#but I will meditate on it since I want it to be out of pure intuition not fear
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I’m getting there I’m getting there I’m getting there I’m getting there I’m getting there.
messy creative vent
For creatives we are often told “it’s the journey not the destination” but to me it’s about feeling like “I’m not at the checkpoint I’d think I should (?) be at. (for years)” I realize it is a falling behind thing even tho the circumstances, I was place under were by no condition good so I shouldn’t feel bad for out of control blockages and I acknowledge that although it still sometimes seeing a part of me being expressed in others creations, sometimes envy cuts mental scares but rn it makes a part of my soul light up or , softly glow as a reminder to say it’s hurt no it feels powerless
I assume I’m sad but I have muted emotions.
#I WILL get to my creative goals#I have to remind myself that my path is very much carved hell paved I just have to go along with the ride#it’s not necessarily the destination it’s more of the check point I should be farther into the game but it seems I’m not#however I’m not spiritual but I do believe in the universe and ofc the gods#I already know my path I’ve felt it deep within my bones since I was a kid it just i don’t know#I see people doing what I’d want to do rn what I should have done for years now but I’ve been in fairly bad conditions to actual create#this years gonna be different I just don’t know in what way i have an idea#but I will meditate on it since I want it to be out of pure intuition not fear
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distracting yourself really works wonders, learn about the different states your brain goes into to help you achieve pure consciousness cos it really is that easy. just make sure you are relaxed first you want to enter this meditation with a clear mind so do some deep breathing first i promise it will help just do anything to take your mind off whatever u are stressing/thinking about when you feel more calm do your meditation!! ✨ i like to do alpha state first and i think the key (key for me anyway) is to set intention you are doing it for relaxation it will help you enter it knowing ur not trying to force it because you want instant manifestation that can be achieved ONCE ur aware ur in it, intend to yourself that you are doing it solely to relax that way you won’t keep focusing on your 3d or your senses you are purely focused on your mind. lie where you feel comfortable, personally i like to lie on top of my sheets i think it’s more of a subconscious signal if im getting into bed that im in there to sleep, i like to levitate my body against the pillows a bit to keep myself a bit more awake but not enough that it’s uncomfy for me🌟 have read many success stories about yoga nidra which first time i attempted i felt myself properly float it felt like i floated up to ceiling in my room was so freaky but i kept calm, second time i got to a point my heart accelerated so fast i couldn’t feel anything but my own heartbeat but i was also too tired to focus so fell asleep. but last night i purely did this for relaxation cos i already had the knowing i can manifest what i want when i enter, if i try to force it with the intention of manifesting i know ill keep focusing on my senses and 3d too much so i decided to just relax and not care which i think helps, reading upon your states help but delta state is probably the closest state to pure consciousness and yoga nidra helps with that. obviously you can do whatever you want, this is just what works for me, but don’t sit and read upon methods and methods i promise. you will know what works for you. do you prefer visualisation/day dreaming? is it something you’ve done since u were a kid to a point u forget about all ur surroundings? or do you prefer affirming? affirming to the point you focus on nothing but your affirmations? of you prefer just focusing on your breath? or do you like counting? point is you HAVE to find what works for you not trying to attempt what someone else did. i just happened to find yoga nidra really works for me cos i have adhd so i can’t focus on affirming for too long and this also just REALLY helps to relax my mind to a point anyway last night i actually forgot the video was even playing 😭 i was so relaxed i just started day dreaming, you know kinda how you fall asleep during a movie and wake up and realise you have missed part of the movie. yeah felt like that for me, i was so zoned out on imagining stuff i forgot the video was even playing and pretty sure i couldn’t even hear it either i also was sure i was in void state i just wasn’t aware of it i was only aware of my day dreams that i came back to my senses and was confused how it was near the end of the video it felt like i fell asleep for 5m but i wasn’t asleep i was aware. you all will be able to induce pure consciousness stop stressing, find a comfortable position, set your intention to do it for relaxation, breathe/affirm/daydream whatever u want and you’ll forget your surroundings completely! i was there last night i just wasn’t even aware of it i was too focused on imagining stuff lol and boom you will induce it!
the distraction method by @luckykiwiii101 works wonders as well omg 🤭
#void state#law of assumption#loa#reality shifting#pure consciousness#shifting consciousness#neville goddard#sammy ingram#manifesting#manifesation#void
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things that have helped me shift ⊹₊⟡⋆


DISCLAIMER, Just because I have shifted before doesn’t mean I am the Library of Alexandria. I’m a person just like you, learning as I go so I don’t have the answer to everything but I do try! I’m also not saying any of this will absolutely, 100% make you shift, but hopefully it can provide some perspective or insight into something you hadn’t thought about! !!! ANTIS DNI !!!
LANGUAGE — I’ve noticed since I first got into shifting that shifters will talk about/treat these realities like fanfiction or a role playing kinda thing??? It confused me before I had shifted because if this is real then why are people talking about themselves in the third person, or referring to others as “npc/non main characters”, or scripting in some crazy trauma for “fun”??? If you read anything of mine, you will notice I do not use words like “main character” or even “desired reality” because for me personally, it’s just reinforcing in my mind that this is not something that’s real or even close to something I can achieve.
Cut out third person language entirely. Stop referring to your “failed shifting attempts” as such, in fact, stop referencing it AT ALL. Stop keeping track. Stop referring to people in these realities as “main characters” or “npcs.” Stop coming back from an attempt thinking “damn I didn’t shift.”
INSTEAD, start saying that you shifted every time you attempt. “But I woke up in my O.R” who says? only you have a say in whatever reality you want to live in. Fake it til you make it. Start talking about people as they are, people. Use their names or nicknames. Watch a TikTok and think to yourself “yeah I’d send this to them.” FEEELLLLL IT. MAKE IT REAL TO YOUUUU.
LOGIC — After successfully shifting, I don’t tend to think about the “science” or “spiritual” side anymore BUT this is the logic that makes the most sense to me and is the simplest explanation I can think of. When you wake up in the morning, do you first check your phone or stand up to brush your teeth or stretch? Whatever path you choose is a shift in your reality. Every single choice you’ve ever made is a shift in your reality. As far as you know, if you checked your phone instead of stretching, you might pull something later on in the day that you wouldn’t have pulled had you stretched. But you didn’t. And now there’s a reality where you stretched, did the exact things, and didn’t pull a muscle because you stretched that morning.
THAT is reality shifting in its simplest form.
Manifesting can even be considered reality shifting because you’re shifting your current consciousness into one that is receiving said manifestion. The universe is infinite. Do not let the constrictions of others constrain you too.
“Yeah you can shift realities but not to those fantasy places like hogwarts, that’s not possible” why not? If you’ve just admitted can shift realities, why are “fantasy” realities so different to you? Because HERE in THIS reality, they are fantasy. In that reality, it is everyday, it is normal, it’s just another Tuesday. Shifting is simply becoming aware of your consciousness in another reality, similar to switching characters in video game like The Sims 4, from one plumbob to another and yes, that easy.
MEDITATION — You don’t need anything to shift realistically, but the one thing I recommend for anything is meditating. It’s a skill and, like any other, one that can be refined and perfected over time. Learning to get into a state of pure consciousness is a practice that existed for centuries, anybody can do it and doing it will only ever benefit you. You can meditate when you wake up, before you fall asleep, when you’re sitting up, WHENEVER! I’ve always felt better after a meditation, shifting related or not. It also helps me feel better when I don’t end up shifting because at least I’ve honed in and practiced that meditation technique, yk? Positives in everything!
OTHER PRACTICES — If nothing else, I recommend trying different spiritual practices and adding a lil sprinkle of shifting in there! This applies to religion as well in case that isn’t clear lol. If you don’t follow any specific spiritual practice, try pegan spell work (with protection and research ofc), research any herbs that aid in things like enhancing spiritual energy. If you pray to a God, you can “work” with your God in a sense to aid you in this personal journey, whether that be through journaling or actual prayer, prayer is an amazing manifestion technique and I do believe it can help with reality shifting considering it’s not against any religions. And if you don’t want to do any of this, come up with something for you and you only! A ritual can be anything you make it. You decide what works for you at the end of the day.
REMOVAL — This helped me the most in my opinion, I completely stepped away from online communities doing anything with reality shifting ( specifically shifttok ) and followed my own intuition of how to go about shifting, doing shadow work to figure out any blockages/questions I had, and just overall made shifting fun again for myself! The main thing I did was learn more about manifesting because the manifestion community does NOT play, they do not believe in limitations and they love LOA(ssumption) which is my fav so!
LUCID DREAMING — Not the actual act of lucid dreaming but learning about lucid dreaming and astral projection really makes you understand that anti shifters are so ignorant to what these things actually are it’s insane! People didn’t even believe that you could control your dreams 10-20 years ago, they genuinely thought dreams were just something that happens to you. Nowadays, we obviously know that you can control your dreams but this is just proof that nobody knows what they’re talking about fr. I guarantee you, a few years from now, people are gonna be talking about reality shifting the same way they talk about lucid dreaming, CASUALLY. Reality shifting is not some big thing of grandeur that only “special” people can do, the same way everyone can lucid dream, is the same way everyone can reality shift, and astral project.
All this is to say, stop fucking listening to other people LMAOOO. That’s gonna be my advice every single time because too much of anything will become a problem. Advice is good when you’re starting out and I don’t mind giving advice on that, but nobody knows you better than you know yourself, even if you don’t think you know what to do, I PROMISE you on everything, you know what’s best for you. You know what works, and you know what doesn’t, YOU KNOW. Believe yourself. Nobody else matters.
“you are the light. it’s not on you, it’s in you. don’t you ever in your motherfucking
life dim your light for nobody.”

#reality shifting#shiftblr#shifters#shifting antis dni#shifting community#shifting diary#shifting motivation#shifting storytime#shiftingrealities#desired reality#shifting blog#reality shifting motivation#solshifts🔅
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Solar return observations- Part 5

