. “Now those are the best first words of the new year.” He chuckled and dipped her, that laugh making him deliriously happy.

“There’s so much love in this room.” She said softly as they swayed, the slower song drifting them along with it.

“As family should be love.” He smiled kissing her head and breathing in her scent.

“Thank you.” She murmured.

“What for?”

“For giving me a family.” She whispered and closed her eyes, the stray tears falling as he danced with her cheek to cheek.

“Don’t cry love.” He kissed each cheek, the saltiness of her tears making his heart break.

“Sorry, they’re mostly happy tears.” She chuckled.

“It’s ok to miss them love.” He murmured kissing her tenderly. She was happy, yes, but the undercurrent of grief made things more difficult for her.

“I just hate when it bubbles up like this.”

“Better it bubbling up than holding it in.” He said gently, which he knew she did on a daily basis. She held so much of it in it was a wonder she could hold it together at all, he’d be a wreck. “Talk to me love.” He leaned back slightly as they continued to dance so he could see her face. “It’s New Year’s Eve, air out the mental laundry.” Her laugh was more a snort.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” She scoffed

“Try.” He whispered before dipping her low.

“It sounds silly.” And she wasn’t sure of what his reaction would be.

“So let it sound silly.”

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

[vaguely-concerned]

the mandalorian ep 6 reactions!

spoilers ahoy!

- the PALPABLE TERROR when mando realizes they’re going to use his ship and he’s not getting out of it :’) this poor poor man. the whole episode did such a good job with that ever-present tension born of the adult fear that very very bad people are in a position to hurt his kid. there’s something about sensing his love for the baby through the fear and stress that rises from it that’s so satisfying even if it’s nerve-racking haha 

- me, on the record as having called the razor crest interior depressing and sparse, listening to these assholes talking shit about it: ���hey uh actually. have you considered. Fuck You this is my dad’s house and it’s perfect???!?!”

(the fact that it’s so old and janky that neither the empire nor the new republic know what to do with it tho fdsfkdslahf hilarious I love this ship)  

- the way he quietly stood vigil over the cot and just like. clearly stopped breathing for a long while there when they found the baby anyway... poetic goddamn cinema  

- some PEAK comedy acting from whoever was in the mando suit when that devil dude wrecked the big patrol droids. “I uh. well. ah. hm” fsdfhsadlkf just look at his body language next to all the others, he’s like five times more expressive than anyone else even though he’s still pretty low key as a person. so good

- listen how far into a romantic entanglement they ever made it seems to be deliberately left up to interpretation, but xi’an’s bitter-ass mocking “This is the way” is, to me, the hallmark of a gal who didn’t get to second base and probably didn’t even touch the first unless you count giving a beskar-flavoured peck on the cheek lol. AS IF she’s seen his face, at most his glove slid up a bit once and she saw a sliver of bare wrist. I think mando’s initial strong reaction is a fakeout for the audience and he’s actually internally going ‘...aw fuck’ because he screwed over her brother. 

- this episode really cemented my feeling that the no-taking-off-the-helmet thing is a metaphor for vulnerability (and specifically in relation to cultural and personal trauma). when mayfield is like ‘let’s see your eyes’ it’s so invasive and awful ugh 

- I love how willing this show is to joyfully roll around in tropes. this is the seven samurai/magnificent seven one! this is the jailbreak/heist one! (ooh I hope we get a pure heist one at some point) here’s a mexican standoff played straight! there’s a purity to it that makes me very happy and reminds me a lot of clone wars. tropes can be so fun when you take them seriously! 

- I feel bad about it but zero the droid and mando’s sincere distress at him piloting his ship... both endlessly entertaining to me

- I get the sense that mando really hasn’t changed that much, ran and xi’an are mostly projecting onto him and he’s staying deliberately blank to let them do it. the ruthless stuff he does has a pattern even before he finds baby yoda: it’s like in the first episode with the guy he bisects with a door (as you do when you’re him) -- he’s trying to deal with him non-lethally right up until the dude shoots at him first. as we’ve repeatedly seen he gives you one chance and if you misuse that chance you’re toast. even qin knows that ‘aren’t you a man of honour?’ is the best shot at getting out of it alive when even the promise of more money doesn’t do anything. (and yes, qin, he is, which is why you and ran are dead lol) anyway I love one (1) buckethead dad with a penchant for karmic justice 

I am willing to believe he was even more emotionally dead inside when he was younger and did some messed up shit because of it, though. he seems to me more likely to be dangerous out of numbness/indifference and going along with bad people than active malice. (not that this absolves him. set boundaries, mando! work on your self worth baby get better friends!! or at least more friends who don’t actively try to murder you the bar is so low here)

- mando stalking people like a horror movie monster and still leaving them alive but smack dab in the middle of some Poetic Justice (while implying he’s avenging the dead New Republic guard in the process) was Good For Me on several levels 

- obligatory ‘mando please rethink the flame thrower’ point (to be fair to him he’s probably been using it for intimidation/crowd control ala the shootout in ep 3 and it’s quite effective for that, it just isn’t working out for him in hand-to-hand scenarios lol)

- the parallels between mando’s little (surprise not!)murder rampage and baby yoda playing hide and seek with that droid... MORE goshdang poetic cinema!!!! like father like son I am crying 

- I’ve seen some people be discontented that these last few eps don’t drive the plot forward and maybe they don’t in the traditional sense but I’m not sure I agree -- I think they’re making you feel the precariousness of mando’s situation by showing the nitty gritty of the increasingly desperate measures he has to take to keep them afloat & alive, and that he doesn’t really have any enduring close relationships outside of baby yoda; he’s alone and has no one to turn to practically or emotionally. they’re doing a lot of characterization groundwork and the whole thing has been set up as more of a slice of life, down to earth and day to day story from the beginning. for me personally that’s really enjoyable but of course that’s a personal taste sort of thing! I get the feeling that they’re building things up slowly and that the Big Plot tm will unfold (hopefully) over several seasons. well I mean definitely at least two seasons haha

[cozy-possum]

Summary: Emmett/Maria; friendship @su-angelvicioso

Emmett pretends not to know why he’s down there. He considers playing up the lie that he’d gotten lost; but then he remembers that she knew about Jasper; which meant she knew about Carlisle; and him; and everyone else so she wouldn’t be surprised to see golden eyes. Just the fact he was not Jasper or anyone she had heard of. He wonders if the confusion will be enough to spare him from what Jasper alway touted as a deadly welcome of newborns rushing you. Emmett wasn’t cocky enough to believe he could survive more than five newborns.

He kicks at the dirt; the rocks that had been in his path crumble from the force and he winces. Jasper had advised loose cool clothing; but long sleeves and pants; that he wouldn’t look that odd when he’d wander through towns. Emmett’s regretting taking Jaspers request; to deliver a handful of letters that Jacob had been hiding for him and some scorpion food as well as a few dresses and some very high platform boots. Emmett’s sure that Maria’s feet aren’t a size seven and he reasons they’re for Charlotte; he contemplates them being for Peter but decides that Jasper’s brother in arms wouldn’t go for something so flashy and shimmering as red and gold. Still he makes it past the last town on the map; Jasper having assured him that their base of operations was only a few miles out. He’s debating giving up when a truck slows in front of him and Peter hops out grinning. “Heyyy Em; glad to see you under better circumstances. You’re looking good in plaid; you finally convince the missus to take a vacation” Peter drawls and Emmett shakes his head gesturing to the backpack and suitcase he has. “No, I'm playing pack mule for Jasper; Alice; well anyways.” He grins as Peter takes the suitcase and offers him a spot in the truck.

“Hey Charlotte; guessing the shoes are for you?” Emmett grins as Charlotte beams. “Aww Jazz is such a sweetheart; i mentioned how he set up that modelling gig for me and then he said i needed more pretty things...since someone;” She glares lovelingly at Peter. “Doesn’t have a job.” “Child labour laws babe.” “You’re like 200 years old… you only look like 20; you could get a job…” Peter taps the side of his face before winking at her. “Not without spending my wages on contacts or becoming like those Cullens. No offence.” Peter grins at Emmett who laughs nodding.

Maria’s base of operations is closer to a mansion ranch house than what Jasper had tried to play off as a barn and some spare rooms. She looks up from a desk when he enters grinning at the bags he sets down. He’s about to say something but she just ignores him turning back to whatever she was working on before. “Hello… You must-” “You’re staring? You’re like Jasper then? Got a thing for-” Maria laughs as Emmett knows he makes a face. “No I just..” ”You’re going to call me short right?” “No; you’re just, well hell you’re really scary looking; not like ugly but you just got this vibe..” He shrugs a little and Maria grins. “Thank god you’re sensible. Now; how about a tour.”

Maria brings him around the entire ranch in less than ten minutes and Emmett is surprised to see her so casual about using her vampire traits out in the open. Even her skin shimmers a blinding golden colour. “You can take that off; we’re far enough out most humans won’t make it out here; and if they do; well the desert always claims someone during the year.” She shrugs and Emmett looks surprised. “What were you expecting?” She tilts her head and Emmett laughs a little. “To be honest I was expecting a military base; with drill sergeants and everything; but it’s just you and your family; not seeming very threatening.” As emmett finishes Maria snaps twice and suddenly the room is swarmed with the newborns clawing and glaring at Emmett. Maria snaps twice more and the newborns vanish. “You were saying.”

“Jesus that was like the fucking lord of the rings with the orcs in the cave…” “Lord of the rings?” Maria furrows her brow and Emmett beams. “Are you telling me Jasper hasn’t shown you Lord of the Rings??? “No we watched the Star Wars ones last time he was here but…” “Right now!!” Emmett nods seriously and Maria rolls her eyes. “Good luck finding that in the town…”

”So” Emmett grins after they’ve finished marathoning it. “I see; come with me.” Maria’s grinning and Emmett is wearing a matching smile. Maria escorts him to a large open field. She nods to him her grin seeming to grow as two of the newborns appear holding a massive trunk. “They’re just human grade… so nothing-” Maria doesn’t finish; Emmett beaming holding two massive swords up. “Fight me!” He laughs as Maria joins in; pulling out another sword and a shield. “Let’s go!” Emmett charges her laughing and grinning.

It only takes them a few hours to run through the weapons in the trunk. “We can get more in my storage shed.” “You have a storage shed of weapons…” “Well of course; where do you think the Volturi get their weapons?” Emmett cheers, laughing. It’s much later in the second day. Almost night, Emmett would make some quip about it being twilight but he knows Maria doesn’t count the days like that; between all the fun they’d had and the strategy and war meetings that Maria tried to hide from him she seemed to keep her days looped on a varying schedule of meetings, fighting and casual relaxing, Emmett notes than none of it involves a pretense of being human; of pretending to be what she once was. Emmett wants to ask about the war; about the letters Jasper has sent but he doesn’t. Thankfully he doesn’t have too.

“So why are you here? It’s not like Jasper to have someone playing pack mule..” “Well things haven’t been going well at home..” “Ah Yes; Ms, Bella Swan nee Cullen, correct? Is she causing him problems?” “No; Alice is. She’s being very; protective; of him.” “Obsessive is more like it..” Emmett doesn’t nod but he makes a hum of agreement. “She saw a vision of them together when she was first turned.” “She should know best out of everyone how the future can change.” “She gets muddled up in it..” “So she denies the supposed love of her unlife, what would make him most comfortable; being away from what was a century’s worth of miserable meals, and the negative temptation of idiot humans who stare and prattle about emotions. Sure that makes sense.” “He talks about you sometimes.” “Well we still talk..”

“No like; he talks about you; tells us about battles you won and fun things you guys got up to during his time here. Even the visits.” “And what does this tell you about me?” Maria arches her eyebrow and looks unimpressed at him; Emmett grins sheepishly. “To be fair; not much… Says more about him than you.” “Oh?” Maria’s grin borders on too wide and she leans forward. “And what does Mi amor say about me then?” Emmett laughs a little and shakes his head. “You should go up and ask him yourself…” “Well when are you going back; I’ll come with you.” 

She grins and Emmett debates even telling her to rethink; judging by the way her eyes shine he knows she’d just follow him anyways. “I just don’t know how warmly you’ll be welcomed…” “We’re vampires. Dead creatures; nothing warm about us.” Emmett laughs and nods at her assessment and he almost wishes he was able to warn Jasper but then he stops; agreeing with Maria that it’s far better to surprise your prey than give them a chance to escape.

Support My Writing?

[blinder-secrets]

Back Again - Tommy

a/n: surprise!!! ive been gone so long, i know :( here’s a slice of angst (and a bit of smut) to make up for it and lets ignore that this is perhaps inspired by how i feel bad for jsut disappearing on you all 

tommy x fem!reader

The woman who greets you is smiling as you approach. She looks kind enough, but even her warmth can’t quieten your nerves. ‘I have a meeting with Mr Shelby,’ you say, closing both hands around your bag to still their shaking. ‘I think I’m early.’

She hums. ‘No, you’re on time. He’s in the meeting room to the left.’

You nod and thank her, forcing one foot to go before the other. There’s no reason to be as nervous as you are, but no amount of self-reassurance can stop you.

If it wasn’t for how guilty you feel, you might have been excited for this, but instead your stomach is knotting itself with worry. It’s too late to turn back. You’d decided it was time to explain yourself, so you would do that. Closure is something you both needed.

He hasn’t seen you approach so you let your hand linger on the knob, looking at him through the glass of the door. He looks the same. His hairs shorter, the suit he’s wearing is finer, but he’s just the same. You half wish he wasn’t. It’d be easier if you looked at him and didn’t recognise him as the man you’d known.

You don’t knock, you just enter and shut the door behind you, leaning against it as you wait for him to take you in. He does it slowly, and as blankly as you’d anticipated.

After a moment of just looking at you, his hands fiddling with an un-lit cigarette, he gestures for you to come forward.

‘You changed your name,’ he says, his voice low.

You only manage to bring yourself three steps closer. ‘I got married.’

He nods. The cigarette is lit now, and smoking from his lips.

‘I’m a widow,’ you add, wanting to clarify it before he asks anything that would hurt you.

He half shakes his head; it’s either in pity or lack of concern, he doesn’t add anything to help you work it out.

Forcing yourself forward, you walk down the room some, choosing to sit in the seat three down from where he is. You put your bag flat and remove your gloves to lay them on top of it, using the actions to calm yourself. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. This is a man who’s seen every side of you, every part, every slip of skin. There shouldn’t be anything to be scared of, and yet.

‘Are you here for business, [y/n]?’ He’s gotten impatient, and your first name slips from between his lips like he’s still familiar.

‘No.’ You meet his eyes. ‘I just thought…’

‘You thought you’d bring private matters, to my place of work?’

You bite your cheek, sighing before you speak again. ‘You aren’t easy to get a hold of, Tommy.’

He takes a drag on his cigarette and blows the smoke toward you. ‘With reason, love.’

Your gut twinges. He’s doing it on purpose of course, to belittle you, to guilt you - whatever his reason, it hurts all the same. The last time he called you love, it was soft, pleading. A final move in the game you were playing with him.

‘I’m sorry for leaving the way I did,’ you say, blurting it out before you can think and rethink how you should really say it. ‘I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do, or how I felt, so I just went.’

Tommy is watching you but he isn’t saying anything, he barely even looks like he’s listening.

‘I was young. We both were.’

He takes another drag of the cigarette.

You shift in your seat, pulling your arms from the table to fold them across your lap. ’I just thought you should hear it from me. You need to know that I’m sorry for how it went.’

His head dips to the side slightly, his hand lifting to gesture quizzically. ‘Do I?’

‘Tommy.’

‘It was a long time ago.’

‘It was,’ you agree, annoyed that he’s cornered you into an empty conversation.

There’s a stilling silence, only broken by the creak of the chair as he leans back, lazy eyes dragging over you. It’s hard to believe that he hasn’t thought about it. That he hasn’t wondered where you went or why you left without saying anything. That he didn’t spend months looking for you afterwards.

‘Would you have agreed to see me if you’d known it was me?’ You ask.

He exhales. ‘I knew it was you.’

‘Oh.’ You turn the thought over, but he speaks again before you can reach any conclusion.

’I know you got married, and the husband died before you could have a child.’ His voice is husky, but he doesn’t clear it. He just speaks through the snag in his throat like he knows he’s saying something he shouldn’t, like he has to force it out or risk not saying it at all. ‘I know you went to London, then to Liverpool, and now you’re back here, in Birmingham. With me.’

You shake your head, ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I had to know,’ he says, eyes dropping slightly. It’s the first hint of sentiment you’ve seen from him.

