#i'm just not that good at making it myself

[h1biscusgal]

The long awaited method : HMM for self hypnosis towards the void, enter under 2min.

WARNING : this method is quite powerful, it's not a method on directly entering the void, but it's a method I've perfected to be able to induce the void INSTANTLY under 5 minutes, given by on how to hypnotize yourself.

Please make sure you're ready for this, and you have a clear mind for this, self hypnosis is extremely powerful and if done rightly? It helps immensely, the chances after this to enter the void is 90%, you know what the 10% is for, belief and trust in this method.

Let's start.

Introduction:

This method is something I've stumbled on long before, and I just remembered how it may actually help those with a limit in their mind that does not let them enter the void, first of all, props to the person who make this trance inducing method which is using the magic magnet fingers, and since I'm pairing it with the void, I'll call it Hibiscus's Mind Magnet, or just HMM for short.

This method requires you to sit down somewhere quiet, somewhere with limit sound, does not matter if there's light or not, simply sit somewhere comfortably and I urge you to do a small mini meditation before hand if your mind is crowded, best time to do so is when you wake up.

The steps:

Sit comfortably. (Has to sit)

If having crowded thoughts, meditate for a clearer mind.

Set your suggestion : a suggestion is something you want to stick deep into your subconscious, aka "I always enter the void under 2 minutes."

You can use any other suggestions, this is just for the void I'm explaining now, now that your mind is calm, everything is ready, simply begin by clasping your fingers in front of yourself together and leaving the two index fingers to stick above.

Now, look and focus at the space between those two fingers, okay? Now begin to imagine that ok either sides of your palm, there's two big magnets.

Stare at the space between the fingers, in a moments time when you let go, you see your fingers actually getting pulled subconsciously together like magnets, and eventually you'll feel this sudden pull of your own face towards it, at this point, continue to stare at it UNTIL your indexes hit each other.

Now you begin to realize even your eyelids are tired and droopy, that's the perfect state, now gently lower your hand in your lap and close your eyes, let the fatigue wash over you, you'll feel lightheaded and dizzy, this, is the perfect state called the Trance state.

Begin by saying your suggestion slowly, simply affirming deeply by saying "I always enter the void under 2 minutes." And only use one suggestion please.

When you feel ready, and you feel done, that's when you're done with this trance state, to get out, begin by forcing yourself to focus things around you, the blanket underneath you perhaps, the hands in your lap, and slowly open your eyes again.

Done, you have just hypnotized yourself, and remember, results can show in just one session, but if you're doubtful, it will take more than one session, do this before attempting for the void and simply go on with ANY method of the void, you'll succeed.

Good luck ml! I hope I made myself clear, and please remember I won't be online here for a couple of days as I have been too much on here and it's affecting my studying, either way, good luck and whatever questions you have I'll answer later, happy void!

Edit// for those who don't understand the hand part and how to clasp it:

It's like this

[whorelaud]

WRONG NUMBER, LOSER – rafe cameron (1)

a rafe cameron mini smau series

summary Rafe gets tangled in a complex love-hate relationship when shooting his shot at a party, merely for him to end up with the wrong number instead, leading to a new beginning, or so he assumed, unaware of who really was behind the screen; his next door neighbor, whom he'd define his sworn enemy.  contains neighbor!reader, enemies (?) to lovers, wrong number trope, mostly texts, sexual jokes, shameless flirting, loser!rafe, lots of tension, attempt at humor

Unknown Number: Hello there, I don't know if you remember but I asked for your number earlier

Unknown Number: I know I’m moving rather fast, but I couldn't help myself you’re too pretty ;)

Unknown Number: I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner. Only if you're down of course ❤️ 

You: im sorry who? 

You: oh that red heart you must rlly like her

Unknown Number: What? What do you mean? 

Unknown Number: Is this not Brian? 

You: this aint no brian

You: no way did brian turn you down 

You: Wowwww very low of her im so sorry king 

Unknown Number: You don't know that

Unknown Number: She probably mistyped one of the digits by accident 

You: Dawgggg ☠️☠️

You: no way you believe that

You: she told you her name was brian what did you expect

Unknown Number: Hey what’s wrong with that

Unknown Number: My dad’s name is Brian 

You: woahhh :o

You: is it actually 

Unknown Number: No I made that up

You: Haha Very Funny. 

Unknown Number: This sucks

Unknown Number: Why am I even talking to you

Unknown Number: I thought what we had was real wow I’m offended

Unknown Number: Who would even think of rejecting me 

You: smb get this guy’s phone before i beat his ass ☠️☠️

Unknown Number: Bruh

Unknown Number: I’m already going through enough can’t you at least be nice

You: the audacity of you to say that after disturbing MY peace 

You: you got the wrong number loser

You: i'm no brian, i think ive made that clear. im sorry some girl rejected you, im sure she had her reasons, as ive seen enough!!! but yeah, i think now’s a good time to delete my number and never contact me again 👍 

Unknown Number: This is my cellular device 

Unknown Number: I’ll do what I want 

You: … ermmm 😅

You: is this your way of hinting you still wanna talk to me? 

Unknown Number: Maybe

You: damn

You: youre one clingy bitch

You: I see Why Sh e rejected You. 

Unknown Number: She didn't reject me. 

You: And I didn't fail my calculus exam. 

Unknown Number: What? That doesn't even make sense

You: wah wah cry me a river

You: youre really annoying has anyone ever told you that

Unknown Number: Plenty actually 

You: love a self aware king

Unknown Number: Why do you keep assuming im a man

You: no woman texts like you 

Unknown Number: Is that supposed to hurt my feelings

You: take it as you will

Unknown Number: Ah man

Unknown Number: What should I refer to you as

You: that shouldn't be any of your concerns???

You: who said im contacting you after this. 

Unknown Number: Me. 

You: nah fuck that im blocking you

You: dealing with a lousy bitch of a neighbor has alr done numbers on me i do not want to associate with you in any way or form.

Unknown Number: WHAT DONT BLOCK ME

Unknown Number: I am in no way or form associated with your lousy bitch of a neighbor. Do not block me please. 

You: How do you Know That. 

You: You Seem Just as Annoying as Him. 

Unknown Number: I just noticed 

Unknown Number: Are you mocking me? 

You: ?? why would you Assume That

Unknown Number: You are 

Unknown Number: See you did it just now

You: Nahhhh this fool is crazy We Assuming things Now?

Unknown Number: Bruh 

Unknown Number: You’re so mean

You: glad you noticed that

Unknown Number: im into it

You: what

You: pardon me

You: am i seeing things

Unknown Number: Definitely 

You: bye

You: im done

You: i no longer want to be apart of this conversation 

Unknown Number: Ugh

You: ugh??? UGH???????

Unknown Number: Whatever 🙄 can you just tell me your name at least?

You: no

Unknown Number: Why

You: im not telling a random stranger online what my name is

Unknown Number: That’s just not a good reason 

Unknown Number: Fine I’ll come up with something to call you then

You: uhh??? i never agreed to any of this

Unknown Number: Sugar is cute

You: what the fuck

You: that is diabolical (get it cause its sugar) don't you dare fucking call me that

 Unknown Number: Sugar it is then

You: stop

You: STOP. 

You: NO

You: how did that even come to mind

Unknown Number: Cause you’re as sweet as sugar, baby ;) 

You: youre doing this on purpose aren't you 

You: including you in my suicide note

Unknown Number: Have fun doing that

Unknown Number: You don't even know my name sugar

You: Dtop It. 

You: It feels like You're flirtinf With Me. 

You: I Do Not like That. 

Unknown Number: Deal with it. 

You: no

You: is this you admitting you're head over heels in love with me

Unknown Number: Definitely 

You: im leaving

Unknown Number: Joking hahah haba Ha ha

You: i actually have to leave

You: i own a needy cat who demands my attention

Unknown Number: Oh okay

Unknown Number: Have fun with your cat 

You: thanks boo

You: it was (not) fun chatting with you i guess… 

Unknown Number: It was a pleasure chatting with you sugar

Unknown Number: I look forward to more in the future 

You: die

You: it feels like youre mocking me. 

Unknown Number: I am not you.