If you have Saturn in 12th then sleep well, that is....if you manage to fall asleep in the first place. (I have it this year and IT SUCKS, I have literally not been able to sleep, I've tried every single tea, every meditation, white noises, NOTHING WORKS, I also have mars in 12th, so I'm just fucking tired the whole time)
North node in 2nd is an indication that you'll start earning money for the very first time in your life, it doesn't have to be a full time job (I have seen this a lot of times when a person starts working for the first time, like a part time job or something. You get to experience what it's like to have "your" money)
I'm pretty sure that an astrologer has already said this, but I don't remember who, so I'll say it again, Uranus in 3rd means getting a new cycle, bike or car, basically anything that helps you with short distance travelling. (One of my friends have it this year and he already had a cycle but it got stolen and he just decided to buy a car, since he has money saved up for one)
This is very specific, but if you have Jupiter in 9th/ 11th then GO GET THAT RECOMMENDATION LETTER. (If you are graduating or planning to get a new job, this year is good for that. The years in which my sister, my friends or I have had this, our teachers, bosses or colleagues were SO impressed with us and we got really good reference letters, we slayed so hard in those years)
Vertex in 6th can be a VERY busy and exhausting year. Too many responsibilities and not enough knowledge of how to deal with them. (I had this the year in which I started living alone, It was also squaring my moon and dude, TW the suicidal ideation was STRONG. I wish I could give some sort of an advice but I don't know what to say, you just need to learn how to deal with the problems as they come)
Mercury square Neptune....the level of miscommunication is insane. (One of my closest friends has this and she...I love her but she's being very annoying. We were on a trip and she was talking to some people, so me and my other friend, we started clicking pictures, cuz we didn't want to disturb her and she comes up and says "why are you guys doing this without me, why are you not including me, if you don't wanna hang out with me anymore just say it" like GIRL) if you have this, don't start unnecessary drama, communication will be difficult so just stay quiet
Chiron in 12th is one of the shittiest years in regards to mental health, I hate this. (My friends have had this before and it's there in my 2025 solar return chart and I'm already dreading it. Everything bad that can happen...happens. I don't care what anyone says, this placement is just pure EWWWW and NOTHING can convince me otherwise)
Aries in 8th can be the year in which you lose your virginity (If you WANT to) I know quite a few people who had this the year they lost their V-card. (It's completely okay if you don't though, take your time and do it with a person who you trust and love, no pressure)
Mars in 9th is such a good placement for travelling and studies. (I had this in my 1st year of college, I remember I was so excited, studying was very easy, I loved learning new things and stuff, it was very nice. I was also travelling a lot, discovering new places. I had a lot of energy, really fun year)
Sun in 7th is a great placement if you want to work with others. (My mom has it this year and her business is ON FIRE, every time she has a meeting, it goes so well and she always gets a better deal than what she expected) this is a really good time for working with others, in partnerships. If you are a student, then you're going to do especially well in group projects.
(all pictures are taken from Pinterest)
© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024
#astrology content#astrology#astroblr#astrology community#solar return observations#solar return chart#solar return#astrology observations#astro notes#astro observations
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Eternal Flame (13) - Black Friday
Jenna Ortega x Female Reader
Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.
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Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part
Word Count: 5.7k
-I wanna be happy, could you show me how it's done?-
When Hugh took you to Ethiopia you didn't think you would be spending half the day raking leaves with him. “I thought we were on a vacation,” you said roughly four hours into the manual labor he's been putting you through. Granted, he was right there with you, doing the same thing, so at least that made it fair to an extent. His kids and wife smartly avoided this activity and were in a warm house, drinking coffee and getting to know the locals.
“No harm in some work,” Hugh figured, getting up and wincing as he straightened his back. Oh yeah, he was several decades older than, you frankly you were almost sorry for him right now. “We'll sleep a lot better tonight.”
You did have troubles sleeping, so maybe that’s what he was trying to do.
“Yeah, that's right. Keep finding the positive in everything. I’ll ask you what you think tomorrow, when it turns out that your back is hurting, because you couldn't let a twenty-year-old do a better job than you,” and stupidly you got competitive as well. At least you did things a lot faster since you both wanted to see which one of you could do the job faster and better. As it turns out, being young did have advantages in this particular situation.
“I let you win,” he said as he leaned on the rake, but not too hard though, as you were both afraid that leaning on them properly might make them snap, and that would be an embarrassing way to fall to the ground.
You rolled your eyes, amused by his refusal to accept loss with grace. “So, what's really the point of all this? You've had me working, had me meditating, hell, nearly roped me into doing yoga with you. Come on, spill it,” you said once you began making your way back to the shed to leave the raked before going back to where Deb and Hugh’s kids were.
“You really should try yoga though,” he was trying to change the subject, to avoid answering your question and you just turned to face him, meeting his eyes and just studying him for a moment. And then he slumped slightly, giving in to your silent demand. “I'm trying to keep you occupied, I guess, not sure if that will do any good, but we might as well start somewhere.”
The expression on your face softened as Hugh said that. You could have figured as much. “You're being ridiculous, but I appreciate it,” the truth was that you probably didn't have any idea how to approach what you were feeling and going through either, and he was just scrambling to try and do something. He was making an effort while hoping that maybe one of those things would work for you, and some were actually working.
The first few days he had to pull you to sit down and meditate with him, but this morning you sat down next to him all on your own. For what it was worth you did appreciate spending ten minutes purely on yourself, being in no rush to do anything, feeling no pressure, having no deep thoughts plaguing your mind. It was just ten minutes, and in that brief period of time you could take a moment and relax. Somehow, starting the day like that was good for you, it was making you feel calm at the start of the day instead of tense as you usually were.
And despite the occasional joking complaints you made about the vacation turning into a glorified test of your stamina, you enjoyed yourself. You were gaining a new perspective on life in general, something to help you look at things from a different point of view. And throughout all of that the ring hanging from your neck brushed against your skin and reminded you that at the end of the day this all had to be worth it.
~X~
There has never been a January this miserable in Jenna's life, filled with so much despair and sorrow and exhausting conversations with her family. All of them, mostly her parents, but also her siblings, aside from Aliyah who saw how she was at the airport, were repeating that you weren't good for her. Repeating that she was like this because of you, that she was difficult to talk to, that she was miserable, that she had a short temper and wasn't pleasant to be around, all because of you.
Eventually she just packed her bag and went back to LA, cutting her family time short, because she could no longer take constantly hearing that. The worst thing about it was that it was getting to her head, and she feared that when, and if, she ever got the chance to see you again, that all those words her family kept repeating would end up reaching her. That the moment she saw you that she would start thinking whatever she had with you wasn't worth losing the support of her family.
And yet, as conflicted as she felt, she still often found herself with your shirt close to her and with your jacket around her shoulders as she went and did some small tasks all around her house. She couldn't quite wear it, the sleeves were too long for her, so she just tied the sleeves around her neck and went about her day. She was all alone so who cared if she looked a bit ridiculous.
From what Barbara told her, and she knew Barbara was only giving her the bare bones as far as the information went, you finished filming in Italy and went on a vacation with Hugh and his family. And despite everything Jenna almost felt bitter, thinking you moved on, that you decided to keep living your life with or without her in it, while she was here, having her world falling apart. If it turned out this between you couldn’t be fixed, then yeah, both of you had every right to move on. She just felt, in despair, that you did it way too quickly.
Her doorbell rang just as she finished washing the few dishes she used for her lunch, and she took your jacket off and hung it on the chair before going to her front door. Enrique said he would drop by, and this had to be him, and sure enough when she looked through the camera in front of her apartment building's front door she found him standing there. Jenna quickly opened the door and the front door of her apartment for him, and he came inside, meeting her in the hallway and she just hugged him soon as he was close enough.
“There, there, it's OK, you can cry,” he told her. By now he knew more or less what happened. He didn't know why you began fighting in the first place but he knew everything else. And while she could allow herself to cry in front of him Jenna honestly didn't have any tears left to shed, she spent so many nights crying herself to sleep that she was just tired of crying.
She let go of him and smiled a bit. “Let's just sit down. Do you want something to eat or drink? Anything?” Enrique just brushed her off, showing her he brought hot chocolate to go along, and Jenna was thankful for the a bit of thoughtfulness from someone who cared about her.
“Y/N’s jacket?” Enrique pointed at the jacket hanging from her chair as Jenna sat down.
She nodded. “I miss her,” she confessed softly. You weren’t talking and that was only making things worse right now. “But I don’t think my parents will ever accept her.”
Enrique leaned back in his chair. “Well, I'm here to fix that,” Enrique promised her, and somehow, she believed him. “So, how about you fill me in on the things I don't know,” he asked, and Jenna began. She told him everything she knew, that your parents were in an accident, were left in a coma and that you needed money. That you sold your apartment and that it still wasn't enough, so you went and got involved in a fight club. She told him all of that, and that it wasn't enough, that your parents couldn't be saved, and that you then, despite no longer having to fight, went and fought again, and Enrique just sat there listening taking it all in.
“You know, and this might just be me, but I think it's beautiful. You know, what she did,” his words took her by surprise, she had no idea how he could even come to that conclusion. You went and you hurt people, and you let others hurt you for money. How could that have been beautiful in any way? “Now, hear me out, I know how it sounds. But think about it. Y/N loved her parents so much that she didn't care what she had to endure to try and save them, she didn't get involved in that out of greed or a desire to hurt people, she went and fought because that was her only hope.”
Jenna just sat there, taking his words in. She hadn’t even thought about it that way, in her mind and in her entire family's opinion there was no excuse for what you did, there was nothing but violence in it, even if they understood the circumstances. Well, at least for the period while your parents were in a coma, and you were fighting for them.
“Just think about how much you would have to love someone to be sixteen and willingly go through so much pain, just for a slim chance that you could save that someone you love. Jenna, I've seen the way she looks at you, and you've seen it too. Your parents worry she would end up hurting you one day, but the way I see it there is a good chance she's the person you'll be safest with,” it felt like everything she thought she knew and everything she thought she felt was thrown on its head and changed in an instant. Like there was suddenly some kind of light shining through the clouds and making her see things differently.
“She went back, Enrique,” she fell back on repeating the arguments her parents kept making, afraid that if he convinced her, that she would only break. That she would ignore everything her parents wanted and do everything in her power to rebuild what the two of you had.
“Jenna, she was broken by grief. Y/N just lost her entire family, you said she fought for months to try and keep them alive, and she failed. So, she went and chose an unhealthy coping mechanism,” a lot like plenty of other people, and finally it all just made sense to Jenna, she understood what Enrique was trying to say. Yet it came too late, now it only made her feel worse that she didn't even consider these options, that she didn't even try to understand you and that she just pushed you away.
“I'm too late. I doubt she would ever want to see me again and I can't even blame her,” clearly not all of her tears were dried up, because here she was, crying once again. Enrique just pulled her into a hug, trying to console her and help her through this.
“You don't know that. Hey, we've both seen how she looks at you! I've spent just a couple of hours with her and even I can tell that girl unconditionally loves you!” and yet she went and risked it all over an impulsive reaction and her need to not go against her parents in that very moment.
The phone buzzed next to her, and her and Enrique saw it was from Barbara. “See what she sent,” Enrique encouraged her and Jenna unlocked her phone, and while making sure that Enrique could see it as well, she opened the message. Her eyes widened; Barbara had sent her a photo. It was you, in a place she couldn't recognize, drinking coffee it seemed, and just sitting by the fire with a small smile on your face, but what caught her eye wasn't your expression nor anything else about you, it was her ring clearly on display, hanging from the necklace around your neck.
“See, I told you,” Enrique patted her on the back and Jenna smiled as she spent who knows how long just silently staring at the picture. She stared, taking in the way the fire was reflected in your eyes, the smile on your face was honest, but there was a sense of sorrow in it, like you were constantly missing something. It wasn't the full smile you had when you were with her, and she studied every single detail about you, your hair, your clothes, the way light from the flames and shadows made your skin look, the way you held the coffee cup, firmly grasping it. She noticed the way you were slightly hunched forward, maybe leaning in to listen to whoever was talking to you, and she remembered how you leaned in to listen to her, you always leaned in closer than this. Your attention was always completely on her, and while you were paying attention to whoever you were talking to in this picture as well, she figured at least 10 to 15% of your attention was somewhere else.
And then she got another message from Barbara, and this time it was a video, perhaps taken only moments after the photo. You were silent, just listening and then it happened, you reached up and your thumb and finger brushed along her ring. You glanced down, the longing clear in your eyes, too lost in thoughts to notice you were being filmed.
“See, she loves you! She misses you, she wants you back in her life!” Enrique messed with her hair for a bit and the remark would have seemed like teasing to her a month ago, but now it was more than welcome.
“I still don't know what to do with my parents,” while she could probably convince her siblings that she would be fine, her parents were a whole other story.
“I'll handle them,” Enrique promised her and she trusted him, maybe he wouldn't be able to completely change their minds, but she believed that he would be able to at least make them willing to give the two of you a chance.
“Thanks,” Jenna said, not sure what else to say to show her gratitude. Then Barbara sent one last message for the day. ‘Just figured you should know that Y/N is trying her best. She’s trying to get better, and you are the biggest reason why she's doing that. As you can see by that ring that she refuses to take off unless she absolutely has to.’
And Jenna smiled, a sense of hope, from the conversation she had with Enrique, the video of you she got, and the message Barbara sent, filling her heart for the first time in roughly a month.
~X~
Even with all the energy you've been spending throughout the days, you still struggled to fall asleep, and you really shouldn't be, your days were packed. If it wasn't actually working and volunteering to help people out with Hugh, then it was sightseeing and long walks, and yet as tired as you were by the time you would say goodnight to Hugh and his family, that exhaustion would just vanish the moment you would lay down in your bed. You found yourself struggling to fall asleep each and every night.
You should have known long days of work or walking or some physically demanding activities wouldn't be enough to get you to easily fall asleep. After all, if there was one thing those fights gave you it was almost ridiculous stamina, and you had to admit you were hating that right now. Because no matter how tired or how calm you would be, you just couldn't fall asleep. You've tried meditating, you've tried doing a quick workout, you tried drinking chamomile tea, and yet none of that helped.
You knew exactly what was wrong, you glanced at your bedside table, at the ring Jenna gave you. You only took it off either when you were taking a shower or a bath, and when you were sleeping. You were afraid you could somehow grab the necklace and break it, and then lose the ring somewhere, so you would take it off. And it wasn't that you were missing the ring in particular, it was just that when you were on your own, your thoughts would just wander to the different places, and you had no control over them. You've been thinking about Jenna damn near constantly when you were alone.
Even when you were with other people you knew there was a sense of longing in everything you did, in every laugh, in every smile. You were there and you were happy. You really were doing better, but you just missed her. and you thought it would get better with time, but it didn't. It was just getting worse day by day. You turned in your bed once again for what felt like the hundredth time tonight alone, unable to quiet your mind.
The only thing you wanted was to just call her and see how she was doing, to just know that she was fine. Deep down you knew you left her at potentially the worst possible moment. You saw the desire to reach out to you, and to touch you in her eyes, back when you last saw her. You knew you were leaving her with the family that despised you right now, and you couldn't even begin to imagine just how hard it would be for her to go through all of that on her own. Living alone was in your mind one of the worst ways one could live, but constantly being surrounded by people who disapproved of something you cared about and put you through emotional pain while saying it was for your sake, was way worse than that.
And you despised yourself for leaving Jenna like that, because in the worst-case scenario she wanted to talk to you, but her family wouldn't agree with it no matter what she said. Yet you couldn't do anything about it, you hurt her, you betrayed her trust and you no longer had the right to reach out first. It had to be her, you couldn't force your way into her life, no matter how desperate you were to just know that she was fine.
And deep down maybe you were afraid of what you would do if she wasn’t fine.
And those thoughts plagued your mind. You constantly worried about how she was, how she slept, if she ate enough. Being alone made those thoughts a dozen time louder, and it was almost unbearable.
You glanced at your phone to check the time and tried to figure out what time it would be in Denver, eventually, you figured Barbara would be off work right now, so you went and called her, hoping her voice could calm down your nerves a bit. Besides, you missed your best friend, as much as this vacation helped you, you still wished she could have experienced some of this as well.
As you waited for her to pick up you promised yourself that when you finally come back and when you finished filming with Hugh that you would go and reconcile with her family.
“Babe?” of course she greeted you like that, that dumbass.
“Sure, sure, Babe,” you rolled your eyes. You found it somewhat funny how different things were the last time you called Barbara ‘babe’ back then Jenna heard it, and you had to explain yourself. Now it was much different, and those were just good old times before you went and fucked up.
“I can hear you rolling your eyes,” Barbara laughed, and you were going to take that, because she needed a laugh after helping you pull through those first couple of days after Jenna left. Barbara deserved every chance to laugh and if anyone were to hurt her you would raise hell until she was fine again, which was also part of the reason why you were adamant on sooner rather than later reconciling with her family.
It would also be very strange to suddenly, for example, appear at a celebration of something important happening in Barbara's life and surprise her parents by showing them you were still in Barbara's life. “Yeah, because eyerolls make sounds,” still, it was a bit strange, it sounded like Barbara had you on speaker. “How was your day?”
“Uh, just the usual, you know. Went to work and now I'm just lying around, bored. About to turn on the cheesiest love songs in history,” that was not good news, that meant only one thing, another heartbreak, well sort of, Barbara never took it too close to heart when something like this happened. Especially since she hasn’t really been serious with anyone over the past year.
“Which guy who asked you out ended up being in the closet now?” you would still humor her.
“James,” and that meant nothing to you. You didn't even know the guy existed; this was the first time you were hearing about him.
“How long ago was this again?” you asked, maybe you just forgot since your mind was damn near always on Jenna these days.
“A few months ago, you were filming Scream, meeting the love of your life while I was at the store, meeting James, who, as it turns out, only wanted a girlfriend so his mom would be happy,” she jokingly ranted. “Didn't even get to the first date point, so no harm done,” she may have been complaining, but you were well aware that Barbara didn’t care one bit about it. When someone right shows up he’ll show up, she used to say, and she still believed that. And she was still twenty, she mostly just dated to meet people and if it ended up becoming serious than so be it.
As for you, despite everything you still smiled at the love of your life comment, almost welcoming the teasing.
“I guess that will keep happening, minus finding the love of my life again, doubt that's happening, but you meeting guys while I’m somewhere filming,” considering you were serious about acting now that scenario was fairly plausible. How many things in Barbara and Hugh’s life would you miss with this job? How many times would you only be able to comfort Barbara over the phone? That was the sad reality of your work.
“About that, I think you won't need to find another one,” she said and you sat up abruptly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest at those words.
“What do you mean?” but she just laughed and for a moment you naively thought that she wasn't laughing at you, that maybe there was another reason she laughed. “Barbara, what do you mean?!”
“Oh, nothing, nothing! Don't worry about it! Oh, by the way, I need to go and get,” she paused as if she was thinking of an excuse. “A pizza, yeah, a pizza. I ordered a pizza and it's just about to arrive!” what the hell was going on over there?
“Barbara, you know I know when you are lying!” but she was already saying ‘bye!’ “You come back here and explain yourself, Barbara!” but she just hung up and you stared at your phone, baffled by what just happened. What did you miss?
~X~
Barbara was laughing her ass off and she just sank into the sofa. Your sofa by the way, because of course Barbara would take her to your apartment.
“See, you've got nothing to worry about. You're the love of her life,” Barbara told her with the almost infuriatingly wide grin on her face and Jenna just looked down, her face about as red as a tomato, and she couldn't stop the smile on her face.
For the first time since the end of last year she was actually at peace, and it was almost ironic that it was in your apartment. It was like deep down she could feel your presence around her, even if the apartment was fairly barren from anything personal in it. She could still feel like you were almost right there with her.
“She sounded,” she began, but she couldn't even find the correct word to describe what she noticed. But there was a change in your voice that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
“Like she was struggling, for the lack of a better word,” Barbara offered, and Jenna supposed that would be the most fitting description, though it wasn't quite the word she would use. It was more like you were on the precipice of finally reaching something that she couldn't define, yet she knew it would be important for you.
“I guess,” but she accepted the description Barbara offered.
Barbara gave her a small smile “So, you are going away for filming, right? That's why you wanted to talk.”
This time next week she would already be in New Zealand, about to start filming X, so that would mean she couldn't see you anytime soon. It was a harsh blow to know that she wouldn’t be able to see you for at least a month and a half from now. She didn't think she would be hearing your voice, and while it felt so good while it lasted, it just reopened that wound on her heart, caused by all the longing within her. She missed you so much, but she still wanted your first contact again to be face to face, and in a way she was afraid of your reaction; even if Barbara and Enrique have been telling her that it would be fine, that you still loved her.
“Well at least you’ll both be free after that and then you can figure out when and how to meet up,” that was a comforting thought, that after the filming was done for both of you, you would have the time and space and could actually talk things through. Maybe even find a way to get back to the way things were before because she desperately needed you back in her life.
“How should I approach it?” Jenna asked timidly.
Barbara put a finger on her chin, seemingly thinking about it. “Well, first of all you need to book an entire restaurant, and you have to arrange for a car to come and pick her up, and make sure there are flowers and cookies, and a good movie and some music. Y/N just adores heartbreaking love songs, they need to have soul crushingly depressing lyrics, by the way,” and then she burst out laughing because Jenna was seriously listening to her. “I'm messing with you, Jenna. Just show up. Just like you told me: ‘Hey, can we meet up, I want to talk,’ do the same thing with her. Or if you really don't want to send that message and you want the first thing you tell her to be face to face, then you tell me and I'll bring her somewhere so you can do that. That’s all Y/N wants, just you.”
And that comforted her a lot, that at the end of the day it didn't matter how she would show up, in front of you as long as she did come to talk. “Can we actually fix this?” Jenna asked because Barbara was the only one who knew you enough to give her that answer.
“12 hours,” Barbara said and then just completely stopped. Jenna just raised an eyebrow, not getting what that mean, so Barbara sighed and continued. “That's how long it'll take the two of you to end up in her bed naked, and very thankful the walls of this apartment are thick, not that you'll notice, because you'll be in the throes of passion. I'm telling you right now, that's gonna happen,” she said it with a completely blank face and somehow Jenna got even redder than before, unable to actually respond to that claim in any way.
~X~
With the vacation over, it was time to go back to work, and that meant going straight from Japan to New York to start filming The Daughter, and the first thing you did would perhaps make or break the rest of the process. Everything in the movie rested on the chemistry between you and Hugh, and the first scene had to start building that.
“Action!” you heard from behind the doors. You relaxed your posture, hung your head a bit and made it seem like you had the weight of the world on top of your shoulders, and you were just tired of it. And it wasn't difficult to get into that mental state. You opened the doors with an unscripted sigh, giving away how tired your character must be feeling as you tossed the bag onto the floor and just kicked your sneakers off, not even bothering to put them away properly. Your character was supposed to think she would come back home to an empty apartment, and you already made your way to your character's bedroom instead of at least glancing in the kitchen and the living room.
“Nicole!” you heard Laura's voice from the living room and froze momentarily, almost stumbling over your feet as you scrambled back to put your sneakers away properly and grab your bag. You let the panic in your eyes show well enough without overplaying it.
“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, and then took a deep breath as if pumping yourself up to put on a façade. “Hey mom, shouldn't you be at work?” you asked as you leaned into the living room, showcasing the distance between the characters with a wide shot of the living room, with just your head and fingers of your left hand visible, as well as the hint of your bag hanging from your shoulder.
“I came early,” Laura smiled at you, and the smile was perfect, the pain and uneasiness hidden behind the unconditional love of a parent, it was all there in that quick moment that she would be in the focus.
“You arrived,” you tightened your grip on to the doorframe and flinched as if you were about to fall, and then you looked back to see Hugh coming out of the bathroom. You looked back at the hall, where his shoes were and then just looked at him again, as if trying to make sure he was actually there. “Dad?” you said in disbelief, and Hugh looked like he was stuck between being happy to see you and unsure what to expect from you. You leaned away from the doorframe, guarder, tense as you studied him, just as unsure of what to expect as he was.
“Your mom told me you've been skipping school, and I figured we could talk,” he said, and your entire demeanor changed as you glared at him. “Nicole,” Hugh called your character's name, and you tighten your jaw, starting to open your mouth to speak several times, before just giving up and relaxing.
“Sure, come on in,” you said motioning toward your room, there was no bounce to your steps and just for a moment you met Laura's eyes, and she just looked away as if silently saying sorry to you. You just closed your eyes for a moment, briefly letting the pain show on your face while neither Hugh nor Laura could see. As you let Hugh into the room you went and tossed the bag on your bed, not caring when you slightly missed, and it fell to the floor. You didn’t even wince at the slight mess in the room.
Hugh turned on the lights and walked by you, then he just picked your bag up, placing it on the bed with care, while you slumped into your chair. “You should keep your room tidy, when I was your age everything had to be spotless,” Hugh said and picked up an empty bottle of juice your character left lying there at some point.
“You should remember you have a daughter a bit more often, and yet here we are,” you fired back and Hugh’s eyes immediately met yours, only for you to look away and mumble a ‘Sorry’ under your breath.
Hugh sat down on your bed, and you just leaned back, not even looking at him. “I know we haven't spent a lot of time together lately, and I've been thinking that maybe you would like to spend some time with me, meet your baby brother. We can catch up and see how it works out?” he suggested and you looked at him for a moment.
“What about school?” you asked, sure your character didn't go to school for the past month, but it was still the middle of the year.
“We'll figure something out, enroll you in another school. Have you start over,” Hugh said and you nodded not really caring either way.
“Cut!” the director yelled and you and Hugh visibly relaxed. “That's what I wanted! Great job you two! You as well Laura!” he approached you and Hugh. “Hugh, you were right, Y/N can pull this off!” Florian patted you and Hugh on the shoulders and called you over to go over the next scene because the approach he took was to talk to both of you, or the actors involved in the scene, through it and try to explain all the emotions involved in it, as well as let you give him any input you might have as well.
Overall, even though the subject of the movie would be rather heavy, you wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. And from the look in Hugh’s eyes, you figured he felt the same.
Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths
@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018 @godamnityess
Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part
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Buy my heart - 1