‘So you, what? Followed my-‘

‘Just one trip,’ he interrupts. ‘Just one conversation and a look into some records.’

‘When?’

‘A few months ago.’

So he had been thinking of you. It’d weighed on his mind all these years like it had on yours. Bothered him enough to have him searching through records like you were a missing relative.

‘I see.’ You swallowed. There was no clear route of conversation from here, you’d said sorry and he hadn’t acknowledged it. You hadn’t planned for anything else past that. ‘Are you well?’

He snuffs, laughing through his nose as he looks away from you. ‘Came all this way to ask how I am,’ he says to himself. When his eyes are back on you, they've dropped the amusement and returned to the same bored gaze from before. He was tired of it. Or hurting. You still couldn’t read him. ‘What do you want, [y/n]?’

‘I told you.’ You keep your voice steady. ‘To apologise and explain.’

‘And you’ve done that.’

It didn’t feel like you had. Your words had gone into the air between you and dissolved completely. They hadn’t even touched him. 

‘I know about you too,’ you said after a pause. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but you needed something to level the playing ground. ‘About your wife, the charity...’ 

Your words trailed off when you saw his expression pinch. 

‘I'm sorry to hear it, Tommy.’

He goes to shake his head but can’t commit to the movement, his lips pouting slightly. 

‘You’ve done well, with the charity, and the business.’ you say. He has. He’s done everything he said he would and then some. ‘It’s wonderful.’

‘Wonderful.’ He repeats it flatly, then nods, and stands with a groan. 

Your times up. He’s reaching for his suit jacket and fixing the cufflinks on his sleeve, barely giving you chance to sort yourself out before he’s crossed the room to stand beside you. 

‘Right, sorry. You’re busy.’ The nerves are back again, from the proximity of him, and your hands shake as you try to gather your things and stand at the same time. ‘One second.’

‘[Y/n].’ He says your name simply, his hand lifting to put a finger to your wrist. 

When you still, his eye-line’s level to yours and his cologne snakes down your throat like you’re drinking it. He’s so close it overwhelms you. You can see the curl of his lashes, the shadow of stubble across his jaw, the crack in the skin of his lips. 

‘If you really came here to say sorry-’

‘I did.’

His hand twitches, finger lifting toward your mouth, as if he was going to press it against you - only for it to stop and drop again. 

‘If you came here to say sorry,’ he continues, ‘then apology accepted.’ He hesitates. ‘If you’d had stayed, you’d be as dead as the rest of them.’

Your face flushes cold but you nod, at least he understands. He understands and he cares, at least, just enough to give you the relief you’ve been desperate for. 

‘If you came for something else-’ his eyes drop to your lips, then lift again ‘-we can talk later, after I’ve finished.’

It doesn’t require much thought, you just swallow, in an attempt to shove your heart back down your throat, before telling him yes. 

Yes you want to talk later. Yes you came for more than just that. Yes you miss him. Yes, yes, yes. 

It’s his turn to nod now, his eyes steady on you. ‘Alright. Be here at seven.’

‘Seven,’ you agree.

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

You knock this time. There was no receptionist to welcome you in, and only a few workmen on the factory floor as you arrived. It was empty enough to feel forgotten about - you’d have goosebumps if your skin wasn’t so warm, your cheeks heated by the notion of what you were doing. 

‘Back again,’ you call, lingering in the doorway of his office. 

He’s stood, facing away from you, pouring whiskey into a set of glasses. ‘Shut the door,’ he says, his eyes flicking toward you for a second. 

You do as you’re told and shrug out of your coat to hang it on one of the hooks beside you. Everything you’re doing feels too slow, too careful. You’re putting off what you know is coming, even though you want it. Even though it’s a done deal already. 

When you reach him he hands you a drink, holding his own out afterwards to clink them together. 

‘What are we drinking to?’ you ask, unable to bring your eyes from his.

‘To us,’ he says. ‘To starting again.’

It takes fifteen minutes for him to make his point. 

Fifteen minutes, before he’s dragging your name in hot breaths across the skin by your jaw. Fifteen minutes, before he’s got you up on his desk, with your legs around his waist and your hands in his hair. Fifteen minutes before you’re his again.

‘I missed you,’ you breathe, head back as he sucks against your neck, leaving marks from the edges of his teeth.

You missed his lips. You missed his hands on your waist, his thigh between yours. You missed everything about it. 

He doesn’t answer but pulls back instead, setting his mouth on yours again. You kiss him, tongue teasing between his lips, as his hands move to your shirt. 

After a moments struggle, he stands straight and nods to your chest. ‘Take it off,’ he pants, moving to unfasten his trousers. He’s rushing, too desperate to take his time - and if you weren’t just as eager you’d mock him for it, tease him for acting like a teenager getting his first fuck. 

‘Anything else?’ you ask, half teasing, half submissive.

His head shakes and he’s against you again, his hands running up your thighs, catching the fabric of your skirt as he goes. When it’s bunched above your hips, he puts his palm against you, feeling you through the fabric of your underwear. 

‘Fuck.’ The word slips from him as his gaze drops down. He watches himself, chest heaving, his brow growing damp from the heat between you. 

You put a hand around the back of his neck, the other propped back against the desk to keep you upright. You hold yourself as close to him as possible, your legs tight around his back, panting by his ear as his fingers work you through the cotton. 

‘Don’t make me wait,’ you say, barely audible through your ragged breathing. ‘Please.’

He listens. For once he listens.

His hand’s gone and your underwear goes with it, his hips positioning themselves squarely between your thighs. You kiss him again and he meets you there, teeth catching your lips each time he takes a breath.

When he pulls back next, it’s to line himself with your entrance. He glances back to you and you nod, giving him the signal to push into you. You cling to him as his hips press upwards, your eyes rolling back at the feeling. 

His breath escapes as a moan, light and breathy into your neck. 

‘Fuck,’ he says again. ‘I missed you too.’ 

[writing-imagines]

“Broken Trust” Part 2

Part 1

You stood in front of Brie with tears rolling down your cheeks. Little sniffles and cries managed to sneak out every few seconds, making you more frustrated and upset.

“You cheated on me! I thought we were happy!” You yelled as even more tears came out. Brie looked at you with her own watery eyes and frown.

“We were happy and we can still be happy, baby. You just have to give me a chance.” Brie calmly said. She knew the best way to deal with you after one too many drinks was to stay calm and hushed.

“No! You broke my heart, Brie! You broke my heart.” You couldn’t tell, but you were shaking like there was no heat in the room. Before you got the chance to fall, Brie quickly wrapped her arms around you and pulled you against her body. The hug broke something inside you and you let out serval loud sobs.

“I still love you.” You managed to sob while nuzzling into Brie’s chest.

“I know. I love you too, baby.” Brie gently rubbed small circles on your back while you continued to sob. It took a few minutes but you managed to calm yourself down.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed, okay?”

“Okay.”

Brie helped you into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower for you. “I’m going to be right outside the door if you need me.” She told you before closing the door, leaving you alone for the first time that night. The shower was a bit of a blur, figuratively and literally, but Brie was right there waiting for you with pajamas in her hands.

After you changed into the pajamas, which consisted of your shirt and Brie’s sweat pants, you climbed into bed. Brie placed a trash can by the side of the bed and a water bottle on the night stand.

“Are you going to sleep with me tonight?” You asked, already feeling your eye lids get heavy. Brie shook her head as she sat down on the couch on the opposite side of the room.

“No, I’m going to sleep on the couch in case you get sick.”

“But I want you to sleep with me.” Now you were pouting which made Brie crack a smile.

“No you don’t, y/n. You’ll regret it in the morning.”

“But I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby, but I know you’ll be upset if we wake up together.” You wanted to argue with that, but something inside you knew she was right.

“Okay. Will you make me waffles tomorrow?”

“If you’re feeling up to it, yeah.” Brie said with that adorable laugh you missed hearing.

“Okay. Goodnight, Brie.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

The next morning, you woke up feeling exhausted. Your head hurt and you felt like you’d slept maybe an hour versus seven hours. After stretching, you sat up and were instantly hit with the memory of the previous night’s events.

Drinking with your friends, publicly crying over Brie, getting kicked out of the bar for crying, taking an Uber to Brie’s, and belligerently yelling at her. You felt a knot form in your stomach at the memories. She had been so good to you even though you screamed at her.

You climbed out of bed and tiptoed into the hallway. Soft music played as Brie fumbled around in the kitchen. When you rounded the corner, you saw Brie gently swaying to the music while frying bacon. You cleared your throat to get her attention.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted. Last night was...rough.”

“Trust me, I know.” She said with a small giggle.

“I made you waffles if you’re hungry.” Brie nodded her head towards a small stack of waffles sitting on the kitchen island.

You weren’t starving, but you didn’t want the waffles go to waste. You took your usual seat at the island and started to pick at your breakfast. It took Brie a few minutes to finish her breakfast, but she eventually joined you while staying on the opposite side of the island. The scene felt safe and familiar to you, making it feel easy to talk to Brie instead of yelling.

“Bacon, huh?” You asked because bacon was not apart of the Captain Marvel diet.

“Yeah, it’s cheat day.” Almost instantly Brie realized what she said. Her head shot up and her eyes widened when she looked at you.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s okay. As long as were apologizing, I’m sorry for showing up and yelling at you last night.”

“Don’t be, I deserved it. Plus, it was nice to see you again for the first time in two months, even if you were yelling at me.” It was quiet for a few minutes before you spoke up.

“We need to talk about us, Brie.”

“I know we do.” Brie hung her head low and pushed her breakfast away.

“Do you want to stay together?” You asked while shuffling pieces of food around the plate.

“Of course I do. You’re the love of my life, y/n.”

“Then why did you cheat on me? I know you were upset about our fight, but why didn’t you walk away if you loved me so much? Help me understand, Brie.” You said, feeling proud that you could talk to her without getting upset or yelling.

“I don’t know...I was really upset and felt like you cared about work more than me. We were fighting so much it felt like we were going to break up any second.”

“You could have talked to me about feeling this way.”

“I know, I wasn’t thinking. When I woke up the next morning, you were all I could think about.”

“If only you thought about me that night. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’ll do anything to prove how much I love you.”

You didn’t say anything in response. You looked down at your plate and tried to process everything you were feeling. Ever since you found out about Brie cheating you were sure you wanted to break up. But hearing Brie say the things she was saying and seeing the remorse in her eyes was really making you rethink what you wanted.

“Y/n, do you still want to be together?” You let out a sigh and looked up at Brie.

“Yes, I still want to be with you.” Brie’s eyes lit up and she quickly ran over to you. Before she got the chance to wrap her arms around you, you placed a firm hand on her chest.

“But it’s going to take some time for us to get back to the way things used to be. I still don’t feel like I can trust you.”

“I understand. Thank you for giving us a second chance.” Your girlfriend happily smiled at you, forcing you to also smile. You dropped your hand from Brie’s chest as you stood up. Cautiously, you wrapped your arms around Brie and rested your head on her chest.

“I missed you.” You mumbled as Brie held you close.

“I missed you too, baby.” The two of you stood in silence for a while, happy to be back together. You knew it would take a while before you could fully trust Brie and have your relationship return to normal, but you were excited to have the love of your life back.

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Chapter 10

Title: Falling for the Holidays

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 2685

Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children.  However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: Slight Angst, Some Explicit Language, Arguing, Misunderstandings.

A/N: HOLY SHMANOLY!! I took forever and a half on this chapter. I’ve just been on a major writer’s block, where I can think of the story and where I want to go, but when I make sentences, they’re just crap! UGH! I hope this chapter is decent, and I am so sorry for the wait. Thank you all for being so patient with me!! xx

Series Masterlist

The smell of coffee aroused you to consciousness. A smile spread across your lips as you thought about Mary starting up a fresh brew. Still a little incoherent to the world and reality, you stumbled out of bed in nothing but an oversized flannel, courtesy of one Dean Winchester, and underwear. As you exited your small space, you were interrupted from your morning daze.

“Nice outfit,” a strange yet familiar voice pierced through your eardrums. It only took a second for everything to come rushing back, and your body went stiff.

“Ketch!” You squeaked, running back into your room, peaking through the door. “I’m so sorry. My mind was elsewhere. For some reason, I thought I was back in Lawrence,” you bashfully confessed.

“Oh. No need to apologize. I very much enjoyed the view,” he grinned.

“Alright, mister. You think you’re so smooth,” you giggled, earning an even wider grin from the man in your kitchen.

“Actually, no. But I will humbly accept the compliment,” he winked. You rolled your eyes shutting the door, hearing him laugh as you did.

Changing into something more appropriate, you wondered into the bathroom to do your business. As you fixed your hair, your eyes landed on the spare toothbrush you specifically left out for Dean. Your stomach dropped and you felt your eyes swelling at the thought of him, but you forced it down. You and Dean were just friends. That was all you’ll ever be.

“Just friends, Y/N. Just friends,” you told your reflection, sighing in defeat.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you heard Ketch on the phone. “I know. I’ve got everything under control. It’s going just as predicted so would you calm down?!” His tone was soft, as if he was whispering. “I told you a deal is a deal. If this is my way out, then I’ll do it. You can have your little family, and I can finally be a free man.”

Free man? You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to. What did he mean by free man? And what deal? Who was he talking to? What little family?

“Ketch?” You called his name. It was barely noticeable, but there was no denying that he flinched at the sound of your voice.

“Oh, Y/N. One second,” he smiled before resuming his conversation. “I will check in later. I need to go.” He hung up the phone, smiling as he took a deep breath. “Sorry about that. That was a client of mine.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“No, it’s fine. I was talking in your home anyways. No need to apologize.”

“What did you mean about being a free man?” The words easily slipped out, your curiosity taking over. “Oh, sorry. You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s fine. Uh, you see… my client has been trying to get their hands on… a certain artifact that would… uh, I guess you can say, complete a collection of sorts. Once I get it, I’ll be a free man. She is just so anxious to have it before Christmas for her family. It’s a little frustrating. She doesn’t understand that I’ve got it all under control. I am the best at my job, so… I’m sorry. Look at me venting about my work. It must all seem rather boring.”

“Actually, no. Some times you just need to talk to someone, right?” You gave him a pointed look, reminding him about what he had done for you on the plane.

Ketch scoffed, the smile on his lips returning. “You’re right. Thank you for listening to me.”

“I usually am,” you joked, “and you’re welcome.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that. You seem like a smart and capable young woman. Any man would be honored to have you by their side. This best friend of yours made a terrible mistake by letting you go. I just hope the next man that gets to hold your heart, treats you the way you deserve.”

“Oh yeah? And how do I deserve to be treated?” You asked, shifting all your weight to one hip and crossing your arms.

“Like a queen,” he stated, as if it was the most natural answer to give.

You felt your cheeks heat up, turning your face away from him and distracting yourself by making a cup of coffee. “With charm like that, I bet you get all the girls, huh?”

“I like to think so. But I’m sure a woman as attractive as yourself have all the men flaunting all over you.”

“If you mean creeps, then yes,” you rolled your eyes, sniggering with disappointment.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope this creep,” he pointed to himself, “isn’t making you uncomfortable.”

“No! No, no, no! You are definitely not a creep,” you laughed, lightly hitting him on the arm.

Ketch chuckled. “That’s good to know. Unfortunately, I need to get going. If I could spend the whole day with you, I would, but my parent’s are wondering where I am. You’d think, now that I’m an adult, they’d worry less.”

“Tell you parent’s I said hi,” you smiled, earning one back from Ketch.

“Of course.”

Before Ketch left, the two of you exchanged numbers, making a promise that you would meet again. Once he was gone, you let out a drawn out sigh, shuffling towards the couch and flopping yourself down. You were feeling conflicted. All your mind could think about was mourning your chances with Dean, but with Ketch in the picture, it all seemed to conveniently perfect. You lost the love of your life, only to have another man show up that could possibly pick up all the pieces.

Suddenly, there was a loud and frantic knock on your door. It made your whole body jump, causing you to fall off the couch with an ungraceful thud.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Jo called from the other side of the door. “What was that noise?”

You rolled your eyes before picking yourself off the floor. With an immature huff, you headed towards the door, opening it to find a very worried Jo.

“Good Morning,” you smiled, the sarcasm easily portrayed in your tone of voice.

“Oh don’t give me that. I got a call from Sam this morning, saying I should go check up on you. What happened? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” If there was one thing Jo got from her mother, it was that sometimes she turned into her.