You: hey whats wrong w me… 

Unknown Number hearted your message!

a/n hi!!! hehehe lmk what u think this was so much fun 2 write! dk if im making a taglist or not but we'll see, this is chapter one for now :p i also wanna make a masterlist but idk GRRAHH well see

[submergedinmadness]

yk what I'll also do this get to know your mutuals cuz I thought bout it for a bit and I think I have to or I'll explode

get to know your mutuals♡

if you could be any animal which one would you choose to be? (can be fictional) (and you can explain why if you want to)

what would you choose when you're in a hurry and have nothing to wear?

are you a witch, vampire, fairy, dryad, siren or a mermaid and why do you think so?

what is your style?

regular milk or plant based milk?

which one do you put first milk or cereal?

fav way to kill someone? (idgaf if you never thought of it now you have to think of something and make it at least a bit cool I'm begging)

and I'll go first cuz I can

girl I wrote kinda a lot in these answers but I just had to brag about my fav way of killing people🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ and okay maybe it's kinda stupid that I'm also doing this game even tho I made it for others but who cares?

I can't choose but either a phoenix or a wolf cuz the allegory of both of these animals absolutely stole my heart

anything in my wardrobe that looks good (and it's almost always not adequate for the cold weather, I literally can wear a mini skirt when it's like 2°C outside and there are times when I am wearing a mini skirt and a crop top when it is 0°C and even when it was -3°C I don't care)

something in between vampire and a dryad cuz I feel like I would be a good vampire I don't know how to describe it but I just know and that's it and also a dryad cuz when I think of them they give me rather a messy and chaotic vibe which is def how I act and overall express myself so I'd say that I'm sometimes both sometimes one and sometimes the other

I'm goth so my style is overall gothic and / or cunty

regular but only 1,5% fat

CEREAL

sooo this is my fav way, first - pepper spray in the face so they can't see and therefore they can't run away, second - start scratching their legs with a pocket knife as hard as possible and try to find an aorta and cut there (making it even harder to run away), third - stick the same knife into all of their fingers (why not), fourth - knock out their teeth with a knuckle duster and finally - when they open their mouth trying to catch a breath from the blood and saliva running into their throat pour fluoroantimonic acid into their mouth and it's done! and I'll add that fluoroantimonic acid is called the most corrosive acid in the world ans if it touches the skin it causes huge damage and if poured into someones throat it'll burn the insides and kill. I think I'm really creative cuz I came up with this when I was writing one of my books and now I'm obsessed

tags: @n1eprzytomnadesperacja @niketas-s @r4tkisses @dawkacynizmu @gothicm0rph @slowacki006

and with question 7 rn I'm mostly thinking about one bbg ( @dawkacynizmu I'm looking at you ) cuz a bit after I came up with this question I thought that you might have an interesting answer

[beanclaw]

Dostoevsky once said something about man being in love with suffering. That vague memory of my having read that quote almost felt like a slap strong enough that it induced this bitter taste in my mouth. You see, I was working on a school assignment, then I decided that I needed to take a much-deserved break. I told myself, "I'm going to do something fun!" and my mind immediately went to writing a story. I was bitterly aware of the way my smile slowly faded. It wasn't like I didn't enjoy writing stories, if anything, I enjoy it a lot. (It seems silly now that I'm putting these thoughts of mine on a page.) Only, writing is for my own enjoyment, it's supposed to make me happy, but there's this lingering thought in the back of my mind that I'm wasting my time. I tell myself that writing is just for me, it doesn't matter if I don't earn money from it, or even gain a loyal following on blogging sites or fanfiction platforms. It doesn’t even matter if I'm good at it or not. It's all just lies, of course. When I was younger, I'd finish a drawing and show it off to people, and I revel in their praises, but I feel specially appreciated when I get feedback that goes beyond "Oh, that looks nice." At least say something about the shading, or about how whether or not I got the anatomy right. When it comes to writing, though, most people usually won't bother reading all the way through, no matter how short the piece is. These underwhelming reactions wounded my fragile, adolescent ego. I considered them as indicative of my lack of skills. Now I'm falling behind. When I was a child, it was easier, because at least I had my age as an excuse to suck. Art no longer makes me happy, because I stopped seeing art as a source of happiness but as a way to feel better about myself. 'Look, I did this, I created it. Now give me some validation.' It wasn't enough for me to please myself, I just have to hear someone tell me that I made something great, something that wasn't a complete waste of time. Since when did I delude myself into thinking that I had to justify things I enjoy? It took me a long time to realize that I'd mistakenly put a bunch of people on a pedestal, a spot that should belong only to me.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of the Danny is the 99th attempted clone Tim made of Kon. Kon learns about Danny.

Relevant info: Kon was dead closer to a year and a half in this au, and this happens a few months after his revival.

[Pt2: here]

So Tim has admittedly been putting off meeting up with the Titans. Everyone has settled back into the new normal. Too much has happened for it to look anything like before, but the other 3 Titans have been hanging out semi-regularly, and Tim turns down their invites 3 of 4 times. He knows it's starting to hurt their feelings, and he hates that.

But... he's scared to admit he's a father now. A father to a clone of one of them. He's not sure how to bring it up. Cassie never asked if he was successful, probably just assumed he failed because there isn't a third Superboy flying around. Jokes on her. Danny isn't going to be a Superboy. He's not allowed to even think about being a hero or vigilante until he's 14 at the earliest, and Tim is going to help him find his own name if he chooses that path. He won't be a Robin or Superboy. He won't live in the shadow of those legacies if Tim can help it.

None of that is relevant for the here and now, though. Tim got Jason to babysit Danny and finally agreed to a hang out with the Titans. He asked Danny for his opinion first before making his decision and got the go ahead. So, Tim is finally going to come clean.

Tim barely makes it into the tower when he's tackled by his friends.

"Tim! You're here!" Bart cheers.

"Yeah, it's good to see you guys too. Sorry I haven't been very present." Tim fidgets. "I've been busy... I also haven't been honest..."

"Tim?" Cassie sounds concerned. And Tim just can't. He extracts himself from the puppy pile. He can't make himself give eye contact. He's sure his guilt and shame are written all over his body language.

"Tim, you can tell us anything." Kon sounds super genuine. Tim takes a deep grounding breath.

"Okay, let's do this like a bandaid." Tim finally looks at them, focusing mostly on Kon. "I have a son. He's technically Kon's, too."

He gets the dubious pleasure of watching his three idiots look at his abdomen, as if he gave birth.

"Why-? Kon, we never fucked!? What the fuck guys??" He sputters, waving his hands in front of him.

"Then how-" Cassie realizes. "Oh!"

"Oh?? What do you mean??" Bart is looking between them and vibrating in confusion. Kon is just looking like a confused and concerned puppy.

"Okay, so, I may have had a breakdown with everyone dying or going missing." Tim grimaces. "And while I was fully aware that even if I succeeded, it wouldn't be Kon, I still tried to clone him. And, um, I did manage to succeed in the end."

"Fuck, Tim.." Kon starts.

"Look, I was in a really fucking dark place and needed even just a piece of good I lost." Tim hugs himself, self loathing burning him from the inside out. "Everyone was turning their back on me, I just needed something, anything, to keep going."

"Fuck, I should have helped..." Cassie bites her lip, chewing on her guilty conscious.

"It's fine. No one was listening. Don't beat yourself up over it. You were in a bad spot, too." Tim gives a humorless laugh. "Danny was my 99th attempt. And my last attempt, if I'm honest. I could feel myself breaking more with each failure. On a fucking whim, I decided to make the 99th attempt a baby instead of trying for a teenager, and it worked. I fucked up a bit, I forgot to adjust the knowledge download to that of a 1 year old, but he was alive. He's the best thing to ever happen to me. I was scared to tell you. I'm sorry-"

"Tim.." Kon cuts him off, and Tim snaps his mouth shut. "I.. I'm honestly not sure how to feel about you cloning me, but I'd like to meet him. What's his name?"

Tim rapidly blinks back tears. "Aedan Drake, he prefers being called Danny. I.. I didn't add Kent because I don't trust Clark with him or give him an El name, I wanted him to understand kryptonian language and culture first. I... I also wanted Danny to be old enough to make the decision over his name himself. I don't want him to be treated like you were. The house of El were so awful to you."

"I understand, Tim." Kon steps towards Tim, "Can.. Can I hug you?"

Tim nods and is swept into a tight hug. He feels something give emotionally, and he sobs into his shoulder. "I fucking love him so much."

"Tell me about him." Kon says softly. He can feel Bart and Cassie hoving, unsure what to do, but unwilling to leave.