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader
✦ Word count: ~1,2k
✦ Rating for this part: Mature
✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Bucky, Omega!Reader, slow burn, eventual smut, omega auction.
✦ Summary: Bucky buys you
✦ Note: Due note that this is a drabble series, the parts will be short but I still hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to come back and read Lloyd's series, set in the same verse! 😉 Bucky's scent is based of my favorite perfume of all time ÆTHER XTRÆM 🤤Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!
Series masterlist
Masterlist | AO3
Everything is numb. As you stand on the podium in front of the faceless crowd with the lights in your eyes, you don't feel a thing, except the uncomfortable sensation of scent blocker on your skin. As soon as you pulled the thin dress on for the auction you decided that the only way you would survive this is if you just turn every emotion off.
Paddles go up. Paddles go down. The man beside you rambles fast but you don't listen. It's not irrelevant how much you sell for, since your family needs it to pay off their debt, but you can't take it in.
Instead, you focus on your breathing. The mask-covered mass in front of you is grass on a meadow on a windy day. Breathe in. They sway towards you. Breathe out. They sway away.
You don't want to look at who raises their paddle the most, and even if you did, you wouldn't be able to identify them since everyone's face is concealed by the same black mask. But you'd find yourself scrutinizing their hands and build, trying to guess if they're old or young. Honestly, you dread both: a young pup with an overly cocky attitude who knows nothing about caring for an omega, or an old lone wolf who is too frail to do anything himself and would require constant care.
The sharp crack of the club startles you from your self-induced meditation. That's when you finally hear the sum you've been sold for and some of the tension in your shoulders drains away. It's enough. Your family will be fine.
An attendant leads you away through dark corridors before leaving you in another changing room. They've brought your old clothes but you don't touch them. They smell like home. Like your family. And you can't go into this new life with it, you have to leave it behind.
If the attendant is confused about you still wearing the sheer dress they provided when they come and collect you, they don't let it show before walking you out.
The air is cold against your skin but there is a car idling just outside. Well, it's a limo. The driver opens the door and gestures for you to climb inside. Guess this is your ride. Time to meet your alpha.
Pressing down every feeling of panic and dread you walk on bare feet the short distance. The door shutting just behind you makes you jump. A moment later, the car starts moving.
The first thing you notice is that it's dim in the back of the limousine since the tinted windows don't let the streetlights in. The only illumination comes from small spots in the ceiling.
The second thing you notice is him. He's at the other end of the seat. Maskless with a glass of something in his hand that he swirls before taking a sip, staring at you over the rim. He's tall, broad-shouldered, short hair that looks soft with a neatly trimmed beard framing his face.
Then the smell hits you. It's easy to filter out the artificial notes of his cologne from what is his pure natural smell. It's a woody musky scent with a light tone of florals buried beneath that is not sharp or strong. It just fills your lungs with a warm, sensual feeling. For the first time in your life, you think you understand what other omegas rave about when they say that the smell of alpha is unlike anything else. The omega in you wants to slide up to him and rub yourself all over him, but you resist.
“Hello, little darling,” his rich voice fills the compartment. “Hello, sir,” you respond and is pleased when your voice doesn't waiver. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I prefer if you call me Bucky.” “Bucky,” you try, and nod, although it feels odd on your tongue. You've never addressed an alpha by a nickname before.
He doesn't ask for your name and you don't offer it, the less personal this is for you, the better. Bucky might have bought your body but your mind is still your own and he can never take it away from you. If he never calls you by your name, the better.
“Why do you still have that dress on?” he asks. You pluck at the fabric. “I couldn't take my old clothes with me.” “And no shoes?” “No, sir. I mean, Bucky.”
He picks up his phone. You hear the dial tone and then a woman's voice answers at the other end. “We need clothes, all types, but for tonight just get some underwear and something to sleep in. Then he directs his attention to you. “What size are you?” After hesitating a second, you tell him and he passes the information along before he hangs up.
The car slows and sounds as if it's driving on gravel. Bucky finishes his drink and studies you. There is a tick in his jaw as if he's irritated. Without a word, he starts taking off his suit jacket.
The blood in your veins turns cold and you press yourself back against the door. You don't want him to touch you. The dress might be sheer but the thought of being naked with him in the back of the limo is not appealing in the least.
But his actions surprise you. He holds out the jacket for you. “Wear this. My men are loyal but I don't need them to ogle you and get distracted.” There is no hiding the way your fingers tremble as you take it from him. After putting it on you realize that in a way, he's marked you with his scent now, but without touching you. It shouldn't make you pleased, but it does.
When the car comes to a stop you reach for the handle but with something very close to a growl he instructs, “Wait there,” before stepping out. You pull your hand back quickly and place it in your lap. Moments later the door opens. “Since you don't have any shoes, I'll carry you,” he explains, reaching for you, but you shuffle away. “I'll be fine, I promise, you don't need to do that.” His jaw ticks again. “No, you will hurt your feet, darling. Come here, now.” You hesitate still, but you're not prepared to find out what the next tell of irritation might be, or if the twitch in his jaw is the only warning you're going to get.
You move closer to him and hardly have time to process what happens before you're in his arms. He carries you near his body with your face pressed against his fine dress shirt. It's dark outside but the mansion he carries you towards is well lit. There is no doubt James Buchanan Barnes is a very rich man.
After stepping inside he still doesn't put you down. You want to object but decide against it as he carries you up a flight of stairs and into a room, where he puts you down on a soft carpet, then steps back.
“Clothes should be here in about twenty minutes. When was the last time you ate?” “Uhm, this morning?” “Allergies?” “No, but I really don’t like tomatoes.” “I'll inform the chef,” he nods, before continuing, “This is your room. Mine is across the hall. For tonight, stay here, I'll have food brought up. Tomorrow I’ll give you a tour and we'll talk about what is expected of you going forward.” You nod. “I suggest you take a nice long bath, before eating and going to bed.” “Yes, Bucky.” Your obedience seems to please him because the lines between his eyebrows disappear. “Have a good night, little darling.” And then he leaves.
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#veltana writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader#alpha!bucky x omega!reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#alpha!bucky#alpha!bucky barnes#omegaverse
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I was so excited to see requests open that my brain just blanked out lol. Totally forgot everything I've ever been interested in for several moments, but it's managed a reboot! Thank goodness 🙃
Anyhoo, I'd like to request something for Master Chief please! Some nice fluff for our dearest Spartan. Maybe he's had a rough day and needs a hug? Good thing reader is here to help out!
I am all for Chief getting more hugs. He needs them. He needs all the hugs.
So, for you, I've got 500 words of pure fluff featuring our favorite Spartan.
You looked up from your data pad when you heard the door slide open. John sometimes came to your room, when he had time or when he needed to. But he also usually gave you a heads up first.
He was considerate that way.
So when you spotted him in the doorway, limned in the brighter light of the hallway, you set your pad aside immediately.
“John?” You kept your voice quiet, in case he was really having a bad day. (Not that he'd ever really tell you that he was - he was so used to disguising his own discomfort that he didn't know how to express it.)
He stepped inside, the door sliding shut soundlessly behind him. “Long day,” was all he offered, voice clipped.
“Come here.” You sat up on your knees on the bed, waiting for John to sit before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. He sighed, a warm puff of air through your shirt, shoulders slumping with the release of tension. You rubbed one hand through the short hairs on the back of his head, knowing the gentle motions often helped.
He sighed again, warm and damp, some of his weight resting against you. Not all - he was ever-conscious of his stature. But he relaxed some, lulled by the quiet and your fingers massaging away some tension.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered, despite knowing he wouldn't accept. He never did, just as you always offered.
He shook his head slowly instead of verbally responding, big hands sliding around your back to hold you. His breathing slowed, almost meditative.
You couldn't help but be lulled as well, your eyes sliding half-closed, even as your fingers continued working. The quiet and his closeness settled you, though you hadn't even had a hard day. But still. To hold him close like this was a treasure, no matter how many times it happened.
“Thank you.” The words were so quiet you almost didn't hear them, alerted by the pause in his breathing more than anything.
“Anytime,” you promised, whisper-soft to match. And you meant it. You never minded helping him this way, especially since you had no problem asking for hugs in return.
(Asking for things was another of those concepts that had mostly eluded him, or been trained out of him. You were working on it. Slowly. Carefully.)
He hummed a wordless noise in response, grip tightening on you, enough to feel but not to the point of pain. Never to the point of pain.
Always so conscientious, your John. Your Spartan.
Slowly, carefully, you tipped the two of you over and shuffled around until you were lying side by side, pressed together chest to chest. He moved one arm under your head to cushion you, his other splayed over your hip. Your own hand snuck under the hem of his shirt to press against the skin of his back, greedily soaking in his warmth.
“Go to sleep,” you murmured into the warmth between the two of you. His answering hum vibrated through his chest and into yours, soothing in a way nothing else had ever matched.
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Not really an Ask, just wanted to say I’m thrilled for you that you got to the Con and met Caitriona, though admittedly I’m seriously jealous 😉😊. I too am a BIG fan of Lauren, delightful and talented, and you must check out her podcasts, they’re unfailingly interesting, and fun at the same time! It’s been awhile since I’ve been to Paris and personally I did love the Orangerie, it was lovely! My big regret is that I haven’t gotten into d’Orsay yet on any of my trips, only managed to hit its closed doors on state days and strike days, sigh… I console myself with having made it to Monet’s Giverny home twice and leaving it with the memory tattooed on my soul of the scent of roses hitting me like a wall as I entered his garden!
I look forward to more of your reportage on the Con, AND on Paris! Bisous! 😘😘
Dear Bisous Anon,
How melancholically thoughtful and sweet of you to send this! These submissions are just the best. I don't know, can't figure out and do not even want to know who you are, but keep them coming 💖!
First of all and for all purposes and intents, the Landcon's schedule was grueling, especially for people who made a substantial effort to travel far and wide, in order to get there. By the time we managed to coordinate everybody, Versailles was sold out at the right visiting hours for us on Friday and closed on Mondays (as always). My mistake and I am taking full responsibility for being sloppy about it. And Monday's cruise lunch was deliciously rich, but also tiresome to many, who could have rather used a welcome nap. So, we had to limit ourselves to whatever we could quickly do, which is - I admit - almost a crime and certainly butchering our best laid plans.

The reason I chose the Musée de l'Orangerie is purely pragmatic, since it is compact enough to easily navigate and definitely off the beaten track. It is one of the most poetic places I have ever had the joy to see and it is, of course, very French ;). Once a glass house built on purpose to accommodate the Tuileries Gardens' citrus trees, it is now home to eight compelling late Monet murals, depicting - as you rightly pointed out - the painter's garden in Giverny.
With an absolute focus on the water lilies, or Les Nymphéas:



To me, this is a perfect, deeply introspective place, designed on purpose by Monet himself - who donated his labor of love to the French Government, in recognition of the First World War victory - to make people pause and meditate. Color and light and shimmering shapes are a synesthetic invitation to deeply explore one's own feelings and reactions. I can assure you they are never the same.
The best way to fully enjoy this is very, very early in the morning, with as few visitors as possible. This time we were not that lucky, but I think we still managed to share a special moment there.
Paris being lately a ridiculous mess, because of Mayor Hidalgo's stupid new traffic policy, we were unable to be in time for the Sainte Chapelle. But perhaps that allowed for more compelling memories, who knows?
PS: The Orsay is one of my favorite museums, on par with the Hermitage, in Saint Petersburg. I particularly love the subtle game of light and shade through the huge train station clock glass dial.
Off to take Baby the Lab back home. More about the Landcon - later ;) But thank you for this, Anon - and welcome!
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THE ONLY INFO YOU WILL NEED ABOUT VOID - WHY LUCID DREAM METHOD IS PROBABLY THE BEST WAY TO ENTER VOID
By now everybody know that you enter the void every night, right?
When you say you are unable to enter the void, you don't mean you are unable to enter the void, what you mean is you are not able to catch your awareness while you are in void. And today we will fix that.
Have you ever wondered why we all love sleeping? Because you are in void when you sleep. You are in void when you are awake too, but your conscious mind takes over your subconscious, which is highly judgemental. This is what Non Dualism talks about. You are your "I Am". You are already in your pure consciousness state. You are everything you want.
This concept is laid out beautifully in Hinduism. If you are a long time follower, you'll know about turiya that I introduced (turiya, in Sanskrit translated to English is void). Turiya is the state that governs the other three states, that is, waking, sleep and dreaming.
So to solve the problem, all you need in awareness during your sleep. The reason it's easier to tap into the void in sleep is because you have already activated your subconscious. Your logical or the conscious brains shuts off, making it easier to access higher dimensions.
No matter what others say, Void is also a deep meditative state - but here I will interpret in another way. If you are ever so deeply relaxed in meditation then you will able to detach your physical senses. And that state prolonged will lead you into void. When people say that void isn't a meditative state, they fail to comprehend that the entire objective of meditation is detaching the physical senses and accessing the "I AMness"
And what is something that makes you aware in your sleep easily and quickly? Lucid dreaming. There are many methods for LDing. But the quickest way to do it is definitely the very effective phase method (at this point I can be it's brand ambassador 😭)
The reason I swear by it is because it combines every lucid dream method like wild, fild etc., i to one. I will link this post of mine that will explain to you in detail. I also want to mention how effective lucid dreaming subliminals can be too.
We literally spend 8 hrs a day or 1/3rd of our life sleeping. Do you not want to make this time exciting and worthwhile? LD has plenty of benefits and manifesting, healing traumas, asking advice from spiritual guide is only a few. Oooh and entering the void, ofc. Since you create your own dreamscape, you can do a lot of fun things while you're in it.
You can LD this very night! Good luck <3
#void state#law of assumption#void success#the void state#lawofassumption#affirm and persist#loa success#law of manifestation#reality shifting#shifting
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XXI | Getting Properly Acquainted

