#creating a horrible anxious world

[furiousgoldfish]

Sometimes, living with the abusive parents can make it risky to love the things you own, or owning things at all. I remember living with the abusive parents, any kind of object I held dear to my heart, had to stay hidden; if my parents knew I was finding this thing valuable and close to my heart, it would lead to it's destruction. And some things you can't hide, we all have our favourite items of clothing that we wear often, we read our favourite books, we collect some stuff that is too big to be hidden, we depend on our electronics, we want to showcase our favourite piece of fandom merch or whatever else makes us happy, in our rooms.

With abusive parents, these things are the first ones to be at risk as soon as there's an issue in controlling you. Abusive parents will destroy your favourite things to hurt and punish you for disobedience. Or, if they find it more effective, they will blackmail you with its destruction. They'll take it from you and keep it hostage, and the only way you can hope to get it back some day, is to not upset them, and hope that they will not destroy it. And then eventually to steal it back, when they forget about it.

The rules to who is allowed to own what in the abusive home generally get muddy as soon as the parent feels they don't have complete control over the child. You can be the only one who uses an object or a tool in the house, the only one who needs and uses your room, your bed, your clothing, your toys and books and furniture, and it's clear that this is intimately yours, belongs to you, is only touched by you. But to them, it doesn't matter. As soon as you need to be controlled, it's theirs, and they have every right to destroy it. Nothing is yours, not unless you obey. Defiance means loss of property.

It sets an anxiety-ridden viewpoint for the future. Having things that you hold dear, or even just owning things you need and plan to use, can be interrupted with the thoughts of 'but what if someone destroys it'. It happened in the past, and it's difficult to see that it won't happen in the future, especially if you've been threatened with destruction of your valuables too often, if you've experienced theft, bullying, and others destroying your things intentionally. It can make you paranoid about your property.

In the abusive home, the rules of who is allowed to use what or destroy what are inconsistent. You could be allowed to use something that is in the house, and you desperately need, until one day you get punished for it, and told you'll be obliterated if you ever touch it again. And then you keep using it in secret, stealing it when nobody is watching, putting it back anxiously, checking it looks all the same. Knowing that there's no other way to gain access to the things you need, frightened of being caught. The parents, meanwhile, can use and also damage anything, including the house, and nobody is allowed to question it or intervene. After all, it's all 'their stuff'. They're adults so if they make a mistake and damage/destroy something, that's okay. You, a child, need to be punished for any accidental damage though. And repent, and pay it back. They might expect you to pay it back in pain.

Forbidding a child, or a teenager, to own things and have right to necessities that are not at constant risk of destruction, is abuse. Things we own should be something we can always rely on, something that is respected and treasured like we are. To smaller children, the things they own feel like an extension of them, it's extremely painful to have them taken away, or destroyed. To a teenager, taking things away or destroying them can cause a world of anxiety and inconsistency, forcing them to live an unreliable life and look elsewhere for something they can depend on. It will cause rage because they can tell it's unfair, they can feel someone is abusing their power over them. Being a teenager and having your control over mere basics, just things they own, taken away is mortifying and infuriating. They're already struggling with the lack of control they have in their social circles, over their social reputation, their own emotions. It feels like destruction and hatred. No person can have their things destroyed and go on normally with their life, as if their human rights weren't violated. We all should get to own things without a worry.

#child abuse #abusive parents #human rights violation #destruction of property #owning things #destroying children's stuff #blackmail #psychological abuse #disrespect of property #allowing children no property #never letting children feel safe or like they can rely on anything #creating a horrible anxious world #where owning things is dangerous and risky #fuck that shit #i still feel it #i still freak that someone is going to destroy things i own #if i stand up to them #i hate it so much

[pheonix-inside]

Going insane about an OC again but it's not the same guy as before but it is his sister

#she is so emotionally driven but she tries so hard to not be. or at least to not look like it. #she desperately wants to be logical but she's not. #she's so anxious and traumatized that she doesn't know how to be a normal person even after 4 years of being around so-called normal people #and she's so angry about how much terribleness is in the world and how much has happened to her and her loved ones #but she's so afraid of that angry part of her that she hides it as well as she can. just leaving it to fester #and she cares so much about so much but she is so afraid of getting hurt so she hides #she's afraid of herself and of the person she pretends to not be #because the person she thinks she is deep down is just her father and mother's worst flaws and a result of their horrible parenting #she doesn't want to continue the horrible cycle they've created and she doesn't realize that so much of her is different from them #especially now considering she left years ago #she's become her own person #but whenever something happens and throws her out of balance she can feel herself slipping back into her old self. and she hates it #but in reality her old self is just a scared little girl fighting desperately to have control over her life despite almost impossible odds #anyways I'm going a little insane

[loveinhawkins]

After the almost end of the world, Steve tells Eddie that he can have a shower first.

It feels surreal that they’ve both made it here—that Eddie is standing in his hallway, leaving mud stains on the floor from his boots: remnants of The Upside Down mixed with normal dirt.

Steve almost wants to ask if he can walk around some more, create countless marks as proof of his existence; hell, even take his hand and run it down the beige walls.

Leave a trail, Steve thinks, through a fog of complete and utter exhaustion. So I know it’s real. So I can find my way back to you.

What he says instead is, “Try not to get your dressings wet.”

Eddie pauses on the stairs. Smiles. “Okay, nurse,” he says, and it’s a gentle tease if anything, his voice softened by tiredness.

He’s holding himself a little stiffly while turned to speak, his upper body almost at an angle.

Steve thinks about the jagged line down his side (“If the bats died, like, ten seconds later, you’d have—you asshole,” Dustin had rambled through tears, thumping Eddie on the arm); how Eddie had narrowly avoided a hospital stay. Thinks of the way Eddie tried to reassure Dustin, fiddling with the guitar pick hanging around his neck in a show of nonchalance—but Steve still saw how his hand shook.

“Guess I’m just a lucky son of a bitch, huh, Henderson?”

It shouldn’t have been luck; it should have been a guarantee. Steve should have ensured it.

Eddie makes his way upstairs with slow, heavy footsteps. Steve waits until he can hear the water running, then heads to the phone.

He’s used to this routine by now. Robin and Nancy first, as he knows they’ll pick up rather than their parents.

“Oh, thank god,” Robin had said when she answered the phone after Starcourt. “I thought it was a horrible dream.”

“Thank god?” Steve echoed, laughing.

“Yeah,” Robin said, quite seriously. “It was either I dreamed up everything alone, or we saw it all together.”

And Steve, touched beyond words, had called her a dingus instead.

Tonight, their phone call is much quieter.

“I’m home,” Robin says. “I love you.”

Steve’s hand clenches around the phone. “Love you too,” he whispers, and he ignores the warning sting in his eyes, because he doesn’t have time to—he still has so much left to…

“I’m home,” Nancy says. She adds, “Get some sleep, Steve,” in the fatigued tones of someone who will not be taking their own advice.

Eddie comes downstairs sometime during Steve’s phone call with Mr and Mrs Sinclair. He’s quiet; the only sign that alerts Steve to his presence is the faint smell of mint body wash.

When Steve hangs up, he has to take a breath, still clinging to the phone pointlessly.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve breathes out. “Checking in,” he says.

He dials another number.

It began after Starcourt, the Sinclairs having bought the excuse that Steve had been trapped with Erica in a broken down elevator as the ‘fire’ began—technically true, Steve had thought, just in the wrong order.

Their conversation had been all anxious tones, all, You were there, Steve, what exactly…? Should we be worried that…?

And he gets good at it, at bridging the gap between worlds: keeping the full truth from parents, but giving them just enough information, little things that go beyond the surface level cover story, that somehow help put their mind at ease—cultivating the sense that Steve is the witness, the one being honest with them.

Christ, he’s tired.

The call with Max’s mom is hard. She’s still at the hospital, and technically there’s nothing to really worry about (Max’s arm had a clean break), but that doesn’t change how it all felt, how she shook with pained sobs as Steve tucked her into his side.

“She’s sleeping now. She said you were with her,” Susan tells him, voice low. “Steve, I’m—I’m so grateful.”

But I wasn’t, Steve thinks. Not when it mattered.

He doesn’t realise that he’s still holding the phone after the call has ended until Eddie takes it from him and puts it back in the cradle.

“Hey, can I, uh, use the phone? Wanna call my uncle,” Eddie says.

Steve doesn’t mention the fact that Eddie has already spoken with his uncle, that Steve had overheard him fighting tears in the hospital as he called the plant where his uncle was still working: because even the earthquake-like rumble felt all over town as Henry Creel died wasn’t enough of an excuse to warrant clocking out early.

“Pretend I’m s-someone else calling,” Eddie had whispered, his voice breaking. “Wayne, I-I’m okay. Got stitches, but I’m okay. Fuck. I love you.”

And Steve tried not to think about how it could’ve so easily been him making the call, telling Wayne Munson that his nephew will never come home again.

Eddie pauses, hand hovering over the phone. Then he twirls his index finger in a little circle: turn around.

Steve does. Can’t find the energy to smile.

“Shower,” Eddie says, then taps him very gently on the back, once, twice, like he’s saying off you go.

Steve manages to twist his body so his own fresh bandages don’t get wet, carefully tilting the shower head away from them. He methodically washes away the dirt; the heat of the water is welcome, but it also seems to weigh down his limbs with every drop.

When he goes back downstairs, Eddie is on the phone. He keeps repeating vague little mm-hmm sounds, and Steve somehow is sure that he isn’t on the phone to his uncle.

“Yeah,” Eddie says as Steve approaches. “Yeah, he’s here.”

There’s a little side table next to the phone; Eddie reaches for the notepad, scribbles, then turns it round so Steve can see.

Dustin’s mom

And Steve…

He knows he should talk to her. He knows Claudia will no doubt have questions, even if Dustin’s probably already given his own half-baked explanation about how he hurt his leg—“It’s just a sprain,” he’d insisted, even as Steve hoisted him up, took all of his weight.

The right thing to do, surely, is take the phone from Eddie.

But Steve suddenly can’t bring himself to even lift his hand for it. He feels drained, feels vulnerable and exposed after the shower—that along with the grime being lifted from his skin, it’s also left his stupidly fragile, exhausted heart on show.

Eddie’s eyes flicker over his face like he can see it, see everything, and without so much as an awkward pause, he murmurs into the receiver, “He’s tired. Yeah, he’s—he’s okay. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

He hesitates for a moment, a fleeting sheen to his eyes, and then he says, “Thank you. Goodnight, Mrs Henderson.” Another little pause. He smiles, adds, “Goodnight, Claudia,” and hangs up the phone.

“Is she… okay?” Steve asks. “What did she—is Dustin—”

“All good,” Eddie says. “She was just… checking in.”

The checking you were okay goes unsaid, but Steve can still hear it.

It weighs him down like the shower had done. He doesn’t register that he crosses through to the living room, just knows that he’s suddenly sinking down onto the arm of the couch, that Eddie is sitting next to him.

Steve doesn’t consciously decide to speak, the words tumbling out of him like it’s inevitable.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mumbles.

He can practically hear Eddie frantically trying to make sense of what he’s said.

“Well, yeah, no plan’s gonna go perfectly, man, that’d be—but, hey, we fuckin’ made it, we—”

But Steve is shaking his head. “No, I… I thought I’d figured it out, I—”

He doesn’t know how to explain it; it’s too much to…

It’s something too big to put into words.

The fact that, as Nancy relayed each phase of the plan, he had listened closely, only agreed because at least he was in the group that would be closest to the ‘blast zone.’