"He's physically around 3 now. He loves ghosts and space and named the wolf plushy I bought him on his first day alive Wulf." There's some chuckles over that. "He's sassy and petty, but insanely sweet and tries to help out with any and all tasks. I see so much of both of us in him. Nature vs Nurture is a messy bitch. You remember what I said my start as Robin was like?"

"How you had to babysit a grown ass man and force him into better habits?" Cassie snarks.

"Karma's a funny bitch. Danny started doing the same shit to me as soon as he figured out how to walk." Tim giggles. "Anytime we weren't in danger, he'd force me to take care of injuries and to eat and sleep. And I'd do it because what kind of monster denies a baby trying to be helpful... plus he gets really stressed and depressed if he can't help."

Tim grips the back of Kon's shirt. "I don't understand how he developed my people pleaser tendencies so early on. We were stuck on LoA bases when he first started doing everything in his power to help me. I was purposely being a little shit to our "hosts" at the time. So it wasn't a surprise that he developed a Robin's need to troll, but he only saw me be nice to him."

"The LoA??" Kon asks in alarm.

"It was a rough year..." Tim scowls. "And if I see Ra's again, I'm gutting him. B's rules be damned."

"What happened?" Cassie asks, suddenly a lot closer.

"He's a creep, a pedo, and a child abuser." Kon rubs Tim's suddenly very stiff back and shoulders. "I could handle him being creepy towards me. While gross and awful to have a disgusting 300 or something year old man trying to wife me-"

"Excuse me???"

"He WHAT?"

"-I'm more pissed I couldn't protect Danny. I don't know what that piece of shit did when I couldn't take Danny with me, but Danny is linked to the pit now. He luckily doesn't have pit rage like Jason, but he can calm Jason's pit and apparently glows according to Duke." Tim sobs. "I should have killed the man when I had a chance. I don't know what he did to Danny!"

"It's not your fault, Tim." Kon hugs Tim tightly, it's almost painful. "You were in a tough spot and doing your best to keep you both alive."

"Just focus on healing and moving on." Bart says while running a hand through Tim's hair. Cassie rubs both Tim and Kon's backs as Tim gets himself under control.

"Can.. can I meet him?" Kon whispers.

"I'd love for you to meet him." Tim sniffles. "He was nervous you'd hate him for existing. I apparently passed on my stupid anxiety. I couldn't quite get him to believe me when I told him he wouldn't be who you'd be mad at if you got mad. He wants to meet you, but I accidentally made the most jaded baby in the world."

"A Super raised by a Bat is going to be terrifying." Bart giggles. "We'll have to make sure he doesn't become a supervillain."

"Meh. He's too cute. If he goes evil, all he has to do is pout and he'll instantly win." Tim jokes, wiggling out of the hug. "Want to see pictures?"

There's a very strong positive response. The next 3 hours finds Tim showing off pictures and explaining the stories behind them, his team melting at how cute his son is. Tim feels the lightest he's felt in a while. He does have to promise Bart and Cassie to bring Danny over once Kon and Danny meet one on one first.

What Tim doesn't know is Kon is absolutely obsessed with and slightly horny over this parental side of Tim. He's fully daydreaming of the 3 of them living together and being disgustingly domestic the whole time Tim is showing off Danny. Cassie can tell what Kon is thinking about and is amused.

Once Tim leaves, the Titans go to the training room and fuck up some bots because of the rage they feel on Tim and Danny's behalf. They all agree to be as petty as possible to any LoA members they come across and to murder Ra's the moment there's an opportunity to do so without the JL knowing. Tim isn't the only unhinged one on this team. That's why they work so well together.

[aethercoreheart]

"Is this what you do when you can't sleep?"

You flinch at the sound of Zayne's voice. It almost seems to come out of nowhere, and for a moment, you think you've hallucinated it. His eyes are still closed, head still resting on his pillow.

Nope. He definitely spoke.

"Sorry," you apologize. "Did I wake you?"

His eyes open, and he squints at you through the darkness. "I sensed that I was being watched maybe two minutes ago. I think that primal part of my brain woke me up."

You shake your head, laughter bubbling in your chest. "I was watching you for much longer. I think maybe your survival instincts aren't as good as you hoped they'd be, Zayne."

Zayne rises to sit up in bed, leaning back on the headboard. He reaches over to the lamp on his nightstand, and he flicks it on, a warm, yellow glow illuminating the room. His hand grasps for his glasses, and he puts them on before glancing down at you.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he tells you, pushing the covers back and rising from the bed.

You watch as he leaves the room, secretly admiring the back of him. He's wearing gray sweatpants and nothing else. What was that phrase? Ah, yes. You hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.

A few minutes pass by, and you're still alone in bed, wondering where Zayne has gone off to. You hear him tinkering around, probably somewhere near the kitchen. He then reappears at the bedroom door, holding a cup, with small tendrils of steam rising from it.

He comes around to your side of the bed and hands it to you, using both of his hands. You receive it the same way.

"Careful," he murmurs, watching you take it. "It's cooled down a little bit, but it's still quite hot."

"It's a chamomile blend," he tells you, eyes still on the cup. "It should help you relax." He sits down on the bed next to you, taking care not to move the bed too much.

You lift the cup to your lips and blow on it softly. The tea is fragrant, the steam tickling your nostrils. You take a sip, and its warmth fills your chest.

You sigh, your hands wrapping around the cup. "It's delicious, thank you."

You take a few more gulps of it as Zayne studies you. Soon, the cup is empty, and he takes it from your hands and sets it down on your nightstand.

He then makes his way to his side of the bed again, and returns to under the covers. You instinctively scoot closer to him, your head leaning against his shoulder. Both of you are still sitting up in bed, backs against the headboard. You reach over with your hand to his, and twiddle at his fingers.

"What do you do when you can't sleep, Doctor Zayne?"

It takes Zayne a few beats to answer you. "I like to watch videos of open heart surgeries," he replies, completely deadpan.

You press your lips together, hoping he can't see the expression on your face. "Yeah... I don't think that's going to work for me."

You decide to try another route. "Okay... how about you tell me how your surgeries usually go?"

Both your hands are now playing with one of Zayne's, and he leaves it there as prepares himself to answer.

"Well... first off, I take the time, in the hours before, to study the patient file carefully. It's important to know what you're going into, and what the risks for the patient are."

You nod, listening, your hands moving absentmindedly.

"And then, I see the patient myself. I try to get to know them outside of what their patient file says. I need to see them as real people, and know what their lives are like. They're not just the numbers that are on the labels outside of their files, or their diagnoses."

He moves his fingers slightly to play along with yours.

"As we're about to head into the theatre, I make sure I greet each person attending the surgery individually. From the nurses to the anesthesiologist. I need to know who they are and who I'm working with. We need to be one unit, with the same goal in mind."

You continue to nod, impressed with not only how dedicated Zayne is to his work, but how much he cares about his patients and his team.

"And this is how a double bypass is done..."

He takes one of your hands now, in both of his. He spreads your fingers out with his and rubs a thumb across your palm. As he explains the surgery, his index finger traces out different parts of the heart on your palm. You're entranced, enjoying the way his finger grazes along your skin.

"And this is where you make the cut," he murmurs, tracing it along your hand.

Your head starts to feel heavier, and you rest it against his shoulder, continuing to watch his finger move in all directions on your skin. Soon, you're struggling to keep your eyes open, Zayne's voice explaining the post-op procedures becoming more and more distant.

Zayne keeps your hand in his, listening to your breathing become slower, as you fall deeper into sleep. He plants a gentle smooch into your palm, and he sets it back down carefully. His hand continues to hold yours while the other reaches for the lamp, turning it back off. Darkness floods the room again as Zayne leans back and closes his eyes. He quietly congratulates himself.

Another successful procedure.

[stilljuststardust]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Persistence, not perfection

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Conviction is not the absence of fear, doubt, and negative emotions. Conviction is standing in the face of that and saying you have it anyway, because nothing other than what you decide matters.

Stop thinking that you've failed to make an assumption just because your heart is still racing and your stomach still hurts. Your emotions and your body are not god. You can be terrified and shaking in your boots but still standing ten toes down in your assumption

Where I think many people go wrong is the pursuit of perfection. It's the trap of "good enough". When will I be enough? When is what I'm doing good enough to manifest my fucking desire already?? You decide what's good enough, and no one else.