Warning(s): Cursing, blood, alcohol consumption, humor, and sensitive topics (it's only mentioned once!)
Word Count: 11.3K
Synopsis: It had been three months since you and Piccolo had become an item. You had experienced nothing but pure love and tenderness. Then one day you get a text message.
━─┉┈★┈┉─━━─┉┈★┈┉─━━─┉┈★┈┉─━━─┉┈★┈┉─━
“Heey, girl! In celebration of your speedy recovery, I thought it was time to gather up our friends and hang out for old time’s sake. Meet us at Way Out Bar at 7PM this Saturday!”
It had been over an hour since you’d gotten Jenny’s message, and you were still riding the high of excitement it brought. You lay sprawled on your bed, the phone still open in your hand, the message burning bright on the screen like a warm little beacon of joy.
This would be your first time seeing all of them outside the sterile white walls of the hospital. No wires. No beeping monitors. No faint scent of antiseptic in the air. Just you, your friends, and a night that promised to feel like living again. The last time you saw them, you were weak, barely able to sit up straight. They’d come in shifts with flowers, chocolates, gossip, and laughter—but it never felt right. You were smiling through the pain. Numb with fatigue. And now?
Thanks to Dende's healing, you were whole again. And it was time to live.
Your closet doors were already flung open, and the bed behind you looked like a fashion tornado had ripped through it. Jumpers, jeans, crop tops, rompers, even that one weird sequin top Jenny got you as a gag gift—it was all strewn about in the chaos of indecision.
“A dress?” you muttered to yourself, holding one up in front of the mirror before shaking your head. “Too fancy. Too ‘wedding guest.’” You tossed it aside. “Romper. Yeah. Romper is fun. Playful. Breezy. Easy to pee in…”
You snorted to yourself and held two up side by side: one black with delicate gold thread running through it, and another with a warm burgundy floral print that hugged your curves just right.
And then, it hit you—an idea that completely derailed your train of thought.
What if Piccolo came with you?
Your hands slowly lowered, the rompers falling forgotten onto the bed as your arms crossed over your chest, the spark of curiosity giving way to a gentle flutter in your chest.
Would he go?
You could already imagine their reactions. Jenny would 100% scream. Amelia would probably drop her drink. Henry might start interrogating him like an overprotective big brother. Elias would be welcoming without judgment. Luka will be cautious around new people. But deep down, you wanted your friends to meet him—to see what you saw. You weren’t just dating someone… you were in love with someone utterly unique. Quiet, mysterious, incredibly powerful, and yet… gentle with you in a way few got to witness.
But then, doubt slipped in like a cold draft.
Piccolo wasn’t a social person. You knew that. You respected that. He barely spoke during your classes unless prompted, and even then it was usually concise, pointed advice that made your students straighten up like soldiers under a general’s command. He tolerated public settings. Barely. And even then, only because he wanted to support you.
What if he didn’t want to come? What if he thought this was too much?
You let out a soft groan, burying your face in your hands for a second before slapping your cheeks lightly and straightening up. “Alright. No more overthinking. Just ask him. What’s the worst that could happen? He says no? I can live with that.”
Even if his brand of ‘no’ was usually a vague, broody grunt followed by meditative silence.
Fueled by that little ember of determination, you padded barefoot down the stairs, the wood creaking slightly under your feet. You caught the faint sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside, mingling with the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. As you turned the corner and entered the living room, your voice called out casually:
“Hey, Piccolo, I was wondering if—”
You froze.
There he was, sitting cross-legged in the center of the room. Turban and cape nowhere in sight. Eyes closed in a serene expression. And… shirtless.
Your words caught in your throat like a fishhook. Your eyes, despite your best intentions, shamelessly took in the details—the broad expanse of his chest, the sharp cut of his abdominal muscles, the intricate, dark-lined streaks running across his arms and lower abdomen. The pink, fleshy patches on his arms glowed subtly under the soft afternoon light bleeding through the windows, framed by those bold red edges that almost dared your eyes to keep tracing along them.
Goddamn, you thought, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might punch a hole in your ribcage.
The thought of just running your hands down his muscles caused your heart to flutter. You swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly—and that’s when you felt it.
A warm trickle.
You slapped a hand to your face. Oh no.
Yep. Nosebleed. Of course your body would betray you at a time like this.
“Uhh, w-why are you shirtless??” you managed, your voice breaking slightly like you were a teenager catching her crush in the locker room.
Piccolo’s eyes opened slowly, calm and unbothered, and they immediately locked onto yours. There was the tiniest flicker of amusement there, almost hidden—like a single ripple on an otherwise still lake.
“You told me to give it to you,” he said plainly. “You noticed the stain and insisted on washing it.”
Oh. Right.
You did say that. He’d tried to argue, something about materializing a clean one instantly, but you’d been adamant. You said it was about principle, that he should let you take care of him in small ways like that.
And he’d let you. No further protest. Just that quiet, reluctant acceptance he always offered when he couldn’t argue with your heart.
Still, standing there with a tissue now clamped to your nose and your face hotter than the sun, all you could do was laugh awkwardly.
“Right. I, uh… forgot.”
Piccolo raised a brow slightly, still watching you with quiet curiosity. “You okay?”
“Yep. Totally. Fine. Just… overheating. From the heater.” You gestured vaguely to nothing. “Which is off. But still.”
He made a soft, skeptical sound in the back of his throat, but said nothing. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer—serious, yet gentle.
You rubbed at the back of your neck awkwardly, but the fluttering in your chest hadn’t gone away.
“Anyway, uh… I was actually coming down to ask if you wanted to go somewhere. With me. On Saturday night.”
Piccolo blinked, his head tilting slightly, his antenna's swaying gently by the movement. “Where?”
You smiled, stepping a little closer, the butterflies multiplying. “It’s just a casual get-together. My friends and I are meeting at this bar we always go to. I thought… maybe you'd like to come? Meet them? I mean—you don't have to. I know crowds aren't really your thing, but—”
He didn’t answer right away. Just watched you. Thoughtful. Quiet.
And then, he spoke.
“…I’ll think about it.”
Which, in Piccolo-speak, was about as close to a “maybe” as you were going to get.
You beamed. “Okay. That’s fair.”
He nodded once, his expression unreadable—but there was a softness behind his eyes that didn’t go unnoticed.
And just like that, the thought of Saturday night got a whole lot more exciting.
Even if you’d need to keep a fresh tissue box nearby. Just in case.
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It was finally Saturday.
The sky outside your window had just begun to soften into gold, the sun dipping low on the horizon like it, too, was getting dressed for a night out. The faint hum of life was beginning to pick up in the surrounding forest area of your home—crickets began to sing, the chirping of foxes emanated somewhere deep within the treeline. But all of that faded into background noise as you glanced at the clock:
6:01 PM.
Only one hour until you were meeting your friends at the Way Out Bar. You couldn’t sit still.
You were practically buzzing as you made the final touches to your look in the mirror mounted on the living room wall. The beige floral jumpsuit hugged your figure just right—cute but comfy—and your hair, twisted into a half-up braid, framed your face in a way that made you feel genuinely beautiful. Confident. Alive.
But the real surprise of the evening wasn’t your outfit or even the gathering itself.
It was the seven-foot-five Namekian standing behind you—who, for the first time since you’d known him, was visibly anxious.
You caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, his posture stiff, arms at his sides, and a furrow etched deep between his brows as he focused on the conjured outfit slowly materializing over his usual gi. The transformation was fascinating to watch—energy rippling over his body as purple fabric gave way to crisp white.
You turned to face him fully.
Gone was the worn, battle-weathered gi. In its place: a neatly pressed white button-down shirt, a dark blue tie perfectly knotted at his neck, slim-fitting purple slacks, and polished dress shoes that looked almost too clean—like he’d never worn a pair in his life. He stood in the center of your living room, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves with all the grace of someone performing open-heart surgery.
Your lips curled into a smile, warm and amused.
“Piccolo,” you said gently, stepping closer, “relax. You don’t have to dress up to look presentable. Your regular attire is fine. Well, okay, maybe leave the weighted turban and cape at home—unless you plan on knocking over coat racks everywhere we go.”
He paused, slowly glancing at you, eyes narrowed in thought. “I want to make a good impression,” he said, voice low, almost hesitant. “These are people important to you. I should look… appropriate.”
There it was—that unexpected vulnerability that made your heart squeeze every time you saw it peek through his normally unshakable exterior. You could see it in the way his antennae twitched faintly, the way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as though unsure whether to tuck or untuck it.
You softened. “Hey.” You moved to stand directly in front of him, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. “You look very appropriate, trust me. Although…”
You stepped closer, fingers lifting to the knot of his tie. “This?” You tugged it gently, sliding it loose from his collar and tossing it over your shoulder. “This is a little too formal. We’re going to a bar, not a business conference.”
He didn’t protest, just watched you with those intense dark eyes, unreadable except for the faintest hint of tension in his brow.
You reached for the top buttons of his shirt next, undoing two with a soft, confident smile. “There,” you murmured, “much better.” Your fingertips brushed his collarbone, and you felt the way he tensed slightly beneath your touch—subtle, but telling.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” you added, stepping back to admire the results. “Just roll your sleeves up to the elbows, and you’re golden.”
Piccolo didn’t respond right away. He just stood there, staring at you.
Not with his usual blank stoicism.
There was something in his expression now… quiet awe. The kind of gaze someone gives when they realize, all at once, that they’re standing in the presence of someone they deeply cherish. Someone who saw through all the layers of who they were and loved them not in spite of it, but because of it.
It nearly knocked the breath out of you.
Wordlessly, he began to roll his sleeves up, his movements slower now, more deliberate. He wasn’t just adjusting his look anymore—he was adjusting to the idea of being seen by the people in your life. Letting them glimpse a side of him he rarely, if ever, revealed.
A side that belonged only to you.
“You really think this is okay?” he asked, a rare thread of uncertainty woven into his voice.
You stepped closer again, smoothing your hands over the front of his shirt with a small smile. “More than okay,” you said, looking up into his eyes. “You look great. And… I’m really happy you’re doing this.”
His gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, he just breathed. Then, finally, he nodded.
“…Alright,” he said. “Let’s go meet your friends.”
You nodded eagerly, practically bouncing on your heels as you spun on your toes, the fabric of your jumpsuit swishing gently with the motion. You made your way toward the kitchen, grabbing your black quilted purse from the counter and slipping the strap over your shoulder in one smooth movement. Your hand followed next to the set of car keys sitting beside a stack of unopened mail.
With a gleam in your eye, you turned back toward Piccolo, holding the keys aloft like a prized treasure. “Come on!”
You made your way over to him, your fingers intertwining with his large hand, the coolness of his skin a comforting contrast to the heat building in your palm. Without a second thought, you tugged him toward the front door, and he followed wordlessly, allowing himself to be led like a tall, silent shadow behind you. The warmth of your hand in his said more than any words could.
Once outside on the porch, the soft creaking of the steps beneath your feet echoed in the calm of early evening. The sun had dipped lower, casting golden slants of light across the front yard. Crickets hummed with life across the grass. You let go of Piccolo’s hand just long enough to jog down the steps and disappear beneath the porch with Piccolo following close behind. Under the porch was a makeshift garage, small judging by the looks of it but not too cramped either. You approached something large and mysterious that lay beneath a gray tarp.
Piccolo watched you, arms crossed, one brow lifting in curiosity as he tilted his head.
You grabbed the tarp with both hands, bracing your feet against the gravel beneath you, and with a grunt of effort, yanked it off in a dramatic flourish. The tarp fluttered down behind you in a heap, revealing the beauty beneath.
A red and black striped muscle car gleamed proudly in the late afternoon light—its polished surface glinting like it had just rolled off the showroom floor. Chrome accents caught the sunlight, and the tires looked freshly scrubbed. It looked powerful. Fast. Immaculate.
You practically glowed, a wide grin on your face as you pressed your palms against the smooth, warm surface of the hood, practically buzzing with excitement. “I haven’t driven this car in ages!”
Piccolo approached slowly, his sharp eyes studying the vehicle like it was a puzzle he hadn’t expected to see in your possession.
“This is yours?” he asked, blinking slowly as he raised a brow, clearly impressed but trying not to show it too much.
“Yep!” you said proudly, patting the hood. “Graduation gift from my adoptive mom. She surprised me with it right after the ceremony. Told me I deserved something bold.” You laughed softly at the memory. “I’ve kept it in pristine condition ever since—tuned it, cleaned it, waxed it. The works.”
A little nostalgic pride swelled in your chest as you turned back toward him, holding the keys between your fingers. “I’ll be driving us to Nicky Town tonight.”
Piccolo’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “We could get there much faster if we just flew.”
You stopped mid-stride, your expression flattening as you stared at him. “Piccolo…”
He blinked at your unimpressed tone, a visible sweatdrop appearing at his temple ;as he tilted his head slightly in confusion. “What?”
You sighed, crossing your arms with a dramatic huff that was more amused than annoyed. “I love you,” you said, stepping toward him, “but you seriously know how to kill a vibe sometimes.”
That made him visibly flinch. His posture straightened, and his mouth opened as if to reply, but you lifted a hand before he could get a word out.
“Look, I get it. Flying is faster. More efficient. But I’m not a pro at it like you are, remember? I’ve only just gotten used to hovering without looking like I’m dangling from an invisible string.”
Piccolo exhaled softly through his nose, his eyes lowering a fraction as guilt quietly slipped into his features.
“And yes,” you added, your voice softening as you stepped closer, “I know you’ve carried me before—many times, actually. And I never minded it. In fact, I always felt safe when you did.” You offered a small, fond smile, your fingers brushing lightly against his forearm.
“But just for tonight… I wanna do something normal and least conspicuous. Something a little fun. Take the long way. Play some music. Roll the windows down. And most importantly, to have a good time.”
You looked up at him, eyes hopeful. “Please? Just tonight? If you hate it, we’ll fly next time.”
Piccolo stared at you for a long moment, his features unreadable—but his eyes softened, just a touch. Enough for you to know he heard you. Really heard you.
Then, finally, a small sigh escaped him. “Alright,” he said, his voice quiet but sure. “We’ll drive.”
A grin broke across your face as you turned back toward the car, unlocking it with a click and opening the driver’s side door with a triumphant swing.
“You’re gonna love it,” you called out over your shoulder as you slid into the seat. “This baby purrs.”
Piccolo looked at the car again, then at you, and for the briefest moment—before rounding the car to the passenger side—he allowed himself the faintest of smiles.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘✧──────✧₊∘✧──────✧₊∘✧──────✧₊∘
The city lights blurred past like streaks of stardust, reflections dancing across the windshield in vibrant golds and electric blues. The streets of Nicky Town were alive, but unusually tame tonight—no gridlock, no honking horns—just the soft hum of your muscle car purring under your fingertips as you guided it gracefully through the open roads.
The wind rushed in from the rolled-down windows, warm and fragrant with the scent of nearby food stalls. It danced through your hair, pushing loose strands around your face as you exhaled a small, contented sigh. The radio was playing something soft—low bass, gentle synths, a mellow tune that hummed beneath your skin.
You slowed to a gentle stop at a red light, a slow deep rumble of the engine idling while you waited. Fingers tapping in rhythm on the gear stick, a faint smile playing on your lips as your eyes wandered briefly to Piccolo in the passenger seat.
He looked peaceful, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed, the sharp lines of his jaw relaxed under the soft interior lights. There was a quiet serenity to him when he wasn’t sparring with you. His presence alone, even in silence, had a grounding effect on you.
That is, until a piercing, obnoxious whistle shattered the moment like glass hitting concrete.
“Hey sweetheart!”
Your smile instantly dropped. The shift in your mood was swift—brows flattening, your shoulders stiffening as your gaze flicked sharply to the left.
There, beside your door, sat a young man on a loud motorcycle, revving his engine like he was the star of some cheap action movie. His grin was wide, smug, and completely lacking in shame. His eyes—hidden behind tinted glasses—raked over you with a possessiveness that made your skin crawl.
Your face remained stone cold. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
He chuckled, hand on the throttle. “Aww, c’mon. Don’t be like that. Hop on, yeah? We’ll have ourselves a real good time.”
The nerve. Your brow twitched, irritation climbing your spine like a venomous insect. “No thanks.”
But he didn’t get the message.
Instead, he leaned in further—too close. His arm braced against the car’s frame, body language dripping with arrogance. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart. Someone like you—fine as hell—deserves someone who can really show her a good—”
Wham!
The crack of your fist meeting his face rang louder than the engine ever could. His head snapped back with a choked yelp, his motorcycle wobbling as he gripped his face in agony, blood already spilling between his fingers.
You sat there, your fist still warm from the contact, settling your hand calmly back on the steering wheel like nothing had happened.
“Would you look at that?” you said coolly, voice lined with venom and amusement. “Crying over a punch… from a girl.”
“You broke my nose!” he wailed, nasally and pathetic.
You gave him a scathing look. “You invaded my space. And when a woman says no, she means no. It's not an invitation to harass or pressure her. So why don’t you do us both a favor—” the light turned green. “—and go fuck yourself.”
Without another glance, your foot pressed against the gas and the car surged forward, tires gripping the road like claws. The roar of the engine was satisfying, almost therapeutic. You gripped the gear stick tightly, fingers stiff and white-knuckled from the adrenaline and anger still coursing through you.
“(Y/n),” Piccolo’s tone was low, measured, but laced with concern. “Are you alright?”
You blinked, the road ahead coming back into focus. His voice had always had this strange effect on you—like it could cut through even the worst storm in your chest. You sighed, jaw still tense. “Yeah… I just got pissed off. The audacity of that guy…”
Piccolo was quiet for a moment, arms unfolding slowly as he straightened in his seat. “Does this… happen often?”
You hesitated, biting your bottom lip as your heart gave a tight squeeze.
“…Not like before,” you admitted, your voice a little softer, a little bitter.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him sit up straighter, more alert—his energy subtly shifting from stillness to sharp attention.
“(Y/n),” he said more firmly, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”
The seriousness in his tone made your hands tremble ever so slightly on the wheel. The streetlights overhead blurred as you entered the parking garage, darkness creeping over the car as you ascended to the upper levels. The interior lighting cast a glow on your face—revealing the way your jaw clenched, the tension in your brow.
You didn’t look at him.
“…Remember when I told you I was homeless? Before the dojo, before I built my home?” you murmured, voice tight. “Back then, stuff like that happened a lot. More than I like to admit.”
The tires thudded softly as you turned up to the third level.
“I was fourteen,” you continued, eyes locked on the parking space ahead. “Couldn’t fight, couldn’t run very fast, and sure as hell couldn’t afford to scream for help. Men—grown men—thought I was easy prey. I learned pretty quick that being polite only made them worse.”
The car eased into the parking space, and you shifted it into park with a small click. The engine purred for a moment longer before going quiet, leaving only the hum of city life in the distance and the soft hiss of your breath.
You rolled up the windows. Just in case.
Then, silence.
Piccolo didn’t speak right away. You felt his gaze on you like a weight pressing against your side, his body completely still. When he did speak, his voice was low. Careful.
“…Did they ever—” He stopped himself. The question caught in his throat, too heavy, too dark to finish. His hands clenched tightly, and a shudder moved through him—subtle but unmistakable.
You shook your head immediately.
“No. They never did.” You looked over at him then, your voice firmer than before. “I never let them.”
He exhaled slowly, some of the tension draining from his posture, but not all of it. His eyes were still dark with something dangerous—something protective.
“You should’ve never had to go through that,” he said. “Not then. Not now.”
You offered him a small, sad smile. “Yeah. But I survived.”
Piccolo’s gaze lingered on you, and then, in a surprisingly gentle motion, he reached out. His hand rested over yours where it gripped the gear stick—large, calloused, and warm. The contact made your breath hitch. His thumb brushed against your knuckles once, twice—slow, grounding.
“You’re not alone anymore,” he said. “You never will be again.”
And in the quiet warmth of the car, tucked away from the world in that shadowed parking garage, those words sank deep into your soul—firm and comforting like roots in the earth.
Eventually, you and Piccolo stepped out of the car and into the moonlight, the glow of the moon illuminating the city. The air was thick with the scents of street food, car exhaust, and pansies as the two of you ascended the spiral ramp of the multi-level parking garage. The sounds of city life greeted you—distant laughter, muffled music, and the steady hum of traffic below. With each step, your anticipation mounted like a heartbeat in your throat.
The two of you merged onto the bustling sidewalk, weaving past people walking in pairs, in groups, or alone with their heads down in their phones. You guided Piccolo with quiet ease, your hand gently looping through the crook of his forearm. The warmth of his exposed forearm brushed against your skin every time he adjusted his stride to match yours—something he did often now, unconsciously. His presence beside you felt solid, grounding, like you could lean your entire weight on him and he wouldn’t budge an inch.
You rounded the corner of a narrow brick antique store that smelled faintly of dust and sandalwood—and there it was.
The sign: The Way Out Bar. Elegant cursive letters spelled out the name in soft neon, glowing in the encroaching twilight. Something about seeing it made your heart flutter. It was just up ahead. Your friends were just beyond that door.
Your grip around Piccolo’s forearm tightened as you beamed, pulling him a little closer. You didn’t notice the way he glanced down at you then, his expression unreadable to anyone but you. There was fondness in his gaze, laced with quiet amusement, and a hint of nerves buried beneath his usual stoicism.
The inside of the bar was a soft contrast to the world outside. Warm, amber-hued lights hung in scattered clusters like little fireflies, casting gentle shadows that danced along the walls. A small jazz trio played on a raised stage to the left, their mellow notes wrapping the room in a cocoon of easy rhythm. The bar to the right buzzed with activity—glasses clinking, bartenders sliding drinks down the polished mahogany counter. The air was a blend of expensive perfume, whiskey, and warm food.
You scanned the crowd—faces blurred together until you spotted them.
Tucked in a corner booth, exactly where you hoped they’d be, sat your small, beloved chaos of a friend group. Jenny was deep in animated conversation with Henry and Elias, her faux locs bobbing every time she gestured dramatically. Elias, ever the picture of chill, leaned back with his usual amused smirk, while Henry animatedly waved a chicken wing mid-debate. Luka sat sandwiched between them, quietly listening, his arms folded and eyes sharp as ever. And then there was Amelia—red-haired, radiant Amelia—nursing the last sip of a martini, her attention elsewhere as her eyes scanned the room.
You gave Piccolo a quick look and an upward tilt of your chin—a silent follow me—before slipping through the small maze of tables and people. He followed closely, careful not to bump into anyone despite his size. His presence alone was enough to part the crowd a little, though he didn’t seem to notice the glances, the whispered curiosity.
Amelia spotted you first. Her face lit up like fireworks.
“(Y/n)!! Over here!!” she called out, waving her arm high above her head.
The rest of the table turned as you approached, just in time for Amelia to practically launch herself out of her seat. She flung her arms around you with an excited squeal, wrapping you in a warm, familiar hug.
“Oh my god, it’s so good to see you! We’ve all missed you so much.” Her voice trembled slightly, her arms squeezing tight. Her eyes shimmered when she pulled back, but she didn’t let a single tear fall.
You cupped her arms, giving a reassuring squeeze. “It’s good to see you too, Amelia. You have no idea.”
“Hey! What about us, huh?!” Henry hollered from the table, arms outstretched in dramatic protest. “The guys deserve a little love too, ya know?”
You rolled your eyes with a smirk. “Didn’t you tell me that hugging was for sissies?”
Henry tilted his head, faux locs bouncing as he scoffed. “Yeah, well—that was before you got fuckin’ shot, okay?”
With a laugh, you walked over and looped an arm around his neck, yanking him into a headlock before giving him a good, affectionate noogie.
“FUCKIN’—WHY?!”
He flailed helplessly, drawing laughter from the rest of the group as you released him, his hands flying up to shield his poor scalp.
“Because I can, you ass,” you said sweetly, folding your arms and towering over him in mock authority.
You turned to Elias and Luka next, offering them both a warm smile.
“It’s good to see you’re doing well, (Y/n),” Luka said, offering a rare but sincere smile.
“Glad you could join us,” Elias chimed in, brushing a strand of his maroon hair behind his ear. “Recovery treating you alright?”
“Definitely,” you replied with a nod. “I’m finally teaching again. The doctors really did their magic.”
You left out the real miracle—the moment Dende’s hand hovered over your chest, and that tiny, jagged piece of death was pulled from your heart. Some things you weren’t ready to explain.
“Hey, (Y/n)?” Jenny’s voice cut in, soft but direct.
You turned to her, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”
She leaned in slightly, one elbow resting on the table, her other hand casually pointing to the side with a thumb. “So… who’s the big guy?”
Your gaze followed her gesture to Piccolo—who stood a few feet away from the booth, arms folded tightly, eyes lowered and expression carefully unreadable. He kept a respectable distance, but his alertness was palpable. Like a sentinel standing guard.
Despite his carefully conjured outfit—purple slacks, a tailored button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his green complexion as well as the pink patches in his arm—he stood out. Tall. Alien. Still. You could feel the weight of glances from nearby tables, the murmurs and curious stares prickling along your skin like static.
Hot anger bloomed in your chest. You wanted to shout Stop staring! You wanted to defend him, shield him—but you knew better. This wasn’t the time. Not tonight.
You inhaled, slow and steady. Let it go.
“Oh! Right!” You gave a small, sheepish laugh. “I totally forgot—”
You stepped over to him, placing your hand gently against his abdomen. He glanced down at your touch, then back at your friends, wordlessly awaiting your lead.
“Everyone, this is Piccolo.” You turned toward your friends again, smiling brightly. “Piccolo, these are my friends. This is Amelia—”
Amelia waved enthusiastically, her red hair swishing. “Hi! You’re taller than I imagined, and I imagined tall.”
“This is Jenny,” you continued.
Jenny nodded slowly, her gaze sharpening, evaluating him from head to toe. “Huh. Okay.”
“And these three are Henry, Luka, and Elias.”
Henry gave a casual wave. “Yo.” But his eyes were sharp, the wheels already turning behind them.
Luka didn’t say a word—just stared, jaw tense, brow furrowed. He didn’t like mysteries he couldn’t solve.
Elias, ever gracious, smiled brightly. “It’s always nice to welcome someone new.”
Then Jenny, voice cautious, turned her full attention back to you. “Sooo… is he, like, a friend? Or, what—an acquaintance of your master’s?”
You smiled, your hand tightening slightly on Piccolo’s shirt, feeling the subtle warmth beneath it. A blush crept up your cheeks, blooming fast.
“Actually,” you said softly, tilting your head up to meet Piccolo’s gaze.
His eyes met yours, gentle and unguarded. That alone made your friends fall silent. They weren’t used to seeing someone look at you like that.
“Piccolo isn’t a friend or an acquaintance of my master,” you said. “He’s… my boyfriend.”
The table went dead silent.
Jenny’s mouth fell open. Amelia’s hand flew up to cover her gasp. Henry’s drink paused halfway to his mouth. Elias blinked in disbelief, and Luka just… stared.
And then, without hesitation, Piccolo’s arms uncrossed and he reached out—resting a large, warm hand against your back, fingers pressing gently between your shoulder blades. Protective. Affectionate.
Amelia squealed, both hands covering over her mouth to muffle the sound.
Jenny stuttered, eyes wide, mouth working like her brain couldn’t form actual words.
“You… you…” she gasped, clutching the edge of the table with white-knuckled hands.
You looked up at Piccolo with a warning smile. “Brace yourself. Jenny’s gonna scream—”
“WHAAT?!” Jenny exploded, shooting up from her seat and slamming both hands onto the table. “YOU’VE BEEN HIDING THIS FROM ME THIS ENTIRE TIME?!”
You giggled, leaning subtly into Piccolo as his hand pulled you a little closer. “Hehehe… yeah. You might wanna sit down, Jenny. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
You glanced at Amelia and gave her a playful nudge. “Mind scooting over? We’ve got a story to tell.”
Amelia quickly scooted over with a grin so wide it looked like it might split her face in two. She practically bounced in her seat, dragging you down beside her with eager hands while patting the empty spot next to you. “C'mon, big guy! No standing on the sidelines now.”
Piccolo hesitated, his eyes flicking from you to the seat, then to the curious faces watching him. For a heartbeat, he looked like he might decline—but then your fingers found his, a gentle squeeze of silent encouragement. With a sigh barely audible over the jazz music, he obliged, sitting down beside you. The booth creaked slightly beneath his weight, drawing a few chuckles from Henry and Elias.
“Damn,” Henry muttered with a smirk. “What’s he benching, like, a small building?”
You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Please don’t challenge him, Henry. He might actually show you.”