“Jeez, Mrs. Harv, everything is fine,” you mocked, “I don’t know what Sam told you, but I’m all good.”

“First of all, I am not my mother. So don’t call me that. And if everything is all honky-dory like you claim it is, then why are you and Dean home early?” Jo’s question surprised you a little. Dean was home? You thought you saw his truck last night, but Was that really him you saw?

“Dean?” you asked back.

“Yeah. Sam said he left a few hours after you.”

Jo’s confession made your stomach flip. The thought that Dean raced back to Dallas for you made you believe that, just maybe, he was going to choose you. That he was going to leave his first love and take a chance on a new one… a riskier one. One that had so much potential to be amazing and catastrophic.

“Look, Jo. Everything is all good, I promise. I appreciate you dropping by, but I just want to relax at home and get some homework and studying done before classes start up again tomorrow.”

Jo gave you a pointed look, one that let you know that she was judging you. “Okay… nerd.” She whispered the last part.

“Hey, Joanna Beth Harvelle, I heard that!” You scolded despite the smile on your face.

“Whoops! See ya later,” she smiled before leaving.

The rest of the day had you occupied with texting Ketch and your mind overthinking about Dean. You felt a little bad for dumping all your problems on your new friend, but you didn’t have anyone else that you could talk to about it. You didn’t know how to start to explain yourself to Sam or Jess, and you didn’t think you could ever face Mary or John ever again, without telling any of them the truth about yours and Dean’s relationship. Ketch, on the other hand, already new everything that happened aside from the real names of Dean and Lisa. At the time, you felt that he didn’t need to know anyone’s real names, but you were starting to rethink it. If Ketch somehow becomes a constant in your life, he’d eventually figure it all out. Might as well save him the confusion and lay it all out on the table.

The next day, classes resumed. You got ready for school and waited for Dean to pick you up, as usual. When the time started to get a little late, you called and texted him, but never got a reply. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten his phone, but he’s never been this late. By the time it was five minutes before your first class started, you relented to wait any longer and dashed out of your apartment… sprinting.

It was extremely cold out. Despite your strenuous travels there was no sweat dripping down your body. You were actually freezing, unable to feel your nose from it being unprotected to the winter air.

When you finally made to the campus, you were already seven minutes late. You weren’t angry, but you were frustrated that Dean failed to give you any sort of warning that he wasn’t going to show up. You were also angry at yourself for waiting for him as long as you did, but there was nothing you could do now.

Ten minutes. You were ten minutes late for class. Ten minutes didn’t seem like a lot, but when your first class was intense, you’ve practically missed three chapters.

Stepping through the door as late as you were, brought all the attention to you. “Miss Y/L/N, you’re late,” your professor scolded.

“Sorry Dr. Visyak. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not. Ask one of your classmates if they’re willing to lend you their notes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nodded, quickly taking your seat.

“Hey, what happened?” Your classmate, Clara, asked.

“Dean didn’t show up, so I ran here,” you briefly explained.

“That explains your red cheeks,” she noted. “Also, that doesn’t seem like a Dean thing to do.”

“Yeah, well, maybe he forgot.”

“Dean? Forget about you? I mean, the man always walks you to class.” Clara was right. This was very uncharacteristic of Dean, but you had no explanation.

“I don’t know. Maybe something happened? Now I’m getting a little worried.” Panic stirred within you. It didn’t even cross your mind that there was a possibility something happened.

“Why don’t you text one of your other friends,” Clara suggested.

“Great idea. Thanks.”

Pulling out your phone, you immediately texted Jo.

To: Jo Harvelle Hey Jo, did you see Dean this morning?

It took a while before she replied, which you understood. She was in class as well.

From: Jo Harvelle Yeah I did. Something happen between you to? Cass and I were wondering since you didn’t come with him. When we asked about it, he just changed the subject.

You stomach sank with worry. Was he mad at you? Did you do something wrong? Was it because you left so suddenly from his parent’s house?

To: Jo Harvelle Nothing happened, just caught a ride with a classmate of mine. Everything is all good.

Lies. It was all lies. Something did happen between you and Dean, you had to run to school, and nothing was good, because now you were sure Dean had to be mad at you.

From: Jo Harvelle OK. If you say so.

That was the end of your texting. Class went by in a blur and you had no idea what the day’s lesson was about, but thankfully, Clara was an intensive note taker. When lunch came around, you saw your group of friends, Dean included. He had his head down, not really interacting with the others, which was weird. Dean always had something to say, always had an opinion, or always had a bad joke up his sleeve for any given moment. Something was wrong.

“Hey guys,” you greeted with a smile, taking a seat next to Jo, not bothering to ask Dean about earlier that morning.

You were greeted by everyone present, beside Dean. Even Meg acknowledged you and you only met her a handful of times.

“Hey De—” You didn’t even get the chance to finish his name before he stood up to leave. In your group of friends, you never got embarrassed, but this time you did. Dean was supposed to be your partner in crime and here he was, pretending that you didn’t exist. It felt awkward, and you already knew that Jo, Cass, maybe Meg, were starting to make up their own assumptions. “Dean, hey!” You called out, but he ignored you again. “Dean!” When he didn’t respond, you went after him.

“Dude, where are you going?” You asked, walking beside him. “What’s wrong?” When he didn’t answer, you asked again.

“Nothing,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Now that’s a bunch of bull. C’mon. Talk to me.”

Suddenly he stopped, still close enough that the other’s had a clear view. “I said nothing!” He barked in your face, your eyes going wide.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?!” You retorted back. Never had anyone talked to you like that, and you weren’t going to start now, even if it was Dean. “Jo told me you came back for me and this is how you’re going to act? Like a fucking child?!”

“You know what? Yeah I did come back for you but clearly it was a mistake!” Dean shouted, gaining more than just your group of friend’s attention. “I thought you were better, but boy was I wrong. You’re just like all the other girls I fell for. Just a bunch of insecure girls who keep playing games.”

“Games? When the hell did I ever play games on you?” The audience growing around you didn’t bother you or Dean, in fact, it didn’t even register. You were too pissed with Dean to care, and Dean really didn’t care at all.

“I hope Ketch doesn’t get caught in your games?” Dean gritted, venom laced in every word. You were shocked.

“K-Ketch? How do you even know who that is?” You stuttered, surprised that he knew Ketch.

Dean scoffed, taking your speech impediment as a sign of you being caught. “I came over last night. It was late. Now I know why you couldn’t wait to leave Lawrence. Just so you could screw some guy like a slut! You chose some British douche bag over me and my family!”

Rage overtook you, and before you knew it, your hand swung across his face, leaving a vibrating sting coursing through your hand and up your arm. You were so overwhelmed with anger that you didn’t realize you were crying.

“Dean Winchester…” you started, your voice gravelly low, eyes looking down at your shoes. When you looked up, Dean’s wrath quickly turned into guilt. He hated seeing you cry, and now he was the reason for the tears. That was one thing he never wanted. He never meant to hurt you, but he was hurt too which didn’t allow him to think straight.

“Y/N…” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper.

“No,” you hissed, flinching your hand out of reach when he tried to grab it. “I never want to see, or speak to you, ever again!”

Dean took a step back, almost as if he had gotten shot, which would have been better than knowing he had hurt you really bad. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

Before Dean could finish, you were already running off. Dean wanted to run after you, but he couldn’t. He felt too dead inside to do anything.

Say Something Nice Here!!

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One of the most potent strategies for reaching a goal is to identify the obstacles ahead of time and to develop a plan to address each before they are encountered. We want to be optimistic, but we don’t want to be a naive optimist. The naive optimist ignores the obstacles in their way and believes that they will not confront any challenges while striving to accomplish their goal. The realistic optimist believes in their ability to accomplish their goal despite the obstacles in their way. They acknowledge and prepare for the obstacles which makes them much more likely to achieve their goal. We want to have faith in our ability to overcome obstacles, not naively believe we won’t encounter them.

Research shows that predicting how and when you might be tempted to break a resolution increases the chances that you will keep it.[i]When you are working on developing a daily discipline, ask yourself: “When am I most likely to be tempted to give in? What situation is most likely to get me sidetracked? What excuses will I give myself to procrastinate?” Once you have such a scenario mapped out in your mind, imagine yourself in that situation, what it will feel like, and what you might be thinking?  If we are struggling to form a habit, it shouldn’t be difficult to imagine what situations will cause us to slip off our path, because these situations must have occurred for us to be struggling with forming the habit now.If you enjoyed this article, please LIKE and SHARE. 

Why is imagining the situations that will cause us to fail such a useful tool for overcoming our willpower challenges? It’s because once we have identified them, we can anticipate them and develop a plan to either avoid the situation or mitigate the temptation. When you have a definite strategy in mind, imagine yourself doing it. Envision what it will feel like to succeed. The more you mentally rehearse your plan, the more likely you are to execute it successfully when the temptation confronts you.

While planning missions in the military, two things were drilled into us. The first was to keep our plans as simple as possible by avoiding unnecessary complexity. We were taught the acronym KISS, “Keep it simple, stupid.” Simple plans are easier to execute. Complexity is the enemy of execution. The second was to rehearse, rehearse, and rehearse. The simpler your plan is, and the more you rehearse it, the better you will execute your plan. Execution is critical. Plans do not produce results unless you execute them.

Gabriele Oettingen a clinical psychologist and author of Rethinking Positive Thinking: Inside the New Science of Motivation, found that regardless of the goal, weight loss, obtaining a high-paying job after college, finding your soul mate, or recovering from hip replacement surgery, being a realistic optimist dramatically increases your odds of success. Realistic optimist recognizes the pitfalls that lay in front of them and develop a plan to address them. They don’t overestimate their ability to overcome challenges through willpower alone. They shape their environment and create if-then plans to shape their behavior. Realistic optimists have meals ready to eat in their freezer, they submit more job applications, they exercise more courage to meet potential romantic partners, and they create daily routines around rehabilitation exercises.[ii]

We must believe in ourselves, but one of the worst things we can do is underestimate the challenges we must overcome or overestimate our finite and fickle abilities to overcome them. Presuming that our willpower will always be adequate to the challenge of overcoming every temptation is folly. We need to recognize the challenges before we encounter them and develop a plan, based on proven strategies, to overcome those challenges. We should seek the advice of people that have done it.

Everyone struggles with procrastination, laziness, and overcoming distractions to make progress toward their goals. The bigger the goal, the more likely we are to be intimidated by it. The more likely we’ll be to procrastinate. When a reporter asked Earnest Hemmingway how he set about writing a novel, he replied, “First you defrost the refrigerator.” While I am no Hemmingway, the task of writing a book can seem overwhelming. To prevent the enormity of the task overwhelming me, I focus on writing the next paragraph or outlining the next chapter. A beautiful book about the joys, struggles, and rewards of writing is Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. She describes writing as a gritty endeavor that requires courage to overcome procrastination born out of perfectionism to produce that “shitty first draft.” She says, “Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend.”

Her book’s title reminds me to focus on taking that next small step to produce that shitty first draft. I remember the story of Anne Lamott’s brother for which the book is titled. She recounts the story in her book: “Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, “Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.” Her father’s simple advice is something we can all use as a tool to stop procrastinating and take one small step, and then another.

It is a common mistake to think that our weaknesses are unique to us. They aren’t. Many of us wrongly believe that our weakness of willpower reveals a profound flaw in our character. It doesn’t. Frailties and imperfections are common. It is part of what it means to be human. They are so common that we marvel at and celebrate those that can overcome them. Weakness is a part of the human condition. We need to understand our limitations and develop effective strategies for coping with them. We all struggle with willpower, but most of us never seek a better understanding of it. The better we understand our human frailties, the better we can manage them to overcome our willpower challenges.

The only way to beat procrastination is to overcome the mental obstacles to starting. Marla Cilley, the creator of the 5-Minute Room Rescue, found an ingenious way to help us overcome procrastination. She suggests you commit to five minutes of work. For example, tell yourself, “All I am asking for is a five-minute commitment, after that we can stop.” Of course, after starting it is much easier to keep going. This same tactic can be applied to performing a workout when you just are not feeling it. Tell yourself, “let’s get changed, grab a cup of coffee, and warm-up for five minutes, and if we still are not feeling it, we can quit.” Once you get started, it is unlikely you won’t be able to finish the workout.

We have one brain but two minds. One mind is motivated by base instincts and strong emotions, the other is logic driven and focused on our long-term goals. Emotions are powerful. Overcoming them through sheer force of will is very taxing and can deplete our willpower reserves quickly, leaving us more vulnerable to the next temptation. Shrinking the commitment, by asking for only 5-minutes of work is a very effective strategy for overcoming our feelings. The more consistently we can overcome our emotions to do what is in line with our long-term goals the more successful we will be.

Consistency is the key to making progress. John Maxwell’s Power of Five provides a great example of the power of small persistent actions. He asks what would happen if you had a large tree on your property and you committed to taking five swings at it each day? The answer is always the same; the tree will eventually fall. It doesn’t matter how large the tree is. He has written over 70 successful books using the Power of Five. We are often intimidated by the large trees in our life, but if we just committed toward doing a little each day, instead of being overwhelmed by them we would achieve incredible results.

When it comes to writing, I subscribe to Steven King’s philosophy, “Don’t wait for the muse. As I’ve said, he’s a hardheaded guy who’s not susceptible to much creative fluttering. This isn’t the Ouija board or the spirit-world we’re talking about here, but just another job like laying pipe or driving long-haul trucks. Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ’til noon or seven ’til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up.” I keep showing up. The worst thing we could do is judge ourselves too harshly and believe our weakness of willpower reveals a unique flaw in our character instead of what it is, ordinary human frailty.

The three most important things to understand about willpower is: (1) we need to get adequate sleep each night to begin the day with the maximum amount of willpower (2) our willpower depletes as our day progresses, and (3) the more self-control we are forced to exercise, the faster the rate of depletion. Stress and fatigue are the enemies of willpower. If you wake-up each morning tired, you’re already starting the day at a willpower disadvantage. Most people need at least 7.5 to 8.5 hours of sleep each day. Since our willpower is greatest at the beginning of each day, that would be the best time to schedule the tasks that require the most willpower. You’ll also find you have a lot fewer interruptions in the morning. The last strategy and perhaps the most important is to avoid taxing our willpower unnecessarily. We want to shape our environment to promote positive habits and discourage negative ones.

I have made writing a daily a habit, so it doesn’t require much willpower anymore. It is just a part of my day. Most times I can block out distractions and my ideas flow. Sometimes I cannot, but I keep showing up, determined and excited to make whatever little bit of progress I can make each day with the time that I can set aside. I write in the early morning hours because the rest of my day is filled with personal and professional commitments. I know that if I keep plugging away, I will eventually complete this book and the other books I have already outlined. The key to finishing is to develop the habit of starting again each day. I don’t rely on willpower to write each day; I rely on my morning schedule. I don’t struggle with the decision. I look at the clock, and when it says 4:30 AM, my mind says it is time to write. Routines reap results because they don’t rely on willpower, that fickle friend that is never there for you when you need him. Disciplined habits are our best friends. “A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labors of a spasmodic Hercules.” Anthony Trollope

The more we rely on willpower as our strategy for success, the less likely we are to achieve our goals. The problem with willpower is that it depletes as the day progresses and leaves us naked to temptation. It is more useful to shape our environment to reduce temptations and distractions than to rely on willpower and grit. When we overestimate our willpower, we unnecessarily expose ourselves to people, situations, and environments that will tempt us to break our resolutions. “Research shows that people who think they have the most willpower are actually the most likely to lose control when tempted. For example, smokers who are the most optimistic about their ability to resist temptation are the most likely to relapse four months later, and overoptimistic dieters are the least likely to lose weight. Why? They fail to predict when, where, and why they will give in. They expose themselves to more temptation,” Kelly McGonigal.

Ronald Amundsen

The 1909 race to the South Pole illustrates the necessity to identify the challenges ahead of you, learn from the success of those who have gone before you, and not to rely too heavily on grit and determination to push through whatever obstacles you encounter. Two teams took-up the challenge of being the first to reach the South Pole. One group was led by British Naval Officer Robert Scott and the other lead by Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen.

Amundsen gave his people the best possible equipment, and paced their journey to ensured he gave his men plenty of time to rest along the route. Scott’s team was ill-equipped. Inadequate clothes lead to frostbite, and poor goggles lead to snow blindness. Amundsen used dogs to haul their provisions, while Scott used untried motorized sleds which quickly failed, forcing his men to carry their provisions on sleds.