That he’d hated leaving Lucas, Max and Erica alone, but had tried to reassure himself that at least they weren’t in The Upside Down.

That once Dustin knew where Steve was going, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, that he’d follow him to The Upside Down no matter what.

And, honestly, Steve would’ve preferred Eddie not getting dragged into this bullshit for any longer than he needed to be—that if it was feasible, Steve would’ve just told him to take the RV and run.

But Steve had seen how he was with Dustin, roughhousing in the grass. Knew that where Dustin went, Eddie would follow, too—a shield in his hand.

And Steve also knew something along those lines was true for him and Robin: that if he thought he could get away with it, he would’ve told her to watch over the kids at the Creel House, but knew she’d choose to be with him.

That all he could feel about going into Henry Creel’s lair himself was relief—not because he thought he was an essential part in all of this, but because he just…

He needed to be there. Just in case.

Because there was a look in Nancy’s eyes that terrified him. It said that if she had to, she’d die with Henry Creel, so long as it would all be over, so long as Barb would be avenged.

Out loud, all he can say is, “It… it was too close.”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “No-one got—”

“You’re not listening,” Steve says, and there’s a scream in his throat begging to be released; he doesn’t let it go. “It was too—I almost—almost had to—”

“Steve.”

“S-someone’s gotta call home,” Steve goes on. “And I—fuck, I was so scared I’d h-have to—to tell them that—”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers.

“But I-I would’ve,” Steve says. His voice cracks. “I couldn’t have just—they would’ve got a-answers, I would’ve—”

“I know,” Eddie says softly, and he’s got a hand in Steve’s hair suddenly, guiding him to his shoulder. “I know you’d—hey, I’ve got you. I know.”

The first sob, when it starts, hurts—feels like it comes straight from his stomach. Eddie holds him through it, almost like he’s afraid Steve might drift away to some unreachable place.

“I’ve got you,” he keeps saying. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

When it’s over, when Steve gives a final, shuddering breath against Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie murmurs into his hair, “S’too late for any more phone calls, Steve. C’mon. Show me where to sleep?”

It’s not even all that big of a thing, when Steve leads Eddie to his bedroom, lies down on the farthest side of the bed. Leaves deliberate space.

“You don’t have to—there’s a guest room,” Steve says, tongue thick with exhaustion. “Don’t wanna—kinda worried I’ll hit your dressings in my sleep.”

Eddie looks at him from the doorway. “You’ve been patched up too, Steve,” he points out.

Steve shrugs.

Eddie steps into the room. “It’ll be fine,” he says, smiling. “We’ll both be gentle, huh?”

Steve nods through a yawn. When Eddie makes to shut the door, he says, “Don’t, leave it open. Just—just in case the phone… I’ll sleep right through it otherwise.”

Eddie’s still touching the door handle. “D’you trust me?”

Steve’s eyes keep closing against his will. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Eddie shuts the door so quietly that it barely makes a sound. “Okay. ‘Cause I have, like, freakishly good hearing.” Through his lashes, Steve sees Eddie smirk wryly. “Like a bat.”

Steve thinks he makes a noise of acknowledgement—isn’t quite sure as his eyes have closed.

He feels Eddie lie down next to him, feels the covers being drawn up.

“I’ll hear the phone,” Eddie says. “I’ll answer it, ‘kay? I’ll come wake you up, if I need to.”

A gentle hand on Steve’s forearm.

“Promise,” Eddie says.

Steve breathes in. Out.

“Okay,” he replies, and he falls asleep completely: not needing to stay half-awake, not needing to pick up the phone—not needing to do anything at all.

#in which Steve can both be self sacrificial and still worry about anyone else being self sacrificial 💔 #steve harrington fic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve and nancy #steve and robin #steve and the party #eddie and claudia #steve and claudia #steddie

[venusvxen]

The Outer Man Cannot Desire For He Does Not Exist

This may sound a bit hypocritical given what my last post was BUT. Hear me out!

This is not a take that should be taken too serious. It either resonates with you or doesn’t but this is a way of thinking that soothes me and relieves my anxiety.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how Edward and Neville go on about how all desire comes from within and have been taking that literally. Seriously.

What I found is that I can be going through very trying horrible circumstances on the outside but still be content and giddy and warm and bubbly on the inside which really does lead me to co-sign this statement 100% but that’s not the point of this post.

Because of this “all desire comes from within” mantra… It’s made me think about why I fall out of states. Why do I happen to feel anxious and feel wanting and desire inside despite feeling all those beautiful lovely emotions from my new state that I’ve accepted as true?

It’s because the inner man is acting as the outer man and seeing life through the outer man to desire.

If all desire comes from inside that means that all our thoughts, all our anxieties, all our stresses, ALL of it simply comes from what our inner man is experiencing inside.

If i feel anxious about not getting my desire, it’s not my outer man talking, but instead it’s my inner man leaving the state of the wish fulfilled and seeing life through the eyes of the unfulfilled outer man. That saying “the eyes are the window to the soul” kinda rings true because I’ve been taking this saying very literally and telling myself that our senses are really just our Inner Man’s way of gouging what’s happening in the world in a bit. He has the freedom to disregard them (unlike the man of the senses [outer man]) and create something new, but he ( IM) still knows what’s happening outside. Which is why (to me) when we think unlovely fearful thoughts, it’s really our inner self slipping into a state because again, thoughts come from states, and states all are occupied by THE INNER MAN.

After this revelation it led me to think about the role of the outer self and what I came to realize is that the outer self is nothing more than a mere shell. It cannot desire, it cannot create, it can’t even create its own thoughts because that’s a product of the state the man inside has slipped into. The human self is nothing more than a minion. It has no mind of its own. No original thoughts of its own. The tears we cry are a product of a state we fell into. The elation we feel when we think of something is because of a state we fell into. But none of that is being created from the human self. The human self is a slave in a sense a sense. But a slave to who? Why to imagination.

This line of thinking while very esoteric has allowed me to feel very at peace. Because unlike before when I felt like I was at odds with my “ego” and trying to get it on board, I now realize that acknowledging/identifying with lack is caused by.. the same person that created my desire. It’s not the outer man looking around and saying “i don’t have this where is my manifestation ”. it’s the inner man looking outside through its human lenses and deciding to fall out of a lovely state and into an unlovely one.

It reminds me that there is only one.

And so when I get anxiety at times about my desires and feeling like it’ll never show up, i soothe myself by reminding myself that “the outer man doesn’t even desire this… only the inner man does”. Because it’s true. Desire comes from the inside. The outer man cannot desire anything because it’s a shell. Almost like a turtle shell except the skin is softer and it can talk and move. And so if i remind myself that the only place where I truly want my desire is within, I’m able to maintain that state longer.

If the inner man is the only one that desires because the outer self if a shell of the one inside, then i can fully be content with only having my desire inside which is something i STRUGGLED with before omg!!! Because if the inner man is the only one who is conscious and truly alive then all i have to do to maintain this happiness is keep my focus on my desire and not on what’s happening outside? Because external confirmation does not matter, because the outer man does not have thoughts of its own or wishes of its own.

The outer man doesn’t WANT anything. It can’t want anything. it’s a SHADOW.

This isn’t to say that I don’t occasionally fall out of a state from time to time. No, I do. But i’m able to maintain states longer because I remind myself that validation from a turtle shell means nothing and most importantly, the only one who is making me believe that I need validation from the outside is myself.

Occasionally I’ll see something that gives me anxiety or look around to others getting their things sooner than me and feel anxious, but, i remind myself of the fact that the goal is to be happy within.

I should not look to my human self who is a slave to something bigger than himself for confirmation on if I’m doing it right. For me, when i really feel the wish fulfilled I get this insane rush of euphoria and smile so hard my cheeks hurt.. I can’t even recreate the smile by myself if I try to. I remind myself that THAT insane rush of happiness that I can’t even recreate if i try to (without being in the state) is confirmation enough. Not the 3D. Because one comes from within and is God smiling, and God being happy, whereas the other is nothing more than an effect of a cause.

In short this line of reasoning if you chew upon it enough allows you to be comfortable only (for now) having your desire in the 4D and being comfortable with it because the 3D self cannot desire anything and the only way to perceive lack is if your inner man leaves the state of the wish fulfilled and chooses to occupy a state of lack. It’s never been about the outer man. Because the inner man can be inside you fulfilled and happy even despite your outside world and because the outer man is a shell with no thoughts or opinions of its own it can’t say anything about it. Choose to keep the inside man in the state of the WF and remind yourself that that’s the only part of ur psyche that even desires.

And also, if the human self is apart of the 3D and I catch myself smiling a lot while doing my imaginal acts, doesn’t that mean that there IS movement happening?

Food for thought. Anyways this post was long, idk if it made sense but oh well

#manifesting #manifesation #master manifestor #loa affirmations #law of assumption #neville goddard #edward art

[answer2jeff]

ready for another lie?

// carmen berzatto x reader

song: Diet Mountain Dew.

pairings: nyc chef!carmen x journalist!reader

mdni!! i'm not responsible for your media consumption.

warnings: smutty smut, VERY DETAILED, fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), porn with plot, drinking, cursing, kinda subby carmy, praise kink, alludes to piv but it doesn't happen, complete and utter filth, i'm giving the people what they want don't look at me!!!

essentially a prequel, 1 year before the start of season 1 of The Bear.

"Fuck youuuuu! It's Friday, loosen up!" A groggy voice yelled from across the bar, cursing you for declining another drink.

You watched your friends flirt with the bartender over the course of 2 rounds of shots; causing harmless fuckery with the several guys who tried flattering them. You were actually bored for once. It made you sick.

You waited for something, anything else to impress you. You tried convincing yourself you didn't have to leave, that your friends wanted you here, and that nights like these were "good for your soul," but there seemed to be no hope.

"Just two vodka tonics. Oh, and a white Negroni. Uh, yes— yes, thank you." You caught a blonde curl from the stool next to you in the corner of your peripheral vision, and you dared to turn your head. You were met by the sight of an oddly familiar guy—and then it hit you like a semi truck.

The man you wrote your final thesis on "the senses creating art," about. Food & Wines best new chef, as of late.

You'd spent an entire year and a half traveling the world (after finally making a name for yourself as a journalist, and snagging a place in Food & Wines top writers) and interviewing the faces of all forms of modern art, representing one of each of the 5 senses.

Casey French, a fragrance designer as the face of "smell." Christopher Knowles, a fashion designer who specialized in optical wear as the face of "sight."

The list went on, until it ended at Carmen Berzatto, on "taste," just 6 months ago. It was September now, and you almost forgot about the 2 and a half hours you took from your day to sit down and talk to him in that studio. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you felt the pores in your palms release a nervous sweat.

You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were really seeing him— out of all the other Friday nights, when he could've visited all the other bars. But he chose this Friday, at this bar, next to you. You needed to say something.

"I'll take a Negroni too, actually. And you can just close out my tab for tonight." You handed the bartender your card after you anxiously fished it out of your wallet, trying to seem completely oblivious to Carmen's stare. Carmen clenched his teeth, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he kept his gaze focused on you.

"Holy shit! Is that—" A slightly younger man nearly yelped while he inappropriately pointed at you, quickly being shut down by his peer, and being told to "shut the fuck up," but Carmen stayed silent. He was dumbfounded at the sight of you.

"Uh, hi. Funny seeing you here," you croaked, swallowing hard when you realized how much of a horrible excuse of a "hello," that was. Carmen didn't seem to mind, dragging his head out of the clouds and smiling back at you as he received his glass.

