#manifest your ex back while you sleep

[lawofangie]

how i manifest

having anxiety and depression made manifesting more difficult than it ever needed to be. whenever i experienced something unfavorable, i would accept it and disassociate, rather than dealing with it properly by putting in the very minimal effort required to utilize the law.

no matter how hard i "tried", i failed to muster up the courage to simply assume in my favor, i put all my focus on worrying about bad things happening instead, so here is a step-by-step on a method i created a while back that's helped me a lot:

step 1: i like to get myself comfortable in lying down in bed, on the couch, or in a chair. getting comfortable helps me relax, being relaxed helps me focus on what i want to manifest.

step 2: i meditate. taking deep breaths, put my attention on different body parts, and saying affirmations and sometimes fall asleep, kind of like SATS (state akin to sleep). my favorite meditations are edward art's 'i am the creator', and 'let go of reasoning' meditation.

step 3: once i'm relaxed, i affirm for whatever i want. however, the goal in mind is to help myself accept whatever i want as already being a fact, not saying affirmations to make myself believe i made something happen. sometimes i don't need to affirm, i can just tell myself i have it and that's enough. other times, it helps.

step 4: if it was for something i felt less resistance to (ex: money, self concept), i would get back up and continue with my day, and simply keep myself busy so i wouldn't begin to reject the idea. if i was manifesting something i felt more resistance to (ex: grades, sp), i would go to sleep/ take a nap, so that i wouldn't worry about the "how" later.

step 5 (?): if i foud myself still worrying/ having resistance after completing the previous steps, i would acknowledge that it was because my self concept was low. the main issue i had was feeling trapped, like i wouldn't get anywhere with my life. this was a result of doing nothing productive with my time (and having mdd). i had no friends, social life, plans, undesired grades, and i didn't go out much. i would simply start picking up hobies, going out more, and socializing more, all while reminding myself of the new story i wanted to accept about myself. reminding myself of how big the world is was helped me whenever it felt too small, too pressuring. it reminded me that the feeling of being trapped is nothing but an illusion. it simply isn't possible in a world this big.

in summary, what helps me best is being logical, optimistic, and doing things that helped me ground myself in reality.

but don't forget: manifesting is still just a matter of choosing what you want, accepting it's already yours, and sticking to that acceptance. you accept that the world doesn't dictate anything, it simply reflects whatever you choose to assume. this is simply just what helps me best at getting past resistance.

so, this is how i manifest! i hope you guys find this helpful. remember, manifestation is simple. simplicity is sometimes hard to accept, and that leads to us complicating things ourselves.

[pinkpigtailsprincess]

* ੈ✩🏩‧₊˚ Manifesting is SO Fun ⋆.ೃ࿔*

?? . . open me !! … 𓈒 ݁ ₊ > 👖

₊˚📧✩; a frequently asked question i get on my blog and is that question of “How do i make manifesting fun?” and truth is manifesting I’SNT supposed to feel like a chore in any context and i was really trying to dissect this question because this is also something i’ve struggled with in the PAST and i finally figured out that a reason it feels like a chore sometimes because since LOA is such a diverse topic with TONS of opinions and methods being thrown out it can get overwhelming

and then the topic of knowing “if you’re doing it right” solution? MAKE YOUR OWN RULES!! i mean it is YOUR WORLD whatever you say goes so make your own manifesting rules that best benefit you!!

also some fun ways to manifest . . . [generating data]

DISCLAIMER!! you don’t HAVE to do these if you don’t want to!!

#1 Dear,Diary Method!! ୭₊˚

a method where you journal/type about your desired life as if you’re already living as you would do with your affirmations!

#2 Seasons !! ୭₊˚

this one is lowkey the list/write a story method but i saw this on a youtube community post a while back and thought it fit but basically mark off the a sections in your notes with like

season1,2,3 etc. and write down everything that happened

#3 Subliminals !! ୭₊˚

BEST FOR SLEEPING!! because you can literally just play it on low while and you sleep and literally get AMAZING results OBVI!!

#4 Repeat it Back !! ୭₊˚

this is more for affirmations but this is something i came up with SO LONG AGO and basically it’s using the outside/3D influence to your advantage and turning it into something that benefits you

ex. you are so _ > i am soo _

#5 Make your own Rules !! ୭₊˚

as previously stated MAKE YOUR OWN RULES either way its your world and you make the rules nothing has to be hard if you don’t want it to be Life is what you make of it so make it benefit YOU

[yourmoonie]

How to manifest an SP

The Neville Goddard way and my interpretation:

Neville:

“When I decided to marry the lady who now bears my name, I applied this principle. At the time, I was terribly involved. I had married at the age of eighteen and became a father at nineteen. We separated that year, but I never sought a divorce; therefore, my separation was not legal in the state of New York.”