Piccolo shot you a side glance. “Wouldn’t be much of a challenge.”
Henry snorted, eyes lighting up at the dry humor. “Okay, I like him.”
Jenny, still trying to mentally reboot, leaned forward and jabbed her finger in your direction. “Start from the beginning. I want dates, times, how this happened. This is—this is massive! I mean, seriously?! How long have you been keeping him from us?!”
You laughed, running a hand through your hair being mindful not to disturb the half-up braid. “Okay, okay, I’ll explain. Just… don’t freak out.”
“I’m already freaking out!” she half-shouted, arms thrown up. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to set you up with boring-ass grad students?”
“And do you see why that never worked?” you teased.
Jenny groaned into her hands while Amelia leaned in, eyes wide with wonder. “So… how did you two meet? Like, officially?”
You glanced at Piccolo again, silently asking if he was okay with you telling the story. He gave a small nod, his posture relaxing ever so slightly. His hand, which was resting on his lap, subtly shifted until his fingers brushed against yours under the table.
“Well…” you began, launching into the condensed version of everything—your training, how you first met him in the forest, how he became your security guard for your school, the injuries, the long hours of recovery, and how he’d been there. How he’d stayed.
In the midst of your storytelling, a waitress quietly approached the table, setting down a glass of water in front of both you and Piccolo without a word, then slipped away just as silently.
“Hold the fuck up.”
Jenny’s voice sliced through the lingering background chatter like a whipcrack. She froze mid-reach for her drink, arms folding with dramatic flair as she leaned forward over the table—nearly knocking her glass of wine clean off the edge. Amelia, seated just beside her, casually reached out and steadied it without looking.
“You’re telling me,” she continued, brows shooting into her hairline, “that you’ve known Piccolo—this giant green intergalactic muscle mountain—for three years?”
You nodded slowly, already bracing yourself. You even pre-wrinkled your nose in anticipation.
Jenny stared. Blinked. Then exploded.
“THREE. FUCKING. YEARS.”
She threw her hands into her faux locs with a dramatic groan, dragging them down her face like she was physically in pain. “I’ve been to your house! I’ve seen your couch! I’ve watched Netflix in your bathrobe while drunk off Moscato! How the hell did I never see this seven-foot tower of stoic green daddy energy lurking around?!”
You winced, a sheepish laugh tumbling out as you rubbed the back of your neck. A cartoonish little sweatdrop might as well have formed on your cheek.
“To be fair…” you started, shooting a glance at Piccolo—who sat still as a statue, but whose eyebrow had very slightly twitched at the phrase "daddy energy"—“Piccolo isn’t exactly the type to, uh, crash dinner parties or pop in for brunch.”
Jenny squinted at him suspiciously. “So what—you just kept him in your garden like some kind of secret boyfriend bonsai?”
“I’m not a plant,” Piccolo muttered dryly.
You stifled a snort, then turned your attention back to Jenny. “He’s… a recluse. He likes peace and quiet. Doesn’t really do the whole socializing thing unless he has to. And I respected that. Always did.”
Your voice softened as you looked up at Piccolo for a moment, the tiniest smile tugging at your lips. “So yeah… imagine my surprise when he actually said yes to coming here tonight. Voluntarily.”
Jenny’s jaw hung open. “You mean to tell me this introverted Namekian hermit just chose to step out of his weird meditation void and waltz into a bar full of strangers—for you?”
You gave a sheepish shrug. “Apparently, yeah.”
Jenny was quiet for all of three seconds. Then she pointed an accusing finger at Piccolo, wide-eyed and borderline scandalized. “Sir. You simp. And I say that with the highest respect.”
Piccolo, without missing a beat, took a slow sip of his drink. “I have no idea what that means.”
“Oh my god, I love him,” Jenny said, slumping back in her chair with a stunned laugh. “I’m gonna need to write this full timeline on a PowerPoint. Maybe a live reenactment too.”
Henry raised his glass. “I got dibs on playing Piccolo.”
“You’re not tall enough,” Amelia chirped.
“I’ll stand on a fucking chair!”
You snorted, shaking your head with a grin, disbelief written all over your face. “What—No. No one is reenacting anyone, got it? That’s weird as hell and kinda creepy.” You jabbed your index finger at Jenny and Henry, who were already giggling like a pair of kids who’d just gotten away with something. The finger-point was part warning, part exasperated big-sibling energy, but they clearly didn’t take it seriously.
As your laughter died down, you suddenly felt it—Piccolo’s hand shifting ever so slightly where it rested beneath the table, until it came to settle gently on your thigh. His fingers curled softly, giving you a deliberate, grounding squeeze. It wasn’t possessive. It was quiet, affirming. A silent thank you.
Your heart gave a small flutter, betraying how something so subtle could still shake you to your core.
But not everyone was laughing.
Luka had yet to speak. He sat leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His gaze, sharp and contemplative, flicked between you and Piccolo without saying a word. His brows were furrowed in that familiar way that meant his brain was working overtime, analyzing every little detail. You’d seen that expression before—when he was worried, when he was watching out for you.
He wasn’t being hostile. Luka didn’t do drama. But he was wary. And considering the kind of shit you all had been through over the years, it wasn’t surprising. Luka had learned to read people like open books, and he wasn’t the kind to trust someone just because you did.
Then finally, he spoke.
“Do you love her?”
The entire table fell silent. Drinks hovered halfway to mouths. Amelia’s eyebrows shot up. Jenny blinked. Henry stopped chewing. Elias couldn’t contain a smirk from forming.
Even the jazz music in the background felt like it dimmed a little.
Luka’s voice hadn’t been accusatory—just steady, calm, but dead serious. Like he was asking the question everyone else was too afraid to say out loud.
You turned your head slowly toward Piccolo, already feeling the change in his body language. The hand on your thigh had stilled, but there was a new tension there now—a readiness. You glanced up at him, and for a second, his expression was unreadable. A blank mask of calm. But then you saw it. The smallest crinkle at the corner of his eye. That subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture.
He wasn’t offended.
He was preparing to answer.
And you already knew what he was going to say.
Piccolo stared at Luka, held his gaze without flinching, not out of defiance but from a place of grounded clarity—like someone who understood the weight behind the question and wasn’t afraid to carry it.
Then, slowly, his head turned. His hand, still resting on your thigh, shifted again—his thumb moving in a gentle arc, rubbing slow, deliberate circles into your jumpsuit.
And he looked at you.
Really looked at you.
The rest of the world faded. The buzz of the bar, the muffled clatter of glasses and laughter, even your friends sitting just inches away—all of it fell into a soft hush.
“I do,” he said finally, voice low, gravelly but steady. “More than I thought I ever could.”
His eyes never left yours.
“You have no idea how many walls I built just to keep people out,” he continued, his voice quieter now, like he was letting you in on something sacred. “Then you came along. And… you didn’t try to tear them down. You waited. You saw me. All of me. And you never once asked me to change.”
You felt something rise in your chest—warm, fragile, powerful. Like something blooming wide and wild in your ribs.
“I love her,” Piccolo said again, this time turning his attention briefly to Luka, though his hand never left your thigh. “Not because she saved me. Not because she put up with me. But because she made me want to be known. And that’s not something I ever thought I’d say in a room like this.”
Luka stared at him for a beat longer. The tension in his jaw softened just slightly, his arms loosening from the tight fold across his chest. No words. Just a small, thoughtful nod—the kind that said: That’s enough.
You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you let it out.
Then Jenny broke the silence with a dramatic sniff. “Oh my god, I need a fuckin’ tissue. Who let this be a rom-com all of a sudden?!” She fumbled into her bag for a napkin while Henry, red in the face, reached to his right to swat her arm.
“Shut the hell up, Jen. I almost got misty-eyed and now you ruined it.”
Elias raised his glass. “To love making unexpected house calls.”
Amelia, already mid-sip, let out a delighted little squeal. “I knew it. You two are so disgustingly cute it should be illegal.”
You turned to Piccolo, heart thudding, cheeks warm. He raised an eyebrow slightly—his version of a soft smile—and leaned closer, his voice just for you.
“You okay?”
You nodded, smiling up at him, your hand moving to rest on top of his. “Better than okay.”
Amelia was already halfway through her second drink when she leaned across the table and grinned at you. “Okay, but seriously—how did you bag someone like him? Like, no offense, babe, but Piccolo looks like he could crush a tank with his pinky and then lecture it about self-discipline.”
Henry snorted into his drink. “For real. Man’s got the ‘I meditate in volcanoes’ energy.”
You were about to respond when Elias leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the back like he was settling in for a show. That lazy, mischievous grin spread across his face like a goddamn wildfire.
“Oh, we’re going there?” he asked, raising a brow. “Because I have questions.”
You already felt your stomach drop. That was never a good sign.
“Elias,” you warned, narrowing your eyes. “Be normal.”
“Oh, I am. Totally normal.” He winked. “I just wanna know how anyone survives a make-out session with someone whose biceps are literally the size of my head. Like, what happens if he gets too into it? Do you end up in another zip code?”
You felt your entire face ignite like someone had lit a match behind your ears. “ELIAS.”
Jenny doubled over laughing. “Oh my god—ZIP CODE?!”
“I’m just saying!” Elias continued, shameless. “Man’s got that ‘destroyer of worlds, gentle lover’ vibe. I bet he’s the type who kisses you like he’s apologizing for every time he’s ever blown up a moon.”
Henry almost choked on his beer. “Brooo.”
Amelia wheezed, gripping Jenny’s arm as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Stop—STOP—my stomach can’t take this!”
Piccolo, bless his stoic soul, had been silently enduring the assault on his dignity. But you felt the moment his composure cracked—a twitch at the corner of his mouth, his grip tightening slightly on your thigh under the table. And when you risked a glance up at him…
He was blushing. His ears were blushing.
And you? Your face was molten lava.
“Elias,” you groaned, burying your burning face in your hands. “You can’t just say shit like that in public.”
Elias grinned, unapologetic. “Oh, come on. You know I’m right. Look at him. That’s not a boyfriend. That’s a six-foot-seven war god who probably calls you ‘beloved’ in the middle of a sparring match.”
You heard a low, amused rumble from beside you.
And when you turned your head, Piccolo—still blushing—leaned just slightly toward Elias with a dry, unamused stare.
“…You think I don’t know how to aim an energy blast?”
Elias paused.
Laughed nervously.
“I—uh—respectfully withdraw the question.”
Piccolo raised an eyebrow. “Smart.”
The whole table lost it.
You were still hiding your face in your hands, shoulders shaking from the kind of laughter that left your whole body buzzing. You peeked up at Piccolo, who looked straight ahead—composed again.
Jenny wiped tears from her eyes. “Jesus Christ, Elias. I swear, you live to traumatize people.”
“I live to educate people,” Elias shot back, raising his glass. “You’re welcome.”
“Yeah? Well next time, educate yourself on when to shut the hell up,” Henry deadpanned, reaching over to flick Elias in the forehead.
Piccolo leaned in slightly, just enough that only you could hear him. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or… concerned.”
You snorted, grinning like an idiot. “A little of both.”
After the chaos of Elias’s “zip code” comment started to die down—barely—you were still clinging to what little dignity you had left. Piccolo hadn’t moved his hand from your thigh, but you could feel the tension in his fingers, like he was bracing for whatever hell came next.
And he was right.
“So,” Jenny began, her voice laced with mischief as she leaned in, her elbows resting on the table and her chin perched atop steepled fingers. Her eyes sparkled like a gremlin with a matchbook. “Now that we’re done with introductions and listening to some good storytelling, there’s only one thing left to do.”
Piccolo blinked slowly. “…What.”
His voice was low, cautious—like a man who had just heard the first note of an incoming disaster siren.
Henry didn’t say a word, but the wicked curve of his grin spoke volumes as he sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair, content to let Jenny wreak whatever chaos she was planning.
“A good ol’ drinking game, of course!” Jenny announced, waving her hand dramatically like she was hosting a variety show. She flagged down a passing waitress without missing a beat. “Vodka. The big bottle, and seven shot glasses.”
You blinked. “Jenny—”
”Seven,” she repeated firmly, holding up her fingers like she was blessing the waitress with divine instruction.
The server didn’t even blink—just nodded and disappeared, probably used to this kind of behavior from your table by now.
You leaned toward Jenny, having to invade Amelia’s space but the red-head didn’t mind, your voice hushed but sharp. “Are you trying to get us all alcohol poisoning?”
Jenny shrugged, already buzzing with excitement. “Oh, please, you and your man have been drinking water this entire time. It’s time to spice things up a little. If we die, we die drunk and full of secrets.”
Before you could argue further, the waitress returned—like the harbinger of doom—with an ominously large bottle of vodka and seven perfectly clinking shot glasses balanced on a tray. She set them down with the efficiency of someone who wanted np part of what was about to transpire.
Jenny clapped once. “Excellent. The blood sacrifice has been made.”
You shifted in your seat, a pit forming in your stomach as you eyed the bottle. It glinted under the soft bar light like it knew it was about to ruin someone’s night. And probably someone’s life if they weren’t careful.
Jenny began filling the glasses like she was anointing each one with a cursed blessing. Then the smell of alcohol wafted up, sharp and unforgiving.
You gave her a deadpan look. “…I’m hesitant to even ask, but I’m asking anyway. What kind of drinking game are we playing?”
Jenny beamed. That shit-eating, chaos-fueled grin that could only mean trouble.
“Never Have I Ever, duh. Classic. Timeless. A sure fire way to emotionally scar each other with no survivors.”
Your soul left your body. “Fuck.”
Beside you, Piccolo raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you. His gaze softened with concern as he caught the tension rolling through your body. His hand hidden under the table had squeezed gently on your thigh. A silent question, a wordless tether: You okay?
You turned your head, meeting his gaze. The worry in your eyes must’ve been obvious because he tilted his head slightly, his antennae moving gently, his voice low enough only for you to hear.
“Is the game that terrible?”
There was something oddly innocent in the way he asked it. Curious. As if he didn’t fully understand what he was walking into but trusted you to guide him.
Before you could answer, Jenny managed to overhear what Piccolo said, cut in, far too delighted to explain.
“Oh, it’s amazing,” she said, spinning one of the shot glasses like a villain in a Bond movie. “Here’s how it works: someone says something they’ve never done. If you have done it, you take a shot. If not, you don’t drink. Simple right? But the real fun happens when the truth bombs start flying. Embarrassing stories. Secrets. Confessions. Shame. Regret. You name it.”
She paused dramatically, raising her full glass toward the center of the table. “It’s a beautifully messy human experience.”
Piccolo listened intently, nodding slowly, though his brow began to furrow.
And when Jenny delivered the part about “revealing embarrassing secrets,” you watched a rare sight unfold—Piccolo’s eyes widened. Just a little. Barely enough to notice if you didn’t know him. But you did.
He immediately tried to neutralize his expression, smoothing it back into unreadable calm.
Only to fail.
Miserably.
You stifled a laugh, squeezing his hand beneath the table.
He leaned close and whispered, barely audible. “This sounds… dangerous.”
”Oh, it is,” you replied with a dry grin. “But let’s just hope we don’t have to reveal anything too personal.”
Jenny raised her glass. “Let the games begin!”
Elias, of course, immediately belted out the first prompt with a wicked grin: ��Never have I ever—kissed someone over six-foot-five and built like a Greek statue.”
You blinked once, then tilted your head with the most innocent smile you could muster. “Joke’s on you, Elias. Me and Piccolo haven’t even kissed yet. Unless you count, like… a kiss on the cheek.”
A record-scratch silence hit the table.
“WAIT—” Jenny practically shot out of her seat, hands slamming onto the table as her eyes bounced between you and Piccolo like she was watching a scandalous tennis match. “You two haven’t even kissed yet?! Are you serious?!”
You and Piccolo shared a look, like a secret radio frequency crackling to life between you—one that said here it comes.
As you both turned to face your very stunned friends, a cartoonish sweatdrop might as well have formed on the side of both your heads. The entire group was staring at you like you’d confessed to never having used the internet.
“Uhh… no?” you said slowly, your tone calm but defensive, like you were explaining quantum physics to a table full of gossip gremlins. “We’ve only been together for, what, three months? That’s not nothing, but still early days.”
Piccolo glanced down at you, and when your eyes met his, there was nothing but quiet warmth. His expression softened, and a small, barely-there smile curved his lips—like the sun peeking out behind a distant mountain range. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The look said it all: he was okay with this. With you. With the pace of things.
You leaned into it slightly, speaking more to your friends now. “We’re taking things slow. I don’t mind the limited PDA. Eventually, yeah, we’ll get there. But not until we’re both comfortable. No pressure. No rush.”
Jenny looked like her entire worldview had been challenged. “That’s so wholesome I actually feel like I’m having an allergic reaction.”
Henry coughed, trying not to laugh. Amelia blinked rapidly like she’d just walked into an indie romance film.
Luka, of course, simply nodded in quiet approval like a dad who just watched his kid turn down a bad idea.
You turned your attention back to Elias, who was still stuck on the previous prompt. “So, sorry to disappoint you, Elias,” you teased, raising your glass with a playful smirk. “But your little trap? Kinda backfired.”
Elias let out an exaggerated groan, dragging his hands down his face dramatically. “Goddammit. I knew it was a risk. I knew it. I was hoping to catch you in a juicy moment but instead, I got feelings.”
He reached for his shot glass, filled to the brim with what now looked like the bitter taste of defeat. “Well, fuck it. I’m drinking anyway. Out of pure disappointment and maybe just a little spite.”
He downed it in one go, eyes squeezed shut as the vodka burned its way down.
“Hellfire,” he wheezed, placing the now-empty glass on the table with a careful thud. “Why is vodka always such a betrayal?”
“You brought that on yourself,” Amelia said, sipping her now third martini glass.
And Jenny, despite herself, grinned too. “Alright, alright,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ll allow it. It’s disgustingly sweet. But I’ll allow it.”
Before anyone could get too sentimental, Jenny clapped her hands together like an over-caffeinated game show host. “Alright, lovebirds, enough of the Nicholas Sparks shit—back to the chaos.”
She spun dramatically toward Henry, pointing a freshly-poured shot glass at him like she was accusing him of murder. “Henry, your turn. Impress us. Traumatize us. Give us something feral.”
Henry leaned back in his seat, one arm thrown over the back of the booth like he owned the place. “Aight, you want chaos?” He cracked his neck with a smug grin. “I am chaos.”
“Oh god,” Elias muttered, already reaching for his glass in defeat.
Henry rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming with mischief. Then he leaned forward, grinning like the devil about to sign a soul contract.
“Never have I ever…” He paused for dramatic effect, eyes scanning the group. “…accidentally sexted my mom.”
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” You gasped, nearly knocking your shot glass over as you stared at him in abject horror.
Amelia choked on her spit and wheezed like a dying kettle.
“DUDE,” Jenny cried, laughing so hard she was crying, “THAT’S YOUR OWN PROMPT???”
Henry shrugged, shameless. “I never said it was a proud moment. But hey, I learned from it.”
Elias groaned. “That’s not learning. That’s becoming a cautionary tale.”
You shook your head in disbelief, a laugh escaping despite your horror. “Please tell me your mom doesn’t still have the screenshots.”
“She does,” Henry said flatly. “She brings it up every Thanksgiving. I get PTSD from cranberry sauce now.”
Piccolo, who had been trying to follow along with increasing confusion, leaned close to you and whispered with deep, solemn concern, “…What is sexting?”
You nearly spat your water back into the glass. Face now beet red, you turned slowly to him and whispered back, “I’ll explain later. Privately.”
He nodded gravely.
Jenny slammed her hand on the table. “Alright, fess up! Anyone gonna drink to that horrific confession?”
Elias raised his hand timidly. “I mean, not my mom, but my aunt once, so… same trauma, different packaging.”
“Oh my god, Elias.” Amelia buried her face in her hands.
Luka, miraculously, took a sip of his drink too, and the entire table turned to him in stunned silence.
“…Luka?” you asked, blinking.
He sighed, deadpan as ever. “It was a long time ago. Group chat mishap. I no longer text after 9PM.”
There was a beat of silence. Then you burst out laughing. Even Piccolo, confused as he was, gave a quiet chuckle—low and soft—but it was enough to make your heart flip.
Jenny’s jaw dropped. “Did… did he just laugh?!”
“I think he did,” you said, eyes wide.
Henry pointed accusingly. “Bro’s evolving. He’s learning the power of degeneracy.”
Piccolo shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “No, I’m just trying to understand how any of you survived this long without spontaneously combusting from sheer embarrassment.”
Jenny snorted. “That’s fair. But the game’s not over yet! Who’s next?”
Amelia reached for her shot glass with a cool, almost suspicious calm.
“I think it’s my turn now,” she said, tucking a loose curl of red hair behind her ear. Her maroon eyes sparkled with something dangerous. “And I’m about to separate the saints from the sinners.”
“Oh shit,” Elias muttered, clutching his chest like he was about to be read for filth.
Amelia smirked. She leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs like a movie villain about to deliver the final blow. “Never have I ever… taken a pole dancing class.”
The entire table went still.
Your brain short-circuited.
Your hand moved on instinct—like a damn traitor—and you took a sip from your drink before you could stop yourself.
Silence.
Then—
“EXCUSE ME?!” Jenny screamed, nearly flipping the table as her eyes bulged out of her skull.
Henry choked on his drink. “YO WHAT?!”
Elias dropped his shot glass. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard—WHY DIDN’T I KNOW THIS?!”
Luka just blinked slowly, eyebrows raised. “…Huh.”
All eyes were on you now as you froze mid-sip, your face glowing red like someone had switched on a heat lamp directly over your soul. You set your glass down very carefully, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.
“I—okay, listen.” You cleared your throat, flustered beyond belief. “This was before I even became an instructor. I wasn’t trying to be sexy or whatever—it was just a class I took on a whim.”
Jenny looked personally betrayed. “A whim?! A whim?! Girl, pole dancing is a lifestyle. You gotta commit!”
Henry slammed his palms on the table. “I need to know: was it one of those classes with heels and music or like… a fitness thing?”
“I’m not answering that,” you said, covering your face with both hands. “Some of us are trying to hold on to our last thread of dignity.”
Elias leaned in, completely ignoring that request. “You still remember the moves though, right? Just for research purposes. Scientific curiosity.”
“ELIAS,” you hissed, kicking him lightly under the table.
While the chaos unfolded, Piccolo looked utterly baffled. He turned to you, blinking slowly.
“…What is pole dancing?”
Your soul left your body.
Jenny leaned across the table, grinning like a gremlin granted its one malicious wish. “Oh, Piccolo, my sweet green man. It’s like… interpretive dance but vertical. In heels. Sometimes upside-down. Often involves dollar bills.”
Piccolo’s face went completely still, but you swore you saw the tips of his ears—and, if you could believe it—his antennas turned a shade darker. His eyes widened slightly as he turned to you again.
“You did… that?”
You let out a strangled groan. “ONE class! And it was a fitness class, thank you very much!”
“But did you enjoy it?” Luka asked innocently, his tone deceptively neutral.
You threw a napkin at him. “That’s not the point!”
Piccolo cleared his throat, looking forward with the most rigid posture you’d seen all night. “I… I suppose it’s a form of strength training?”
You sighed. “Yes. Thank you.”
“…But also dancing. On a pole.” he added, still clearly trying to compute it.
“Piccolo,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands again. “Please stop.”
Amelia raised her shot glass with a grin, clinking it gently against yours. “No judgment here. I’m just glad someone finally drank to one of mine.”
Jenny cackled like a madwoman. “This night keeps getting better. I swear, if someone admits to joining a cult next, I’m gonna die happy.”
Henry raised a hand. “Do MLMs count?”
Everyone groaned.
Piccolo, still stunned, quietly muttered under his breath, “I’m going to need to meditate for a week after this night.”
You rubbed your fingers in a slow circular motion against your temple, staring down at the table, your face still red as you whispered. “I think… I might join you on that offer.”
Jenny was riding high on the drama of the pole-dancing revelation, spinning her empty shot glass between her fingers like a villain monologuing in the third act.
“All right,” she said, cracking her neck like she was about to commit a felony. “Time to stir the pot again.”
“Oh no,” Henry mumbled.
“Oh yes,” Jenny grinned. “Never have I ever… tried to kill my friend as a joke.”
“Jesus Christ, Jenny,” Amelia groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Elias let out a bark of laughter. “What kind of Looney Tunes-ass prompt is that?!”
Luka rolled his eyes but reached for his drink anyway, muttering something about “That one time with the bear trap.”
But then—Piccolo took a sip.
Everyone froze.
The table collectively snapped their heads toward him so fast it was a miracle no one sprained anything.
Piccolo sat still, jaw slightly clenched, his body tense in a way you hadn’t seen all night. The subtle squeeze of his hand on your thigh was the only giveaway that he wasn’t just casually sipping out of misunderstanding.
You didn’t react—you already knew. He’d told you those stories, the ones from long before he ever imagined himself sitting at a bar surrounded by chaos gremlins playing drinking games. You knew his past, and how much he’d changed.
But your friends? They were losing it.
Jenny blinked. “Wait. Wait. You—YOU?! You took a drink?!”
Henry leaned forward, eyes wide. “Holy shit, was that real? That wasn’t, like… metaphorical?”
Amelia’s eyebrows shot up, and even Elias had gone quiet for once.
Piccolo let out a slow exhale and looked down at the table, his shot glass spinning slightly in his hand.
“It… wasn’t a joke,” he said after a long moment, voice low. “And it wasn’t a game.”
Luka tilted his head. “But you did try to kill a friend?”
Piccolo nodded slowly. “A long time ago. Before I changed.”
Elias, ever the tactless menace, raised both hands. “Bro, that’s metal as fuck. Who was it? Are they okay? Did they… like, get better?”
You shot Elias a look. “Elias.”
Piccolo, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He just pressed his lips together, still avoiding everyone’s gaze. “Let’s just say… there was a time I wanted power more than anything else. And there was someone who stood in my way. He became a rival. An enemy. But… also a friend.”
The table went dead silent.
“And now?” Amelia asked, her voice quieter, more curious than judgmental.
Piccolo finally looked up. “Now, he’s one of the few people I trust.”
Jenny blinked a few times, slowly lowering her drink. “Well shit. That got real.”
Henry coughed into his fist. “Can we go back to pole dancing?”
Elias raised his shot glass like he was toasting to Piccolo’s character arc. “To redemption arcs and not murdering your friends!”
Piccolo snorted softly, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to melt as he glanced sideways at you. “This game is ridiculous.”
You nudged him gently with your elbow, smiling. “Told you.”
“Still,” Jenny said, pouring another shot, “that was the wildest round yet. Top tier. Ten outta ten. Can’t wait to traumatize the next person.”
Piccolo gave you a side glance, then leaned in just close enough for you to hear him over the noise.
“…Are there more games like this?”
You smiled around the rim of your shot glass, the alcohol warming your throat as you took a slow sip. “Oh, sweetie,” you said, tone light and teasing, “we haven’t even gotten to Truth or Dare: Unhinged Edition yet.”
There was a twinkle in your eye, but you tilted your head, glancing toward your friends—Henry in particular, whose cheeks were beginning to turn bright red, eyes glassy with the unmistakable sheen of a man about to go past tipsy. Amelia was slouched over the table, hiccuping through a giggle, while Jenny was mumbling something about shot glass pyramids.
“I don’t think we’ll get the chance to play it tonight,” you murmured with a knowing grin, setting your glass down. “At this rate, we’ll all be wasted before the vodka’s halfway gone.”
You didn’t notice the way Piccolo’s posture stiffened slightly beside you, how his eyes widened—just a fraction. But the damage was done.
That single word—sweetie—lodged itself in his chest like a live wire. His expression didn’t change dramatically, but the softest, most unmistakable purple tint bloomed across his cheeks. His fingers twitched ever so slightly against your leg. A warmth he hadn’t anticipated spread low in his abdomen, an unfamiliar mix of affection and longing stirring in a quiet, dizzying swirl.
You still weren’t looking at him.
Which, somehow, made it worse.
He glanced down, lips pressed into a thin line, as though trying to smother the involuntary smile threatening to betray him. His gaze flicked back to you once more—so at ease, so effortlessly disarming—and that strange, fluttering heat pulsed again.
He would never admit it out loud, not yet, but that one little word had knocked the wind clean out of him.
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(a/n)
We finally met (Y/n)'s friends!!
Ngl, this chapter was a lot of fun to write! I wanted to keep going BUT I knew I had to end it off with something disguistingly sweet. 😉
Also—
PICCOLO IN A BUTTONED UP SHIRT AND SLACKS.
OOf 🥵
I was drooling just imagining him walking around dressed up like that. So scandalous, haha. 🥹
Also, also,
Our MC drives a mustang. Hehee. c;
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Part XX
You are currently reading Part XXI
Part XXII Coming soon...
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It Turned into Love Masterlist
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Tag list:
@utakamo
@nerdy-girl-named-pumpkin
@dovah-bee
@thatsbunnysmind
#Dragon Ball Z#Dragon Ball Super#Dragon Ball Z Piccolo#Dragon Ball Super Piccolo#dbz#dbs#dbz piccolo#Piccolo#Piccolo x reader#reader insert#x reader#reader is a Mixed Martial Arts instructor reader is implied as female but it is also read as gender neutral!#Slow burn#Friends to lovers#Piccolo dbz#Piccolo is a huge softie under a tough exterior#It Turned into Love#lilyswrittenworks#Fanfiction#Fanfic#Dragon ball z fanfiction#Piccolo x you#Reader#Piccolo falls in love with a human#Fluff#Cursing LOTS of cursing#So much fluff it’ll leave you screaming#can be read as gender neutral cuz its in second person#afab reader#Your in a relationship with Piccolo
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What's your religious view on loa, void state ect. I'm glad the first muslim shifter I encountered was someone who actually is a shifter n not an anti