"Oh my god, yeah. Wow, I— it's good to see you."

Carmen glanced down at your drink, watching you trace your fingertip around the rim of the short glass. He gazed at your fresh manicure, the beautifully layered rings on your fingers, the diamonds on your wrists, the black dress with a slit that exposed your leg up to your mid-thigh. Carmen always thought you looked nice, only being used to your blazers and gorgeous vintage pants that he was a little jealous of, but this was different.

And as if you weren't already anxious enough, Carmen's "friends" immediately arose from their stools and made their way to an empty table, leaving the two of you alone again. Just looking at him and his clean suit and tie made you nervous, especially with the ink on his hands still visible.

"Good to see you too, Carmen," you smiled, cheeks aching as you tried desperately to hide your excitement. Admittedly, you admired him. That wasn't new. But that feeling in your stomach, that aching, yearning feeling was.

"I don't usually do these things," Carmen mumbled, taking a sip from his glass and licking his lips.

"Me neither. It's kinda— I don't know, icky."

You knew Carmen avoided big gatherings like this, but they were usually tolerable thanks to people who "knew him" enough to let him hang around their groups in silence while they practically screamed at each other. But his free time just never seemed to align with anyone else worth talking to... until tonight.

"Icky. Couldn't have worded it better," Carmen tried not to laugh at your expense, keeping his tongue between his teeth as both of you fought back a smile.

"You get it! God, anyway—how've you been?" You inched closer to him, resting your chin in your palm as your elbows were propped up on the counter. You made sure to keep your stare on him and only him, glancing from his nose, to his lips, and back into his eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was too late to stop now.

Carmen paused, his mouth gaping open slightly as he thought of what he could possibly say to convey that he could be doing better, without completely ruining the mood. He sucked his teeth as he took a deep breath, his eyes glued to the floor until he finally looked at you again.

"Alright, I guess. Managing. How're you?"

"Managing. But really though. Like, has anything changed?"

Carmen thought about your question, realizing how much he seemed to relax tonight—while simultaneously being the most nervous he'd ever been outside of work in the last year. Was it being out and public after a long week? Was it the fact that he still felt so stupid for not getting your actual number, and instead only having access to your business email which was provided by your agent? Was it the smell of your perfume? Was it just you?

"Uh... yeah. Yeah, I guess some things have changed."

He couldn't help but awe at the way you did your hair and your makeup that night, appreciating the tiny details your jewelry and purse of choice added to the look. He hardly ever thought twice about the attractive women he'd run into; making small talk and watching them get bored with his interests.

But now you were here; his fantasies, his desires were here, right next to him; wearing a dress that flattered your cleavage and cinched you at the waist, black heels that tapped against the footrest of the barstool. It made his head foggy, and he couldn't even wrap his head around the encounter.

After finishing your Negroni's over the course of 3 separate conversations that left you with a cramp in your side and your cheeks hurting from smiling—basically hitting it off like you were actual friends, you decided to pull the classic...

"You wanna get out of here?"

Two successful, somewhat well known adults in their lines of work were allowed to be human, right? They were allowed to share deep belly laughs with someone they didn't originally plan to see outside of a work setting, right?

Wrong. It was unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted: everything you promised you'd never be around him.

Carmen knew this.

But he was eye-fucking you in that goddamn interview. His tattooed hands rubbing against his thighs as he sat in front of you in the white light of that studio, his gentle voice contradicting his large, almost intimidating arms—it was all you could think about when you wrote your thesis. And now you were gonna be alone with him.

And despite his worries, despite the nervous sweat beading on his forehead, despite his growing anticipation when he admired your figure like a horny teenager, Carmen agreed. The smirk on your face and your manicured nails in between your pearly white teeth was convincing enough. He knew it was risky, given the fact that you still wrote for Food & Wine every couple of months: being more than capable of ruining his career with one wrong, but so right move.

"Yeah, actually."

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Fuck it.

Carmen closed his tab, gently helping you down from the barstool by your hand. You held your purse close to you while waving a shy goodbye to your friends, who were drunkenly squealing in excitement for you. Carmen's peers seemed to be out of sight; therefore, out of mind. You felt your cheeks go hot, every part of your body tingling. Neither of you knew where you were going. Just not here, and not with everyone else.

He couldn't even think about the fact that he would be back in the glowing white light of the kitchen that following Monday, and you completely forgot about the paper you had to start by Sunday night. And it was way too late to care about any of that now.

You decided your apartment was best.

"Fuck.." Carmen grunted under his breath, his eyes hooded while he felt his pants tighten against his throbbing length. He spread his legs wider as you palmed him, trying to ease some of his tension. You hovered over him as he lied down, sprawled out on your leather couch. His hands were clawing at anything he could reach; your hair, your thighs, the straps of your dress until he pulled it down to your hips, and finally the clasp of your bra.

His bare chest heaved, red and covered in sweat. His dress shirt, tie, and jacket were somewhere in the mess of your apartment. He was honestly too desperate to care.

"You okay with me takin' this off?" Carmen whispered as he cupped your cheek, keeping his fingers prepared to unclip your bra with your permission. He admired every inch of your flushed face as he waited for answer.

"Mhm," you soothed him as your hand moved up and unbuttoned his pants the second your lips moved onto his. Saliva pooled in your mouths with every kiss, turning into a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth. Carmen struggled, but eventually tossed your bra onto the living room floor, his mouth just centimeters away from yours as he exhaled heavy breaths.

You sat up straight, pulling Carmen up by his shoulders and smashing your lips back into his. He pulled sway to breathe, taking it upon himself to peel the rest of your dress off. His tattooed hands gently caressed your plush thighs, his calloused fingers sliding under the hem of your lace underwear. He practically worshiped you like this, planting open mouthed kisses along your jawline and neck.

Carmen needed to hear you, feel you, taste you.

"I wanna taste you, if–if that's alright," he placed one last kiss of gratitude on collarbone before he looked up at you through lust-blown, half-lid eyes.

Your entire body began to heat up again, and Carmen's words went straight to your needy cunt. You could feel yourself dripping through your panties while you put a hand over your mouth in embarrassment, nodding frantically.

"Please," you begged, a mixture of a moan and a silent cry escaping. Carmen's hands detached from your thighs, your hips writhing up from the loss of contact. Without another word, he nodded his head, letting his hands travel down your hips as he got down on his knees in front of you.

Carmen took a shaky breath, glancing from your pleading eyes and back down to your bottom half. He hesitated, choosing to plant one more line of kisses from your tits down to your navel before giving you one last look for permission. He put his hand between your inner thighs, asking you to spread further. You blinked slowly while he peeled your panties off of you, wondering if he would notice how wet you already were.

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Carmen licked his lips, admiring the sight of your puffy slit in hesitation. With your body sprawled out in front of him, your pretty face looking down at him...how could he not eat you out right on that leather couch?

"I've got you, baby," Carmen cooed, his eyes wide as he nearly drooled over the glossy puddle in your underwear. He gently placed your calves over his shoulders, his calloused hands scooping the underside of your thighs.

Carmens wet tongue licked a bold stripe from your hole up to your soaked clit, not a drop of your arousal going to waste. You grew impatient, the kitten licks he gave your sensitive bundle of nerves driving you mad.

"C'mon, Carmy, I—" You whined, pleading that he'd pick up the pace. Carmen decided not to hold back, giving your throbbing clit aggressive sucks that he'd later soothe with slow, flat-tongued licks.

You bit down on your hand while the other entangled in his hair to muffle the sinful noises you made. Carmen felt his stomach turn at the sound of his name falling from your gaping mouth.

Carmen took note of how much you loved his tongue diving into your weeping hole, earning whimpers and cries of "please," and "oh, fuck, Carmen." He groaned into your pussy when you caught a grip on his hair, placing his head even deeper between your thighs. He moved his hands from your thighs and up to your waist—forcing your jerky hips down on the couch. He wanted to make sure you didn't miss a single bit of pleasure.

"Can I.. uh, can I try something?" He stammered, picking his head up with his chin shiny with your liquids as his hand crept back down, prying between your folds. Carmen needed to keep every part of him busy so he wouldn't have to focus on the aching bulge, already leaking precum in his boxers. He felt his thighs clench as he fucking whimpered beneath you.

"S–sure.." You nodded frantically again, tossing your head back as Carmen carefully inserted a digit into your core. You whimpered in slight discomfort as he stretched you out, which he immediately reassured softly.

"Shhh... you're alright. Jus–just relax f'me, yeah?"

Carmen waited until you whined again; his fingers started at an agonizingly slow pace until he heard your moans getting a little too quiet for his liking. He picked his pace up, sliding another thick finger into your hole and ramming into your g-spot. He hesitated, afraid to hurt you—but you quickly dismissed his worries when you urged him that you needed more. Carmen aligned his tongue back with your pussy, sucking hard before comforting your desire with lapping at your clit.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you felt that familiar knot in your stomach, your grip in his hair tightening while your moans grew louder and louder. You didn't care if your neighbors could hear you through the thin walls of your apartment. You didn't even think about what this would look like the morning after—because none of it mattered. Not with Carmen's head between your thighs.

Carmen could tell you were close, prioritizing your pleasure before he could even register how badly he wanted to cum into his boxers. He couldn't help but buck his hips forward, begging for friction while every noise you made just inched him closer to his release... but he needed this to last.

"You close? Let me take care 'f you," he mumbled, breathing heavily against your pussy while he tried his best to stay still. It sent shockwaves through your body, and you tried desperately not to scream his name.

"So... so close.. Fuck, it's too much," your useless protest was cut short by a loud moan, muffled by the sweaty palm of your hand. Your heart pounded in your head as your walls clenched around Carmen's fingers. You weren't used to anything feeling this good in months.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it. You're alright. You're doing so good. Takin' my fingers so fuckin' good," Carmen's raspy voice comforted you. His tongue finally came back to relieve you, his fingers slowing down so as to not overstimulate you, as much as he wanted to.

"Carmy!" Your eyes screwed shut as your thighs shook. You chased your high, practically grinding into his face as his nose bumped your clit while his fingers remained at work.

—

"Jesus..." You panted, grunting in disappointment when you felt Carmen slide his fingers out of you. He licked them clean while your eyes were screwed shut as you tried to recollect yourself. Carmen planted a kiss on your temple the second he sat back up onto the couch, pulling you into his lap by your waist. You felt his erection against your crotch, his already sticky mess combining with your wetness yet again.

"You okay?" Carmen cupped your cheek, pushing any sweaty strands of hair out of your face. And just when he thought he couldn't have felt more proud of you, he melted into the feeling of your lips against his.

You didn't know if you'd ever see him again, you didn't know if this night would magically become niche hot gossip within your respective groups; all you knew was that you wanted him. His lust blown eyes on you, his hands gripping your waist as he bent you over your kitchen counter and fucked you dumb, the sound of sex echoing through your apartment.

Maybe some other Friday night.

#AHHHH i'm screaming #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #i need him biblically #hope u guys like this it took way too long #nyc chef!carmen #he's such a cutie #i need him to eat me #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #the bear x reader

[asklilmissrarity]

The Future of Lil Miss Rarity

Hello everyone, this is Jay Tonique (formerly known as Lil Miss Jay), the writer, artist, everything other than the music in the Lil Miss Rarity animation for the blog "Lil Miss Rarity."

As some of you know, Lil Miss Rarity was an ongoing outlet for my physical, verbal and emotional abuse I was suffering prior to and leading up to Lil Miss Rarity's release, October 11th 2011.