This idea that you have to feel good to manifest, or that you don't have control over when it manifests, the constant song and dance of "doing it right". Law of attraction still has its dirty little fingers digging around inside our hearts

Right and wrong are up to you. There isn't a secret code that unlocks the door, there's no invisible gatekeeper to please, there is only yourself. Have you decided you have it? Have you decided your efforts are good enough or are you constantly punishing yourself.

It is so easy to get lost in what you "should do". Should I be convincing myself or just deciding? Is it ok if I use this affirmation? There is no should.

Do not let shame and guilt destroy you. You should never blame yourself for what is in your reality. You should however recognize you alone have the power to change it.

Stop trying to "fix" everything and ending up spiralling over minor feelings that you can't get to go away. You don't need it to go away. You can literally just decide to keep with the assumption even if you had a stray thought or a flood of emotion. You don't have to hammer down everything that isn't exactly perfectly perfect, because it's yours. Accept that it's yours anyway. Yes I feel like shit, it's still mine. Yes I have doubts, still fucking mine. No I don't understand the "how", it's still mine.

Stop being the observer, hovering over your own shoulder to chastise yourself over every little mistake. You do not need to be perfect to be persistent.

You don't need to "figure out" anything, you don't need to convince yourself or overthink. Manifestation is when you leave all that shit alone and say "no, fuck all of that, I have it".

Trying to micromanage yourself is the easiest loa mistake to make. You end up spiralling for thirty minutes because you had one bump in the road you're trying to force down instead of just saying "sucks, still have it though".

Who cares about belief, who cares about feeling, you are god. Its up to you. I don't care if you feel convinced when you say that you have it, and neither does your subconscious mind.

I'm an insomniac who doesn't drink enough water. If I just go by how I feel I'm gonna think the world is ending. So much of our emotions get falsely attributed to "oh it must not be working" when really, you haven't your body is literally just begging you to go outside or take care of yourself and you're over here like "the universe is against me". No you haven't failed, you're just grumpy and need a nap.

The constant return to "how do I fix it" "how do I manifest" IS living from the old assumption. Deciding that you have already manifested it, regardless of how you feel, is what you need to be doing instead.

Trusting yourself is not this overwhelming influx of dopamine nor is it the complete lack of fear. Having trust is doing the damn method anyway.Having trust is saying, I may not believe it, I may not see it, but it's fucking working. Having trust is getting out of your own way and letting yourself do it without constant double checking.

Conclusion, literally say "nuh-uh!"

"Ok but I don't believe it-" nuh-uh still have it.

"But the 3D-" nuh uh, mine

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[alianoralacanta]

AI can't learn writing for you.

16-18-year-old British students in the early 2000s were expected to write 600 words on their essay-based exam papers. In 2018, top students wrote an average of 694 words per hour in GCSE English Literature (which most English students take at 16). Without a computer (unless they had a handwriting-affecting disability). In my job, I'm expected to write up to 300 words per ticket, as well as fix the issues I encounter. Sometimes I write 900 words per hour in addition to fixing 6 different issues. There's no time to get an AI to write what happened - I need to do that myself, and ensure the draft is good enough to be read by professionals up and down the organisation. Indeed, writing more words was associated with higher marks: - Papers which were marked E typically had 200 words (anything below E back then was considered almost as much use as a fail, except for people with seriously disrupted run-ups to the exams or who had such disabilities that passing at all was considered remarkable). - Papers marked C (the lowest grade useful to go on to further academic courses) typically had 325 words. - B-grade papers (the grade at which students doing further English Literature would be expected to have) typically had 500 words

- A-grade papers typically had 750 words.

- A*-grade papers were never shorter than 300 words. They averaged slightly shorter/more concise than A-grade papers, but it was still typical to write 650 words or so. 600 words, by the way, was about 2 1/2 pages of A4 paper. They did it by the following methods:

Write essays by hand (or by typing, but by hand builds endurance better because it's physically more difficult to write than type).

Learn to write/type to automaticity. Thinking about how to record one's thoughts makes it harder to think.

Make sure you know how to write a good sentence, paragraph, argument, evidence point, and train of thought. These are the construction pieces of essays.

Follow a sequence of writing increasingly long items of text.

Get good feedback on the text from someone who knows how to write well.

Do some writing against the clock (timed). Sprint writing mixed with endurance writing. Think of writing as an athletic discipline, not just an academic one.

Find things you enjoy writing about, and write about them.

If something is stopping you from writing, do something about it. Do not make it something dependent on mood or workload.

Practise writing while needing to do other things at the same time. Perhaps listening to music, or following a commentary (live-commenting is a great way to get good at this for sports fans).

Practise making your existing writing longer. Cite and reference your academic work, even if you're not yet being asked to do it. Add one more example, one more step, one more paragraph to your work.

Write stories and narratives.

Try writing about yourself, one aspect at a time.

Write to friends and relatives. A postal correspondence can do wonders for encouraging writing.

Do exam practises in exam conditions and timed. If the conditions are a struggle, try also writing other things in such conditions (e.g. a writers' jam).

Being comfortable with writing quite a lot about things that interest you will pay off again and again. It will make writing letters easier (something adults still have to do quite a bit, even if the Strongly-Worded Letter has largely become the Strongly-Worded Email). Your social media will benefit from being easier to write. Reading long documents others have written may well feel less daunting. Your verbal creativity will definitely benefit. Also, you will find it easier to self-teach anything you want to learn in future.

AI can't learn for you by writing. You can.

Word count: 650

im still losing it over the "how did high schoolers write 600 word essays before chatgpt" post. 600 words. that is nothing. that is so few words what do you mean you can't write 600 words. 600 words. this post right here is 45 words.

[halfway-happyyy]

this is gonna sound goofy but could you perhaps write something where reader sort of picks up franks mannerisms over time? i dont know if its a neurodivergent thing but i keep catching myself doing his little agitated jaw tense or squint and i feel like he would find it so endearing :))

anyways i love your work so much have a lovely day :))

what a sweet message, thank you so much for sending it. i hope you're having a lovely day as well!

this is not goofy at all - in fact, it's a very lovely thought, and it's making me very soft indeed.

i'm gonna go ahead and say that frank notices it before you do, and it's just one of those days where nothing is going the right way. maybe it's the full moon; maybe mercury's in retrograde again, who the hell knows. he's settled back against the couch, haphazardly watching a yankees game, but when your phone rings for the umpteenth time that afternoon, he watches you answer it.

he can tell right away that the conversation's not going the way you'd like it to. it's in the set line of your jaw; so familiar to his own traits that it takes his breath away for a moment. he shakes his head, driving the thought from his mind. there was no way you guys had been together so long that you were now starting to adopt his mannerisms...

"no, I spoke to someone earlier about this, and if you're not able to help me, I don't blame you at all, but I'd really like to speak with someone who can."

he glances up from the game just in time to see your eyes narrow to a frustrated squint, and it causes a breathless guffaw to burst from him.

you wait another fifteen minutes on the line, just for the person on the other end to hang up on you. with a frustrated sigh, you drop down onto the vacant spot of couch beside frank, and curl up into his side.

"that good, huh?" he murmurs, his fingertips tracing lazy lines up and down your arm.

staring into the void of space in front of you, you scrunch your nose and shrug. "just one of those days, I guess."

he clears his throat, and asks in a casual manner - "hey, how long we been together now, kid?"

you tilt your head towards the ceiling, flipping through a mental rolodex of the time you've spent with frank. it's been the best two years of your life, but it's also blurred together in some ways. "two years, this May."

a puff of air exits his parted lips in the form of a soft whistle.

"why?" you ask.

he scratches at the back of his head, as if suddenly shy. "you uh... you look like me, when you're pissed off."

you scoff. "i do not."

frank nods his head. "no you do. i watched you on the phone just now. like lookin' in a mirror. you got the whole jaw flex down, and the eye squint," he laughs lightly. "you're a dead ringer for me kid. hate to say it, but i think i've finally rubbed off on you."

you're silent for a while, contemplating his statement when he leans toward you to press a kiss to your temple.

"i think it's cute, kid."

you sigh and curl closer into frank.

"well, i suppose there are worse people to look like, castle."

and the genuine laughter that follows that, feels like pure sunshine.