hi!! it's always heart-warming to know there's more muslim shifters out here <33
I would love to share my view on the mentioned topics. I did so on manifesting and shifting here, so you can check that out too. hopefully it'll help understand my stance on these things better :)
also, I did answer one ask about the void state and my religious view on it here! but there's always room for learning, so i'll discuss and add to it in this post too. now onto the question.
act 1. islam and law of assumption

• what is law of assumption? assuming something as true for yourself without the need for any external / material proof.
• what is an assumption? a statement that is held true without any tangible proof or 3d evidence.

• how does that relate to islam?
just like how when we make dua, or ask for something in prayer, with a 100% assurance of receiving a response— is the same way loa works.
when you desire something, your heart yearns for it. and you raise your hands in prayer to ask for it. exactly after the asking is when loa comes to play.
it is the certainty of a prayer accepted, a dua answered, a wish fulfilled.
you don't worry or stress out about how, when, or where your dua will be accepted. you just know it will be. just like that, you don't have to worry about w's of how your assumption will be reflected by the 3d. it just will.

act 11. the void state and islam

• what is the void state? a deep meditative state where you allow your thoughts to pass without judgment, achieving a state of pure consciousness where the body falls asleep while the mind remains awake — is the web definition.

• how does that relate to islam?
though the manifestation of ones desires— as I see it, is tied to religious beliefs, the act of entering the void state itself, to me, has nothing to do with religion. I believe it has more to do with the mind in this scenario.
just like how dreaming is. it's not exactly a religious thing, is it? or, lucid dreaming. SATS. etc etc. these things are all about the state your brain is operating in. like, the right after waking up (the hypnopompic state), the right before falling asleep (the hypnagogic state), the deeply relaxed state of mind (SATS or void), so on and so forth.
when in any state of relaxation, the conscious mind and thoughts become incoherent, all jumbled up. meanwhile, the subconscious mind is the most active, and very accepting of whatever assumption you feed it.
the void state is the same. when you enter it, your conscious mind is wired shut. whereas your subconscious mind is completely welcoming of whatever assumptions you want to feed it.
mind perceives reality. it percieves whatever it believes as true or real. so one's it's accepted your desires as true, they “manifest” (i.e, you become aware of the reality they are real / exist in.)
ofcourse, all of that does in the end tie to religion and Allah's Will. since the mind is created by Him, and Him willing does everything happen. so it's more of an indirect relation between the void state and islam.