The blog took off so heavily that my entire artistic career became a viable future for me, allowing me to profit from my art, build a huge loving fanbase, and even allowing me to become something of a celebrity in the Brony community (even very much hated by a large portion of the community).

It's needless for me to say that Lil Miss Rarity not only changed but saved my life. I was on the verge of taking my own life around the time the blog was started, due to the abuse I was going through, and if it weren't for the success of the blog that fateful October week, I would certainly not be here, typing this right now. I owe my life to you all, and the support you've given me for this blog.

However, it's time for the news I know very few people want to hear. In fact, I'm sure just reading this line right here has people's hearts sinking, but please, don't be anxious, please read the full post.

I would like to say: Please read the full post, I am going to be very clear about the future.

Moving forward, Lil Miss Rarity will no longer be updated, and the blog is officially entirely over, as of this post.

I am still looking for a musician to commission a new song for the remake of the Lil Miss Rarity animation on YouTube, which will be my final major update involving the blog, and then I will be putting the blog entirely to rest. The animation will serve as a fond emotional farewell to Lil Miss Rarity.

However, that's not the end of the twisted grimdark storytelling. I have decided to make a spiritual successor, a new IP, entirely my own and not using My Little Pony as a crutch.

I won't get too into it, but I left the Brony fandom long ago. It was both the greatest thing to ever happen in my life, and the absolute worst thing to ever happen in my life. I met great friends, but also met unbelievably horrible sick people, many of which I literally got FBI involvement to deal with and many of which are literally in prison now.

Due to this, and many many more reasons I'm leaving out, I cannot and will not continue to be a part of the fandom. This is just a few reasons, as well, that continuing to have Lil Miss Rarity exist as a My Little Pony blog just doesn't make any sense to me.

So what am I doing moving forward?

A brand new IP called "Melodi." It's about a magic school student who is part of a wealthy family who goes on a magical twisted adventure in a horrifying grimdark world.

It will have characters either very slightly or very heavily inspired by the characters of Lil Miss Rarity, with Melodi of course being inspired by Rarity.

It will also be an ongoing web comic, similar to LMR, and will encourage fan feedback just as much as LMR did, but will not be an Ask Blog like LMR.

I plan to release character concepts for the cast of Melodi soon.

Now, there's probably a lot of questions moving forward, so I'll try to answer them now, as well as in asks on this blog, though I'd prefer you send the asks about Melodi to my main blog at http://www.jayisbutts.com/ask

Here's some questions I think will be asked, and I'll answer them here:

"Will this blog be on Tumblr?" - Yes, and on Patreon. Each update will be on Patreon first. When an update comes out on Patreon, the previous update will go public at the same time on Tumblr.

"Don't you think the LMR fanbase you've garnered for 12 years are gonna be upset about this?" - I'm 100% certain they will be, yes. However, I hope that most people who hear this news are excited to see Melodi in the future. I'm very proud of what I've created with LMR, and happy about how many lives I've changed and how many people have told me how much they love LMR. People with the heart-brand tattoo, people with LMR tattoos, people who cosplay as LMR, LMR fanart still being made regularly to this date, real-life Opal dolls, fan-dubs of the comic, fan animations, Anime Music Videos, etc etc etc. I love each and every one of you and I hope that I can one day garner the same amount of love for Melodi as I received for LMR. Thank you all so much for your support.

"What if someone else wants to carry on the LMR blog or use the characters to make their own?" - Please, do. LMR is officially Public Domain as of this post, and I strongly encourage LMR fan-fiction, fan-blogs, etc. I would love if someone could do LMR better than I did. I will very happily use this blog going forward to showcase new LMR blogs and fan-content that I like, and I will very gladly be a guest artist from time to time on an update or two to those blogs. You all have my blessing to take LMR and do with her whatever you want.

"Are you still remaking the LMR animation?" - Yes, I'm still actively seeking a musician to make an official LMR theme that will play in the background of it. It will be a glorious farewell to LMR.

"Is the heart-brand still a thing in Melodi?" - Absolutely, yes. The one incredibly major staple being carried over to Melodi is the heart brand. That symbol has become synonymous with LMR.

"What about the eye scars?" - Probably not. There will be facial scarring of some kind, yes, but considering the new story will not involve killing a cat (not yet anyway), she probably won't have the eye scars.

"Black eye with white pupil?" - We'll see! (It is a sign of Malice's corruption to have a black left eye, so almost certainly yes, but we'll see!)

"Ponies? Humans? Furries?" - I haven't fully decided. In my head, Melodi is a human, but I could also see her being a cat. I'm not sure what I wanna do just yet. However, she will not be a pony. She's gonna be far more human shaped. With boobies.

"Is this one gonna have porn?" - Nope! Not directly as part of the blog, no. Sexual encounters are going to happen in a very fade-to-black way, or a cropped-off-screen sort of way, yes. And there will be sexy characters, like monster girls or demon girls, and I'm sure people will find Melodi herself sexy, too. However, the blog is not going to contain actual porn. No full nudity. It will have what some would refer to as "fetish content," as with LMR, but it's not porn.

"Final question, so... LMR is just... dead? As of now?" - In terms of receiving updates from me, all that will be made is the LMR animation. But no, I certainly hope LMR is not dead. I would love to see the blog live on through other artists I've inspired. You all have my blessing to keep her alive forever.

Thank you all so much for your support.

More news involving Melodi and her twisted adventures coming soon.

I love you all, and I want you all to know how much your support of Lil Miss Rarity has changed my life.

I know it's cringe to type this, but, "I'm literally crying right now."

Mommy will always be pretty.

~Jay Tonique (Formerly Lil Miss Jay)

#lil miss rarity

[paper-starz]

i was so surprised by the lack of AUs in the My Friendly Neighborhood fandom! So, me and a few discord buddies decided to create our own! The Opposite Au! (Or the OPP AU for short)

its basically a personality swap with a few story changes!

(click read more for bonus doodles + character descriptions!)

NORMAN

Norman is THE BEST character on 'My Friendly Neighborhood' and he WILL remind you constantly!

He has like a bajillion fans and friends that are definitely NOT made up! Of course he has fans and friends from all over the world what do you mean he doesn't???

He's a bit of a diva... ok "bit" is an understatement. He genuinely believes that he deserves to be treated better than anybody else! He proudly displays a star on his door as a symbol of his supposed stardom!

There's a blurry line between fiction and reality for Norman. He believes his on-screen friendship with Lenard translates to real life, despite their mutual mistreatment of each other. Lenard is definitely NOT Norman's friend. (In fact, most of the puppets in this AU despise each other)

Incredibly overdramatic. He once laid down on the floor for 3 hours straight because someone ate the last chocolate chip cookie.

Norman is still very lonely.

JUNEBUG

Much more calmer and introverted than her OG counterpart. She would rather stay inside reading books than play outside with her so-called 'friends'.

She is the resident bookworm of the neighborhood, incredibly smart too!

Her demeanor is highly apathetic; even if chaos erupted in the neighborhood, she wouldn't even lift her eyes from the pages of her book.

She also speaks in a very monotone voice.

She still very much hates responsibility.

She and Norman have a sort of pseudo rivalry with each other, even though it mostly affects Norman. While others react to Norman's antics, Junebug's indifference to it annoys him the most.

Even if she's not currently reading books, she's usually staring off into space or thinking about something. Ms. Lilianna is not fond of her due to her inattentiveness during one of her lessons.

Has a horrible habit of sneaking up to people and scaring them due to the fact that she walks VERY quietly.

MS. LILIANNA

It's MISS Lilianna. Not Lilianna, MISS Lilianna! She is your teacher and you WILL show her some respect!

Miss. Lilianna is incredibly strict and uptight. If you so much as even breathe loudly she will get furious with you!

She does genuinely love teaching! She teaches math, science, english, history... but her favorite lesson to teach are RULES!

Currently, she has 874 rules in her rule book. Here are some examples:

22. No talking while she's talking, that’s rude. 23. No chewing gum 24. no smiling 25. no breathing too loudly 26. no running 27. no jumping 28. no laughing 29. no living 30. no screaming 32. no playtime 33. no snack time 34. no lunchtime 35. definitely no nap time. 36. No blinking more than once per minute! 37. You must sit at a perfect 90 degree angle 38. No writing with anything other than a blue ballpoint pen with a 0.735 mm tip!

Her favorite rule is rule #17: "Everyday is Teacher's Day!" You must give Ms. Lilianna gifts and hugs to show how much you appreciate her!

The most important rule is the "No complaining about the rules" rule! Or else you'll be sent to the principals office! Which is her. She is the principal, the custodian, the janitor, every and any faculty member of the school!

...Except for the Art teacher. Please don't show her any art, she will not understand anything. She lacks any and every sort of creativity.

Her favorite weapon to use is the classic ruler! Light weight AND teacher-y

Baldi's basics lookin' ass

LENARD

Anxious Dog Energy right there.

Poor Lenard is very shy and super self conscious. Like Junebug, he would rather stay alone than be anywhere NEAR people.

He has a bit of a stutter.

He is so anxious, that he's developed several self-defense mechanisms!

He will either SCREAM BLOODY MURDER

Or he will bite you

Or a combination of both.

Sometimes he'll bite for no reason whatsoever!

Lenard is TERRIFIED of being watched, especially while practicing. Memories of him being taunted and teased during the show's production still haunt him.

He's developed severe scopophobia because of this.

He will usually sing and dance in private. Though, he's not a very good singer nor a very good dancer.

GEORGE

The epitome of "I hate my job."

This George really hates being a taxi driver. I mean, wouldn't you hate being stuck as a taxi driver for the rest of your life?

After MFN got cancelled and the puppets got abandoned, George ripped out the 'T' in his taxi cab hat. He tried ripping out more from his taxi uniform, but stopped since his uniform were the only clothes that he's got.

He's now stuck in exitensial dread. What IS George now that he's not a taxi driver? He might've hated being one, but that was all that he's got.

He hates any and all vehicles with 4 wheels or more. All the taxi cabs in the studio are smashed, even the wheels have been taken out!

He still likes rats. However, it's mostly a "appreciate from afar" type of ordeal. The rats in the studio are vicious little beasts.

He once saw a puppet get too close to the rats. Let's just say that the puppet is now a pile of cotton fluff.

The only time he was genuinely happy during the show's production was when they were filming the Pirate's Cove film. It was his first experience of being anything other than his taxi driver role. He still has his pirates hook and he would fight you tooth and nail if you try and steal it from him

AND THATS EVERYONE (for part 1 ofc)

Thank you to my friends who definitely helped with this AU (you know who you are!)

Oh! And please click the images for better quaity!

#my friendly neighborhood #mfn #my friendly neighborhood game #mfn fanart #mfn game #mfn au #opposite au #mfn junebug #mfn norman #mfn lenard #mfn george #mfn lilianna #miss lilianna #OMG IM DONE #FINALLY #fun fact #I made this au in OCTOBER 25 #and i cant believe its OUT

[wannabegwenstacy]

Eden's Favorite Yunho Tumblr Fics

updated: 08/07/2023

Main A/N: check out the full ateez fic recs masterlist for some of the other members. warning i'm a baby atiny so its not super full yet and i currently have only some members posts created currently. will be updating with more fic recs periodically. :)

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⇣Below cut⇣

dance for you (series) by @santheestallion

Genre: yunho x fem reader, dancer!au, rivals to lovers, smut, angst

Word count: 25k + 15k + 22.2k

Warnings: cheating (not yunho), slow burn, curse words, drug (weed) and alcohol usage, thigh riding, explicit sex scenes, hate sex, oral (male and female receiving), semi public sex, name calling, yeah i think that’s about it, brief mention of blood.