[its-avalon-08]

📣 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖 📣

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

🏁 pairing : Lando Norris x Piastri!Sister!Reader

🏎️ summary: she’s oscar piastri’s little sister — sarcastic, sharp, and completely uninterested in drivers. he’s lando norris — charming, persistent, and suddenly very interested in her. she came for oscar. she didn’t plan on falling for the one person she should’ve stayed away from.

🏎️ author's note: so this is the end of this series!! I hope you loved it because I enjoyed writing it :)) thank you to everyone who read and supported this series! do comment, like and/or reblog if possible :)) stay tuned for more updates

themes : fluff, flirting, angst, over protective brother, anxiety, abusive relationship

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

chapter ten: bush spies & butter hearts

“Lando,” Y/N hissed, crouched low behind a bush. “Stop breathing so loud you moron. He’ll hear us!”

“I NEED TO BREATHE, WOMAN—”

“SHHH!”

They were stuffed awkwardly behind a row of shrubs, hidden in the shadows of the candlelit garden. Fairy lights twinkled above, music playing faintly in the background. Just a few feet away, Oscar Piastri stood in front of Lily, holding her hands—his fingers trembling.

Lando leaned close, twigs in his hoodie, grass in his curls. “We could’ve picked literally any better hiding spot than the bushes. There are ANTS on me, Y/N—ANTS.”

“Shut UP,” Y/N whispered. “He’s starting.” Y/N adjusted her phone to record it well.

They both went silent as Oscar dropped to one knee. A quiet gasp echoed from Lily. The world went still.

“Lily,” Oscar began, voice softer than either of them had ever heard it. “You’ve loved me through every version of myself—even the ones that didn’t deserve it.”

Lando blinked. “Oh damn. He’s pulling out the big guns.”

Y/N smiled, teary-eyed.

Oscar continued, “You stayed. Even when I was cold. When I got mad at you for small things. When I tried to be strong instead of honest. You stayed.”

He took a deep breath.

“You’ve been the light in the hardest days, the laugh in my quietest ones. You’ve been my home.”

Y/N’s throat tightened.

“And I know I have faults, I'm not good at saying everything I feel, I shut down when I'm upset, I get overprotective—”

Y/N SNORTED.

“—But seeing you calm me down, see right from wrong. I finally understood. You’re my person.” Oscar has tears in his eyes

Lando turned to Y/N, grinning. “Is Oscar crying because if he is I am so making a sticker out of his crying face. ”

“SHUT UP,” she whispered.

“Lily Zneimer,” Oscar said, eyes glistening, “Will you marry me?”

Lily burst into tears. “Yes! Yes, yes—of course, yes!”

The small group of friends and family cheered, erupting in applause. Y/N and Lando bolted out from behind the bushes like two excited squirrels.

Lily gawked. “Were you two… in the bush? Lando you hate bugs!"

“Yes,” Y/N said proudly. “We were emotionally invested bush spies.”

-

Later that night, the garden glowed under soft lanterns and champagne bubbles. Music played as couples swayed across the dance floor. Y/N stood near the edge, sipping a drink, when Lando found her.

He held out a hand. “May I have this dance, milady?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, sliding her hand into his. “You’re such a dork.”

“And yet, somehow, you love me.”

“More than anyone ever has.”

They swayed together, forehead to forehead, the world falling away.

“You’re still the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” she murmured.

“You still talk in your sleep.”

“You still leave your shoes everywhere.”

“You still steal my hoodies.”

“You love it,” she said.

“I do,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I love you.”

She looked up, glowing under the lights. “I remember that day in the garage. When you kissed my forehead and I almost passed out.”

“I wanted to kiss more than your forehead that day,” he smirked.

“Lando!”

“KIDDING—kind of.”

She rolled her eyes again but smiled, leaning into him. “This has been the best year of my life.”

“And you’ve been the best part of mine,” Lando said softly. “Even more than winning.”

“Wow. That’s big.”

“It’s true.”

He kissed her cheek. “I think we’re forever now.”

“We always were.”

-

At the engagement dinner the next week, Oscar raised a glass.

“To love,” he said. “The real kind. The kind that forgives. That protects. That grows. The kind that hides in bushes to support your proposal and then makes fun of you for crying.”

Laughter rippled around the room.

He looked at Y/N and Lando, his voice turning soft. “And to the people who prove me wrong—in the best way possible.”

Y/N smiled, heart full.

Lando winked at Oscar.

-

Months later. Y/N sat in the McLaren garage, watching her boyfriend win another Grand Prix. She was running a research department now. She had her dream job, her dream man, her family intact.

And beside her, Lando pulled her into his lap, whispering, “Race win kisses, please.”

“Only because you’re cute.”

He kissed her nose. “You love me.”

“I do, you moron.”

"I made you mine baby" Lando whispered.

Forever.

And ever.

taglist: @landofotographyy@doofenshmirtzevil-inc@rd14@stylesmoonlight12 @azuramicah @il0vereadingstuff @star73807-blog @sltwins@dustie-faerie @stylesmoonlight12 @lauralarsen @ayatotiddies @carey86 @hescrush @xnatqq @downsideup1989 @lilorose25@henna006@dustie-faerie@lewishamiltonismybf@ayatotiddies@carey86@hescrush@xnatqq@downsideup1989@lilorose25@henna006@formulaho@freya2005@honethatty12 @outofthegreatest @chaostudee @formula1fordisaster

[mcrdvcks]

— butterflies

summary: You decide to blindfold yourself for the day to learn what the world is like for Matt. word count: 2.9k+ pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader notes: this was meant to just be a short, fluffy thing but somehow like half of it is smut? anyways, this is my first time writing smut for matt, so feedback is appreciated! warnings/tags: blindfold, fluff, smut (while blindfolded), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie

“Sweetheart.” Matt said, as he stepped into the apartment. He could hear you somewhere in the kitchen, walking slowly and holding onto the wall.

You froze in place. “Matt? You're home early.”

He tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you said quickly. "I'm fine."

He smiled a little, setting his cane down by the door. “Then why’s your heartbeat going crazy?”

You sighed softly, turning toward the sound of his voice. “Okay, don’t laugh.”

He took a cautious step closer, grin widening. “Can’t promise that. What’s going on?”

“I... decided to spend today experiencing things your way,” you confessed, fingertips gripping the counter. “So I blindfolded myself.”

Matt chuckled softly, warmth spreading across his expression. “Really? All day?”

“Since you left this morning.” You shrugged lightly, embarrassed. “Figured it would help me understand you a little better. But I'm starting to regret it—I ran into the coffee table twice already.”

He crossed the distance slowly, footsteps gentle, stopping just a breath away from you. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Good unbelievable, or weird unbelievable?”

Matt reached out, gently finding your hands. “Good unbelievable.” His voice softened. “You're sweet.”

You smiled, relieved. “So, you’re not mad or anything?”

“Why would I be mad?” He laughed lightly, squeezing your fingers. “But you know you could’ve told me first. I’d have given you some tips.”

“Maybe I wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your palm. “Do you want some help?”

You hesitated, chewing your lip thoughtfully. “Just... show me how you do it. How do you walk around here without knocking everything over?”

“It’s mostly memory,” he admitted gently. “And paying attention.”

You smiled playfully. “You sure it’s not your echolocation?”

“Echo—” Matt chuckled, “I don’t have echolocation.”

You tilted your head. “Then what do you call using your enhanced hearing to guide you?”

"Listening carefully," Matt said simply, lips curling into an amused smile. "Echolocation makes me sound like a dolphin."

You laughed softly, squeezing his hands. "Alright then, Daredevil the dolphin."

He groaned, leaning closer to rest his forehead against yours. "Please don't let Foggy hear you say that. I'll never live it down."

"I make no promises," you teased, smiling warmly at his closeness. "So, show me how Daredevil—I mean Matt—listens carefully?"

Matt chuckled, gently sliding an arm around your waist and guiding you away from the counter. "First, relax. You're tense, and it's making everything harder."

"I'm tense because I've been tripping over everything all day," you complained lightly.

"Trust me," Matt murmured, voice soothing. "Close your eyes under that blindfold."

"They already are."

"Good. Now listen." He held you still in the center of the room, his thumb rubbing comforting circles at your side. "Notice the sounds around you. What do you hear?"

You tilted your head slightly, focusing carefully. "I hear... traffic outside. The hum of the refrigerator. And your breathing."

He smiled softly. "Good. Now, deeper. Listen beyond the obvious noises. The way sound reflects off objects, how it changes around furniture or walls."