© zshiftsrealities all images from pinterest. credits to respective owners.
#manifestation blog#manifest#manifestation#manifesting#manifesting blog#loassblog#loassumption#loa tumblr#loablr#law of assumption#loa#loa blog#reality shifting#shiftblr#shifting realities#shifting#shifting blog#shifting reality#shifting community#shifter#shifters#void#void state#muslim shifter#reality shifter#sats#state akin to sleep#lucid dream#lucid dreaming
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When hell freezes over
Word count: 5.1k
Pairing: Bi-Han x afab!Reader
A/N: I make no apologies for what I’ve written, I do however, apologise for this coming out before part four of the Crushing series. I saw God (Bi-Han in mk 1) and got possessed by the Holy Spirit (horniness). I’ve noticed tumblr is lacking in fics for my mk cravings, which resulted in this. This fic was initially going to be 1k of only smut, but I got carried away and added a minor plot line :3
Summary: Bi-Han keeps staring at you and you don’t know why but it really starts to get on your nerves, especially when he won’t even admit that he is doing it.
Warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, creampie, voyeurism (they fuck outside but they don’t get caught), strong language, pure filth, minor plot, mean Bi-Han, Bi-Han is ooc prolly but he’s also a bitch still, so not completely ooc
Staying at the fire temple means you’ve seen Bi-Han around, always with a scowl on his face and that’s if he’s taken his mask off, but you can always tell he’s scowling under the mask too, with the way his eyebrows pinch. You’ve never actually held a conversation with him, he’s a bit unapproachable and when you do speak, he usually grunts in response. His way of acknowledging you without actually acknowledging you.
Lord Liu Kang has been bringing all of Earth Realms potential heroes together and training them at the Fire Temple, you just so happened to be one of the first heroes he came looking for. You have power, you’re not disillusioned though, you can see in the way Lord Liu Kang moves and speaks, that he already knows who his hero is and it’s not you, which you’re fine with. The idea of fighting against Outworld’s warriors is, to be blunt, scary. You mean to say, that the idea of fighting Sub-zero frightens you, you cannot imagine what kind of formidable opponents live in the other realms.
The other’s Liu Kang has managed to gather are all very kind but also intimidating, you’re surrounded by powerful men all day and that sets you on edge a bit, as a result you tend to be spending more time by yourself in the quieter areas of the temple. They’re not hard to find if you look for them, and the temple has a sense of tranquillity. Ever since you’ve been here, you find yourself meditating now, more than you ever have in your whole life.
On this particular day, you’re sitting on a large rock away from the temple facing all the greenery surrounding the area. Footsteps approaching you bring your awareness back to your environment, but you don’t move or open your eyes, you aren’t really in the mood to be disturbed at this current moment, for all they know, you could be really close to reaching enlightenment.
The person moves to stand in front of you but doesn’t say anything, you try to hold steady and focus but their breathing is disturbing you. In the end your resolve gives in and your shoulders slump as you look up at the perpetrator of disturbance.
You feel a bit silly as you realise that the disturbance is Lord Liu Kang himself, “I could’ve been close to enlightenment only to be disturbed by you at the last moment.”
He looks amused but only slightly, “If you had been that close to enlightenment, I doubt my presence would’ve disturbed you.”
“You can’t know that,” you pout a touch.
He gives you a polite smile in return, “Dinner is going to be served soon, will you grace us with your presence?”
He’s giving you a light ribbing; you’ve been here a while and like to think you’ve gained rapport with him. The way he will indulge you slightly makes you think you’ve succeeded in landing on his good side, though you’re not certain he has a bad side, and if he does, you don’t want to be anywhere near it.
“I hadn’t realised it had gotten this late,” looking up at the sky you can see the sun setting, you’ve been out here far longer than you had expected.
Suddenly, you feel eyes on the back of your head and a shiver runs down your spine in response, without turning around you acknowledge the secondary presence you didn’t initially register.
“Good evening to you too, Sub-zero.”
“Mmmf,” he grunts in your direction as a response.
You address Lord Liu Kang, “he seems gruntier than usual.”
“Perhaps, he is the one who disturbed your enlightenment,” he dips his head towards you as he says this, in an attempt to keep the joke between the two of you.
You chuckle in response before leaping down from the rock, “Alright, let’s eat!”
❆˖°
Dinner with everyone is always a touch rowdy, it never used to be, it used to be quieter but with the additions of Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi and especially Johnny Cage, it has gotten livelier around the temple. You find that Kuai Liang, Tomas and Bi-Han frequent dinners here now too, you suspect that them never actually leaving anymore is due to the fact that Lord Liu Kang has gathered all his potential warriors.
Everyone has bets on who they think it is and most of them are betting on themselves but you’re certain Lord Liu Kang has his pick and you’re betting it’s Raiden, the way he looks and considers him makes you think he’s his top pick.
You feel his eyes on you again from across the table, the shiver he sends through you running down your spine again. You aren’t sure why your body reacts to him like that, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it either. Preferably, he would stop staring at you so your body would stop reacting, but he is such a starer, and an angry starer too.
Looking up you lock eyes with Bi-Han, but he doesn’t look away, typical, you think, you look away instead and attempt to stay engaged in the conversations happening around you. But you know he is still staring at you and to be honest, it’s starting to get on your nerves. Taking a deep breath, you look back over at him again and he is still staring at you, you’re getting pissed now, what is his problem. He can be scary but scary is only scary until you’re annoyed.
“What is your problem?” You direct at him quietly; you don’t want everyone at the table seeing you starting a fight with the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.
He looks a little taken aback by your bluntness but only for a second, “nothing.” He shrugs.
His voice is stupid and deep, and you’re annoyed at him because why is he still fucking staring at you. People normally have enough humility to look away when confronted but he looks nonplussed by your angry confrontation.
“Well, then stop staring at me,” you shoot back, trying to remain unnoticed by the rest of the table.
“I am not staring,” he replies coolly.
What the fuck? “You definitely are though; I can feel your eyes stabbing me.”
He purses his lips in response, “My eyes are not capable of stabbing you.”
You’re frowning now, deeply, “Well… they are!” Your voice raises a bit with your increasing annoyance. Why won’t he just admit that his eyes are stabbing you.
Unfortunately, everyone has caught onto your little argument now, which prompts Lord Liu Kang to interject.
“Is everything okay?” He directs the question at you.
“Tell your guard dog to stop stabbing me with his stupid eyes,” you reply, completely exasperated with how dumb all of this is.
From the other end of the table, you hear Johnny start laughing, thud, and that was Kenshi kicking him under the table in response, attempting to get him to stop.
Johnny exclaims, “Ouch, what the fu–”
“– I am not his guard dog!” Bi-Han is angry now, he was mildly amused before, you suspect you’ve managed to hit a nerve. “I am the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei!”
You roll your eyes at him, “You’re the Grandmaster of stabbing me with your eyes!” You’re not quite sure why you’ve picked this hill to die on, but you’re committed now.
He looks pissed and you feel like you should be intimidated but you’re so irked by his behaviour that you wouldn’t care if he was God itself.
Lord Liu Kang clears his throat from the head of the table, “Maybe you should both apologise to each other and move past this.”
“No.” Both Bi-Han and you reply at the same time.
“Just admit you were staring, and I will apologise to you,” you direct this at Bi-Han.
“I wasn’t staring,” he leans back with his big stupid, defined, arms crossed over his chest.
You feel like you’re going to have an aneurysm, why is he committed to lying about this. “I know you were staring.”
“How would you know that?” He asks.
Is he being intentionally dense, “how could I not know?” You’re glaring back at him.
Lord Liu Kang clasps his hands together, a loud clap sound ringing out across the silence that had fallen over the group. Well, it was almost silent, Johnny is still muffling his laughing down the other end of the table.
“Thank you for dinner, Lord Liu Kang, I’ll be returning to my quarters early tonight.” You stand up and walk out of the room.
You miss the completely confused and exhausted look Kuai Liang gives his older brother.
❆˖°
Tonight, you find yourself tossing and turning, the evenings usually leave you a bit restless and you will fairly regularly leave your quarters to wander the grounds. Though, this evening you are restless for a separate reason, the result is the same, you’re leaving your quarters and wandering the Fire Temple aimlessly, inspecting things you’ve seen daily for months now.
You have got to be kidding, you think to yourself as you feel the all too familiar shiver run down your spine and set of eyes on the back of your head.
Your head drops in defeat and a deep sigh is pulled from your chest, “if I tell you to stop staring, would you? Or would you say you weren’t staring?”
You can feel him come up beside you, “Guess…”
“…I wasn’t staring,” you both say it in tandem, but you attempt to drop your voice as low as it can go to mock him.
He grunts in disapproval at you.
You aren’t sure why he’s come up to you, you’ve sequestered yourself off to a private area of the temple specifically so you could remain undisturbed, but not only did he find you, he fucking stabbed you with his stupid pretty, stupid angry eyes again. You feel like you’re not going to win whatever this battle is against him.
“Genuinely, why do you keep staring at me, and you can’t say you don’t because I know you do, I can feel when your eyes are on me,” you’re getting tired of this now, you just want an answer from him.
He doesn’t speak for a long moment; he’s probably considering how to word what he’s going to say next. All you know is if he says he doesn’t stare at you, you’re literally going to hit him in the face.
“Consider your words carefully, I am tempted to punch you right now,” you relay your feelings to him as a warning.
“I don’t stare–”
That does it, you swing around at him and go to throw a forceful punch aimed square at his nose, you’re aiming to break it. Unfortunately, for all his ego, he is indisputably more skilled than you and easily dodges your punch by moving his head to the side before he catches your forearm with one of his hands. His other hand reaches out to grab at your other arm and pulls you closer to his body, both your arms being held between your bodies. His strength keeping you in place, with his stupid well-defined arms.
You’re a little annoyed at yourself for bothering to warn him at all, you probably could’ve at least grazed him if you hadn’t.
Scowling at him you say, “I shouldn’t have given you a warning.”
“Your hit wouldn’t have landed either way, it was sloppy.”
“It was not!” Your punch was fine, he’s just being rude.
“I was trying to say I don’t stare at you,” you try to wiggle free of his grip, you swear he’s looking for a fight. His hands grab you tighter and pulls your forearms to rest on his chest, you’re forced to look up at him, “Stop, struggling, you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”
You gawk at him, “Are you kidding me? You’re the one who won’t admit the simple fact that you’ve been staring at me!”
He looks exhausted with you as he rolls his eyes, when did this switch? He is the unreasonable one, you were willing to apologise hours ago!
“I gaze at you.” He says it like he doesn’t have to explain further.
“I’m almost certain that is the exact same thing as staring at me.” You’re confused.
He grunts and turns his head to the side sharply, “You make everything difficult.”
“ME?” You. Are. Confused.
His head snaps back to stare you in the eyes, “YES! I look at you, I gaze at you, I find you interesting and that makes me mad. This is your fault, take responsibility.”
Oh. My. God. Does he have a crush on you? He likes you and is mad at you about it. Talk about emotionally stunted.
“I am not responsible for how you feel about me.”
“You should be.”
There’s a beat of silence between the two of you, he’s still holding you close.
“You undo me.” He says it quiet, like he’s ashamed of the confession but it’s the highest form of flattery you have ever received.
Your eyes are round in shock as you look at him, you won’t lie, you find yourself drawn to him. Not in spite of his intimidating, stoic nature but because of it, he’s a force of nature to be reckoned with and you think without even realising you walked headfirst into the eye of his storm. You want him and you hate that you do, but you suspect he feels the same way.
“Let me go, please.” You ask him.
He obeys your will, immediately dropping your arms but neither of you make a move to step away from the other. Your heart is racing in your chest as you continue to look up at him, you want to kiss him, but you don’t know how he’ll react to your hands reaching for him after you just tried to deck him.
You don’t have to wonder for long, his hands reach for your face, both of them landing on either side of it. He has such large hands.
“I want to kiss you and you’re going to have to tell me not to, if you don’t want me to.”
You say nothing because you really want him to kiss you and he does; he leans down towards you and when your lips meet you feel like your knees might give out.
His kiss is gentler than you would’ve expected him capable of, he holds you like you’ll break, like he’s all too aware of his strength and is making a conscious effort to not hurt you. One of his hands moves from your face, down your body and grabs at your hip, the other moving behind your neck. Your own hands move to grab at the material on his chest, holding on.
He pulls away from you, only enough to talk, his lips still brushing against yours as he speaks “Fuck, open your mouth more.”
His words shoot straight through your body, you feel like you’re shaking. You do as your told and he moves your head with the hand on the back your neck slightly. When he moves to kiss you again it’s at an angle; his mouth slotting against yours, the kiss deepening. You’re feeling lightheaded as he starts to kiss you with urgency, less gentle. His tongue licking into your mouth has a whimper leaving you against your will. He smirks against your mouth at the sound and pulls away from you.
No one has ever kissed you like that in your life, he’s so much more skilled with his mouth than you would’ve thought. You blink tears away from your eyes as you both stand close together his lips brushing against yours, teasing you.
“Kiss me again, please.”
“mmm, you’re so much more agreeable like this.” He’s smug, you don’t like that his words make your pussy throb.
Opening your mouth, you go to put up a fight, but he puts his mouth back on yours causing you to whine in response. His hands grab you tighter at the sound, and he begins walking you backwards until your back rests against the building you were standing behind.
His other hand moves from behind your neck and down your body, stopping at your tit and pawing at it. You let out a gasp at the feeling, your hands move from his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. His hand leaves your breast and travels the length of your body, landing on your thigh, he pulls your leg up to rest on his hip.
He won’t move any closer, and you think he’s trying to be polite and not push you further than you want, but you want him so badly. Whining against him you use your leg to pull his hips into yours and he grunts against you.
Parting your lips again he looks at you, he seems pleased with the look on your face, “You look so pretty, eyes all glazed over from a kiss.”
The words are mocking but your reactions to him seem to inflate his ego, not that he needs the boost.
“I’ve never been kissed like that,” you find yourself admitting to him.
A faux pity look falls across his features, “Poor, sweet, girl, never been kissed properly.” He noses at the side of your face before his lips rest against your ear. He blows cool air against it and an involuntary shiver runs down your spine.
“mmf, not fair, you’re teasing me.” He’s mean but its turning you on to no end.
“Yeah, but I think you like it,” he pulls back to look you in the eyes again, “isn’t that right?”
A blush breaks out across your skin in response to him, you can tell it’s not a rhetorical question, but you don’t answer him.
Your lack of a response displeases him, his voice comes a little firmer, “I want an answer when I ask a question.”
“Yes, I like it.” Being forced to admit that you like how mean he is to you is embarrassing.
“I know you do.” He’s smug again, not that he ever stopped.
His lips are so close to yours, you lean forward slightly to kiss him, but he pulls away at the last second. Your head drops back against the wall, and he chuckles at you. Leaning forward again, he kisses your neck, before lightly sucking marks into it.
He mouths at the length of your neck, savouring the way you twitch and try to contain the noises you make in response. The hand holding your hip moves under your robe to cup your pussy through your panties, a whine louder than you would’ve liked is pulled from you, your blush deepening at the sound.
He talks into your neck as his fingers trace the seam of your cunt through your underwear, “You’re so sensitive, react to the smallest of my touches.”
His fingers continue to touch you through your panties, two of his fingers moving to part your lips through them. An embarrassingly wet squelching sound results from his actions. A strangled noise comes from deep in his chest and he moves his head back and looks up for a second, “Fuckin – you are so fucken, wet and I’ve not even touched you properly.” He’s looking you back in your eyes, his gaze dark, he looks like he’s being eaten alive, or wants to eat you alive.
Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, he talks so much, in fact, you think this is the most he’s spoken to you without you having to reply.
“Bi-Han, please –”
“Mmm say my name again.” He’s lightly grazing the seam of your pussy, never touching your clit.
“Bi-Han,” you repeat his name for him.
His voice sounds strained, “What do you want, sweet girl?”
The nickname he’s graced you with makes your heart skip, “please, touch me… properly.”
“Since you asked so sweetly.” His hand leaves you temporarily to slip down the front of your underwear, his fingers slide through your cunt, and he can feel just how wet you are now. “Jesus – ” He curses at the feel of you.
His mouth captures yours in a heated kiss again as his middle finger slowly enters you, you clench around it and you both moan into the kiss. His thumb slowly rubs circles on your clit, you jump at the contact, sensitive from neglect and desire. You’re trying to hold back whines and moans, still aware that you’re out in the open. Bi-Han doesn’t seem to care and if he does, he isn’t letting on.
He pulls back from your mouth, “God, you’re fucken – how am I gonna – fuck, look at you.”
You’re trying to grind down on his hand, desperate for more, anything he’ll give you; you’ll take; you just need more.
Gasping you say, “more Bi-Han, please.”
“Always asking so sweetly,” He slips his ring finger inside you, filling you up more. One of your hands moves from behind his neck to cover your mouth, attempting to muffle the moans trying to come out.
Both of his hands are occupied, one on your thigh holding your leg to his hip and the other stuffing your dripping wet cunt full, the sounds coming from you are making him feral and he wants your hand off your mouth. Now.
“Remove your hand, now.” He shoots you a fierce glare and you comply straight away, hand removing from your mouth and grabbing onto the arm of the hand inside you. His fingers move quicker inside you, reaching deep, hitting something that’s never been touched, your head falls back, and a whine comes from deep in your chest.
“Fuuuck, thas it, thas what I was looking for,” Bi-Han seems overjoyed at your reaction, your eyes wet and glassy from pleasure.
You aren’t sure if your hand is trying to push him away or pull him closer, your breaths are coming faster and another moan is pulled from you as he speeds up his thumb on your clit.
“fff – Bi-Han, I can’t, is too much.” It feels too good, it’s never felt like this before.
“Shuddup, you’re fine,” He leans forward so his mouth is by your ear again, “You’ve been doing so well, baby, come for me and then I’ll stuff you full of my dick, mmm?”
“ah ah, it’s different, too much – ngh –”
“Poor baby, never been finger fucked this good, mmm?” He doesn’t slow down; it feels like he speeds up.
Your moans hit a higher pitch and you feel like you’re falling apart into the palm of his hand, “thas it, doing so good,” he keeps whispering praise into your ear and then he blows cool air against your ear again. The shiver that runs through your body has your eyes crossing as you cum all over his fingers and palm with a shout of his name. He moans at the feel of your cunt spasming around his fingers.
“Thas fucken it, good girl, shit –” His fingers continue pumping into you until you start flinching away from him.
He removes his fingers from your pulsing pussy, and sucks both of them clean before shoving them in your mouth. You suck his spit and your cum from his fingers, his eyes glazing over as he watches you suck on his fingers.
He retracts his fingers from your mouth slowly and traces them down your chin, neck and chest, leaving behind a wet trail as he goes.
“Can we have sex now, please?” You ask him, you feel insatiable, he makes you insatiable.
He looks like he might melt into a puddle on the floor at your words, “yes, fuckin hell, you have beautiful manners, sweet thing.”
He pulls his pants down enough for his dick to be released from its confines, and, he was right before, how is he going to fit. “Bi-Han, you might be too big.”
“Jesu – you really know how to inflate a mans ego,” you aren’t meaning to, you are genuinely concerned he might not completely fit, “we’re gonna fucken make it fit, you okay with that?” he asks you.
You nod your head instantly, you can take it, you want to take it.
“Fucken, eager,” He states, if anyone else had said it you’d feel offended, but you know he means it as a compliment.
He spits on his hand and grabs his dick, lubing it up to make the glide easier. The display is filthy and has you wanting to get on your knees for him.
“You ready?” he asks you, and every time he checks on you it has you going dizzy.
“I’m ready,” you smile up at him, as he moves your panties to the side.
“Fuck, alright, try and relax.” He guides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing the head of it against your clit.
Slowly, he begins to push the head of his dick into your pussy hole, it’s already a tight fit. You reach out and place your palm on his shoulder, indicating to him to hold still for a minute. He stops moving forward with just his tip in you, a pinched look on his face, like he’s in pain.
“Goddamn, you’ve got such a – ngh, tight little cunt,” he sputters out, he’s doing deep breathing exercises as he waits for your okay to keep going, “mmph, trying not to cum like a fucken teenager, you’ve got a – ngh – beautiful pussy.”
You involuntarily clench around him at his words, and he grunts in response, “please, keep going, Bi-Han.”
He nods his head and continues to slowly inch into you, pausing every now and again to give you time to adjust to him. When he’s finally fully seated inside you, he lets out a deep guttural groan, you can feel his chest rumble with it. He’s so fucking big and you feel so full of him.
“Got the tightest pussy I’ve ever been in, Jesus – ngh – such a perfect – ” your cunt flutters around him at his words, “mph, you fucken like that don’t you?”
You don’t fully register that he’s asked you a question because he’s started fucking you now, and it nearly has you going cross eyed.
“Hey! I fucken – mph – asked you a question,” you make eye contact with him, eyes glazed as you look at him, “ffffucken beautiful, you look perfect, just, like, this, split open on my – ngh – cock.” He’s barely keeping it together as he starts fucking up into you.
“I said, you fucken like it when I talk to you, mmh?” He asks you again and you understand him this time.
Nodding your head you reply, “Yes I – ah – I love it when you talk to me.” You’re practically a whimpering mess at this point, “Can you go faster, plea- ah –”
Your question is cut off by his immediate acceleration in thrusts, he wanted to fuck you faster as much as you wanted him too, maybe more. Looking at the pinched look on his face you can guess he’s still holding himself back, still too aware of his own strength.
“Hah – harder, please, Bi-Han.” You can feel his dick twitch at the sound of his name coming from your lips.
“Fffff, like it rough, do you, sweet girl?” He huffs.
You agree, you think you’d agree to anything he asked of you right now.
“You are so sweet, compliant when you’re filled with my dick” he chuckles at you, but his words have your pussy clenching around him, breaking his laugh into a broken moan.
You’re gonna come, “Bi-Han, mm gonna come, please.”
“go on then, fucken – nghf – good girl, sweeeet fucken cunt. Cover my dick in your cum, go on.” Your eyes prickle with tears, you don’t think you’ve ever been this aroused in your whole life.
He’s staring down at where you’re connected, obsessed with way your cunt is creaming on his cock, forming a ring around the base of his dick, has him almost feral.
“Fuck, fuck, Bi-Han, I’m – mmph – ” He cuts off your words with a deep kiss, tongue in your mouth, taking your breath away. Bi-Han’s thumb reaches for your clit and starts rubbing harsh and fast circles into it, his precise movements and unrelenting thrusts has you coming on his dick, hard. You throw your head back, removing your lips from his, your vision cuts off dark and you can barely hear anything with the force of which you cum.
Your mouth opening in a silent scream and then a series of whimpers spill from your lips. When you can speak, you’re praising Bi-Han, wet slapping sounds continuing, he’s not stopped thrusting chasing his own peak.
“you look fucken perfect when you cum, look – ngh – so fucked out, such a good girl – taking my cock, mph,” He’s close you can tell, his dick is twitching inside you, “the sounds you make are – sshit – mmph – angelic.”
He’s such a flatterer, your cunt jumps in after shock, you decide you wanna try something. You pull his head towards you, moving your lips to his ear to tell him, “made me feel so good, Grandmaster, never cum that hard in my – ngh – life.”
You were right, he liked that, loved being called Grandmaster, his grunts and groans get louder, tailing off into whimpers. His head drops to your shoulder, resting there for a bit.
“Where – hah – where do you want it?” He asks.
“Inside please, Grandmaster, I want it, in – mmph – me.”
He whimpers at your words, “Ahh – fuck you’re gonna fucking kill me, sweet girl – nngh.”
And then he’s coming, he fills you, both of you moaning at the feeling of him releasing all of his cum inside of you, he turns his head into your neck and bites you, the shock of it has your cunt clenching on his dick.
He’s making the most amazing noises, grunting and groaning at the feel of you wrapped around him. His own cum dripping down the sides of his cock, he’s staring at it now, watching the way he moves in and out of you, the way his cum leaks out of you, down your thighs, and down his cock.
You both stay connected for a bit afterwards, basking in your highs before parting. When Bi-Han does pull out, his fingers move to shove the cum leaking out of you back inside before shifting your panties back in place. He gently places your leg back down, before tucking himself back in his pants.
You stay resting your weight up against the wall, you’re not certain you can walk, your legs feel like they might cave in if you try to move.
“I like you,” Bi-Han says simply.
“I’d hope so,” you reply, smiling brightly at him. He looks soft for you. “I suppose, I like you too, even if you do stare at me.”
“I don’t stare.”
❆˖°
Part two
A/N: The end, I’m interested in making a second part for this if people want it, I’m also willing to write for almost every mk1 character. I disappeared because I inhaled the new game, long time mk whore over here. Requests are open if anyone wants to ask for someone specific. And if any of my Crushing series peoples read this, I am writing the fourth part, and it will definitely come out this month!
#subzero#subzero x reader#subzero smut#subzero x reader smut#bi han x reader#bi han x reader smut#fanfic#bi han x you#smut#mk1#mk1 2023#mk1 smut
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Can u do Mistletoe x drift? He needs more love :3
Christmas was so...chaotic. Sure it was also fun and pretty, the lights, the games, spending time with friends and family, the religious connotations. Drift understood why the humans wanted to Celebrate it. But at the same time, it just seemed to stress them out.
Cade would yell about the decorations not being in the right place, Tess was yelling about the food and not getting everything done on time, and Shane was yelling about presents.
It was loud and annoying. And the other Autobots made everything worse by trying to help.
You tried to be a mediator, trying to take control and help where you could. Most of the time you were able to resolve problems before they even became an issue. Drift loved that about you, always calm even in the most stressful of situations.
He watched you work, whisking away the problems and only producing answers. You corralled the others and made them all stop yelling. Eventually things quietened down and became pleasant. And everyone was able to have a wonderful Christmas. Then the evening came, the humans began to drink and the other bots (mainly Crosshairs and Bumblebee) began to quarrel over the stupid things. And it once again became loud.
Drift decided he had enough for one day and went to find some piece and quiet.
He found himself a place of solitude and sat down, then began to meditate. Not long into his meditation, he heard the soft plodding of footsteps. He recognized them instantly as yours. He kept his optics closed and waited for you to get closer.
You walked in front of him, stopping at his crossed legs, then waited. He opened his optics and looked down at you. You beamed up at him, your smile was contagious, causing him to smile in return. He lowered a servo and allowed you to get on.
He lifted you to his face, so you were eyes to optics.
"Merry Christmas Drift." You sang sweetly.
"Merry Christmas." He returned. He then noticed that you had something hidden behind your back. "What have you got?"
"Something I want to share with you."
"And what would that be?"
"A Christmas tradition."
Drift did like traditions. He wasn't sure what Christmas tradition you thought he might like, but since it was with you he was willing to give it a go.
"What do we do?" He asked.
You pulled out mistletoe from behind your back and held it above your head.
"We kiss under the mistletoe." You shook the little plant, closed your eyes and pushed out your lips, then waited for him.
Drift could have sworn his spark exploded. Although if it had, he wouldn't be alive, and he wouldn't be staring at you on his servo, lips plump and perfect, waiting for his.
He had wanted to kiss you for a while, but he never expected that you felt the same. Was this normal? You said it was a tradition, had you done this with the other humans? The other bots? He didn't want to think about that. He wanted to think that you had only come to him, only wanting to kiss him.
He soon realized he had left you waiting. You still stood there, patiently. And he didn't waste another second. He leaned in and met your lips with his. His cold metal, on your warm skin. This was the greatest tradition that Earth could ever offer him. The sensation of your lips on his, as the humans described, was pure heaven.
You pulled away, and he felt at a loss. His lips missed yours. They needed to be connected again.
"Thank you for partaking in the tradition Drift. I am glad I get to spend Christmas with you." You spoke. And his love for you grew even more.
"Must we only kiss if the mistletoe is with us? Or could we perhaps kiss without it?" He asked, taking the risk.
"Oh." You blushed. Then threw the mistletoe away. "We don't need it at all."
Drift laughed, then pulled you to his lips once again.
Though it may be chaotic, Christmas was now one of his favorite days.
#ask#transformers#transformers bayverse#maccadam#drift#tf drift#drift x reader#transformers x reader#fluff#mistletoe prompt#christmas game#christmas
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Looks
Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 667 WC
Masterlist
Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, doubt
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“I know they only like me for my looks, but maybe they will grow to like everything about me.” you listened to Astarion outside of Karlach’s tent.
“You know that’s not true, Astarion. They love you because you’re you.” Karlach responded.
Your stomach twisted and your eyes brimmed with tears. You walked away, leaving camp for a bit. You loved him. How could he think you didn’t? Or for something as trivial as his looks. You needed to gather yourself before you talked to him so you wandered the forest a bit, the owlbear catching up to you at some point to keep you company.
---------------------------
You returned to camp a few hours later, everyone was in their tents sleeping or reading. Today had been tough, killing Orin and Gortash in one day would make anyone tired. You walked into Astarion’s tent, candle light still flickering within.
“Star-” you started. He was peacefully meditating on his bedroll. You sighed, sitting down next to him. Your hand ghosted over his face before you pulled the blanket up on him. “You’re so stubborn, you know that? I love your looks, that is true. But I love everything else about you too. I love your sass and little quips. Especially when they’re directed at Gale.” you chuckled to yourself, talking to him while he slept was a pretty regular occurrence since his meditations always seemed to keep him in a deep slumber. “I love the way your face scrunches up when you’re focusing on a book or your embroidery. I love your never ending thirst for knowledge. I love how you try to come off as cold and aloof but deep down you are the biggest softie I’ve ever seen. I love how understanding you are, how gentle you are. I love that you listen, truly listen to anything I have to say. You are so expressive with your love it’s hard to not notice it. You protect me, you keep me safe, you make me happy, you… you love me. More than anyone has, I think. It pains me to know you think I only like you for your looks. I would know you if I were blind and deaf. I know your heart, and I wish you knew mine. For it grows two sizes whenever you are near. I… I don’t know how to express everything I feel for you because I feel it all so deeply it’s purely indescribable. But know this - you are so much more than your looks. You are beautiful in more ways than one. I know Cazador made you use yourself and made you think you were nothing but a pretty husk for his disposal…. You never have to be that again. You get to be whatever you want, and I think you are perfect.”
You trailed off, you didn’t realize you were crying until you stopped talking. The waver in your voice was all too telling. How were you ever going to convince him you felt all of this?
“Do you mean it?” Astarion whispered.
You jumped and sucked in a gasp, “Fuck! Don’t scare me like that.” you said as you wiped all the tears off your face before turning to face him completely.
“Did you mean it?” he repeated, sitting up.
“Of course I meant it. I love you and I will spend my life proving it to you if that’s what it takes.” you responded instantly.
He sighed, “I love you, all of you…. It’s just difficult to accept that you can love me for more than my body.”
You took his face in your hands softly, running your thumbs over his cheeks. “I will love you in every lifetime, until the last star in the sky burns out. You are the only star I need.” you pulled his face to yours kissing him gently, trying to convey your feelings to him.
“I love you… thank you for loving me too.” he said as he leaned his forehead against yours.
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Naboo's Note:
A little fluff after that horny af piece. Thanks for everything! XOXOXO!!!!
#baldurs gate 3#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#bg3#writing#gale of waterdeep#bg3 wyll#karlach#lae'zel#isekai#wyll#astarion x you#baldurs gate astarion#astarion#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate#bg3 art#fanfic writing#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#my fic#ao3 writer#ao3 author#bg3 gale#bg3 fanart#bg3 tav#bg3 spoilers#bg3 astarion#tav
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❝ why is the void state so hard to get to ? ❞
spoiler alert, ppl overcomplicate it and some are scamming you