At the South Pole: Wilson (left), Scott, Oates (standing); Bowers and Evans (sitting)

Scott pushed on and ultimately made it to the South Pole, albeit one month behind Amundsen’s team. Tragically, no one on Scott’s team would survive the journey back, while Amundsen’s team returned with no severe maladies. There are many reasons for the radically different outcomes, but ultimately it was Scott’s overconfidence in the grit and resilience of his team that caused him to underestimate the difficulty of their journey. His dying words illustrate this point. “Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale.”[iii]

I don’t want to diminish their courageous act of perseverance, but merely wish to point out that it could have been avoided. Scott could have given his team a better chance of success if he had better identify the challenges and better understood the limits of human endurance. This program offers tools to make your journey more manageable, but certainly not effortless. You will have to demonstrate some grit and willpower, but much less than if you didn’t use the proper strategies. The mistake I want us to avoid making is relying too heavily on willpower.

A plan that relies too heavily on willpower is doomed to failure. We are foolish to subject ourselves to temptation needlessly. Willpower is a fickle thing that often leaves us during our time of greatest need. As Shakespeare put it, “we are devils to ourselves, when we will tempt the frailty of our powers.”[iv] We shouldn’t tempt fate by relying on willpower when an effective strategy could reduce or eliminate the need for willpower. The proven strategies contained in this program will give you the greatest odds of success. Why make your journey any more difficult than it needs to be? The best use of our willpower is the implementation of strategies to reduce our need to exercise it.

The distance between our goals and where we are is the journey before us. When we choose to spend time with people that exhibit negative attitudes and behaviors, we are deciding to put rocks in our backpack. If we are trying to eat healthier but choose to stock our pantry with junk food, we are choosing to make our journey harder. We are consciously choosing to put pebbles in our shoes. Many people say they don’t want to deprive their kids, of what exactly I don’t know, a lifetime of sugar addiction? I believe desserts should be an occasional treat, not a daily indulgence.

These rocks and pebbles won’t produce an immediate failure, but they will make failure inevitable. The extra weight will slow your progress, and the pebbles will grind away at your resolve with each step you take; until you eventually give up. When your willpower finally gives out, you’ll blame it for your lack of success, instead of your decision to expose yourself to the temptations unnecessarily. You are going to need grit and willpower, just like Amundsen’s team surely did to successfully navigate the South Pole, but they combined it with the right tools and strategies.

Save your limited willpower for the temptations you cannot avoid, instead of putting more in your path. You are going to be tempted at the office to eat the donuts, cookies, and birthday cakes on a regular basis. Our supply of willpower can vary significantly from day to day depending on how stressful our day has been. This is especially true as the day wears on, and our ability to exert willpower is depleted to almost nothing. If we get adequate sleep each night, we begin the day with a willpower reservoir that is fully restored like your cellphone battery. The more we use it throughout the day, the quicker it depletes. Ever notice that most of our bad habits occur late at night?

That is because our willpower has evaporated and all we are left with is our desire to seek instant gratification and relief from our stressful day. Shaping your environment by eliminating the temptations you will encounter in the evening is the most effective strategy you can adopt. The next most effective technique is establishing an evening ritual that supports your goals. Habits conserve our willpower because they don’t require our conscious mind to decide what to do. The decision is made automatic through repetition. Our primitive mind encounters the cue and executes the routine automatically.

Change agents often find that what appears to be a people problem is a situation problem. Instead of taking on the difficult task of changing our behavior through willpower, we can often tweak our environment and make change happen painlessly. Instead of relying on workers following proper procedures, safety engineers install guards and controls to prevent workers from taking shortcuts that put themselves at risk. They do this because they know that it is easier to tweak the environment; rather than to force 100% compliance with proper procedure as workers become overconfident and complacent.

I hope you’ll decide to become an optimistic realist. I hope I have convinced you that we cannot ignore the challenges in front of us or imagine a future in which they won’t exist. We must develop a plan that relies less on willpower and more on structuring our environment to make good habits easier and bad habits more difficult. Our environment profoundly influences our behavior, so it is only logical that we would want to shape it to promote good habits and discourage bad ones.

A realistic optimist anticipates the challenges that are outside their control so they can develop and rehearse a simple plan to address them. If you are struggling to exercise five days a week consistently, I want you to first ask yourself “why am I NOT going to train five days this week?” Then I want you to develop a plan that will allow you to overcome the excuses. Optimism is an excellent source of motivation, but naïve optimism is a recipe for failure that ends in bitter disappointment. I want you to believe in yourself, but I want that believe to be based on the world as it is, and not based on the world as you would wish it to be. I want you to be a realistic optimist.

Best wishes and best health!

[i] Kelly McGonigal, The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It, Avery; Reprint edition (December 31, 2013)

[ii] Heidi Grant, Be an Optimist Without Being a Fool, Harvard Business Review, MAY 02, 2011

[iii] John C. Maxwell, The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership, HarperCollins Leadership; Revised & Updated edition (September 16, 2007)

[iv] William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida Translation, Act 4, Scene 4

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War Creatures (Ch.36)

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Summary:  In a crossover of the Nine Realms and Westeros, you find yourself in the dawn of a rebellion. Odin, Lord of Pyke, has made alliances with your family, House Grover of Highgarden. Your father’s army will join Odin’s army to overthrow the King and take the Iron Throne. There is just one cost to this alliance.You must marry the dark, young prince Loki.In a world where Kings do as they wish, where war is an oncoming storm, and peace is nothing but a dream, you are lost but brave. Loki is more powerful than he seems, and love will grow from the flames of war.

Words: 2078  // [AO3 Link] //  Seasons 1-3 of War Creatures - Chapter 31 - Chapter 32 - Chapter 33 - Chapter 34 - Chapter 35

:Lia’s POV:

“Ser Petra? Tell me a story,” I smiled at my favorite knight. Ser Petra shifted in his seat. He had been my guest all week at my afternoon tea. He took a bite of an apple in front of him.

“Ah, I have a good one. I remember when your mother was pregnant with you. She had this habit that you now have adopted.”

“What? What is it?” I sat up excitedly. “Is it something I eat?”

“No, no,” Ser Petra shook his head. “It’s a bit of a complicated story. You see, your mother was in a similar spot where you are now. Her mother surrounded her with comfort, food, and a midwife near her at all times. Apparently, it was tradition to be suspicious and overly-cautious in your family.” I laughed and gesturing to the air. Of course, my mother would put me through the same suffering as herself.

“Please, continue,” I told him, enjoying this story.

“Your mother ended up being so bored because her mother never let her do anything, so your mother held tea parties, hosting different people every week. She often told me I was a pleasurable guest.”

“Tea parties? With everyone?”

“Everyone. Including the kitchen girls who do nothing but gossip about others. Those were her favorite.” Ser Petra smiled at me fondly. “It’s good to see you home and safe. A pregnant woman should never be on the road to war.”

“Yes, I suppose,” I looked away from the table and towards the sky. It wasn’t entirely blue, but it wasn’t going to rain. I knew.

“What’s wrong?”

“Here I am, about to be seven months pregnant, and I have heard nothing of my husband and the war for most of my pregnancy. No one tells me anything. No matter who I have tea with. No one gives me a hint of anything. It’s—

“Maddening,” Ser Petra finished my sentence. He took a look around him and sat closer to me. “May I ask you something? Something very personal?”

“Of course,” I nodded. “You’re like a second father to me.” Ser Petra cracked a smile and sighed.

“I wasn’t thrilled to hear your father say he was planning to marry you off to him. I always wanted you to marry some boring lord somewhere, but I am not your father. When I met him, I was greeted with an arrogant, mean, and highly intelligent teenage boy. I feared he would hurt you or worse hate you slowly from a distance.”

“But, you know that’s different now,” I touched his hand. “He loves me very much.”

“I believe that and I’m relieved,” Ser Petra nodded. “Do you think he’ll make a good king?”

“Oh,” I reacted. “I wasn’t expecting that question.” I started to laugh a little until I saw Petra’s face. His frown and waiting eyes told me he was more serious than I thought. “I believe my answer will be biased.”

“If I believed that, I wouldn’t have asked you. You came into this war with an allegiance to one king, and now you support his son, why? Do you seek power yourself? Do you want to be queen? Would that make you happy?”

“No,” you answered honestly. “I didn’t want to be queen. I had little desire in ruling over people, but then I saw the need. Loki is not the arrogant boy you think he is. He has mercy. He has taught me so much. Therefore, I am not the little naïve girl from Highgarden. I have seen parts of the world that are ugly and beautiful. The Nine Kingdoms deserves better than a man using children for war and using his own people to shield him.”

“And what does the Nine Kingdoms deserve?”

“Someone with love in her heart and another who is aggressive but smarter than his advisors. Ruling would not make me happy, but I will do what the Nine Kingdoms deserves. A good queen and a good king.” I looked at Ser Petra and noted the grays in his beard starting to show.

“You’ve grown up and I blinked,” Ser Petra smiled. He took my hand and placed a chaste kiss on top. “Your husband is alive.”

“What?!” I reacted. Ser Petra shushed me immediately, noting the other royal guards patrolling.

“He won the battle and many other battles after that. I wouldn’t be so cross with him. Your husband has been busy sacking the North entirely. His army has gotten larger with every battle. Dwarves, goblins, frost giants—

“He did it? He has the Frost giants?” I asked. Ser Petra nodded. “Your father is rethinking his original alliance with Odin, but he wanted to wait until after you had your first child. He wanted to see Loki as a father first before he made his final decision.”

“Has Loki sent me anything? Letters? Anything?”

“No,” Ser Petra confirmed. “Again, I wouldn’t be cross with him. Your young king has been busy.”

:Xerxes’ POV:

Every time Xerxes heard Loki’s name come out of anyone’s mouth, he wished he could hurt them. Even as Ser Petra stood in front of him now, giving him directions.

“So, it’s true, he’s marching down here. Why?” Xerxes asked.

“To be with Cecelia,” Ser Petra reported. “She’s going to have his baby after all.” The fire inside Xerxes pit grew louder each time it was fed with the reminder that he could never have Cecelia. It burned him, making him feel incomplete.

“And what are we going to do about that?”

“You said you wanted a chance to hurt Loki for what he did to Cecelia. I’m giving you that chance.” Xerxes laughed and his ears perked up.

“You want me to assassinate him? And what do I get in return?” Xerxes strolled around the room.

“You’ll have what you desire the most. A heartbroken girl who is more than happy to stay loyal to the crown. Once she marries you, she will no longer be a threat to the crown. You could have Highgarden.”

The idea played inside his mind for days. If he killed Loki, he could have everything he wanted. Power, money, and the most beautiful girl in the Nine Kingdoms. No one could stop him. All he had to do was defeat the arrogant son of a bitch before he saw Cecelia. Xerxes would often let his mind wander to his queen.

How soft her skin must feel, how the sun hit her hair, and how her laugh sounded like a song. He couldn’t find the words to tell her, but she must know. She must have an idea of how he felt for her. Cecelia was very smart and very kind. She knows. Xerxes didn’t need to say it aloud.

“Xerxes,” a friend called out to him. “Did you hear me?”

“No, I apologize Han. My mind was…never mind. What is it?”

“He’s here. Loki and his entire army. They’re all here. I suspect someone is on their way to tell Cecelia herself, but you are her personal guard.” Xerxes felt his stomach drop. He had no time to think of a plan or even an idea on how to kill the young, dark king. His daydreams had the better of him entirely. He started running towards his queen. His heart beat loud in his chest with an anxiety he never knew before.

Was it because he was so close to failure that he could taste the blood in his mouth? Or was it because he was so close to success that he could taste Cecelia’s mouth on his own?

:Loki’s POV:

Highgarden was just over the hill and a short road to the palace. He could see the size of it from on top of Caina. Joy was not the word he was looking for. Relief? No. Peace. It was the peace knowing you were there waiting for him just inside the castle. It was peace knowing you were safe this entire time. It was peace that he would greet his newborn with.

Loki lost track of time he had been away. His snake skin gloves kept a tight grip on Caina. He beckoned her to go faster. Loki felt his heart leap into his chest. He never felt compelled to race his horse towards a woman before, but here he was reliving the romantic tales that girls passed around. He was living the happy ending.

Caina galloped in front of everyone and everything. Her hooves hustled through like rain drops raced to kiss the earth. Loki started laughing to himself. He was so incredibly in love that he wanted to shout for you.

“Lady Cecelia!” he sang into the air whipping around. “Sweet lady Cecelia!”

As he approached the gates of Highgarden, he found them to wide and open. His horse came to a halting stop and Loki jumped off his horse. He heard a loud, booming laughter beside him.

“Loki!” Lord Garth greeted him. He took a look a young, future king. Loki still donned his golden horned helmet, black and silver furs served well as an outer layer. Loki’s hair had gotten longer along with sign of facial hair. Iced Steel stayed attached to his side. “You’ve been busy, my lord.”

“And here I thought you would be still fighting for my father,” Loki laughed with his father-in-law. They embraced tightly.

“My daughter changed my mind. She speaks so highly of you,” Lord Garth said.

“Where is she? It’s been so long. I was beginning to forget her sweet face,” Loki smiled. Lord Garth and Loki left the common areas, leaving everyone else to greet Loki’s army. Loki ascended stairs and followed hallways directly to your room. He remembered it only slightly now. He could see you now, happily waiting for him with a swollen belly.

A pang of guilt hit him hard. He hadn’t been with you or his growing child for a long while. Would you be resentful? Understanding? You were all at war, in an open rebellion. Hopefully you wouldn’t be terribly mad. Then he remembered Lorelei.

Loki’s hand touched your doorknob of your bedroom and stopped. How was he going to tell you? He needed a way to tell you somehow. Loki knew you wouldn’t like the idea of an ex-lover of his to stay inside the walls of Highgarden. Maybe he could explain it to you. You were reasonable.

He opened the door to your room, finding it completely empty. Loki’s eyebrows knitted together. He heard a voice behind him laced with concern.

“Loki,” Lord Garth held an older woman in his hands. Eir had a rope tied around her wrists and neck. Lord Garth loosened them and the older woman could finally breathe.

‘Eir, what’s happened to Cecelia?”

Eir coughed and wheezed. She turned to lord Garth and Loki. “It was Xerxes and Ser Petra. They have her. Up in one of the towers.”

Loki’s blood started to boil over. The same anger he felt towards Ser Petra returned to him in an instant. Loki’s nostrils flared evenly. He shot a look at Garth. Garth silently coiled the rope in his hands.

“They have my eldest in a tower? As a hostage in her own home? In my home?” Garth said gently. He tied the newly coiled ropes to his side. His war hammer was in his grasp. Loki embraced Iced Steel in his own hands. They both could smell the shit of the men who they trusted in the air as if it left a trail of where they exactly were.

Highgarden had several towers, but this particular one stood in the center of it all. Loki and Lord Garth started climbing the steps up the tower. Loki went ahead first. His fingers itched to hit someone. He trusted Xerxes to take care of his wife. So why exactly was he holding her hostage now? He suspected the honored knight, Ser Petra.

When Loki and Lord Garth reached the top, they were met with the two idiots who made a terribly bold and ill-calculated move.

“My lord,” Ser Petra said, facing Garth.

“My lord,” Xerxes spat out like poison. Loki’s held Iced Steel in one hand. A poisoned dagger in the other.

“Is my wife locked in there?” Loki narrowed his eyes.

“Swear fealty to King Malekith and we will release your wife and child safely to you,” Ser Petra rose his sword. Loki scoffed.

“So, we’re really doing this?”

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The God and The Programmer (Part 2)

Original Summary: Loki runs the most popular business in the world, while (Y/N) works as a Programmer for him. When Loki throws a party for everyone, a team of hackers finds its the perfect time to steal information. Loki doesn’t like that. But he can’t have (Y/N) ruin the fun, either.

Part One

“Wow Loki… this is… more than I expected.” I stated in awe as I walked into the large mansion. “And the throne, can’t forget the throne.” Currently it was sitting on top of the staircase leading to the second floor, while a maid in a surprisingly modest outfit cleaned it.

“Dolly?” Loki called. “Would you show our new guest her room?”

“Of course Sir!” She replied, placing the cleaning items onto the floor. “Right this way miss!”

“I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Loki grinned, walking away as I began to climb the stairs. He never even gave me the chance to ask him where his office was, or anything else for that matter. I sighed quietly and continued up the stairs, meeting Dolly’s cheerful expression.

“Master Loki is a good man, Miss.” she smiled before turning around. “He’ll take care of you!”

“Why me?” I asked, more to myself, but still to her somewhat.