Moonie:

Neville had specific circumstances in front of him:

- He wasn't legally divorced

- The Ancient laws of the New York city were getting on his way of marrying his 2nd wife

Neville:

“Sixteen years later, when I fell in love and wanted to marry my present wife, I decided to sleep as though we were married. While sleeping, physically in my hotel room, I slept imaginatively in an apartment, she in one bed and I in the other. My dancing partner did not want me to marry, so she told my wife that I would be seeking a divorce and to make herself scarce – which she did, taking up residence in another state. But I persisted! Night after night I slept in the assumption that I was happily married to the girl I love."

Moonie:

As you can see, despite the annoying circumstances, Neville still believed in his imagination even if his 1st wife wasn't around, even if his 1st wife didn't sign the divorce papers, he still believed in his imagination more than his 3D or his human senses. He slept in the assumption that he was happily married to the girl he loved even if his 3D was showing him the opposite.

Neville:

“Within a week I received a call requesting me to be in court the next Tuesday morning at 10:00 A.M., giving me no reason why I should be there, I dismissed the request, thinking it was a hoax played on me by a friend. So the next Tuesday morning at 9:30 A.M.I was unshaved and only casually dressed, when the phone rang and a lady said: “It would be to your advantage, as a public figure, to be in court this morning, as your wife is on trial. “What a shock! I quickly thanked the lady, caught a taxi, and arrived just as the court began. My wife had been caught lifting a few items from a store in New York City, which she had not paid for. Asking to speak on her behalf I said: “She is my wife and the mother of my son. Although we have been separated for sixteen years, as far as I know, she has never done this before and I do not think she will ever do it again. We have a marvellous son. Please do nothing to her to reflect in any way upon our son, who lives with me. If I may say something, she is eight years my senior and may be passing through a certain emotional state which prompted her to do what she did. If you must sentence her, then please suspend it.”

Moonie:

Despite the fact that his 1st wife was "running away" from signing the divorce papers or facing Neville so he could marry his second wife, Neville didn't hold any grudges against his ex wife because he believed that his imagination was greater than anything. So Neville experienced a very unique bridge of events, which then later on led him to get whatever he wanted in his 3D

Neville:

“The judge then said to me, “In all of my years on the bench I have never heard an appeal like this. Your wife tells me you want a divorce, and here you could have tangible evidence for it, yet you plead for her release.” He then sentenced her for six months and suspended the sentence. My wife waited for me at the back of the room and said: “Neville, that was a decent thing to do. Give me the subpoena and I will sign it.” We took a taxi together and I did that which was not legal: I served my own subpoena and she signed it. “Now, who was the cause of her misfortune? She lived in another state but came to New York City to do an act for which she was to be caught and tried.

Moonie:

See? She was in another state, but when she came to New York, she was "forced" to do a specific act, which later on became Neville's bridge of events to marrying his 2nd wife. Neville focused on the desire, aka marrying his 2nd wife and not the circumstances (the divorce papers).

Neville:

So, I say: every being in the world will serve your purpose, so in the end, you will say: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." “They will move under compulsion to do your will, just as my wife did.” “I tell this story only to illustrate a principle. You do not need to ask anyone to aid you in the answer to a prayer, for the simple reason that God is omnipotent and omniscient. He is in you as your own wonderful I Am ness. Everyone on the outside is your servant, your slave, ready and able to do your will.“

Moonie:

So if people have to move for you, then THEY WILL. Do you want your desire to get externalized faster? Forget about the timing and "trying" and start BEING. If 5000 people have to move for you in order for you to get your desire in a materialized way then they will have to run for you

Neville:

“All you need do is know what you want, Construct a scene which would imply the fulfilment of your desire. Enter the scene and remain there. If your imaginal counsellor (your feeling of fulfilment) agrees with that which is used to illustrate your fulfilled desire, your fantasy will become a fact. If it does not, start all over again by creating a new scene and enter it. In my own case the scene was a bedroom of an apartment, with my wife in one bed and I in the other, denoting that I was no longer living in a hotel alone. I fell asleep in that state, and within one week I had the necessary papers to start action on a divorce.“

Moonie:

You really don't need to beg, or lift up a finger to get whatever you want. Don't focus on the problem, focus on the solution, don't focus on the circumstance, focus on the end goal.

He really proved himself that all he needed to do was to stay true to his imagination.

Do you want your shit faster?

- go straight to the end, accept that your desire is yours (has already been externalized and is yours)

- stand firm

- forgive yourself, forgive the people in your reality bcs they are just playing their roles in your reality.