as someone whos been into manifestation & meditation for a very long time, this whole void state thing is very interesting to watch with the way ppl have turned it into a cheat code for manifestation that you MUST do when truthfully...it's just a deep meditative state...like thats it, not even joking.
it's not some secret haven that has a password and needs a ritual, its just a meditative state. the main reason why when u go to the void state it gets easier to manifest things is because youre in a super relaxed state of mind (you're essentially pure consciousness; you're completely detached from the 3D) so you can say "hey, i want a new cool job" and not deal with doubts rushing through your mind since you're completely relaxed and focused..that is quite literally it.
anyone who's selling advice or training guides to you for how to get into the void state or making you pay for them to go to the void state to manifest for you is scamming you. please dont give these people your money, you can meditate for free. you don't need crystals, you don't need subliminals and you don't need a random person manifesting for you either - it's something everyone can do.
people misunderstand meditation and view it as you having to lay down and be still for hours with no music and if you move an inch, you've failed. when in reality, meditation is literally you being comfortable and calming down in whatever way you wish.
do you like rain? put on rain sounds. do you like music? put on music. you feel more comfortable sitting up, sit up — it is all quite literally based on what you want to do and what would make you comfortable. its as simple as that honestly, you dont need all of these set-up methods like literally just be in a postion you like...close your eyes...listen to whatever you want and be calm, you dont even need breathing exercises...literally just do what makes you feel comfortable.
and if meditation just isn't for you, find out what is and don't waste your time on it...its not worth it, i promise. there is no 100% foolproof method, or cheat code to manifestion because people are different and some things work for people...other things dont.
you wanna get to the void state? cool, literally just be in whatever comfortable position that you know you can stay in for a bit and close your eyes and relax...thats all. not even oversimplifying it, thats literally it. you dont need to be stressin over it, trust me.
prl ✶⋆.˚
#prlite#𓂃 🖊 advice#💭💡 ... thinking#affirmations#desired reality#loassumption#manifesting#neville goddard#shiftblr#loablr#law of assumption#shifting antis dni#void state#manifestation
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dearest reader of this diary entry,
I am done suffering in my illusions, I have figured out what living presently actually means, killed my ego, understood the true meaning of manifesting, & stopped worrying about others.
let me explain...

PHASE I: TRIGGER
a while ago I went through something that triggered me A LOT. I don't remember exactly what it was, that's just how insignificant 3d circumstances are but back then I am sure it meant a lot as I was so triggered, angry and frustrated. then I decided to meditate, so I opened a 369 hz pure tone and I just lied down, relaxed, and focused on.. nothing.
that experience has been so simple, yet so profound. I don't feel like the same person before that. when I woke up, the reality I was in didn't feel the same either. everything moved different and felt different. and I was no exception.
I have always prided myself on being an optimist, and yeah I have always been one; however, I have only been the hopeful optimist.
whearas before my optimism has been born out of hope for better, now my optimism is not out of a need but comes from pure love and acceptance for the now cos ik for a fact that I have myself, god, and everything I would ever need to be happy.
I really feel no need to try any more, I just go for what I want, that's it. and that's why I have been very connected to my creative endeavours these past few days. whether being through being active here and on YT or through drawing and writing in my free time, I love creating and I am so glad I realised that instead of indulgence in the material world.
PHASE II: KNOWLEDGE
ever since that incident, I feel like I have started to understand what life is truly about. life is not about desiring and chasing after a goal, it's not about trying so hard, it is not about waiting for better, it is about living it now. becoming okay with what's happening now, not forcing a certain outcome but letting life take its course.
it might sound weird to say that as an loa girlie, but srsly, this is what manifesting is really about. it is about knowing, not desiring. it is about rising above the need for your desires to materialise. ik for a fact that I manifested the perfect life for myself so why would I desire more? doesn't make sense at all.
at first, I approached manifesting from a place of trying and systemised it the way I did with every goal I had in life, "affirm X times a day," "visualise every night," "do X rampages a week." I was too dependent on techniques, but now I understand that techniques are not here to help you manifest, cos it is all done anyway. techniques are here to remind you of the fact that you truly manifested it. it is here to calm you down and remind you of your power.
now, I only use techniques when it feels right, I am not forcing them esp. when my thoughts and feelings are already aligned to what I want. if I am already living as the version of me that has it, why would I do more? I don't need to do more, I just am.
and ofc now that I have changed, I have stopped being so attached to wtv idea I had of me or what other people have of me. I can be whomever I want & me separating myself from my ego helped me really see how I was stuck in narratives that didn't serve me and kept me stuck.
PHASE III: CHANGE
two weeks ago I created a some sort of character sheet of dream me, the next day I became her. I could have been like, "this is not gonna happen overnight" but why? the reason it can't happen is because i was against it & the only reason I would be against it was cos I am too attached to an idea of who I am. but thankfully, I am not any more.
I embrace the qualities I already liked about myself and as for what I didn't like about myself? I don't reject it, I am just simply not it any more. I don't need to force it, I just select the identity I like and that's it. before, my ego would not let me, cos selecting the dream me means forgiving those who I didn't seem deserve forgiveness or leave some of my "very important" past behind.
it also meant that I can't use my past or who I was as an excuse for how I acted, but when I used to always excuse myself, it somehow felt v punishing, like I have been punishing myself by staying this unfavorable version of me because I am not ready to let go of my history. it felt like I didn't trust me enough to change once and for all.
to become a blank slate was terrifying to my ego. but I am not my ego. I and you both know that. my ego can be scared and I will reassure her a million times over if that's what it takes, but I am not folding. just like a parent who knows what's best for their child. even if the child screams in retaliation, the adult comforts them but doesn't bend the rules cos they know what's best for their child.
PHASE IV: TRUTH
I have been neglecting and neglected by myself every time I chose my ego's or other people's comfort. but I am not doing that again any more.
we all understand that others are just mirrors of what we think of them so that's why I couldn't care less about how I come across any more. others can judge but I have decided that none will. others will see me change over and over and will welcome any change I take on, every single time, I have decided that.
since these realisations, life felt sm simpler to live, the pressure of being a certain person in front of others has subsided. the need to stay my "consistent" (more so predictable) self is non-existent. and the need for life to go a certain way has also faded. a lot of beautiful things came about after this change and I am so glad to live every day with the ability to choose my own joy and peace, not waiting for someone or something to make me happy.
rn I am grateful to have realised all of that, to have transcended this physical plane and to have chosen to live as a soul who chose to live this human life. souls full of love and light, that is our true essence.
✦°·
#dearest diary#law of assumption#manifesting#ego death#reality shifting#loa#loa blog#dream life#manifest#law of manifestation#loa tumblr#loassumption#shiftblr#shifting community#loa motivation#loablr#loa success#loass#affirm and persist#personal growth#focus#purpose#life#understanding#present moment
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