“Because you’re his assistant.” She answered simply. “His last assistant tried to murder him in his sleep, along with several others before him. Whatever the reason of you being the newest, please treat him well. He may seem like a bad guy, but he truly isn’t. He’s just lonely.”

“Lonely? The all famous billionaire is lonely?”

She nodded her head, putting her keys into a door. “Pardon the lock, this was made to ensure you don’t attack him or me. You have a phone in there, the numbers for each person are in there, there’s a desk with a computer, and a bathroom. If you need anything, call either me or Master Loki.”

“Thank you, Dolly.” I nodded with a smile, stepping into the room.

She closed the door as soon as I stepped in, and locked it. I looked around, finding a camera placed in the corner of the room, and waved. What a creep. Immediately I got on the computer, took a few moments to hack into the system, and shut down all cameras in my room.

“Hello?” I said, answering the phone.

“The cameras are there to ensure your safety.” Loki huffed. “Please turn them back on.”

“No, that’s creepy as shit.” I replied.

“There aren’t any cameras in the bathroom, do your changing there, and please for the Love Of god sleep with clothes on.” He said, hanging up the phone.

I sighed and turned them back on, staying in the system, and watching him in his office. I don’t know what was weirder, the fact I was watching him watch me, or he was allowing me to continue doing what I did so long as that camera stayed on.

He grinned and turned to the camera, giving it a quick wave as it faded to black. I couldn’t tell if he shut off the camera, or did something to it, but it was strange. “He’s a God.” I muttered. “Course he would be able to do something like that.”

So the next hour or so, I began doing research on him. I came across several really old articles about Asgard, which judging by how much he’s In these stories, is where Loki came from. I learned about his family issues from his simple fights with his brother, to not so simple fights with his father, and how attached he is said to be to his mother.

But none of this makes sense, if he’s here, where is his brother? Why hasn’t his father taken him back? I pondered these questions for a few moments before my door opened, revealing Dolly with a happy smile once more.

“Dinner is ready miss.” She said, motioning me to follow her. I looked down, sighing as I realized I was still in my dress, and heels. I must have been that messed up after leaving the party… that sucks…

“(Y/N).” Loki smiled.

“Loki.” I replied, taking a seat.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked. “Tonight’s been an eventful night for you, how are you settling in?”

“Considering most of the people I work with are now dead… good? I think?” I sighed.

He nodded his head. “Outside of this house, you’re with me. Twenty four seven with the exception of the bathroom. I have far too many enemies for you to wander on your own.”

“So I’m your slave now?”

“No, think of it as… protection. You being the all feared hacker, and me being the all known billionaire, I’m sure both of us are on somebodies hit list. This is the only way I can ensure your protection, (Y/N).”

I looked down at the white plate. “You said I could take whatever I wanted, how could I do that?”

He smirked. “You would have to join me on my throne.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“I’m simply giving you the option to do so, yes.” He nodded. “But from my understanding, most humans take time for these kinds of things, so I will leave that purely up to you.”

“What if I say no?”

“Then you will remain my assistant.” He shrugged. “Your life stays boring, and you continue to do others bidding.”

“If I say yes?”

“When I finally take my rightful place on Odins throne, you will be right there with me. We will reign supreme in a reality mortals can only dream of.”

I nodded. “How long do I have for this decision?”

“Until Odin Dies.” He said, a flash of determination in his eyes.

“Is Odin sick?”

“He is growing old, and will perish soon enough.” He nodded. “In the meantime, I will allow you to stay here, do as you please, and say as you please. If you so wish to leave, I will allow it, but do know I cannot protect you from the hell I will raise in the future.”

“Your other assistants, did you give them these options?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Their options were simple, if they served me, they would get a front row seat to the new world, and they refused…”

“Refused meaning tried to kill you.”

“Heroic yes, stupid absolutely. (Y/N) you cannot kill a god.” He warned.

I was about to speak, but was cut off by the chefs coming in and placing the food down on the table. Everything was made from my favorites. Every. Damn. Thing. I looked at Loki with an unsure gasp, making him motion to the food. I felt like a child in a candy store. I ate all I could, causing Loki to smile warmly. “You could have this meal, and any other meal you desire, at any time of the day as my Queen.”

“Why me? Why do you want me?”

“I told you a few hours ago. Now get some rest, it’s late.”

“What are you my mother?” I grunted.

He chuckled. “I know human bodies can not endure late nights. You’ve been awake for over two days. You need sleep.”

I sighed, he was right. After a short goodnight, Dolly brought me back to my room, locking me in. I changed out of my dress in to some hoodie and sweatpants, and tried to fall asleep. It wasn’t until a few hours later did I decide that wasn’t going to happen.

I stood up and walked to the terrace, which Loki so graciously gave me the keys to, and stared out into the night. It was calming, no doubt, to the point where I didn’t even hear Loki enter my room.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked.

“I don’t know.” I admitted. “My friend is dead, and I’m living with her killer. The only person I trusted in that damn office turned out to be a traitor, and now I’m being told that if I don’t marry you, I’ll be your slave in the future. I don’t know how I am at this point.”

“They were bad people, (Y/N).” Loki stated as he walked to the space next to me. “And I am not forcing your decision on this. There’s a small chance that you will be dead before I take the world as my own anyway, so don’t think too much about that.”

“If I had joined their raid, would you have killed me?”

“I would have given you an option, to marry me and live, or die.” He said softly. “I’ve been watching what you do in the office, I’ve been protecting you since the moment you stepped foot onto the premise, and now I finally can fully protect you. I don’t want to force you to do anything, because lord knows I’m not worthy of love, but I’m leaving it up to you.

“If you say yes, I’ll treat you like the goddess you deserve to be seen as. You’ll be protected, and you won’t have to suffer through this life alone. All you have to do, is say yes.”

His voice wasn’t firm, or demanding, it was soft and desperate. It was almost as if he was saving me from a life like his, and maybe he thought I would be his savior from a life of loneliness. Whatever his motive, I didn’t care.

“Loki, I...” I paused, rethinking until I was sure. “Loki I think I... I think I want to be your Queen...”

[hamimagines]

First Contact (Rafael Casal x Reader)

Masterlist 

Request Queue

Request- This is a fic requested by my girl @jazygirljazzy (she’s awesome and posts a lot of Daveed and Rafa stuff and you should follow her) and it’s based on Rafa’s video series on YouTube “The Away Team”  It’s gonna be a four part series following each episode of the miniseries 

Song- cool girl -- Tove Lo (I changed this song like three times)

Words- 2,164

You hurried quickly down the hallway. The uniform was tight and it chaffed against your skin, something you thought you’d get used after years on this spacecraft but never seemed to get comfortable with. You couldn’t with that now. If you were late to this briefing there was no way you would get promoted from First Lieutenant to Captain. 

You practically slid through the automatic door to the ship’s board room. Every face turned towards you and the room went uncomfortably quiet. You felt a heat on your neck and face. “Sorry? Am I late.” You smiled sheepishly and sat down in one of the chairs, which was bolted to the floor of the spacecraft. 

“Not at all. We were just getting started.” the admiral said. He gave you a gentle smile. “Okay. It looks like everyone’s here. I’ll just get right into it. Since starting a new military branch in space, we’ve discovered close to three hundred new planets and solar systems. Obviously, we’re here to learn all we can about the vast universe we share. Long story short, we need to assemble a team to go out discover as much as they can about these unexplored areas. They will chart, collect samples, search for signs of life, and if possible, communicate with them.”

Your interest instantly peaked. This was your chance to get off this ship and do something that would make a difference, to put your name on something, to have something to be proud of. The admiral loved you. He’d trained you himself. He had to pick you. He had to. 

“I already have several candidates in mind for this special group, and I’ve called you all here today to get your opinion. Ultimately, it is still my decision, but we work as a team here.” 

A smile glowed on your face. You couldn’t contain the excitement. The admiral was looking at you with a similar expression, so you knew he had you in mind.You couldn’t wait to get out there. Touching new planets, new ground, new plants, new atmosphere, new everything. It was all going to be yours to explore.

“Alright to start it off I’ll introduce you to our Away Team, those individuals who we do the actual exploring and data gathering. I want you all to welcome Rafael Casal and Nico Cary.” 

A small whoosh was heard at the doors at the other end of the room opened and two scrappy men walked through. You hardly paid any attention to them or their almost off-putting dynamic. You just wanted the admiral to announce your position in the field. “We’ll have Dr. Diggs acting as their primary Physician and Lieutenant Y/L/N would remain on board collecting and organizing the data gathered, should you choose to execute my plan that is.”

Your jaw dropped. This was bullshit. There had to be a joke in here somewhere. He couldn’t actually be confining you to nothing more than a secretary. 

The admiral started handing thin green folders to everyone in the meeting. “That’s all I have for you today. Please look over these individuals credentials and when we meet again we’ll vote on whether to proceed or rethink our choices. Thank you.” Everyone got up and started to shuffle out, but you stayed.    

You stared down at the neat green file set on the table in front of you. Your mind replayed over and over again everything that had just happened. The two men, Nico and Rafael, we’re chatting lightly with the admiral and laughing. It took them a good few minutes to even notice you were there. 

“Lieutenant Y/L/N? Are you alright?” 

You looked up at him slowly. “I’m fine.” you forced out. He gave you a look that told you he knew you were lying. “I’m just wondering, sir, why I’m not being considered for the exploring job.” Your anger started to boil slowly. “You know how hard of a worker I am. I much rather be doing this myself than babysitting these two. It’s been my dream since I was a child, so forgive me if I’m feeling a little robbed right now! ...sir.” You stood there for a moment. His eyes were blank and one of the two men had an amused expression that only furthered your rage.

“Casal. Cary. Could you give us a minute?” 

“Of course, sir.” The smiling one said. The other looked at you with a slight amount of pity, and they both walked out of the room. You looked down at your hands, feeling embarrassed. 

“Y/N, sit. Please.” He addressed you with your first name now that you were alone and the situation was less formal. You did as he said, and he came and sat next to you. “Talk to me.” 

You threw your hands in the air. “You have to be kidding me, dad! You know how much I’ve wanted this. You know I want to be an Explorer. How could you take that opportunity away from me?” 

Your dad nodded thoughtfully. “I know, but if I let you do this mission, your career will never advance. Y/N, this is just the first of many expeditions. If I made you an Explorer now. That’s all you’d ever be. This one mission would be the end. You’d chart some maps and that’s it. But, if I have you head it, show everyone else on this ship that you can handle yourself and you know what you’re doing, you’ll move up. You’ll call the shots. You’ll make your own expeditions.”

“What good is living in space if I don’t ever get to see it? What good is being in charge of something I’ve never gotten to experience?” Your voice was softer now. 

The admiral laid a comforting hand on your arm. “Y/N. You have faced so much adversity in your life. People think you’re only here because you’re my daughter. That you don’t deserve to make it this far because you’re a woman. I’m giving you a chance to prove them wrong. I’m putting you completely in charge of this mission, Y/N. This is an important job, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to it.” 

You ran a hand over your face and took down your tight ponytail. “Okay, I’ll do it.” 

Your dad chuckled and ruffled your hair. “It’s cute how you think it was a choice.” 

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Get back to work. Stop being so lazy.” 

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” 

You watched him walk from the conference room in his office and then left altogether. When you were out in the hallway, one of the two men was waiting by the door. You started to walk past him, but he followed you. 

“Hey.” he said when he caught up with you. 

“Hi.” you spoke curtly. 

“I’m Rafael, but you can call me Rafa if you want. I figured I should introduce myself since we’re probably gonna be spending a lot of time together now.”

You had to force yourself not to roll your eyes.

“So you’re the admiral’s daughter, right? Y/N Y/L/N?” 

“That’s me.” You turned a corner and he still followed, so you stopped and faced him. “Are you planning on following me all the way to my bunk?” 

A sly grin appeared on his face. “You know, it does sound pretty fun. Too bad I don’t do human.” 

You nearly gagged. “You don’t...nevermind.” You started to walk away and to your surprise, he didn’t follow. You paused and looked back at him. 

“What?” he asked. “I can take a hint. You don’t wanna talk. That’s fine, but we are gonna be working together, so your little tough ice queen act is gonna have to crack pretty soon.” You scoffed and turned away again. “Later, Y/N!” he called after you. 

“Lieutenant Y/L/N.” you corrected. 

After months of planning it was finally here. First contact. Rafael and Nico were going to land on a small unexplored planet, one picked by you. You figured it would be best to start small, especially since as you became more familiar with Rafael and Nico, you weren’t certain of their abilities. This planet seemed to be mostly desert. It wasn’t very likely that they’d find any life, and even if they did, you didn’t think that even Rafael could fuck it up. Even with all these safeguards in place, you still made sure their microphones were on at all times so that you knew what was going on even when they didn’t like sharing. It was probably illegal, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. 

The mission started out well. The two boys landed safely, did as they were told, and started to gather samples. You and the crew you’d chosen to help you listened to their pointless conversations for what felt like hours. You were reclining in a chair waiting for them to say anything worthwhile. 

“There’s no tens on that ship. It’s all sevens. It’s all sevens man.” Rafael’s voice came through the speakers. You listened half-heartedly. “Except for that first officer, right? She’s sexy.” 

Your eyes widened. Rafael continued to talk, but you weren’t listening anymore. Every crew member was staring at you. Most of them were trying to stifle their laughter. You were absolutely mortified. How were you supposed to expect respect from anybody when Rafael was apparently talking about you like this. 

“Can you handle this for now?” you said quietly to your second. He nodded, and you quickly left the room. You didn’t care what your dad said anymore. This wasn’t what you wanted.  

You were gone from the room hardly three minutes when a young crew member was chasing after you. “Lieutenant Y/L/N! Lieutenant!” 

You turned around, more than a little annoyed. “What?” 

“It’s your men. They’re...he’s.” 

“Where are they?” 

“Infirmary.” 

Fear struck through you. You didn’t spare him a second glance before you were running down the sleek white hallways to the infirmary. A horrible screaming sound became louder and louder the closer you got. You nearly screamed yourself when you saw that it was coming from Nico. 

“What the hell happened?!” 

“We found life on the Class Four planet, ma’am.” Rafael said. You clenched your fists, ready to punch him in the face. 

“That doesn’t explain why my Explorer has a....whatever that is for a hand!” 

“Nico touched it.” 

“Rafael made Nico touch it.” Your second told you. Your jaw dropped and your head snapped towards Rafael again.

“He’ll be fine.” he said like it was nothing. Even incapacitated as he was, Nico gave Rafael an incredulous look. 

“This is the most unprofessional behavior I’ve ever seen. I’m getting you off this team. Now.” You left the infirmary, but Rafael followed you out. 

“Is it as unprofessional as leaving the control room in the middle of very important, and very dangerous mission?” You stopped walking and glared at him. “Oh yeah. I totally heard all about that, and unless you want the admiral that you abandoned their team when they needed you most...” 

You stepped closer to him. “Are you actually trying to blackmail me? It’s not gonna work. I don’t care what he thinks.” 

“See, I don’t believe that. I think you care a lot about what other people think about you.” 

“I could have you discharged for sexual harassment, Casal.” He furrowed his brow. “Yeah, you’re not the only one who hears things.” 

Realization dawned on his face. “That’s wasn’t harassment! That was just me talking to me buddy! Besides, listening to our conversations without our consent is an invasion of privacy. Face it, Y/N.” 

“Lieutenant Y/L/N.” You spat. 

“Yeah, whatever. The point is, I have just as much on you as you do on me. So go ahead. Go run and tell daddy. I just wait outside his door tell your finished. I’m sure he’d love to hear what I have to say.” 

You sucked your teeth and stared at the ceiling. You couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. “Fine.” You stuck your hand out. “Truce.” 

Rafael looked surprised. “I didn’t think that would actually work.” He took your hand and shook it. You grabbed the color of his spandex shirt which matched your own and pulled him down so his eyes were level with yours. 

“You step out of line one more time, Lieutenant Casal, and I won’t fucking hesitate. Don’t forget you’re under my command.” 

Rafael grinned. “This should be fun.” 

[styxjuice]

I’ll Do Better

title insp

You can pry this AU from my cold dead hands.

Trying to branch out into a different fandom. I'm pretty proud of this; tell me what you think! (Also this is partially make it up to one of my friends who keeps inviting me over but we have conflicting schedules. I hope we get to spend time together soon!)

EDIT: Fixed some characterization issues. Enjoy the updated version!

Dazai never expected his life to change this rapidly.