- It is not your job to worry about "the how" or "the when", your job is to define+decide your desire, then believe and trust yourself that its already yours

Because THERE IS NO SEPARATION

[bywons]

𝟎𝟏 𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖠ℒ𝖮𝖦𝖴𝖤 ｡

plagiarism is strictly prohibited. do not spam like. you will be blocked.

𝟎𝟏. HEADCANNONS & REACTIONS

midnight shenanigans ( ot7 ) — it's midnight, and you both can't catch any sleep, what to do now? / fluff

go ahead and cry, little girl ( ot7 ) — where you cry in their arms / fluff

you belong with me ( ot7 ) — where they want to be the centre of your attention / fluff, jealousy

a little less scandalous ( ot7 ) — where it's risky with them / fluff, suggestive?

of love's sweet whispers : soft moments ( ot7 ) — it's moments like these, when they love you more / fluff

now shush, let me kiss ya ( ot7 ) — kissing them to shut them up / fluff

my lips on you : enha as types of kisses ( ot7 ) — their lips express love for you / fluff

you keep me warm ( ot7 ) — when you look warmer and cuter in his hoodie / fluff

more than pretend ( ot7 ) — tired of playing pretend, they want to make it official with you / fluff, fake dating

pulling you on their lap ( ot7 ) — where they want you closer / fluff

i wanna show you off ( ot7 ) — where you mark them as yours ; lipstick stains on them / fluff

𝟎𝟐. INDIVIDUAL MEMBERS

LEE HEESEUNG

nerd!classmate! — ( heeseung ) where nerd!classmate! lee heseung is in love with you / fluff

with and without — ( drabble ) where he realises he messed up too bad / angst

heartshaker — ( drabble ) lee heeseung doesn't know what he wants from his rival, better marks or a kiss / fluff

boyfriend stories — ( smau ) your insta stories if heeseung was your bf / fluff

irresistible — ( drabble ) he’s home late, but he knows just how to melt your heart / fluff, domestic

PARK JONGSEONG

my dopamine! — ( drabble ) tutor!jay to your rescue / fluff

crawling back to you — ( drabble ) he wants his girl back / fluff, suggestive?

SIM JAEYUN

a little help — ( drabble ) where your flirty neighbour wants his favour back / fluff, suggestive?

still, thinking of you — ( smau ) down bad texts with ex! jake / fluff

boyfriend stories — ( smau ) your insta stories if he was your bf / fluff

you're a sunflower! — ( headcannon ) your superhero love story / fluff, spiderman au

PARK SUNGHOON

ice, ice, baby! — ( drabble ) where he takes you on an ice skating date / fluff

you can be the boss — ( drabble ) where your boss finds your cute secret, very cute / fluff

give me one more kiss — ( drabble ) where your lips have him intoxicated / fluff

KIM SUNOO

boyfriend stories — ( smau ) your insta stories if he was you bf / fluff

YANG JUNGWON

strawberries with chocolate — ( drabble ) bf!won gives you a sweet surprise, while munching on strawberries / fluff

bf! insta stories — ( smau ) jungwon as your boyfriend / fluff

double shot espresso — ( drabble ) where jungwon still remembers the way to your heart / fluff, office romance

NISHIMURA RIKI

kiss it better — ( drabble ) riki as your badboy! bf / fluff

manifest our love — ( smau ) where riki, a nervous wreck, manifests his crush into liking him back / fluff, oneshot

𝟎𝟑. SERIES

coming soon!

𝟎𝟒. EVENTS

on our love : 1000 followers event ♡

requests and taglist are open !

[dearlot]

Hey... So I'm gonna need more of baby demon/succubus Lottie 😅🥰

succubus!lottie headcanons 💭

lottie who keeps a special strand of your hair tied up in a bow. she likes to play with it when she's bored or sniff/lick it when she gets off to the thought of you. she's ashamed and feels perverted, but that fuels her to collect more of your things like used tissues when you go out with her to a restaurant, your used panties, your used anything really.

she really doesn't mean to seduce you, really! it just happens. she can't control it. and she doesn't know how, anyway. it's not her fault that her body secretes this hormone that makes you horny for her :( and it's not her fault she finds herself jerking off in your window while watching you sleep because she could smell your heat from her house. she can't help when she mind controls you into thinking about her. she can't help it when she accidentally makes you feel pleasure down there.