You breathed deeply, brows knitting together as you concentrated. "How can you possibly hear all that?"

"Practice," Matt admitted quietly. "And necessity."

"It's amazing," you whispered softly. "You're amazing."

He chuckled again, shaking his head. "It's just a skill."

"Don't downplay it," you said gently, leaning into his chest. "I can't even manage one day like this."

Matt pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, holding you carefully. "I appreciate that you're trying."

"Just trying to understand you better."

He smiled into your hair. "You already understand me better than most."

You grinned, lifting your face slightly toward his voice. "Matt?"

"Hm?"

"Am I facing you right now, or am I about to kiss your chin by mistake?"

He laughed softly, cupping your cheek and gently angling your face upward. "Now you are."

"Good," you whispered, brushing your lips softly against his. "This I can get used to."

Matt's smile warmed, and he leaned in again, his voice a playful whisper. "Me too."

You scrunched your nose in thought. “Think I can make dinner like this?”

Matt laughed softly, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

You pouted playfully. “You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you,” he assured gently, fingertips brushing against your waist. “But I’d prefer if you didn’t accidentally set the kitchen on fire.”

“You cook blind every day,” you argued lightly. “If you can do it, I can too.”

Matt hummed thoughtfully. “True. But I’ve had years of practice and enhanced senses. You’ve been at it for...” he paused, smiling teasingly, “less than a day.”

“Fair point,” you conceded, smiling. “Alright, what if you help me?”

“I can do that,” Matt agreed. He gently guided you toward the counter, keeping his voice calm. “Step forward, carefully. Counter’s right here.”

You reached out slowly, fingertips brushing cool marble. “Okay, got it. What next?”

“What do you want to cook?”

You tilted your head, thinking. “Something easy. Pasta?”

Matt smiled warmly. “Perfect choice. Pot’s in the cabinet beneath you.”

You bent slowly, hands reaching hesitantly. “Left or right?”

“Left,” Matt instructed calmly. “Careful though, there’s another pot stacked inside.”

You grinned triumphantly as your fingers closed around a handle. “Found it!”

“Good,” he said gently. “Fill it about halfway with water. The sink’s—”

“I know where the sink is, Matthew,” you teased.

He chuckled softly. “Just making sure.”

Carefully, you moved toward the sink, guided by memory and touch. “How am I doing?”

“You’re a natural,” Matt praised, voice filled with gentle amusement.

You smiled proudly, turning on the water and filling the pot halfway. “Okay, next?”

“Stove,” he prompted gently. “Two steps to your right.”

You shuffled sideways, cautiously. “How do I know which burner to use?”

Matt moved closer behind you, his chest lightly brushing your back as he guided your hand. “This one,” he murmured, gently placing your hand over the correct dial.

You smiled softly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” His voice softened affectionately. “Now, turn it halfway.”

You obeyed carefully, listening to the quiet clicking and hiss of gas. “Done.”

“Perfect,” Matt encouraged. He reached around, taking your hand in his and carefully guiding the pot to the burner.

“How do you always make this look so easy?” you muttered, shaking your head.

Matt laughed softly near your ear. “Years of frustration and burns, honestly.”

You sighed dramatically. “Great, something to look forward to.”

He chuckled gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing fine. Better than I did my first time.”

You leaned back slightly, smiling at the feel of his warmth behind you. “Really?”

He nodded, lips curving softly. “I spilled boiling water everywhere. Foggy banned me from the kitchen for a week.”

You laughed, relaxing into his hold. “At least I haven’t done that yet.”

“Keyword being yet,” Matt teased.

“Hey!” you protested, elbowing him lightly.

He laughed warmly, holding you closer. “Alright, focus. The pasta is on your left, on the counter.”

You reached carefully, fingers finding the familiar box. “How much?”

“Half the box should be fine,” Matt instructed gently. “The water’s not boiling yet, though. You’ll hear it bubble when it’s ready.”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, listening. “Do you always cook by sound?”

Matt hummed thoughtfully. “Mostly. Sound, touch, and smell.”

You smiled softly. “Teach me.”

“Okay.” Matt took your hand gently, guiding your palm toward the steam just starting to rise from the pot. “Feel the heat?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Listen carefully, the bubbles will start softly. Then louder.”

You tilted your head, listening intently. Gradually, the faint whisper of bubbles grew clearer. “I hear it.”

Matt smiled warmly, proud. “Good. You’re learning fast.”

“I have a good teacher,” you whispered playfully.

Matt chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You jerked slightly at the contact, covering your mouth to hide a giggle.

He paused, grinning curiously. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” you muttered quickly, cheeks warming. “Well… I knew you were moving, I just didn’t know where you were moving.”

He hummed, clearly amused. “Still haven’t quite mastered that hearing thing yet, have you?”

“You mean my echolocation skills?” you teased gently, leaning back against him again.

Matt groaned quietly, forehead briefly pressing against your shoulder. “Please don’t call it that.”

“But it fits,” you said innocently. “And it’s adorable.”

“It's ridiculous,” he protested, chuckling softly as his hands settled comfortably at your waist.

You smiled, relaxing further. After a few moments, you heard the soft click of the stove turning off. You tilted your head in confusion. “Why’d you turn the burner off?”

Matt didn't respond immediately. Instead, you felt his hands shift, suddenly lifting you up effortlessly.

You yelped, arms quickly wrapping around his neck. “Matt! What are you doing?”

He laughed warmly, carrying you confidently through the apartment. “I just realized something.”

“What?” you asked suspiciously, gripping him tighter. “That kidnapping is easier when the victim is blindfolded?”

Matt chuckled, amusement clear in his tone. “No. That having you blindfolded could actually be a lot more fun than cooking.”

Your cheeks flushed deeper. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he whispered playfully, kicking the bedroom door open gently with his foot. “Oh.”

You laughed softly, your fingers gently sliding into his hair. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he murmured as he gently placed you down onto the bed, “you seem to like it.”

Smiling, you reached blindly for him, fingertips grazing his cheek. “Maybe just a little.”

Matt's breath hitched like you’d caught him off guard. Then you felt it—his smile, warm against your palm.

"Only a little?" he murmured, voice dipping low as he leaned into your touch. "I’ll have to change that."

You started to say something snarky, but his hands were already sliding down your sides, steady, careful. His fingers found your hips, squeezing gently. He kissed you again—soft, slow, lips dragging over yours until your breath caught.

Then he dropped lower.

You could feel him shift, the brush of his nose at your throat, the warmth of his mouth trailing down your sternum, kissing between your breasts, slow and unhurried. Your fingers hovered in midair, unsure what to grab onto.

"Matt?"

He didn’t answer. His breath skimmed lower, down your belly, and your breath hitched as he nosed at your waistband. Then he laughed—quiet and low.

"Relax," he said, his voice rough silk. "You look nervous."

"I can’t see you. I don’t know what you’re—"

Your words cut off in a sharp breath as he kissed just below your navel, slow and maddening. Then lower.

"That’s kind of the point, sweetheart."

You flinched when your waistband slid down. His hands were back, working slow, easing your pants down over your hips. You were still reaching out uselessly when he tugged them off completely, and then—silence.

"Matt?"

Nothing but his breath, hot against your thigh.

You tensed. "What are you—"

Then his mouth was on you.

A gasp ripped out of you, head tipping back against the pillows, hands clutching the sheets as his tongue flicked slow, deliberate. You bucked involuntarily and felt a hand on your stomach, grounding you.

"Jesus—Matt—"

He didn’t stop. Just a slow, relentless rhythm, his mouth moving like he could hear every twitch of your body, every gasp, every choked sound.

You whimpered, thighs twitching. "Fuck, I can’t—I don’t know what you’re—"

"Good," he said against you, voice muffled, smug. "Don’t think. Just feel."

You whined, fingers tangling in the sheets tighter, blindfold still in place, the lack of sight making every touch sharper, hotter. You could hear everything—the wet sounds of his tongue, his soft hums against your skin, your own breathless cries.

He licked up slow, then sucked—sharp, sudden.

"Ah—fuck!" You arched, breath stuttering. "Matt, oh my god."

"Mm," he hummed, tongue flicking cruel and perfect. "You sound so good like this."

You were unraveling, hips rolling helplessly against his mouth. He held you steady with an arm slung over your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"I—I can’t—"

"You can," he whispered, the tip of his tongue circling you slow. "C’mon, sweetheart. Let go for me."