He wanted his life to end rapidly, but that was something entirely different from having two infants handed to him within the course of three months and being told that he was the father of both of them.

Akutagawa is first. His mother drops him off sobbing after their breakup over a year prior, handing Dazai a small child that she can’t provide for. The second, Atsushi, is the cause of the breakup between Dazai and the boy’s mother, who throws their son at Dazai the first chance she gets and never looks back.

He considers dropping them off at an orphanage, but he repeatedly puts it off, and his excuses for keeping them keep changing. First it’s that he doesn’t have the time. After that it’s because they’re not old enough. A while later he reminds himself that he’s orphaned a few children before and he doesn’t want to go there in case any of them recognize him, so it’s best he wait.

And yet, he never makes any move to send his sons away. Perhaps it has something to do with finally being able to care about something that’s a part of him, in a way. His own life is useless, and Dazai knows this, but Akutagawa’s and Atsushi’s aren’t. Their lives have barely started, and maybe he can raise them to not make the same mistakes as him. And if they turn out better than him, well, maybe he can prove to himself that not everything he’s done has been worthless. So be not-so-begrudgingly accepts this abrupt shift into a life of diapers and formula bottles.

That isn’t to say he doesn’t rethink his choice sometimes. Juggling two children while holding a job – a job in the Port Mafia, no less – causes him to stagger into work with bags under his eyes and a lack of focus that almost costs him his life on a few occasions.

“You’re going to kill me,” Dazai mutters one morning, laying down on the rug, watching Atsushi as Akutagawa climbs on his back. “One way or another, you’re going to kill me.”

Atsushi turns his head to look at him quizzically, his golden-purple eyes blinking. Slowly, he grins with just his two front teeth, rattling the small tiger-shaped plush in his hands.

“Da!” he beams.

Dazai stares at him a moment, eyes wide. Atsushi crawls forward, placing his small, pink hand on his father’s face. “Da!” he says again.

Dazai reaches one hand out to gently tussle Atsushi’s hair, causing his son to giggle. He smiles slowly.

“I’ll keep you around until you do me the honor of killing me, then,” he says softly, while Akutagawa pulls at the bandages around his eye and babbles in his ear.

Dazai soon falls into a rhythm. He works when he can, finding babysitters that can show up at a moment’s notice if he’s needed elsewhere, and he begins to learn more about his boys.

Akutagawa screams the loudest and the most often. He always wants attention, and he takes every opportunity to remind his father of this. More violent than his brother, Akutagawa often pushes Atsushi over and forcefully takes toys from him. Atsushi, the quieter one, cries only briefly until he distracts himself with something else. He falls asleep the easiest and is content to merely sit in Dazai’s lap and chew on teethers, rather than play with noisy toys or continually stick foreign objects in his mouth like his brother.

Gradually, as Dazai begins to ask for more days off, he realizes that he’s never told his boss or any of his coworkers about his sons. It isn’t as if he doesn’t want them to know, it’s just never come up. He and the rest of the Port Mafia don’t really have time or reason for small talk or updates on each other’s lives; no one cares anyway. He’ll tell them if they ask.

That’s what he tells himself until the attack.

He’s late getting the boys to bed. The dishes sit piled up on the counter because he hasn’t washed them in days, so he leaves his sons to play with each other in the living room while he finally tries to chisel the crusted food off of their plates. Letting Atsushi and Akutagawa stay up late isn’t a big deal to him; they’ll fall asleep on their own if they’re tired enough, and Akutagawa is always reluctant to leave his toys and go to bed anyway. The longer Dazai can postpone that struggle, the better.

Suddenly something in the living room falls with a crash. Akutagawa screams. Dazai’s eyes grow wide and the plate in his hands falls to the floor and shatters.

“Akutagawa!” he shouts, racing into the living room. He isn’t sure what to think. All he knows is that his son has never screamed like that before. He thinks he hears something growling in the split seconds before he sees what’s happened.

Claw marks slice through the walls. The TV’s fallen over and cushions have been knocked off the couch, but Dazai barely notices them. All he sees is Akutagawa, tears streaming down his face as he screams, a huge white tiger cub looming above him and snarling.

He doesn’t question it. His brain doesn’t give him time to question it. His arms move before his thoughts tell them to and he grabs the beast by its neck. Yet as he makes contact with it, a blue glow emanates from the tiger and his palm, shining through his fevered thoughts like a lighthouse.

The form of the tiger shifts and changes in his hands as Dazai puts the pieces together. The fury in his eyes recesses as they widen, and his grip loosens around the beast’s neck. Still shaking as the glow fades entirely, he pulls what remains of the tiger to his chest. Atsushi lays unconscious in his arms.

Few things in life scare Dazai anymore; death will be a welcome relief when it comes, and he doesn’t care what others think of him. But as he sits in the floor, panting, trembling, fear penetrates him and sinks into his stomach.

He stays awake long past after Atsushi and Akutagawa are settled in their cribs, his mind racing while he stares blankly at the scars across the walls. If Atsushi inherited an Ability from his father, what if Akutagawa did?

The boys aren’t aware of the turn their lives take that night. They have no idea of the pact their father makes with himself as his fists clench, his brow furrowing.

He’ll protect them, both from each other’s Abilities and from the Port Mafia. To them, two Gifted children are just future soldiers.

Dazai makes sure he’s at work more often, but not too often, and he eases back into more work hours as to not raise suspicion. Babysitters are replaced with a nanny that is willing to spend more than half of her week with those boys. She practically lives at Dazai’s house during the day.

“The boys should be in bed by seven, as usual,” he explains as he pulls his coat on. “But I should be back before then.”

Kuniko nods, holding Atsushi in her arms and bouncing him slightly. She won’t meet his eyes today and seems to be holding onto Atsushi a little more tightly than normal. Dazai smirks.

“Are those the signs of infatuation I see?” he purrs, playfully offering her his hand. “Finally fallen for me?”

Kuniko looks at him long enough to raise one eyebrow. “Not on your life,” she says firmly. Dazai chuckles.

“Still as strong-willed as ever. That’s my Kuniko.”

“Not yours,” she remarks as she turns her back on him, walking back into the house. Atsushi waves a little over her shoulder.

“Bye-bye Daz.”

Somehow that small gesture makes Dazai’s chest swell more than Kuniko’s love could ever could.

“I’m home!” Dazai announces, throwing open the door. His cheerful expression quickly becomes a frown; the lights are off. The apartment’s quiet. “Kuniko?”

Silence.

Dazai slips off his shoes and starts to walk into the hall. “Kuniko?” he calls again. His heart rate is speeding up. “Atsushi?” He peers into the kitchen. The light’s off and dirty dishes sit piled up in the sink. “Akutagawa?”

He’s starting to run now. Panic fills him as he sprints towards the bedrooms. “Atsushi! Akutagawa!”

“How long were you planning on keeping them hidden?”

Dazai stops dead. Slowly, he steps backwards, turning to face the living room. The couch is occupied.

“What are you doing here?” Dazai breathes.

His guest sighs, twirling his hat on his finger. “I haven’t been to your place in over a year and this is how you greet me?” Chuuya mutters.

Dazai is on him before he can react, slamming him into the wall behind the couch by grabbing onto his collar and lifting him.

“Where are they?” He hisses.

Chuuya chokes, eyes wide. “They’re in their room! They’re fine! Let go!” He says quickly. Dazai narrows his eyes but releases his hold, letting Chuuya fall back onto the couch to rub his neck.

“How did you find out about them?” he snaps.

Chuuya picks up his hat and sets it back on his head, looking up at Dazai from under its rim. What Dazai can see of his face is a foreign mix of hurt and indifference.

“Certainly not from you,” he mumbles.

Dazai’s expression doesn’t change. “You never asked.”

“I shouldn’t have needed to!” Chuuya bursts out. “You’re the one who didn’t think to tell your partner that you had kids!”

Dazai frowns. “You know what’ll happen to them if Mori finds out,” he replies calmly. But when Chuuya shrinks back and says nothing, Dazai feels his heart stop for a moment.

“I was sent to tell you,” Chuuya says quietly, not meeting his eyes. “Mori thought that if he sent anyone else, you might kill them.”

Dazai stands stock-still as the world seems to collapse around him.

“He noticed you were acting strange and sent a scout to investigate. After he found out, it was easy to get your nanny to work with us.”

Dazai feels as if he wants to scream, run, and empty his stomach onto the floor all at the same time.

“All it took was a little cash and a gun in her face. She let me in and all I just had to wait.”

Dazai stares at him. For once, he has nothing to say. No witty remarks come from his dry throat.

Chuuya watches him. “It’s not all bad,” he says, almost sheepishly. “They’re under the full protection of the Port Mafia now. Nothing can touch them.”

Something in Dazai snaps. “Protect?” he spits. “Mori says he’ll protect them?” Fury seems to pour from his very soul, pulsing through his veins like acid. “He’ll protect them until they’re strong enough to kill for him,” he growls, venom dripping from his words. “He’ll protect them as long as they’re useful to him, but if they slip up one too many times, all bets are off. He’ll protect them until they’re grown into the perfect soldiers and are old enough to fend for themselves.”

Chuuya stares at him with wide eyes. On the surface, Dazai seems eerily calm. But Chuuya’s known him long enough to know the rage behind his clenched fists, the hatred within his dark eyes. “Hey, Dazai, calm down,” he urges, but Dazai’s doesn’t see or hear him.

“They’ll either die or turn into me,” he says with awful realization, his visible eye filled with loathing as he stares at nothing. It was the worst thought of all; that his own sons might turn out like him, as suicidal Mafia members that can’t even manage to save two little boys from a life of misery and bloodshed.

Chuuya’s palm across his face strikes him like a bolt of lightning. “Snap out of it!” he shouts, grabbing Dazai’s shoulders and looking up into his face. “There’s no use pitying yourself! What’s done is done, and it’s not your fault that it happened!”

Dazai stares at him, the lines on his forehead growing deeper. “I could’ve done something-!”

“No you couldn’t have!” Chuuya shoots back. “And you can’t do anything now, Dazai! Now that Mori knows you’ve been keeping secrets from him, he’ll have eyes on you all the time!” Chuuya’s shaking, gripping Dazai’s shoulders as if he’s the sole thing keeping him tethered to sanity. “Dazai, I know better than anyone how much you’re capable of,” he says, his voice dropping. “But just this once, for your sake, there’s nothing you can do.”

Crying suddenly reaches their ears, drawing their gaze towards the bedrooms. Chuuya swiftly releases his grip.

“Dazai…” He says again, slowly, but Dazai closes his eyes and holds up his hand for silence. His breath’s still shaky as he straightens his back and clears his throat. He opens his mouth to speak, but he cuts himself off with a sigh before saying anything.

“You’re right,” he admits softly. He says nothing else. Losing his temper won’t help Atsushi and Akutagawa. Nothing will.

With that, he walks into the hallway to soothe the Port Mafia’s latest soldiers.

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

On Influence, and Using It Wisely

This week, Forbes named me one of their Top 10 Travel Influencers of 2017. You can also read CNN Travel’s piece about it here.

I’m deeply honored. After working so hard for so long, it’s gratifying to receive this kind of recognition, and all the sweeter to receive it alongside several of my friends.

And it got me thinking about the strange and wonderful industry in which I’ve been ensconced for the past seven years: professional travel blogging.

For those of us who are long-timers, dating back to 2010 or previously, we didn’t get into travel blogging for the money. There was very little money back then; if you made any money in 2010, it was probably from text link sales or a teeny bit of Google AdSense. Hell, when I started, I thought the only way you could make money as a travel blogger was through a book or TV deal.

We got into travel blogging because we wanted to tell our stories. Some of us started writing for our friends and family; some of us dreamed of writing for a wide audience from the beginning. We wanted to share the world with people, and for North Americans, we wanted to introduce our fellow citizens to the almost-unheard-of concept of long-term travel.

Me? I wanted to help women travel the world safely.

Of course I wanted to entertain strangers with my writing (I started blogging as a college freshman in 2002!) and share all my favorite travel stories. And once the money started rolling in, I wanted to keep my travels going as long as possible.

But helping women travel the world safely? Showing them that yes, it’s okay if you want to travel the world, you can do it alone if you want, and you’re not selfish or a horrible person for wanting that in your life? That has always been what drives me. That’s the audience I’m writing to with every word, including this sentence.

We all wanted to help — all us long-timers. We wanted to show people how to travel on a budget. How to hack points and miles. How to travel as a family. How to visit countries that were perceived as being too dangerous. Basically, we all wanted to change commonly held misconceptions about travel.

As the years passed — 2010, 2011, 2012 — more and more money entered our fledging industry. Freelance writing opportunities cropped up. Groundbreaking blogger campaigns took place in Costa Brava, Spain, and Emilia-Romagna, Italy. Sponsored content became a thing. Affiliates were no longer just for people with sky-high traffic. Bloggers proudly announced they were giving up text links. And then the holy grail arrived — the paid press trip.

It’s around then that the industry changed. In the early years, there had been plenty of bloggers who hoped to subsidize their travels and get some cool stays at swanky resorts; by 2014 or so, people were starting travel blogs specifically for the money.

When money is your biggest motivator, it affects everything — your travels, your content, and the industry as a whole.

I worry about the impact of other influencers entering the travel space.

As far as the travel blogging niche goes, it’s not as big or flush with cash as fashion, beauty, or home blogging. There are lots of reasons for that, but one is that travel is not an impulse buy. You see a pretty dress, a cool lipstick, or a cute set of placemats and it’s easy to rationalize buying it.

But planning a trip, especially an international, expensive, or complicated trip, can take years. You don’t just hit a button and randomly book a safari in South Africa for next week.

Case in point? I learned about the Sydney Bridgeclimb on season 2 of The Amazing Race when I was 17 and yearned to do it someday. I finally did it when I was 29. Travel ROI takes time.

There is money in the travel blogging industry, but it’s nowhere near the level of money for fashion bloggers. Travel blogging’s perks, however, are unbeatable. And that’s why lots of lifestyle bloggers, primarily fashion bloggers, have started to rebrand and add travel as a specialty. This mostly takes the form of posing in luxury hotels and in front of natural wonders in various outfits.

Some are quite good. Gary Pepper in one of the pink lakes of Western Australia is one pictorial that has always stunned me.

But to consider these bloggers and Instagrammers as travel influencers could potentially be dangerous. Why? Picture this. A luxury hotel invites a fashion blogger to Cartagena, Colombia. She gets picked up at the airport by a chauffeur, does several photo shoots in and around the hotel, and has a great time exploring the old city but doesn’t set foot outside it.

Predictably, her followers start asking her, “Is it safe to go to Colombia?”

And she replies, “Sure, it’s totally fine!”

Well.

For starters, Cartagena is by far the most touristy part of Colombia and isn’t anything like the rest of the country; walking around the old city of Cartagena at night is very different from other neighborhoods like Getsemaní, where non-luxury travelers are more likely to stay; the language barrier in Colombia is significant and you’ll struggle without knowing Spanish; much of Colombia is at a high altitude, which can lead to illness in some people; certain parts of the country are unsafe for overland travel; and Colombia at its core is a destination better for experienced international travelers, not newbies.

Colombia can be traveled safely — but it’s a challenging destination, even for experienced travelers. And a fashion blogger who waltzes in for a few days and doesn’t leave the old city of Cartagena doesn’t have the knowledge to advise her followers how to travel in Colombia safely.

That person should not be a travel influencer. But with lots of Instagram followers and partnerships with several gorgeous resorts across the globe, this person could be considered a top travel influencer. Even though she posed in the street with a designer handbag that didn’t zip up and are you kidding, this is Latin America, your wallet is going to be gone in ten seconds if you use that purse.

I worry that this is where the industry is going.

It’s time to stop ignoring politics.

One phrase you see frequently amongst popular influencers is, “I’m not a political person.”

Frankly, that’s bullshit. Are you breathing air in your lungs? Do you earn money and exchange it for goods and services? Do you cross borders and enter other nations? If so, your very existence is political.

I urge you to strike I’m not a political person from your vocabulary and replace it with one of the following options:

I don’t care about people who aren’t as privileged as me.

I do care about other people, but I’m afraid I’ll lose followers if I write about politics.

Boom. Honesty.

I’ve started writing more political content in the last year and a half or so. The ethics of attending a travel blogging conference funded by Robert Mugabe’s government. How to travel the world as an American without being embarrassed about Trump. Being the only white person to call out a racist travel blogger. Ways to travel more sustainably. The overbearing whiteness of the wine tourism industry in Stellenbosch, South Africa. And in the aftermath of the 2016 election, why remote workers leaving the US can do more harm than good.