Summary: moving to a new city and auditioning for one of the most competitive dance troupes isn't easy, but when you meet the charismatic and talented dancer jeong yunho, your world gets a lot more interesting. (full summary can be found here)

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until the moon and stars fall by @cyberpxnk

Pairing: yunho x chubby!reader

Genre: nonidol! au, comfort/hurt, fluff, established relationship

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings/Tags: chubby!reader, no gendered terms for reader, a lil self indulgent, cussing, body/fat shaming, mentions of body image, bullying, minor kissing, maybe a lil cliche but bear w/ me

Summary: your bad day at work takes a turn for the worse but despite it all, jeong yunho never fails to be there for you.

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Panini by @smileysuh

Pairing: Mingi & Yunhoe x afab!Reader

Rating: 18+ explicit 

AUs/Tags: covid au, best friends to lovers, frat/uni au, etc.

Word count: 11.8k

Warnings: Covid, depressed/anxious Mingi, size kink, choking, sir kink, bdsm protocols, dumbification, sensory deprivation (hand over eyes), oral, dry humping, nipple kink/boob sucking, switch Mingi, hard/semi soft Dom Yunho, Dirty talk, some degradation in a good way, unprotected sex, Yunho has a sir kink, threesome, etc…

Summary: With covid stretching on for what feels like forever, and Mingi’s mood in rapid decline, you move into the two-bedroom apartment with your two best friends, where seemingly constant tinder notifications on everyone’s phones remind you constantly of how horribly single you all are

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summer nights by @honeyhotteoks

Pairings: yunho x reader

Genre: college non idol au; suggestive, smut, fluff, comedy

Word count: 8.5K

Note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this fic is just pure self indulgence, but i'm kind of liking the cheeky college au yunho vibes, you can blame the new wonderwall photos

Warnings: best friend!yunho, fem!reader, quarantine and talk of early covid times, sexual frustration, big dick!yunho, oral (m receiving), fingering, semi rough sex, use of toys, light overstimulation, basically reader is pent up and struggling to get off and hot bestie yunho helps out. please let me know if I missed any.

Summary: he's your best friend and roommate, but during the heat of summer and the confinement of quarantine, you just can't seem to help yourselves.

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12 - j.yunho + lovemaking/against a wall (18+) by @hongism

Pairing: j.yunho x fem!reader

Rating: 18+ dni if minor

Tags: language, explicit smut, unprotected sex, impregnation kink, soft sex <3, praise, possessive undertones, slight size kink, slight manhandling, teasing, yn calls yunho a bitch but it’s in a cute way <3

Word count: 2.1k

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fic recs #ateez smut #ateez fluff #yunho fic recs #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho smut #yunho

[holdmytesseract]

Eyes on You

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Request: "* hi babe, can I request:

daryl x female reader, where she is about eight months pregnant where they are both laying on their bed, she's already tired and with some contractions.. and daryl is the sweetest man and treats her like his queen? giving her all her cravings, kisses, hugs, caresses, absolutely everything! sorry for my bad English, i'm still learning 🙂🥺

thank u my love 💓" - Requested by a nonny! 😄

Summary: Daryl doesn't leave your side, when you feel not very well at eight months pregnant.

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy things

Set in the beginning of season 9!

Word Count: 1,5k

a/n: This request is sooo cute! 🥰 Thank you, nonny! 🧡

Tagging: @in-this-minute @thefemininemystiquee @hotgirlsshareaccounts @azanoni @lokisgoodgirl @goobysgoobers @fuseburner

MASTERLIST

"'M not goin' to help at the bridge today." Daryl stated, biting the inside of his lip. "Y/N ain't feelin' that good today. Gotta be there for 'er and don't wanna leave 'er alone. 'Specially not now." The archer's best friend nodded, occupied with saddling his horse. "'Course, Daryl. Make sure she's feelin' better." Rick said, then turned to face him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can stay with her for as long as you need. We will manage without you. You've got way more important things goin' on here, than at the bridge." Daryl nodded. "Thanks, man." "No need to thank me. This is your wife - your family." Rick started, mounting his horse, "Now off with you." and gave the man a smile, before he gently nudged the horse's sides, riding down the street and towards the gates of Alexandria.

Daryl made his way quickly back towards his and your house, not wanting to leave you alone for long. Stepping through the main door, he immediately called out for you, while taking off his heavy boots. "Y/N?" He received no answer, so he made his way down the hallway and turned left, stepping quietly into the bedroom. When his gaze met your sleeping form, he started to smile softly. Right where I left 'er, Daryl thought. He tiptoed over to you and pulled the blanket back over your body, making sure it covered you entirely - not that you'd start to freeze. A wave of pure love and happiness rolled over him, when his hands brushed your clearly visible baby bump. Well, at eight months pregnant, there was nothing left to imagine. Daryl's smile even widened and he couldn't stop himself from resting a hand on top of your big bump. Feeling the life underneath his palm he and you created never failed to amaze him. Quite a few years ago, he had nothing but a broken home - and suddenly he had everything. All he ever needed. When he met you - right at the start of the world's downfall, it was like finding the missing puzzle piece. You made his life complete; were the most important person for him - and now you gifted him the most wonderful gift a life could offer. A child. Of course, was the man utterly anxious and nervous about this; not wanting to became a horrible father like his father was, but you reassured him; told him that he wasn't even able to become just like his old man. He was still nervous - but way less than at the beginning of your pregnancy. Although, his anxiety started to increase so slowly once again, due to the fact that you were not far away from giving birth. He would never not worry about you or about his kid.

Breathing out deeply, the archer leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead - not to wake you, before he left the bedroom again, letting you sleep. You definitely needed the rest. Especially today. You were tired, felt worn out and had immense back pain. This, combined with Braxton Hicks contractions was no fun at all.

Daryl went into the kitchen, deciding to make you something to eat. He knew that when you woke up again, you'd be hungry for sure. The archer maybe wasn't a starred chef, but he was definitely able to make you the meal you were craving the most since last month... Porridge - or well, a simple, fast and not super fancy version of it. You called it 'Daryl's version'; Daryl called it 'simple cooking'. Heating up milk with oats until the things were boiling wasn't exactly difficult. Bless Maggie for the cow she gifted Alexandria. After the deed was done, he put the porridge in a small bowl, ready for you to eat. Just when he was about to cut a few fresh strawberries - much needed vitamins - for you to eat alongside the porridge, he heard the familiar sound of the comfortable house slippers he got for you on a run, approaching the kitchen. "Daryl?" Your frame appeared in the doorway, still looking a bit sleepy. One hand of yours was resting underneath your protruding stomach; the other was steadying your lower back. The man quickly turned to face you, a smile on his face. "Hey, sunshine. Ya awake again already?" A yawn escaped your lips, as you nodded. "Uh.Huh." Daryl bridged the short distance between you and him; came to stand in front of you. "You should go, lay down again. Ain't good fer ya to run around. Ya know what Siddiq said." He said in a gentle, caring voice, placing both his palms on the sides of your belly and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled tiredly at the affection your husband was showing. You loved those small gestures, touches and kisses. "I know, baby, and I promise you that I am going to rest again, but I smelt you cooking something my tummy would like to eat..." Daryl couldn't help himself but to snort out a laugh at your words. "'Course you'd notice me, cookin' porridge for ya." You just shrugged your shoulders, smiling. "Pregnancy seemed to heighten my sense of smell." "Seems so, yeah... Got a better scent than a dog by now, smellin' from miles away, when someone's cookin' porridge." "Hey!" You slapped his shoulder playfully, giggling. "Wha'? It's true, innit?" The man replied with a boyish smile. "Yes, it is." You said, sighing dramatically.

"C'mon, off back to bed with ya now." He nodded towards the door. You pouted. "But my porridge..." Daryl rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Ain't goin' to run away. Lemme throw a few strawberries on top of it and then I'm goin' to bring it to ya, yeah?" Your eyes lightened up. "Breakfast in bed?" "If ya want to call it that..." You smiled and wrapped your arms around his broad frame, before interlocking your lips with his for a sweet kiss. "You're the best."

After Daryl had finally made it to send you back into bed, he finished your porridge and carried it into the bedroom, for you to eat. "There ya go, sunshine." You digged immediately into your latest craving, munching on the milk-oats mix with delight. "Mmmh." You hummed, taking another spoonful. "Thanks, baby, you're the best. Nobody makes porridge as good as you do." Daryl scoffed, "Ain't that difficult to make porridge." but smiled softly; clearly flattered by your compliment. He watched you eat, made sure you ate enough. After all, you had to feed the baby as well...

When you were finished, Daryl cleaned up everything again for you. "Anythin' else my woman needs?" You shook your head, smiling and reaching out your arms. "Just you." "Ya sure?" "Mhm. C'mere. Lay with me, please." Who was he to deny his pregnant wife this request? Daryl stripped off his angel-winged vest and laid down beside you. You immediately snuggled close to him - as close as the baby allowed it, resting your head on his chest. Daryl slung his arm around you and placed his palm on your belly, gently caressing the clothed skin. He was the happiest man on this planet right now, having everything he never thought he would have right here in his arms. "You comfortable?" You nodded against his shoulder, "Perfect." already dozing off. Being pregnant clearly took its toll on you. After all, your body worked flat out. Especially now, mere weeks before the birth.

Just when you were about to enter the dreamland once again, a sharp pain sizzled through your lower abdomen, causing you to hiss. You grimaced, hands cupping the underside of your bump. Daryl noticed it instantly, of course. His body stiffened, as worry and fear took over his system. "Y/N, what's wrong?" He turned on his side to face you; frantic blue eyes met your Y/E/C ones. You breathed through the pain - just like Siddiq told you. "'S okay, baby. Just Braxton Hicks contractions, is all." "Ya sure? Do you want me to get Siddiq?" You nodded. "Yes and no. I'm okay. Please, don't worry. " The archer was still looking at you, now shaking his head. "Impossible. Ain't no way 'm not worried. I always am. 'Specially now, knowin' you're about to give birth in a few weeks..." A soft smile graced your lips at his sweet behaviour. He was so protective and caring - you absolutely loved him for that. You placed both your hands on his chest, rubbing your palms up and down in order to reassure him. "I know, but we're fine, I promise. Kiddo just wants to prepare me for their appearance." Daryl scoffed, but started to smile. "Our kid is scarin' the shit outta me with this. Gives me almost a heart attack every damn time, letting me think you're goin' into labor..." You giggled. "Gods, I love you so much, Daryl Dixon." Another scoff. "I love ya too, sunshine - and this lil' asskicker in there as well." Your heart almost bursted out of love at his words - and you couldn't help yourself from pulling your man again in a sweet, loving kiss. The first of countless more.

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #twd

[thenukacolachallenge]

some fun facts about Luis and André Peña(his VA)

(from the Nick Apostolides(Leon Kennedy VA) livestreams, because i think Luis is neato and i liked André's performance, especially for a first-time big VA gig!)