One more flick, and the world snapped.

Your whole body jerked, heat crashing through you like a wave breaking over raw nerves. A cry spilled from your mouth before you could muffle it, your thighs shaking, muscles tight. You felt the way he kept licking through it, unrelenting, dragging it out until you were gasping his name again and again.

Finally, finally, he pulled away. You could hear him breathing—steady, controlled. The mattress shifted as he crawled back up.

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, finally brushing his lips against your ear.

"Still think you only like me a little?"

You turned your head toward his voice, smiling weakly. "Okay... maybe more than a little."

His hand slid under the blindfold, thumb brushing your cheek.

"Then let me keep proving it."

You bit your lip. "Is that an offer or a threat?"

He laughed, mouth brushing yours. "Yes."

You were smiling, about to fire back with something snarky, when he moved again. Not a warning. Just his hands on your thighs, nudging them apart, slow and purposeful.

"Wait, what are you—"

"Shh," he whispered, the word soft against your lips. His body slid lower, fingers trailing fire down your sides, slow enough to make your breath hitch.

You reached out blindly, fingers brushing his shoulders, his chest, trying to figure out where the hell he was going next.

Matt's chuckle was low and maddening. "You're really not used to not knowing, huh?"

"No," you muttered, squirming under his touch. "I don’t like surprises."

"You will."

And then he was shifting up again, the heat of his body over yours, chest brushing your shirt where it was still bunched above your breasts. His hand slid under your thigh, lifting, guiding it up around his waist, his other hand braced near your head.

You could feel him now. Thick and hot, dragging against your thigh, teasing where you were still soaked from his mouth.

"Matt..."

He leaned down, lips grazing your jaw. "Still nervous?"

"Only because I can't fucking see what you're about to do," you hissed, hands fisting in the sheets.

He laughed softly, the sound warm and unfairly confident. "Then I'll make it easy. I'm gonna fuck you now."

Your breath caught hard, head tipping back into the pillow.

"Say yes," he murmured, mouth at your neck now, voice rougher. "Say it."

"Yes," you breathed. "Fuck—yes."

You barely got the last syllable out before he was pushing in, slow but steady. Your mouth dropped open with a gasp, the stretch burning and perfect.

"F-fuck—Matt—"

He groaned into your neck, the sound guttural. "God, you're tight."

You clung to his shoulders, digging your nails in as he sank deeper, inch by inch, until his hips were flush with yours and you couldn't breathe around the fullness.

"You okay?" he whispered, voice tight with restraint.

"Yeah," you managed, nodding, biting your lip. "Just—move. Please."

Matt pulled back, slow at first, then thrust back in with a sharp snap of his hips that made you cry out.

"Ah—fuck!"

He grunted, thrusting again, a steady rhythm that made the bed creak. You were so hyperaware, every sound amplified under the blindfold. The slap of skin, the ragged edge of his breath, the wet drag of your body clenching around him.

"You hear that?" he growled, fucking into you harder. "That's how wet you are."

You whimpered, fingers scrambling to find something to hold. He caught your wrists, pinning them above your head, fucking you deeper, harder, each thrust angled like he knew exactly what would ruin you.

"You're fucking trembling," he rasped.

"Because I can't see anything—"

"Exactly," he growled. "You can't brace for it. Can't anticipate. Just feel."

You sobbed out a moan, back arching, thighs shaking around his hips. "Matt, fuck—oh my god—"

His mouth was back on your jaw, your throat, kissing, biting. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let me hear you."

You did. Every snap of his hips forced another sound out of you. Moans, gasps, whimpers that spilled uncontrolled. You could feel yourself unraveling again, tighter, hotter than before.

"You gonna come for me again?"

You nodded frantically, barely able to speak. "Yes—yes, please, I'm—fuck, I'm close."

He let go of your wrists, hand sliding between you. Two fingers found your clit, circling, rubbing just right, and that was it.

You broke.

"Ahh—fuck! M-Matt!" You cried out loud, body locking up as the orgasm tore through you like a live wire, your hips jerking, thighs squeezing around him.

He groaned hard, breath catching as you clenched around him. "Jesus, you feel so good when you come."

You were still shuddering, barely conscious of anything but him still thrusting through the aftershocks.

"Gonna fill you up," he muttered, the pace faltering. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"

You barely managed to whimper a "yes" before he buried himself deep, hips grinding against you as he came, groaning low in your ear.

Neither of you moved for a long moment. You were still gasping, blindfold damp, your fingers twitching.

Matt finally shifted, brushing his nose along your cheek. "Still don’t like surprises?"

You let out a shaky laugh. "I might be warming up to them."

His smile was against your mouth. "Told you."

the title was meant to insinuate "butterflies in my stomach." anyways, weird fun fact about me, i'm terrified of butterflies. don't ask why bc i don't know i just am, lol

[jackalopc]

if you are someone who does try to reply to as many/all comments, like myself, let folks know! i always note it in my end notes that yes kudos/comments are appreciated but that i also try to respond to every comment! hell half the # of comments on my fic are my own responses. also if they comment on multiple chapters? reply to each comment on each chapter they do, if you can!

it doesn't have to be complicated or overly long replies either. though if they do more than just write that they liked it, i try to respond to most if not all of the points they make within their comments. but for those and even ones that are just like 'hey this was good' i always try to respond with at least a 'thank you for reading and commenting!' to make sure they understand how much i appreciate it!

to hopefully help give a better idea of what i mean: most of the comments on my fics that fall outside of the simple 'thanks i liked this' category, tend to comment specifically on the mood/tone of the fic and/or particular lines that really hit hard for them. so i typically respond with letting readers know how i felt writing on whatever they point out. again these don't have to be long replies, mine are typically 1-3 short sentences. generally just try to match the energy of the reader!

it can be a pain sometimes, i won't lie, i don't always know what to say and can be awkward; just like when i'm a reader. but at the end of the day whats just important is the reader knows i'm just as engaged as they are with their reading experience.

pro-tip: someone leaves an unhinged (but positive/affectionate) comment? reply to those too! fuck it, be unhinged right back! match their energy babeyyy! also someone leaves just emoji's or similar? respond to those too! reply in kind! leave an emoji back!

reasons to reply to fic comments

readers can be shy, too. They worry about commenting the same way that writers worry about posting fic. Replying lets them know they “did it right”

readers feel as overjoyed when they get replies as writers feel when they get comments

you can have a lot of fun and maybe even make a new friend

you can’t give kudos to comments, and there are some comments that really deserve it

just to say “thanks” - because not all readers comment and you appreciate the ones who do

[womanofwords]

Silver Swan (Part 9)

Neglected!fem!reader x yandere!batfam

You heard it before you saw it. The complaints and yells of horror. Not wanting them to see you too early (as Damian put it, you make good moments bad and bad moments worse), so you searched it up on your phone and wore headphones so you wouldn't disturb anybody.

That was a lot of fun.

"How are you all not obsessing over Silver Swan?" a wide-eyed influencer asked, screaming into the mic. "She hears about a catwalk with fur, pulls up, somehow gets into the event and fucks shit up from the inside, and then shows up to confess and tell the producer to do better. She's an icon."

An icon? You? It felt impossible, but it was true. You (or rather, Silver Swan) were an icon, and a legend, and loved. A new hashtag was there to grace the presence of social media.

#itsonlyawayne

"That Silver Swan is a menace," Damian said. "She's a bigger humiliation to the family name than Y/N is. Our family name is part of a hashtag because of her!" He said the word hashtag like it was a death sentence. His pain was sweet music to your ears.

"What are you planning on doing about it, shrimp?" Jason taunted. "She's already gotten your stupid hair spikes shaved off, Damian. What else could you do?"

"I'll break her precious board over her head!" Damian roared. "She's going to pay for embarrassing me, Jason. She handed me a glue bomb with a smile! She knew exactly what would happen to me!"

"Why don't you take some father-son time and find her while you're on patrol?"

Patrol? What patrol was Damian doing?

"Father doesn't let me do anything! I'm not allowed to press a single button or even sit in the front seat! Why would he let Robin decide what happens when we're on patrol?" Damian asked.

What did Robin have to do with Damian? This was making no sense.

"Yeesh, he's really tightened up. When I was Robin, Bruce trusted my judgement about some things," Jason said.