I started writing content like this because I wanted to go deeper. So much of the travel blogging industry had become increasingly shallow, the rise of Instagram no doubt being a factor, and I needed to plunge back in and bring something more meaningful to the table.

Did I lose followers? I sure did! Mostly people who called me unrepeatable names and told me I’d regret it when Trump’s army rose up. Which…yeah, I’ll let that speak for itself. But it wasn’t enough to derail my business. I also gained a lot of new followers at the same time.

Do you have to do the same thing? You don’t have to. But at the very least, you should take a look at your content with a critical eye and think about the greater political context in your travels.

One example is North Korea. I personally think there’s no way to travel to North Korea ethically at this point in time. And yet several top travel influencers have visited North Korea, often as a sponsored guest of a tour company.

Of the influencers who chose to visit, some of them did a ton of research beforehand, analyzed their options, and determined that visiting North Korea would do more good than harm (in the form of exposing North Koreans to outsiders, however briefly). While I disagree with their conclusions, I appreciate that they thought critically about this issue and did what they thought was ethical and right.

Others chose not to think critically at all. They ignore North Korea’s human rights violations and get hypnotized by the chance to visit North! Korea! And for free, too! and return with content about how awesome the trip was, and how North Koreans seemed happy, without examining any of the deeper issues.

But you know what’s worst of all? When people in the latter group come back and say they’re not going to discuss politics because they’re not a political person! Come on. You don’t get to have it both ways. All the videos of waving North Korean schoolchildren can’t make up for that.

People will always disagree on what is and isn’t ethical and on where people should and shouldn’t travel. Some will refuse to visit the U.A.E., Russia, or even the United States for ethical reasons. All I ask is that you do careful research, own your decision, and don’t let the allure of a comped trip or bragging rights cloud your judgement.

We can all do better as influencers — so let’s try to do better.

Nobody is going to be perfect. But all of us could stand to do a little bit better. Here are some ways:

Consider your purpose. Why are you blogging? What sets you on fire? Be honest with yourself.

If your reason is So I can continue my travels for as long as possible, I urge you to rethink your purpose. Even if it’s To inspire others to travel, I urge you to think a little deeper and see if you can come up with something that benefits others more than yourself.

Think beyond your personal experience. Did you manage a whole trip without getting robbed? Is that because you visited somewhere super safe like Japan or Iceland, or because you’ve had years of practicing travel safety to the point that you don’t even think about it anymore?

Not everyone is going to be as experienced a traveler as you, so share your knowledge. Put yourselves in the shoes of a less experienced traveler going through this for the first time. Your ultimate goal should be to do no harm.

Acknowledge that travel is not only for the most privileged. If you’re a straight, cis, white, able-bodied, English-speaking traveler with a first-world passport, you’ve won the global lottery. Travel is going to be much easier for you than literally anyone else in the world. Acknowledge that.

Talk to travelers of color, queer travelers, disabled travelers, Muslim travelers who wear hijabs. Read their blogs and share their narratives. The Philippines and India both have tons of excellent travel bloggers, along with eye-opening stories of jumping through legal and financial hoops in order to visit destinations you take for granted, like the EU.

Use your voice to amplify their voices as well.

Consider the impact that you have on the destinations you visit. Are you putting money into the local community or making a chain CEO richer? Are you causing harm to the environment or animals? Are you actually interacting with the people of your destination in a meaningful way or just using them for Instagram props?

Just doing a bit of research can make all the difference. Aim for sustainability — economically, environmentally, socially. When you’re an influencer, your actions are magnified by the travelers who follow in your footsteps.

Read as much as humanly possible. It always amazes me how many travel bloggers say they don’t read other travel blogs. How else are you supposed to stay up on the industry? But don’t limit your reading to just travel blogs. Read literature — fiction, nonfiction, travel-related and non-travel-related. Read the news from a wide variety of sources and stay up on issues of the world.

At the very least, reading will make you more knowledgeable and compassionate and turn you into a better writer.

Aim, always, to help people. And that is how you use influence wisely.

via Travel Blogs http://ift.tt/2rZY1CQ

[hello-thefatlosshabit-blr]

If you enjoy this article, please LIKE, SHARE, and follow us on Facebook.

One of the most potent strategies for reaching a goal is to identify the obstacles ahead of time and to develop a plan to address each before they are encountered. We want to be optimistic, but we don’t want to be a naive optimist. The naive optimist ignores the obstacles in their way and believes that they will not confront any challenges while striving to accomplish their goal. The realistic optimist believes in their ability to accomplish their goal despite the obstacles in their way. They acknowledge and prepare for the obstacles which makes them much more likely to achieve their goal. We want to have faith in our ability to overcome obstacles, not naively believe we won’t encounter them.

Research shows that predicting how and when you might be tempted to break a resolution increases the chances that you will keep it.[i]When you are working on developing a daily discipline, ask yourself: “When am I most likely to be tempted to give in? What situation is most likely to get me sidetracked? What excuses will I give myself to procrastinate?” Once you have such a scenario mapped out in your mind, imagine yourself in that situation, what it will feel like, and what you might be thinking?  If we are struggling to form a habit, it shouldn’t be difficult to imagine what situations will cause us to slip off our path, because these situations must have occurred for us to be struggling with forming the habit now.If you enjoyed this article, please LIKE and SHARE. 

Why is imagining the situations that will cause us to fail such a useful tool for overcoming our willpower challenges? It’s because once we have identified them, we can anticipate them and develop a plan to either avoid the situation or mitigate the temptation. When you have a definite strategy in mind, imagine yourself doing it. Envision what it will feel like to succeed. The more you mentally rehearse your plan, the more likely you are to execute it successfully when the temptation confronts you.

While planning missions in the military, two things were drilled into us. The first was to keep our plans as simple as possible by avoiding unnecessary complexity. We were taught the acronym KISS, “Keep it simple, stupid.” Simple plans are easier to execute. Complexity is the enemy of execution. The second was to rehearse, rehearse, and rehearse. The simpler your plan is, and the more you rehearse it, the better you will execute your plan. Execution is critical. Plans do not produce results unless you execute them.

Gabriele Oettingen a clinical psychologist and author of Rethinking Positive Thinking: Inside the New Science of Motivation, found that regardless of the goal, weight loss, obtaining a high-paying job after college, finding your soul mate, or recovering from hip replacement surgery, being a realistic optimist dramatically increases your odds of success. Realistic optimist recognizes the pitfalls that lay in front of them and develop a plan to address them. They don’t overestimate their ability to overcome challenges through willpower alone. They shape their environment and create if-then plans to shape their behavior. Realistic optimists have meals ready to eat in their freezer, they submit more job applications, they exercise more courage to meet potential romantic partners, and they create daily routines around rehabilitation exercises.[ii]

We must believe in ourselves, but one of the worst things we can do is underestimate the challenges we must overcome or overestimate our finite and fickle abilities to overcome them. Presuming that our willpower will always be adequate to the challenge of overcoming every temptation is folly. We need to recognize the challenges before we encounter them and develop a plan, based on proven strategies, to overcome those challenges. We should seek the advice of people that have done it.

Everyone struggles with procrastination, laziness, and overcoming distractions to make progress toward their goals. The bigger the goal, the more likely we are to be intimidated by it. The more likely we’ll be to procrastinate. When a reporter asked Earnest Hemmingway how he set about writing a novel, he replied, “First you defrost the refrigerator.” While I am no Hemmingway, the task of writing a book can seem overwhelming. To prevent the enormity of the task overwhelming me, I focus on writing the next paragraph or outlining the next chapter. A beautiful book about the joys, struggles, and rewards of writing is Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. She describes writing as a gritty endeavor that requires courage to overcome procrastination born out of perfectionism to produce that “shitty first draft.” She says, “Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend.”

Her book’s title reminds me to focus on taking that next small step to produce that shitty first draft. I remember the story of Anne Lamott’s brother for which the book is titled. She recounts the story in her book: “Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, “Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.” Her father’s simple advice is something we can all use as a tool to stop procrastinating and take one small step, and then another.

It is a common mistake to think that our weaknesses are unique to us. They aren’t. Many of us wrongly believe that our weakness of willpower reveals a profound flaw in our character. It doesn’t. Frailties and imperfections are common. It is part of what it means to be human. They are so common that we marvel at and celebrate those that can overcome them. Weakness is a part of the human condition. We need to understand our limitations and develop effective strategies for coping with them. We all struggle with willpower, but most of us never seek a better understanding of it. The better we understand our human frailties, the better we can manage them to overcome our willpower challenges.

The only way to beat procrastination is to overcome the mental obstacles to starting. Marla Cilley, the creator of the 5-Minute Room Rescue, found an ingenious way to help us overcome procrastination. She suggests you commit to five minutes of work. For example, tell yourself, “All I am asking for is a five-minute commitment, after that we can stop.” Of course, after starting it is much easier to keep going. This same tactic can be applied to performing a workout when you just are not feeling it. Tell yourself, “let’s get changed, grab a cup of coffee, and warm-up for five minutes, and if we still are not feeling it, we can quit.” Once you get started, it is unlikely you won’t be able to finish the workout.

We have one brain but two minds. One mind is motivated by base instincts and strong emotions, the other is logic driven and focused on our long-term goals. Emotions are powerful. Overcoming them through sheer force of will is very taxing and can deplete our willpower reserves quickly, leaving us more vulnerable to the next temptation. Shrinking the commitment, by asking for only 5-minutes of work is a very effective strategy for overcoming our feelings. The more consistently we can overcome our emotions to do what is in line with our long-term goals the more successful we will be.

Consistency is the key to making progress. John Maxwell’s Power of Five provides a great example of the power of small persistent actions. He asks what would happen if you had a large tree on your property and you committed to taking five swings at it each day? The answer is always the same; the tree will eventually fall. It doesn’t matter how large the tree is. He has written over 70 successful books using the Power of Five. We are often intimidated by the large trees in our life, but if we just committed toward doing a little each day, instead of being overwhelmed by them we would achieve incredible results.

When it comes to writing, I subscribe to Steven King’s philosophy, “Don’t wait for the muse. As I’ve said, he’s a hardheaded guy who’s not susceptible to much creative fluttering. This isn’t the Ouija board or the spirit-world we’re talking about here, but just another job like laying pipe or driving long-haul trucks. Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ’til noon or seven ’til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up.” I keep showing up. The worst thing we could do is judge ourselves too harshly and believe our weakness of willpower reveals a unique flaw in our character instead of what it is, ordinary human frailty.

The three most important things to understand about willpower is: (1) we need to get adequate sleep each night to begin the day with the maximum amount of willpower (2) our willpower depletes as our day progresses, and (3) the more self-control we are forced to exercise, the faster the rate of depletion. Stress and fatigue are the enemies of willpower. If you wake-up each morning tired, you’re already starting the day at a willpower disadvantage. Most people need at least 7.5 to 8.5 hours of sleep each day. Since our willpower is greatest at the beginning of each day, that would be the best time to schedule the tasks that require the most willpower. You’ll also find you have a lot fewer interruptions in the morning. The last strategy and perhaps the most important is to avoid taxing our willpower unnecessarily. We want to shape our environment to promote positive habits and discourage negative ones.

I have made writing a daily a habit, so it doesn’t require much willpower anymore. It is just a part of my day. Most times I can block out distractions and my ideas flow. Sometimes I cannot, but I keep showing up, determined and excited to make whatever little bit of progress I can make each day with the time that I can set aside. I write in the early morning hours because the rest of my day is filled with personal and professional commitments. I know that if I keep plugging away, I will eventually complete this book and the other books I have already outlined. The key to finishing is to develop the habit of starting again each day. I don’t rely on willpower to write each day; I rely on my morning schedule. I don’t struggle with the decision. I look at the clock, and when it says 4:30 AM, my mind says it is time to write. Routines reap results because they don’t rely on willpower, that fickle friend that is never there for you when you need him. Disciplined habits are our best friends. “A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labors of a spasmodic Hercules.” Anthony Trollope

The more we rely on willpower as our strategy for success, the less likely we are to achieve our goals. The problem with willpower is that it depletes as the day progresses and leaves us naked to temptation. It is more useful to shape our environment to reduce temptations and distractions than to rely on willpower and grit. When we overestimate our willpower, we unnecessarily expose ourselves to people, situations, and environments that will tempt us to break our resolutions. “Research shows that people who think they have the most willpower are actually the most likely to lose control when tempted. For example, smokers who are the most optimistic about their ability to resist temptation are the most likely to relapse four months later, and overoptimistic dieters are the least likely to lose weight. Why? They fail to predict when, where, and why they will give in. They expose themselves to more temptation,” Kelly McGonigal.

Ronald Amundsen

The 1909 race to the South Pole illustrates the necessity to identify the challenges ahead of you, learn from the success of those who have gone before you, and not to rely too heavily on grit and determination to push through whatever obstacles you encounter. Two teams took-up the challenge of being the first to reach the South Pole. One group was led by British Naval Officer Robert Scott and the other lead by Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen.

Amundsen gave his people the best possible equipment, and paced their journey to ensured he gave his men plenty of time to rest along the route. Scott’s team was ill-equipped. Inadequate clothes lead to frostbite, and poor goggles lead to snow blindness. Amundsen used dogs to haul their provisions, while Scott used untried motorized sleds which quickly failed, forcing his men to carry their provisions on sleds.

At the South Pole: Wilson (left), Scott, Oates (standing); Bowers and Evans (sitting)

Scott pushed on and ultimately made it to the South Pole, albeit one month behind Amundsen’s team. Tragically, no one on Scott’s team would survive the journey back, while Amundsen’s team returned with no severe maladies. There are many reasons for the radically different outcomes, but ultimately it was Scott’s overconfidence in the grit and resilience of his team that caused him to underestimate the difficulty of their journey. His dying words illustrate this point. “Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale.”[iii]

I don’t want to diminish their courageous act of perseverance, but merely wish to point out that it could have been avoided. Scott could have given his team a better chance of success if he had better identify the challenges and better understood the limits of human endurance. This program offers tools to make your journey more manageable, but certainly not effortless. You will have to demonstrate some grit and willpower, but much less than if you didn’t use the proper strategies. The mistake I want us to avoid making is relying too heavily on willpower.

A plan that relies too heavily on willpower is doomed to failure. We are foolish to subject ourselves to temptation needlessly. Willpower is a fickle thing that often leaves us during our time of greatest need. As Shakespeare put it, “we are devils to ourselves, when we will tempt the frailty of our powers.”[iv] We shouldn’t tempt fate by relying on willpower when an effective strategy could reduce or eliminate the need for willpower. The proven strategies contained in this program will give you the greatest odds of success. Why make your journey any more difficult than it needs to be? The best use of our willpower is the implementation of strategies to reduce our need to exercise it.

The distance between our goals and where we are is the journey before us. When we choose to spend time with people that exhibit negative attitudes and behaviors, we are deciding to put rocks in our backpack. If we are trying to eat healthier but choose to stock our pantry with junk food, we are choosing to make our journey harder. We are consciously choosing to put pebbles in our shoes. Many people say they don’t want to deprive their kids, of what exactly I don’t know, a lifetime of sugar addiction? I believe desserts should be an occasional treat, not a daily indulgence.

These rocks and pebbles won’t produce an immediate failure, but they will make failure inevitable. The extra weight will slow your progress, and the pebbles will grind away at your resolve with each step you take; until you eventually give up. When your willpower finally gives out, you’ll blame it for your lack of success, instead of your decision to expose yourself to the temptations unnecessarily. You are going to need grit and willpower, just like Amundsen’s team surely did to successfully navigate the South Pole, but they combined it with the right tools and strategies.

Save your limited willpower for the temptations you cannot avoid, instead of putting more in your path. You are going to be tempted at the office to eat the donuts, cookies, and birthday cakes on a regular basis. Our supply of willpower can vary significantly from day to day depending on how stressful our day has been. This is especially true as the day wears on, and our ability to exert willpower is depleted to almost nothing. If we get adequate sleep each night, we begin the day with a willpower reservoir that is fully restored like your cellphone battery. The more we use it throughout the day, the quicker it depletes. Ever notice that most of our bad habits occur late at night?

That is because our willpower has evaporated and all we are left with is our desire to seek instant gratification and relief from our stressful day. Shaping your environment by eliminating the temptations you will encounter in the evening is the most effective strategy you can adopt. The next most effective technique is establishing an evening ritual that supports your goals. Habits conserve our willpower because they don’t require our conscious mind to decide what to do. The decision is made automatic through repetition. Our primitive mind encounters the cue and executes the routine automatically.