UPDATE: NOW WITH TIMESTAMPS bc someone on the part two of this post asked about them lmfao

-André actually auditioned for the Spanish cops that escort Leon to Valdelobos originally, and went through several more auditions before landing the role of Luis Serra. for his first role on a big project like Resident Evil, that's incredibly impressive! (timestamp)

-Both Nick and André did motion capture for multiple enemies, including André calling his "best role" playing a dead body lmao. He and Nick also did mocap for the Verdugos, Salazar's bodyguards! (timestamp)

-Being that it was such a big role, he was very anxious about the game dropping, from the moment he got cast to the day it dropped. He even apparently asked Nick constantly if he had somehow been recast. (poor dude, as someone with anxiety issues and huge imposter syndrome, i feel for him!!!) Nick gives him a very sweet but stern pep talk about how he earned and deserved his role on stream too, it was a cute moment! (timestamp 1: André first mentioning his nerves) (timestamp 2: second mention of anxiety/Nick's pep talk to André)

-André is a big enough fan of the original to remember where all the treasure used to be! i love when people who are fans of a series get to work on it, dude. in addition, he was also very happy with the direction he was given, and felt that he was allowed to explore Luis as a more fleshed out character. (which he absolutely is, and i love it! Luis in the original was so strange and honestly off-putting imo. fucking ballistics lmao) (timestamp 1: first mention of André knowing a lot about RE4) (timestamp 2: more of André knowing the game) (timestamp 3: MORE of André knowing the game lmao) (there are a lot more than just these. dude is a FAN) (timestamp 4: André talking about direction and Luis)

-He refers to the bag Luis is stuffed into as a "Luis burrito", which is hilarious and adorable. (timestamp)

-(Also, not related to Luis, but Nick yells "YEET" when Leon gets tossed into the wall by Mendez, which is fucking hysterical) (timestamp)

-UPDATE: thank you to tumblr user @hamartia-grander for this detail that i completely missed originally! (timestamp)

(transcript: I hope this okay for me to add, but he also said that in the first scene with Leon and Luis, Luis looks away as Mendéz injects Leon with la plaga because he couldn't watch another person be infected by something horrible he had a hand in creating. Which is easy to infer from that scene, but it was nice that it was a conscious decision on André's part, rather than aimless direction.)

-the first scene André and Nick filmed together was Luis and Leon chained up together! and the first line of Luis's that got revealed was when he said to Leon, "I guess you, me... picked the wrong spot to vacation, eh?" Apparently the mocap for this scene was also very awkward for André, which is totally understandable, considering Luis spends 90% of it getting jerked around by Leon or trying to dodge a Ganado without the use of his hands lol. (timestamp)

-André worked very hard to make sure that Luis's accent was as accurate to Spain's Spanish as it could be, which is awesome, especially for someone who doesn't naturally speak that particular dialect. GOOD ACTING, BABEY (timestamp)

-André owns a legitimate Red 9 gun, the weapon that Luis uses in the game. this is a unique gun bc it was manufactured during the first World War, and it's VERY expensive(they can go up to $10k, but André apparently got his for a great deal!). he also has MADE a copy of the RE4 tactical knife Leon uses, and there's a video up on his youtube channel! (timestamp)

-(not related to Luis, but André also mentioned he has adhd! same buddy!!!) (timestamp)

-OKAY NEW STREAM TIME! This begins part four of Nick's playthrough, and André is a guest once more. All the previous facts are from part one, which is the first one André guested on. According to Nick, André learned how to flip a lighter around his fingers just for Luis, which is awesome. (and he shows off by doing so in stream!!!) (timestamp)

-Ashley's VA, Genevieve Buechner, got asked about her reaction to Luis' infamous "ballistics" line and both her and André aren't sad to see it missing from the remake. André himself makes a comment about how this version of Luis is still flirty without coming across as "creepy" about it. (i find the ballistics line from the original annoying, and it was a huge part of why i didn't care for Luis in og re4, so i too am VERY glad it's gone) (timestamp)

-André jokes about Luis breaking the brake on the minecart: "I react so depressed, like.... 'Guess that's it, bro.' 'Hey man, I tried.'" He really does! it feels like a mix of sheepishness at breaking it in the first place, and just very, resigned and depressed lol. (timestamp)

-Sadly, because he hadn't played up to that point yet, he didn't watch Luis' death scene, and therefore didn't have much to say on it :c

-when the cast was asked what kind of pet each of their characters would have, André said Luis would be a cat person, and he'd probably specifically adopt a stray cat, probably one that "adopted" him first. I definitely agree! (timestamp)

i havent watched Nick's last vid in the series yet but this is long enough as it is! im planning on watching some of André's streams up on his personal channel, and some others where he's a guest in, and i may make a part 2 of this :D (update: i did, link at the top of the post lol)

#luis serra #luis serra navarro

[fullofgutsndopamine]

“Look,” hasan huffs, his longs between his ear and shoulder, “i don’t fuckin know either.” he watches the water boiling that’s threatening to over boil and spill onto the oven any second, “but my girl all but asked for it, so-“

the person on the other line snorts, which makes hasan roll his eyes. they speak first:

“my girl,” the voice mocks, “i thought you hated valentine’s day-“

“fuck valentine’s day.” hasan confirms with a nod, even though they can’t see him.

“right,” the other voice, Mike, confirms, “So if it’s fuck Valentine’s then why in the world are we celebrating it, much less cooking. you’re a horrible fucking cook, actually-“

“thanks for the confidence, dude,” Hasan huffs, just as water pours over the side of the pan and bubbles onto the stove. “fuck, i’ll call you back.”

he doesn’t give him time to answer before chucking the phone on the counter, running over to turn the flame down.

“no,no, no, no. fuck, dude.”

he grabs the spoon, stirs around what’s left in the pot before groaning.

this was suppose to be perfect. this has to be perfect.

look, hasan doesn’t like valentine’s day. in fact, he borders on hating it, but when he met her, when she talked about how romantic the holiday was, the small gestures were so nice-well, she had a way to make people fall in love. hasan knows this first hand.

hasan knows she’s due to his door any minute. she was so fucking excited to text him-hasan hasn’t noticed he chewed his nails so low, was so anxious about getting it right for once.

he checks the flowers on the counter, with the obnoxious bow he re did again and again until his fingers ached and throbbed-thirty minutes ago, they seemed perfect-the most ideal flowers he could find. now, as shadows cast in the small apartment he imagines the leaves are more wilted, the browning spots

he grabs his phone, seconds away from cancelling, asking for a second chance (ignoring the part of him that aches at the idea of not seeing her, much less disappointing her, but he has to get it right, needs to)

the knock is quiet, but loud enough to set Kaya off, loud barks echo through his house.

“fuck!”

he wipes his hands at the apron around his waist, stained from the failed meal he tried to create-her favorite, something he had never heard before but mentioned on a date that he scribbled on a stained cocktail napkin and shoved deep into his jeans- he takes a second, checks his hair in the mirror by the door, messed form his hands running though it, opens the door before he can overthink it.

“Hey!” she smiles, standing straight when she sees him, “happy valentine’s day!”

she also looks nervous, a small bag in her hands that she has a death grip on. she invites herself further into the house before she can regret it, pulls him by his shirt for their lips to collide, crash into one another.

he giggles: “what’s that about?”

his face is bright pink and he fumbles with his glasses like he does when he’s nervous. she shrugs like it’s nothing, like she wasn’t thinking about it the entire drive over here:

“missed you, is all. it’s the best holiday after all.”

his hand is tangled into hers as he leads to the kitchen.

“listen,” he sighs, “i fucked dinner up-“

she immediately goes to the scene of the crime, grabbing the spoon and half empty packets of food, immediately going to work.

“it’s suppose to be valentine’s day,” he groans, “you aren’t suppose to do the work.”

she rolls his eyes: “valentine’s day doesn’t mean i can’t cook-and no, it doesn’t make you sexist for making me cook, before you say it.”

“grab some cheese,” she hums, turning the flame back on the stove and stirring the water, “you didn’t ruin it, i promise.”

hasan obeys, grabs the ingredients, comes back and carefully, slowly, the apron goes around your head, can feel as his hands grab the back of it and ties it for you.

“co chef.” you insist, “this is perfect.”

“this isn’t how i imagined valentine’s day.” he sighs, tries to hide how disappointed he is.

“really?” she says carefully, “this is just how i imagined it. this is perfect.”

“you’re just saying that.”

instead, his hand snake around her waist, his head fits right in the crook of her neck, peppering kisses there.

“happy valentine’s day.” it comes out quietly, unsure, from him.

she reads his mind:

“it’s perfect.” she smiles instead. “happy valentine’s day.”

#caroline writes #hasanabi #hasanabi x reader #hasanabi x y/n #hasanabi x you #hasan #hasan piker x you #hasan piker x y/n #hasan piker fanfic #hasan piker fanfiction #hasan piker imagine #hasan x reader #hasan piker x reader #hasan piker

[pavardscherie]

― what i deserve ;; pablo gavi & pedri gonzalez ;; first snippet

⤷ pairing: pablo gavi x f!reader ;; pedri gonzalez x f!reader ⤷ summary: your relationship with gavi ended after he cheated on you. a year has passed, pedri always checked up on you with small messages until he invited you to one of the home games. somewhere between losing your heart to pedri; gavi still attempts to get you back. ⤷ warnings: curse words ;; injuries ;; mentions of blood ;; hand around throat ;; explicit sex scenes ;; asshole!gavi ;; cheating ;; violence in fights ;; spanking ;; dom & sub ;; dirty talk ;; teasing ;; very deep feelings & conversations ;; slight triangle thing but not most of the time ;; second chances kinda ;; friends to lovers ;; not proofread & probably horrible written kiss scenes lol ⤷ izzy's non-sense talk: a little, first snippet of what's coming, soon soon. my obsession with pedri is becoming unhealthy. loved the responses on the pov, so we're starting this & i really hope, the responses are good lol

Gavi was forced to watch, how Pedri's strong arms engulfed you in a comfortable, and tight hug. Lips pursed, blowing gentle kisses on the crown of your hair. Lips stretched out, a sweet smile appearing on your crimson-red colored mouth.

He never felt anxious around people, being in the middle of a crowd always was a large part of his current occupancy. But he was, as soon as you appeared close, and yet, so out of reach, to him.

Before you stepped into his life again, Gavi didn’t miss an inch of you. And even if it sounded brutal to state speak the truth, as the fame rose around the midfielder, he quietly enjoyed the attention of multiple women more than being bound to one. He was too young, too dumb to even realize what he threw away.

You could be in the middle of the stands, like the past games, wearing a jersey with his name on the back, with his number, and screaming his name so loud and cheerful. Instead, Pedri’s name decorated the Barcelona jersey, and he dedicated each goal to you after the Pedri Potter gesture. A heart in your direction, giving Gavi a reason for the aching pain in his chest afterwards.

It was brutal to see Pedri with you, he wished him the entire happiness of the world — just not with you by his side. You belonged to him first, his property, he marked all the places Pedri touched at night. The thin material of his jersey in one hand, Gavi pulled it up to wipe away the beads of sweat across his face.

And yet, he did not think about the fact that he flashed his trained stomach to the cameras, and the quick glance of your eyes in his direction. Merely seconds to take in the muscular package, before your attention focused completely on Pedri’s gentle touch again. Unfortunately for you, your gaze drifted way too slowly over Gavi’s frame, and he caught the small glance. Lips curled, a smug smirk plastered across his face when he realized, you still felt something, anything, for him.

A little spark must still burn in the pit of stomach, in the far corner of your chest, when he stepped into the room. The cold mask you applied over your sweet face for him didn’t match the genuine personality your carried like featherlight weight on your shoulders.