That threw you for a loop. Damian was Robin? Jason was Robin too, but then . . . stopped? And if Damian was Robin, Bruce was . . .

Batman.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

All of these bitches were doing vigilante stuff except you.

You went to your room as quietly as you could, having a mini heart attack with every step. You'd been beefing with billionaire vigilante geniuses? And now you were Silver Swan, Batman was probably going to be on your tail. Batman, who was Bruce Wayne, who was your dad.

"Well, if they really want to mess with Silver Swan," you muttered to yourself, "it's about time they learned how aggressive water fowl can be."

*_*_*_*_*_

The next time you went out, you did so on a mission. A mission to mess with the twerp that you knew as Damian Wayne and now Robin.

"Hello, Boy Blunder," you said, flying tauntingly close to him.

"You!" Damian - Robin - looked at you as if you had spat onto him. "I'm going to get you and throw you into Arkham myself!"

"Whoa, little boy, what's with the anger? I only went after those rich snobs!" You dodged effortlessly. "And it was for the greater good."

"Greater good? Don't lie to me! You did it because you enjoyed seeing me stuck with glue!" Robin said.

"Look, Boy Blunder, I've never met you before - ooooooooooh." You pretended to join up the dots in front of him. "You must be Bruce Wayne's son . . . Dave."

"Damian."

"Daniel."

"Damian."

"Dynasty."

"Damian."

"Oh, right. Dominion."

"Damian! My name is Damian!" Damian hissed, shoving a hand over his mouth exactly too late.

"Oh, right, Damian Wayne. Good to know. Now, what do I do with an annoying brat that won't leave me alone?" You pretended to think while activating another glue grenade. "Ooh, I know!"

You threw the grenade at Damian's feet just in time, coating him in glue just in time. "I'll get you one day, Silver Swan!" Damian groaned, getting out his comms link to text Batman.

"Yeah, yeah, cry to Daddy Batman about it," you said, booping him on the nose just before you flew off home.

That ought to send him crazy until Bruce or one of your numerous siblings could pick him up.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9 <- You are here

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @simpingfor-wakasa, @kittzu, @simpingpandas, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @galaxypurplerose, @wisefuncherryblossom, @vanessa-boo, @deathbynarcisstick, @sirenetheblogger, @asillysimp, @toxicvoidsstuff, @kneelforloki, @trashlanternfish360.

[earlgreytea68]

I want to thank everyone for all of your good wishes and thoughts over the past few days. I've seen all of them, although I have been bad about responding. In truth, I am feeling emotionally exhausted, which I feel like is only to be expected. My mother (who honestly I depend on an alarming amount, I have to be honest about it) is recovering from surgery and not herself, my grandmother is never exactly easy to care for given her dementia and now things are more dramatic in the wake of the mini-strokes, I'm basically serving as a nurse for two recovering patients while also maintaining my actual full-time job (much love to my sisters who help SO MUCH but they have kids and I don't so they have other demands on their time so that's how it goes), I still don't have a bathroom and I had to have multiple fights with insurance companies just to get the most basic questions answered and then because I'm me I managed to make myself feel GUILTY over having to fight about this whole thing like it's my fault and like I need to internalize any more guilt than I already have about current life conditions

and oh, yeah, the country is collapsing and I'm incredibly privileged and I know it, but still: the country is collapsing and I'm a lawyer so it's a certain vantage point on the ongoing legal battles that is its own source of stress right now

so on top of everything else there's also my major resentment that all these people voted for a world where none of us can just take care of sick loved ones in peace because instead we have to worry about the collapse of the rule of law

so like, does it help to recognize that I am feeling emotionally exhausted????? lol ANYWAY, I guess it helps to write it all down and acknowledge that it's okay that I'm feeling this way

I'm handling things as well as I can by trying to just manage every avenue of stress in smaller doses, which I think is probably all we can ever do, and by leaning heavily on my main coping mechanism for two decades now of watching shows about cooking and home renovation

HUGS TO EVERYONE, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS, IT HELPS NOT TO FEEL SO ALONE

[sirfrogsworth]

Guess who's back, back again?

It's my favorite alien fanfiction man/boy... @tattered-cynic

I know all of you, my brave brigade of chumps, just want to laugh at him, but it would be for naught. He does not care what you think. Not even a teeny tiny bit. Laugh your pointless laughs. He's just sitting there, munching uncaringly.

He barely thinks about trans people!

Sure, he has written 7 posts with over 2500 words telling me how much he hates trans women while progressively getting angrier and angrier each time I make him look foolish... but that doesn't mean he thinks about trans people.

Perish the thought!

He thinks about them so little that he keeps tagging me—in the hopes of besting me in a debate... about trans people.

While eating a sammich and definitely not thinking about trans women's genitals, he made sure to tag me (again) and let me know SheWon.org is a legit site with important data analysis... showing the horrors of trans women eating lots of hot dogs.

Trans people occupy his thoughts to such an infinitesimal degree that he used a silly dire corgi/wolf post to remind me he doesn't think about trans men/women or girl/boys.

HE DOESN'T THINK ABOUT TRANS WOMEN EVER, OKAY?

Just to be sure he doesn't think about trans people every second of his miserable life, I asked ChatGPT to analyze all 2500 words of his 7 posts from our previous debate.

I know AI chatbots are pretty controversial and I have never really used them before now. But it was the only objective judge I had access to.

I also asked why my best friend had such a hard time reading his arguments and glossed over them.

And I asked the robot to compare that to my arguments—just to be fair & balanced.

Okay, but what if I am also unhealthily obsessed with trans people? I better ask to make sure.

Okay, but all that really matters is who won the debate.

If I am really goon-brained, how could I possibly contend with such an intellectual giant who never-ever thinks about trans people?

Robot, what do you think?

Boy, this robot does not think very highly of my debate nemesis. This is pretty devastating. He could really use a win. Perhaps our latest battle of wits could be judged in his favor. I mean, he got me pretty good with that goon brain thing.

Ouch.

Sorry, friend. I'm sure it was just hallucinating all of that. It's clearly biased towards my brain of goon.

In conclusion...

I don't think trans women are like dire wolves.

I think they are like... Cheerios.

Because a bowl of Cheerios has multiple holes.

And I classify everything in two groups...

Things with holes and things without holes.

I do this because I am goon-brained. And my goon-brainedness forces me to connect completely unrelated things.

I'm pretty sure vaccines caused this. A week after I got the COVID jab I thought to myself, "Straws are one continuous hole with two openings. Trans women are straws."

To my illustrious chump brigade, I ask that you keep me in your thoughts during this difficult goony time. Think of me when eating a sammich. Think of me when you are expelling a warm liquid shit. Think of me when you are not talking on the phone.

Keep me in your thoughts like trans people are in his thoughts.

So... basically every waking moment.

[mewos-laptop]

If I call MYSELF a faggot while genuinely being happy doing so, that's reclaimation

If I call A RANDOM ASS PERSON a faggot as a means to put them down and make fun of them, THAT'S THE SAME FUCKING WAY BIGOTS ARE USING IT, WHICH IS NOT RECLAMATION. YOU'RE JUST CALLING SOMEONE A SLUR.

I'm not going to police how someone may choose to joke around with another person, because truly if your friend is fine being called a faggot by you and you're both having a good time and everything is in good faith, I can't stop you, but you CANNOT go around calling STRANGERS slurs

That's not appropriate, that's not a "joke," and that's not reclamation.

I'm tired of seeing people online claim that they're "reclaiming" something when they're really just still using it as a slur, but it's excusable because "oh well I'm gay it's fine"

an appalling number of marginalized people in this upcoming generation appear to be under the impression that saying they're "reclaiming" a slur gives them a free pass to use that slur in a derogatory way towards other marginalized people in their communities that they dislike or think are annoying. maybe it's just the people i've had the misfortune of encountering in the wild, but it's getting bleak out there, folks.

like the other day i encountered some cunt using the fucking R slur to refer to an autistic person stimming in a way they found annoying, and when confronted about their ableism, they replied, "oh, i have ADHD, i can reclaim it." and it's like, no, you jackass, you absolutely the fuck cannot! that is not what that means! if the way you use a word is indistinguishable from the way a fucking nazi would use that word, then you're not "reclaiming it" anymore, you dumb bastard!!! you're just using it the same way the damn nazi does!!! shut the fuck up and be kinder you ass!!!