Change agents often find that what appears to be a people problem is a situation problem. Instead of taking on the difficult task of changing our behavior through willpower, we can often tweak our environment and make change happen painlessly. Instead of relying on workers following proper procedures, safety engineers install guards and controls to prevent workers from taking shortcuts that put themselves at risk. They do this because they know that it is easier to tweak the environment; rather than to force 100% compliance with proper procedure as workers become overconfident and complacent.

I hope you’ll decide to become an optimistic realist. I hope I have convinced you that we cannot ignore the challenges in front of us or imagine a future in which they won’t exist. We must develop a plan that relies less on willpower and more on structuring our environment to make good habits easier and bad habits more difficult. Our environment profoundly influences our behavior, so it is only logical that we would want to shape it to promote good habits and discourage bad ones.

A realistic optimist anticipates the challenges that are outside their control so they can develop and rehearse a simple plan to address them. If you are struggling to exercise five days a week consistently, I want you to first ask yourself “why am I NOT going to train five days this week?” Then I want you to develop a plan that will allow you to overcome the excuses. Optimism is an excellent source of motivation, but naïve optimism is a recipe for failure that ends in bitter disappointment. I want you to believe in yourself, but I want that believe to be based on the world as it is, and not based on the world as you would wish it to be. I want you to be a realistic optimist.

Best wishes and best health!

[i] Kelly McGonigal, The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It, Avery; Reprint edition (December 31, 2013)

[ii] Heidi Grant, Be an Optimist Without Being a Fool, Harvard Business Review, MAY 02, 2011

[iii] John C. Maxwell, The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership, HarperCollins Leadership; Revised & Updated edition (September 16, 2007)

[iv] William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida Translation, Act 4, Scene 4

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Don't make the mistake of being a naive optimist. Research shows that predicting how and when you might be tempted to break a resolution increases the chances that you will keep it. Learn more. If you enjoy this article, please LIKE, SHARE, and follow us on Facebook. One of the most potent strategies for reaching a goal is to identify the obstacles ahead of time and to develop a plan to address each before they are encountered…

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One of the most potent strategies for reaching a goal is to identify the obstacles ahead of time and to develop a plan to address each before they are encountered. We want to be optimistic, but we don’t want to be a naive optimist. The naive optimist ignores the obstacles in their way and believes that they will not confront any challenges while striving to accomplish their goal. The realistic optimist believes in their ability to accomplish their goal despite the obstacles in their way. They acknowledge and prepare for the obstacles which makes them much more likely to achieve their goal. We want to have faith in our ability to overcome obstacles, not naively believe we won’t encounter them.

Research shows that predicting how and when you might be tempted to break a resolution increases the chances that you will keep it.[i]When you are working on developing a daily discipline, ask yourself: “When am I most likely to be tempted to give in? What situation is most likely to get me sidetracked? What excuses will I give myself to procrastinate?” Once you have such a scenario mapped out in your mind, imagine yourself in that situation, what it will feel like, and what you might be thinking?  If we are struggling to form a habit, it shouldn’t be difficult to imagine what situations will cause us to slip off our path, because these situations must have occurred for us to be struggling with forming the habit now.If you enjoyed this article, please LIKE and SHARE. 

Why is imagining the situations that will cause us to fail such a useful tool for overcoming our willpower challenges? It’s because once we have identified them, we can anticipate them and develop a plan to either avoid the situation or mitigate the temptation. When you have a definite strategy in mind, imagine yourself doing it. Envision what it will feel like to succeed. The more you mentally rehearse your plan, the more likely you are to execute it successfully when the temptation confronts you.

While planning missions in the military, two things were drilled into us. The first was to keep our plans as simple as possible by avoiding unnecessary complexity. We were taught the acronym KISS, “Keep it simple, stupid.” Simple plans are easier to execute. Complexity is the enemy of execution. The second was to rehearse, rehearse, and rehearse. The simpler your plan is, and the more you rehearse it, the better you will execute your plan. Execution is critical. Plans do not produce results unless you execute them.

Gabriele Oettingen a clinical psychologist and author of Rethinking Positive Thinking: Inside the New Science of Motivation, found that regardless of the goal, weight loss, obtaining a high-paying job after college, finding your soul mate, or recovering from hip replacement surgery, being a realistic optimist dramatically increases your odds of success. Realistic optimist recognizes the pitfalls that lay in front of them and develop a plan to address them. They don’t overestimate their ability to overcome challenges through willpower alone. They shape their environment and create if-then plans to shape their behavior. Realistic optimists have meals ready to eat in their freezer, they submit more job applications, they exercise more courage to meet potential romantic partners, and they create daily routines around rehabilitation exercises.[ii]

We must believe in ourselves, but one of the worst things we can do is underestimate the challenges we must overcome or overestimate our finite and fickle abilities to overcome them. Presuming that our willpower will always be adequate to the challenge of overcoming every temptation is folly. We need to recognize the challenges before we encounter them and develop a plan, based on proven strategies, to overcome those challenges. We should seek the advice of people that have done it.

Everyone struggles with procrastination, laziness, and overcoming distractions to make progress toward their goals. The bigger the goal, the more likely we are to be intimidated by it. The more likely we’ll be to procrastinate. When a reporter asked Earnest Hemmingway how he set about writing a novel, he replied, “First you defrost the refrigerator.” While I am no Hemmingway, the task of writing a book can seem overwhelming. To prevent the enormity of the task overwhelming me, I focus on writing the next paragraph or outlining the next chapter. A beautiful book about the joys, struggles, and rewards of writing is Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. She describes writing as a gritty endeavor that requires courage to overcome procrastination born out of perfectionism to produce that “shitty first draft.” She says, “Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend.”

Her book’s title reminds me to focus on taking that next small step to produce that shitty first draft. I remember the story of Anne Lamott’s brother for which the book is titled. She recounts the story in her book: “Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, “Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.” Her father’s simple advice is something we can all use as a tool to stop procrastinating and take one small step, and then another.

It is a common mistake to think that our weaknesses are unique to us. They aren’t. Many of us wrongly believe that our weakness of willpower reveals a profound flaw in our character. It doesn’t. Frailties and imperfections are common. It is part of what it means to be human. They are so common that we marvel at and celebrate those that can overcome them. Weakness is a part of the human condition. We need to understand our limitations and develop effective strategies for coping with them. We all struggle with willpower, but most of us never seek a better understanding of it. The better we understand our human frailties, the better we can manage them to overcome our willpower challenges.

The only way to beat procrastination is to overcome the mental obstacles to starting. Marla Cilley, the creator of the 5-Minute Room Rescue, found an ingenious way to help us overcome procrastination. She suggests you commit to five minutes of work. For example, tell yourself, “All I am asking for is a five-minute commitment, after that we can stop.” Of course, after starting it is much easier to keep going. This same tactic can be applied to performing a workout when you just are not feeling it. Tell yourself, “let’s get changed, grab a cup of coffee, and warm-up for five minutes, and if we still are not feeling it, we can quit.” Once you get started, it is unlikely you won’t be able to finish the workout.

We have one brain but two minds. One mind is motivated by base instincts and strong emotions, the other is logic driven and focused on our long-term goals. Emotions are powerful. Overcoming them through sheer force of will is very taxing and can deplete our willpower reserves quickly, leaving us more vulnerable to the next temptation. Shrinking the commitment, by asking for only 5-minutes of work is a very effective strategy for overcoming our feelings. The more consistently we can overcome our emotions to do what is in line with our long-term goals the more successful we will be.

Consistency is the key to making progress. John Maxwell’s Power of Five provides a great example of the power of small persistent actions. He asks what would happen if you had a large tree on your property and you committed to taking five swings at it each day? The answer is always the same; the tree will eventually fall. It doesn’t matter how large the tree is. He has written over 70 successful books using the Power of Five. We are often intimidated by the large trees in our life, but if we just committed toward doing a little each day, instead of being overwhelmed by them we would achieve incredible results.

When it comes to writing, I subscribe to Steven King’s philosophy, “Don’t wait for the muse. As I’ve said, he’s a hardheaded guy who’s not susceptible to much creative fluttering. This isn’t the Ouija board or the spirit-world we’re talking about here, but just another job like laying pipe or driving long-haul trucks. Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ’til noon or seven ’til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up.” I keep showing up. The worst thing we could do is judge ourselves too harshly and believe our weakness of willpower reveals a unique flaw in our character instead of what it is, ordinary human frailty.

The three most important things to understand about willpower is: (1) we need to get adequate sleep each night to begin the day with the maximum amount of willpower (2) our willpower depletes as our day progresses, and (3) the more self-control we are forced to exercise, the faster the rate of depletion. Stress and fatigue are the enemies of willpower. If you wake-up each morning tired, you’re already starting the day at a willpower disadvantage. Most people need at least 7.5 to 8.5 hours of sleep each day. Since our willpower is greatest at the beginning of each day, that would be the best time to schedule the tasks that require the most willpower. You’ll also find you have a lot fewer interruptions in the morning. The last strategy and perhaps the most important is to avoid taxing our willpower unnecessarily. We want to shape our environment to promote positive habits and discourage negative ones.

I have made writing a daily a habit, so it doesn’t require much willpower anymore. It is just a part of my day. Most times I can block out distractions and my ideas flow. Sometimes I cannot, but I keep showing up, determined and excited to make whatever little bit of progress I can make each day with the time that I can set aside. I write in the early morning hours because the rest of my day is filled with personal and professional commitments. I know that if I keep plugging away, I will eventually complete this book and the other books I have already outlined. The key to finishing is to develop the habit of starting again each day. I don’t rely on willpower to write each day; I rely on my morning schedule. I don’t struggle with the decision. I look at the clock, and when it says 4:30 AM, my mind says it is time to write. Routines reap results because they don’t rely on willpower, that fickle friend that is never there for you when you need him. Disciplined habits are our best friends. “A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labors of a spasmodic Hercules.” Anthony Trollope

The more we rely on willpower as our strategy for success, the less likely we are to achieve our goals. The problem with willpower is that it depletes as the day progresses and leaves us naked to temptation. It is more useful to shape our environment to reduce temptations and distractions than to rely on willpower and grit. When we overestimate our willpower, we unnecessarily expose ourselves to people, situations, and environments that will tempt us to break our resolutions. “Research shows that people who think they have the most willpower are actually the most likely to lose control when tempted. For example, smokers who are the most optimistic about their ability to resist temptation are the most likely to relapse four months later, and overoptimistic dieters are the least likely to lose weight. Why? They fail to predict when, where, and why they will give in. They expose themselves to more temptation,” Kelly McGonigal.

Ronald Amundsen

The 1909 race to the South Pole illustrates the necessity to identify the challenges ahead of you, learn from the success of those who have gone before you, and not to rely too heavily on grit and determination to push through whatever obstacles you encounter. Two teams took-up the challenge of being the first to reach the South Pole. One group was led by British Naval Officer Robert Scott and the other lead by Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen.

Amundsen gave his people the best possible equipment, and paced their journey to ensured he gave his men plenty of time to rest along the route. Scott’s team was ill-equipped. Inadequate clothes lead to frostbite, and poor goggles lead to snow blindness. Amundsen used dogs to haul their provisions, while Scott used untried motorized sleds which quickly failed, forcing his men to carry their provisions on sleds.

At the South Pole: Wilson (left), Scott, Oates (standing); Bowers and Evans (sitting)

Scott pushed on and ultimately made it to the South Pole, albeit one month behind Amundsen’s team. Tragically, no one on Scott’s team would survive the journey back, while Amundsen’s team returned with no severe maladies. There are many reasons for the radically different outcomes, but ultimately it was Scott’s overconfidence in the grit and resilience of his team that caused him to underestimate the difficulty of their journey. His dying words illustrate this point. “Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale.”[iii]

I don’t want to diminish their courageous act of perseverance, but merely wish to point out that it could have been avoided. Scott could have given his team a better chance of success if he had better identify the challenges and better understood the limits of human endurance. This program offers tools to make your journey more manageable, but certainly not effortless. You will have to demonstrate some grit and willpower, but much less than if you didn’t use the proper strategies. The mistake I want us to avoid making is relying too heavily on willpower.

A plan that relies too heavily on willpower is doomed to failure. We are foolish to subject ourselves to temptation needlessly. Willpower is a fickle thing that often leaves us during our time of greatest need. As Shakespeare put it, “we are devils to ourselves, when we will tempt the frailty of our powers.”[iv] We shouldn’t tempt fate by relying on willpower when an effective strategy could reduce or eliminate the need for willpower. The proven strategies contained in this program will give you the greatest odds of success. Why make your journey any more difficult than it needs to be? The best use of our willpower is the implementation of strategies to reduce our need to exercise it.

The distance between our goals and where we are is the journey before us. When we choose to spend time with people that exhibit negative attitudes and behaviors, we are deciding to put rocks in our backpack. If we are trying to eat healthier but choose to stock our pantry with junk food, we are choosing to make our journey harder. We are consciously choosing to put pebbles in our shoes. Many people say they don’t want to deprive their kids, of what exactly I don’t know, a lifetime of sugar addiction? I believe desserts should be an occasional treat, not a daily indulgence.

These rocks and pebbles won’t produce an immediate failure, but they will make failure inevitable. The extra weight will slow your progress, and the pebbles will grind away at your resolve with each step you take; until you eventually give up. When your willpower finally gives out, you’ll blame it for your lack of success, instead of your decision to expose yourself to the temptations unnecessarily. You are going to need grit and willpower, just like Amundsen’s team surely did to successfully navigate the South Pole, but they combined it with the right tools and strategies.

Save your limited willpower for the temptations you cannot avoid, instead of putting more in your path. You are going to be tempted at the office to eat the donuts, cookies, and birthday cakes on a regular basis. Our supply of willpower can vary significantly from day to day depending on how stressful our day has been. This is especially true as the day wears on, and our ability to exert willpower is depleted to almost nothing. If we get adequate sleep each night, we begin the day with a willpower reservoir that is fully restored like your cellphone battery. The more we use it throughout the day, the quicker it depletes. Ever notice that most of our bad habits occur late at night?

That is because our willpower has evaporated and all we are left with is our desire to seek instant gratification and relief from our stressful day. Shaping your environment by eliminating the temptations you will encounter in the evening is the most effective strategy you can adopt. The next most effective technique is establishing an evening ritual that supports your goals. Habits conserve our willpower because they don’t require our conscious mind to decide what to do. The decision is made automatic through repetition. Our primitive mind encounters the cue and executes the routine automatically.

Change agents often find that what appears to be a people problem is a situation problem. Instead of taking on the difficult task of changing our behavior through willpower, we can often tweak our environment and make change happen painlessly. Instead of relying on workers following proper procedures, safety engineers install guards and controls to prevent workers from taking shortcuts that put themselves at risk. They do this because they know that it is easier to tweak the environment; rather than to force 100% compliance with proper procedure as workers become overconfident and complacent.

I hope you’ll decide to become an optimistic realist. I hope I have convinced you that we cannot ignore the challenges in front of us or imagine a future in which they won’t exist. We must develop a plan that relies less on willpower and more on structuring our environment to make good habits easier and bad habits more difficult. Our environment profoundly influences our behavior, so it is only logical that we would want to shape it to promote good habits and discourage bad ones.

A realistic optimist anticipates the challenges that are outside their control so they can develop and rehearse a simple plan to address them. If you are struggling to exercise five days a week consistently, I want you to first ask yourself “why am I NOT going to train five days this week?” Then I want you to develop a plan that will allow you to overcome the excuses. Optimism is an excellent source of motivation, but naïve optimism is a recipe for failure that ends in bitter disappointment. I want you to believe in yourself, but I want that believe to be based on the world as it is, and not based on the world as you would wish it to be. I want you to be a realistic optimist.

Best wishes and best health!

[i] Kelly McGonigal, The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It, Avery; Reprint edition (December 31, 2013)

[ii] Heidi Grant, Be an Optimist Without Being a Fool, Harvard Business Review, MAY 02, 2011

[iii] John C. Maxwell, The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership, HarperCollins Leadership; Revised & Updated edition (September 16, 2007)

[iv] William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida Translation, Act 4, Scene 4

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We want to be optimistic, but we don’t want to be a naive optimist. The naive optimist ignores the obstacles in their way and believes that they will not confront any challenges while striving to accomplish their goal. One of the most potent strategies for reaching a goal is to identify the obstacles ahead of time and to develop a plan to address each before they are encountered…