But Gavi walked out on you way too many times, taking a piece of your love with him each night. You wasted all your tears on him, until they dried quicker than they could fall down your cheeks. Somehow, over the months, it became easier for you to say goodbye to people than greet them in your life. You never wanted to feel this kind of pain again, attempted to lock yourself away from any feeling related to loving someone, because the fear of being pushed into the dirt over again, would be too much for your innocent soul.

Unfortunately, your plans failed ultimately when you accepted the first invitation to the game at Camp Nou. Pedri declined the choice you made, breaking down walls that were created over months, and opening his arms to let you fall again. What a fool you were, to believe, you could avoid Gavi, ignore his presence, or completely forget the feeling that still lingered, locked away, inside of you.

But he broke your heart too often, too careless; and the chance of winning you back slipped away when he walked out the door of your apartment that one night.

Rough fingertips placed underneath your chin, tilting your head upward to connect your unfocused gaze with Pedri's attentive stare. "Am I allowed to kiss you, or do you fear getting called my girlfriend by the newspapers?" The question was a gentle whisper, not just asking for your permission but also, the desire of wanting to know your deeper thoughts about what happened between the two of you.

Declining the gesture, the addictive taste of his pillow-like lips; would cause an unwanted amount of friction; and new questions in Pedri's head about what your honest intentions with him were. Accepting the kiss without sharing a doubt would put a title over your person, giving the confused fans and reporters exactly what they wanted for another headline about the popular midfielder.

It would cause Gavi at least a slight amount of pain, a piercing pain in his chest while witnessing the loving interaction between his best friend, and the woman he refused to keep by his side.

And somehow, the last thought of fucking up Gavi's confidence, his unchanging opinion about getting you back without doing anything, gave you enough confidence to stand on your tip-toes, lipstick-covered lips pressed against Pedri's. His arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you into his chest within the first second and gently kissing you back.

The fans that stayed behind for the celebration, hoping to capture the attention of one of the younger players, shared their opinions with loud screams and cheers. Words flew through the warm evening air but never reached your ears. The camera's around the pitch clicked, taking multiple pictures with flashlights to capture the perfect moment of the surprising action.

All over the newspapers, where you never wanted to read your name or see your face. Yet, you felt a warm, comforting feeling bubble in your stomach as Pedri pulled you as close as possible.

#football blurb #football drabble #football imagine #football fans #fc barcelona imagine #fc barcelona #fc barca #fc barca imagine #fc barcelona drabble #gavi #pablo gavi #gavi blurb #gavi x reader #gavi imagine #gavi fanfic #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi fanfic #pedro gonzalez #pedri and gavi #pedri fanfic #pedrito #pedri gonzalez #pedri imagine #pedri x you #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez x reader

[lavender--fairy]

The Nervous Breakdown

The Nervous Breakdown

“The true vine (and what creates your circumstance) is your own wonderful human imagination. When you believe this you will no longer imagine as you formerly did, but will prune your thoughts every minute of every day*. You will break the habit of feeling remorseful, depressed, or regretful. You will no longer think unkindly about another, because you will know that he is actually yourself pushed out, and appeared in your world because the Father in you called him.” –* Neville "You are dreaming. If you try to make your dream come true while doubting its possibility, you are heading toward a nervous breakdown*. But if you go all out in your wonderful claim, you will fulfill it, for all things are possible to the God you are, for you are the God of whom the Bible speaks." -* Neville

I want to draw your attention to why people have anxiety in regards to manifesting. Notice what Neville says, "Doubting its possibility." This is true.

I cannot begin to tell you how many times I had a nervous breakdown with practicing these teachings. Many of you think of me as a good teacher or someone who understands this information, but I am telling you, I have failed more times that I care to admit. I honestly feel that I have made every mistake Neville speaks about and some. Sometimes I read them and I laugh to myself because I remember when I did that.

What Neville is saying here is 100% true. Every time I had horrible anxiety about my desire, it was because of 2 things:

I doubted that it could come to pass. I desperately wanted it to come but I doubted it could. I lived on "hope" which made me feel anxious. Why did I doubt? Because I would tell myself all the reasons why it could not happen, it seemed "too far-fetched."

I looked to the outside all day long for signs or confirmation that what I want is either coming or is possible.

Now, this is thinking-of your desire. This is hoping it will come. Hope is a great thing. Hope is desire. But,

"hope deferred makes the heart go sick, but a desire fulfilled is the tree of life." - Pslam 13:12

Hope is your desire, but it up to you to fulfill it.

Now, let's look at the opposite. This is "thinking-from" your desire which will cause you peace and ease.

I know it will come to pass. I know it will because Consciousness is the only reality, and what I do in consciousness it will be duplicated here. You assume NOT for it to be so, but because it IS so.

I only look within for confirmation. It is my Word over everything. If I say I Am within, then I Am.

Notice in the first quote Neville says that remorseful, depressive and regretful thinking is habitual. It is. It truly is habit. There is not logical reason why you should dwell on past mistakes and past hurts all day long. It is habitual to think this way. Neville is saying you break this habitual thinking when you prune the vine. The best way to prune your vine is to assume a new thought and know it to be so. You know you have accepted when you feel the joy it brings or relief.

Now, do not mistake this for"faking" it. I am totally against the idea of "fake it till you make it." The reason I am against it is because there is no reason to. Anyone who tells you to do that simply does not know enough information on the Law.

You will not have to fake anything when you have a firm understanding on consciousness being the only reality.

When you understand these teachings on a deep level and the only way to get deep is to test it, you will be able to bring yourself into the States you want on command. Neville tells you this, that with practice, over time you will be able to change States (attitudes) when you want.

For example, I was at dinner recently, and I felt unconfident and I felt anxious to be there. I did not have time to lay down and do a meditation or induce a state akin to sleep. But since I have been doing this daily for a while now, I am able to change my feeling quickly. I am able with no words, change how I feel inside and I will act on it quickly. I went from feeling unconfident and anxious to confident knowing I can answer can questions and comfortable knowing I do not need approval from men, with no words. I can stop the anxiousness and switch it to what I want. There are times where it is more challenging and I do have to sit and contemplate on what is happening within me.

The more you test it, the more you start to trust yourself.

Again, it IS so. Not is will be one day in the future. It IS so.

Neville stresses that time and time again. It is that little distinction that can make a huge difference.

cr:Edwardartsupplyhands

#lavendiary #manifesting #manifestation #law of assumption #master manifestor #motivation #neville goddard #loa blog #loa motivation #law of manifestation #law #edwardart

[freyjhasdesiredreality]

The Witch and The Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

(Credits to GIF owner)

A/N 1: Hey guys! This has been in my drafts for so long. Although it's only 2.1k words, there is so much going on in this story, so I basically thinking about making this a serie. But instead of a complete serie, I'm thinking something like a sitcom. Like it's a world that you are the main character but every part will have a different adventure, I hope I'm clear lmao let me know what you think please!!

A/N 2: These events happen between Civil War and Ragnarok. They pretty much happen at the same time but I changed it a little so it could fit what's in my mind! So basically Ragnarok will happen later after this story. Okay? Okay!

A/N 3: Please bare with my grammar mistakes, English is not my first language!

WC: 2.1k+

Warnings: Mention of trigger words, Bucky being depressed, mention of HYDRA, let me know if I missed any!!

Bucky and Steve landed in Wakanda, relieved to be in a safe haven after their harrowing escape from the US government. Steve had told Bucky that he had a friend in Wakanda who could help him get back on his feet, and now it was time to make good on that promise.

Even though, Shuri ensured them they can help him, it was obvious it was going to take a lot of time. Meanwhile he would need to be put in cryo. Steve didn't want that. He didn't want to see Bucky suffer any more longer.

"No other way? Are you sure about that?" Steve asked Shuri.

Shuri knew Steve was worried about his friend. "I'm sorry Captain Rogers, I'm afraid I can't work as fast as I can with a fully functional brain. It needs to be calm so I don't do any mistake."

While Steve considered his options, Bucky was trying to convince himself everything would be okay. It was not HYDRA, he was in Wakanda and after he was put in cryo, he would wake up as a different man.

"I don't trust myself Steve," he said with a broken tone. "If it's the only way, I accept what it requires."

Steve knew that look. He wasn't sure so he didn't just want to accept and then it hit him. "What if I said I know a friend who could actually help us? She is a powerful witch and extremely experienced. I'm sure she would accept to help you," Steve said, hoping he would accept.

"Why would she want to help me?" Bucky asked, sounding even more hopeless.

"You'll understand when you see her."

-

You, Y/N Odinsdottir Heladottir, were one of the strongest witch in nine realms. You didn't have a father. Your mother Hela, created you from the souls that Asgard lost during battles and Yggdrasil gave you life. You became the goddess of reality. Your powers were raw and unlimited, that's why Hela wanted to train you as fast as possible so you could be a strong warrior among her side for the throne. After Odin banished Hela from Asgard, he took you as his own daughter and Frigga announced you to Thor and Loki as their sister.

Loki adored you immediately. He knew you were special and promised himself, he would do anything to protect this little angel that is his new sister. He could feel your magic. He made a mentally note to train you when you grow up.

-

"I think, she is the goddess of reality, which I don't know what it means, but she was trained to read and control minds. I don't exactly know the limit of her powers but she is a strong one Buck," Steve said hoping he would calm down a little.

"You said she can read minds, I don't want a stranger to see horrible things I've done. What if she saw them and refuse to help me?" Bucky said panicking. He had a chance to get rid of his past but the thought of being rejected made him anxious more than he already was.

"I tell you she's not like that, don't you trust me?" Steve seemed a little heartbroken.

"Don't get me wrong, I knew we were best friends, brothers actually but I don't exactly remember those days Steve. I don't feel that kind of trust just yet," Bucky admitted and just wanted to slap himself. "Why the hell I said that, what is wrong with you? Now he won't help you," he thought.

"Just say yes and she'll be here in no time I promise. I always keep my promise, Buck."

"Okay. I-I want to meet her."

-

"Look I'm not an expert on Asgard but we look like bunch of punks, Steve."

For the last 5 minutes, Steve were yelling your name to the sky, hoping you would hear and come. While he was trying, T'Challa approached to them.

"There is a woman in Shuri's lab, asking for you Captain Rogers. She said you called her," the king said, trying to hide his laugh. "She came from the sky, I thought you brought war to us," he joked.

"I would never do that your highness," Steve laughed. "Come on Buck, let's not keep her waiting, she is a little impatient."

"Is that why we have been yelling to the air last couple of minutes?"

-

"Your technology is impressive comparing to the rest of the world!" you cheered when Shuri showed off her gadgets to you. You both immediately got along well. She spilled the beans about why Steve called you. You suggested to do everything together with Shuri, using your magic and her technology.

"Thank you, thank you princess Y/N. Your magic is quite killer as well," she smiled widely. "Oh, here comes the white boys!" she called.

"I feel like we always meet in extreme circumstances," Steve smiled and hugged you tightly. "How are you, Y/N?"

"I've had better days, unfortunately we lost Loki a while ago, during a war," you said trying to hide your pain.

"We didn't have great memories with him but I know you loved him, I'm sorry for your loss," he patted your back.

You looked behind him and saw a brunette overthinking about everything and a chaos in his mind. You didn't want to just invade his brain but his thoughts were extremely loud so you wanted to help him. "Hi, I'm Y/N," you offered your hand to shake which he gladly took.

"I'm Bucky," he said nervously. He was sure you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. You blushed lightly and when he realised, he was sure you read his mind. That made him blush too.

There was a thick tension between you, you were sure Shuri and Steve were trying to hide their laughs but you didn't care. "Shuri told me why you needed me, so when do we start?" you cheered, looking at Bucky with big eyes.

"You want to help me?" Bucky said, his eyes filled with hope. "Yes, of course Bucky! I'll do anything I can," you offered him a warm smile. He smiled back, already feeling better.

-

"You are in pain Bucky, I can feel that," you stopped with magic. Last few months have been hard on Bucky. He had to remember every single thing HYDRA had done to him and getting rid of those memories' chains. You didn't even made him remember what he had done to people but even this part were really painful to him.

"I can take it, please continue," Bucky nearly begged you. You were sure he couldn't take it anymore without going crazy so you wanted to stop a little until he feels better again.

"How about I tell you another story of my life in Asgard while you rest? I promise we'll continue then," you offered him a smile, put your hand on his shoulder to ensure him that you are here.

You've been doing this for a long time, whenever he felt overwhelmed, you stopped what you're doing and helped him relax while you told him stories about Asgard. You told him about the palace, the Valkyrie, your mom and dad, your brothers, Thor and Loki and Heimdall. He loved those stories. Every time you tell him, he learned something about you. You were so close with Loki and your mom, Frigga. Odin favoured Thor, that's why you always felt left out. From the colour you loved the most to the planet you loved to be in, he learned every little thing about you.

"That sounds good," he smiled back and laid down.

-

"Loki! Look how fast I am!" You shouted at your brother while riding a horse.

"Be careful my love, you might fall." Loki watched you closely. You were his soft spot. You were sure no one would love you more than he does.

"My children, it's almost time for dinner." Frigga called you both from balcony.

"We're coming mot-" he was interrupted by your scream.

"Loki!" His eyes filled with horror when he saw you crying on the ground, holding your knee. He ran to you so fast and leaned over.

"Hey hey, shh. Calm down pumpkin it's okay. I'm here, you're fine. How did you fall?" He smoothed you.

"S-she saw a snake and scared." You hugged him tight.

"I'll pick you up now and we'll see Eir, alright?"

"O-okay"

-

"And then father forbade him to see me again."

"But you didn't listen," Bucky laughed.

"Of course we didn't," you smirked.

-

"I want to see my brother!" You shouted with your lungs out crying.

"Thor is already here, Y/N."

"I want Loki!" you kept crying as loud as you can. You knew if you did your mother couldn't stand it anymore.

"Enough Y/N! I said you can't see Loki, he's dangerous! He couldn't protect you!" Odin shouted. You were shocked. Tears were flowing from your eyes but no words came out of your mouth.

"That's enough! You scared her enough. I'm taking her to her chambers," Frigga said to Odin, took you in her arms and left.

It didn't matter how much she soothed you, you refused to calm down. She could see you were exhausted but resisting to sleep.

"Oh my little peach, you really want Loki, don't you?"

You nodded your head vigorously, still crying. Frigga gently brushed your hair and wiped away your tears.

"I understand how you feel, my love. You and Loki have a special bond, and it's not fair for Odin to keep you apart. But you must trust me when I say that he's doing it to protect you," she explained softly.

"But why does he think Loki is dangerous?" you asked, sniffling.

"Your father has his reasons, but I believe that Loki is not the monster that Odin sees him as. He's your brother, and he loves you very much. I promise you, we will find a way to make things right."

Frigga held you close until you finally fell asleep. The next day, she called for Thor and told him to bring Loki to her chambers. When he arrived, she sat Loki down and spoke to him.

"My son, I know how much you love each other with your sister, and I can no longer stand to see you separated like this. Y/N is heartbroken without you, and I think it's time that you to understand the gravity of the situation," Frigga said, looking at him sternly.

"Odin believes that you are dangerous, and he's afraid that you might harm Y/N. But I know that you would never hurt your sister. However, you must promise me that you'll never put her in harm's way. Do you understand?"

Loki nodded solemnly, "I would never hurt her, mother. Ever," he felt offended a little. Frigga smiled at him.

"Good. Now go and make up for lost time, and be sure to never let anyone come between your bond as siblings."

You ran towards Loki as soon as he stood up, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly. Loki smiled down at you, and you knew that everything was going to be alright.

"No one is strong enough to break our bond, my little princess."

-

"You really liked Loki then," Bucky asked, feeling a little jealous but covering it with a smile. He knew he shouldn't be jealous, Loki was your brother after all. But he kind of wanted that bond with you, maybe even more. He wanted to keep you on his side, protect you at any cost. Even though he knew, you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself, even more than he can but it didn't matter to him.

"You don't have to be jealous Bucky," you laughed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to read your mind, it's just, you were thinking too loud and I thought there was a chaos going on in your mind," you said blushing.

"It's okay and I-uh," he sighed, trying to collect his words. "I just like to spend time with you, I mean you are so good to me and you know I- I would like to spend more time with you, other than just you helping me with this trigger words. You know, ma-maybe we could go to beach and watch sunset like that," he couldn't believe himself and how he couldn't just shut up. He looked away, he didn't want to see rejection in your eyes.

"I think that would be lovely, maybe you'll tell me your stories in 40's? I shouldn't be the only story teller, should I?" you grinned cheek to cheek. Seeing him relaxed after your answer made you even more happier. "But first, let's get through with this session, shall we?"

"We shall, doll."

A/N: Like and reblogs are appreciated! Let me know if you want more of this series!

#bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x witch!reader #bucky barnes x asgardian!reader #buckybarnes #loki x sister!reader #bucky barnes x goddess!reader #y/n heladottir #y/n odinsdottir

[the-air-nomad]

when the moon falls in love

You were just an ordinary child from the Northern Water Tribe. Your father was one of the priests of La and your mother was a housewife like the vast majority of women in your tribe.

 You had a happy and fun childhood until one evening when your father came home strangely happy.

 As a child, it seemed strange to you to see the man as cold and rigid as a piece of ice smiling.

You became anxious when you noticed that your mother was trying to mask her anxiety with curiosity.

 Soon your father revealed that Chief Arnook wanted you to start having play dates with Princess Yue. 

Apparently, Master Pakku/Yagoda had praised your waterbending and intelligence.

The Chief thought you would be a beneficial influence for his daughter

At first you were happy, you understood too late that your father only wanted to use you to gain influence over the leaders. 

You met the princess the next morning. 

In the beginning, you understood each other very well, even if she was a bit shy. 

You became friends and started to love Yue more and more.

 She was adorable, always waiting for you with cakes and excited about any idea you had. 

When you got into trouble, she did everything she could to save you from punishment.

The first time you noticed that Yue wasn't as perfect as you thought she was was when you skipped a play date.

 It was a friend's birthday and you had completely forgotten about the princess.

 Chief Arnook was not happy and came to your house to talk to your father. 

Yue had cried all day and refused to eat or get out of bed. 

Of course, your father went absolutely crazy and punished you. He tried to slap you in front of Yue's father but your mother made you promise not to be selfish anymore. 

That upset you. Were you selfish? No way! Now you didn't want to see Yue anymore.

You had no choice, so the next day you apologized to the princess and her father. But from then on, you started not enjoying Yue's company anymore. 

She noticed that you no longer treated her with such warmth as before and tried to flatter you by giving you gifts. You told her to give up, which disappointed her.

 She tried to subtly threaten you by telling you that your fathers will not be happy if she is sad. 

You told her that you don't care and that you'd rather spend your time looking at your ceiling than looking at her.

 That made her bite her lip and burst into tears. 

You felt horrible and thought you were too mean to her.

 You hugged her and she told you about how she was born sick, she was blessed by Tui and her father was too protective and didn't let her have any friends. 

Now you wanted to dive into the ocean because of the shame you felt. Not allowed to have friends? This is so bad.

You continued to be her friend out of pity, even if sometimes she freaked you out with her jealousy and protectiveness, you were sorry to leave her alone locked in a boring palace. 

As you grew up, you thought more and more about marriage and how you would be able to forget about the palace and your father.

 Unfortunately for you, the others had other plans. So you were engaged to the princess.

You felt that the spirits liked to make fun of you. 

Then came the avatar and his two companions. 

Let's just say the whole tribe exploded when Master Pakku saw you trying to teach Katara waterbending. 

Yue looked half ready to pass out and half ready to kill Katara with her bare hands. 

Who did she think she was?! How dare that girl come into her house and steal the love of her life?!

Did I mention you were born to create drama?

When Katara confronted Master Pakku you defended her and spoke out against your sexist traditions.

 You decided that it would be good to have the support of the princess, so you gave her a tearful speech about how you want to make a better world for her and for your mother. 

Yue believed you the moment you mentioned your mother, she knew that you absolutely adored your mother.

Then came the siege and sacrifice of Yue. 

The sadness you felt surprised you.

 You shouldn't have been sad for Yue.

 But you should have been saddened by the loss of your freedom forever because Yue was ready to have you both in life and in the spirit world.

 And you couldn't do or say anything, 

what waterbender would dare fight the moon?

Although I do not own the characters from avatar the last airbender, this work belongs to me! I sincerely hope you liked it. please rate it and leave a comment! follow me to see my next posts! Don’t forget that the request are open💖💖💨

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#yue #yandere yue #avatar #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #chief arnook #yn #yue x reader #yandere x reader #avatar x reader #princess yue #Master Pakku #pakku #sokka #katara #aang #yandere avatar #yandere avatar the last airbender #appa #momo

[flowerchildasriel]

one thing that drives me bonkers about miraculous ladybug is that they just… don’t even seem to bother making Marinette even enjoy being a superhero. Like hear me out

If it was a badly written show where Marinette is eternally happy go lucky despite the whole universe having it out for her, that would be expected. Like in every other show in the world, she would face obstacle after obstacle and be sabotaged and give up personal goals and dreams and be chased after in her civilian identity and her superhero persona constantly with no rest all because she just loves being a superhero so much!!! Being flirted with constantly would make her happy and she’d probably even flirt back! Because she’s a character in a story and if the writers want to, they’ll just MAKE her do it.

But that’s not what happens in Miraculous Ladybug. No. Marinette is anxious every single day. She scrambles and crams and struggles and has a literal panic attack on screen. She’s breaking down and not enjoying a single moment of being a superhero, of being a guardian. She rebuffs the flirting, every single time, and she hates it. Visibly hates it, canonically asks him to stop, and when she’s not perfect in these horrible circumstances, she gets punished by the narrative. Marinette is abandoned frequently by her friends and partner, who leaves her to fight alone in what could explicitly mean the literal death of every person in Paris. She takes the sabotage of Lila personally, she feels the hurt everytime something goes wrong and uses it to make her feel even worse. Marinette is fighting so hard against the narrative and to nearly no results except her own pain.

And the writers let her do that.

I just want to know what the hell that means. Because it sounds like Marinette has agency, like she’s actively resisting the narrative choices. But she doesn’t… because she’s literally a character. THEY write her, they write her every action. If they are writing a cheery girly cute superhero story, why do they torment her and make her act like this? If they are writing a serious superhero drama show, why do they pretend that none of it matters at all and it’s just so much fun, when they make her act like this?

It’s honestly a little fascinating to me that she’s the lead character in this story, but the writers act like she’s their main enemy and she seems to fight tooth and nail against their writing decisions, when in reality she’s literally a creation at their whim. This whole problem that they’ve created? Is entirely of their own doing.

But then, we wouldn’t have our Best Girl Marinette and all her complexities.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang #thomas astruc #ml marinette #maribug #miraculous ladybug salt #ml salt #miraculous marinette #desi.txt