Succubus!lottie who kinda accidentally marks you....so now whenever she thinks of you, you feel this faint pulse in your neck.

once she starts to get more comfortable with being a succubus, she gets sooo much bolder. lottie taking you to the lake as a friend date. you sit back eating those bologna sandwiches you made (you're a little upset at the fact that she didn't even try to eat one) and watch her dip her feet into the lake until she starts stripping o_O you kinda just let her do her thing and try not to stare at her naked body as she skinnydips but she's unknowingly secreting those hormones that make you wanna hold her down and ride her. making eye contact with her as she swims back toward you and you're just in a trance.... unabashedly looking down as her wet body comes out of the water, and you can feel this strange heat coming from her. and you can almost smell it too? anyway, she just ends up fucking you raw and leaves you there all sore.

that scene in jennifers body with the lighter.....thinking of lottie burning her tongue and then eating you out @__@ using her hot tongue to trace down your body to make you feel extra good.

jealous!ex!succubus lottie who likes to manifest herself in your room whenever you have girls over to mess with you because she's pissed that you left her.

think it'd be interesting to see succubus!lottie who feeds on boys with a transmasc!reader.... especially if you just started T because your hormones would be all wack and she'd have the most trouble controlling herself from ripping you apart with her teeth <3 she goes absolutely ham on that tdick before your shot day too because that's when ur T is at its lowest. or maybe a needy/chip/jennifer situation where you're dating jackie (anything to include jackielot SORRY!) and after you come out as transmasc, she becomes obsessed and tries to seduce you. she's hungry and follows you to jackie's place, waiting until you walk home because she knows you guys just fucked and your blood is rushing. her food is best when they're like that. idk she successfully seduces you and leads you to the abandoned pool to fuck. or at least thats what you think you're doing. she's annoyed that you're not as into it because she can tell you're thinking of jackie and decides she needs to have her fun now and roughhouses with you. something something she takes a SMALL chunk out of your neck before realizing she can use you for food for, like, ever. she can drain your blood when she's hungry. not too much though, she doesnt wanna kill you.

pain play with her.........she wants you to use a knife. nuff said.

but ughh...baby succubus!lottie who doesnt understand what she's doing 😞 she always comes to you after she gets out of her trance, covered in blood and looking at you with teary eyes, and asks you to help her. she tries to resist the hunger at first but she just gets so weak and sick ;( you've tried to help her find alternatives like drinking pigs blood or seeing if she could regain her strength from eating animals, but she needs flesh. thinking of offering her some of your blood just until she can.....find...someone to feed on. she looks up at you with such teary brown eyes it's adorable 😭😭 she constantly asks if you're alright and takes the best care of you after she cleans you up :( ugh. just thinking of her tapping on your window and you get surprised at the amount of blood covering her chin...and she's still so cute.

[syzthefrizz]

Tips for writing dream sequences (from someone who has really vivid, weird dreams on a frequent basis)

My biggest pet peeve with fictional dream sequences is that they make too much sense!! They're too relevant! There's not enough random crazy stuff! That's not always unrealistic per se, but you are missing out on some of the fun ways you can reveal information about your character's mindset, fears, struggles, and future.

Most of my dreams have a goal or objective driving the plot, and it's usually urgent. Ex. "escape the huge storm on the horizon", "find a place to sleep for the night in an unfamiliar town", "find a bathroom". This is especially true of stress dreams.

Everything going on in the dream makes perfect sense to you during the dream. It doesn't feel like reality per se, but you think it is. You're living in a house full of vampires that could eat you at any moment? Seems legit.

Emotions and situations from the dreamer's life can/will find their way into dreams, with varying levels of subtlety. The dream could be about the stressful event itself, or it could be some sort of exaggerated metaphor. Ex. I was worried about whether I was a competent CS major while I was still trying to find a summer job/internship, and I was worried about what my professors must think of me. Such a good student on paper, still without summer plans. I dreamed that I ran into my professors all having lunch together at a restaurant (during a dream with a completely different storyline), and I was wearing my pajamas. They judged me.

Certain things are very hard to do in dreams. This could vary from person to person. For me, it's always driving (the brakes never work right), flying (I can't stay off the ground for very long), and running (it's like trying to run through waist-deep water).

People with PTSD may dream about the traumatic event happening differently than it actually happened. (Take this one with a grain of salt - I don't suffer from PTSD, I just research it sometimes so my blorbos can suffer accurately).

You can have a string of loosely connected or disconnected dream sequences back to back, each with an entirely different plot, setting, etc.

People can have reoccurring themes or plotlines in their dreams, which are often connected to their lives/psyche somehow. I frequently dream about running away from tornadoes and being in situations where there's some catastrophe coming but I'm the only one who understands that there's a problem and nobody will listen to me.

It's common for me to have a dream setting that I KNOW is someplace I'm familiar with, but it doesn't actually look like that place at all. Ex. "I dreamed that we were at my house, but it didn't look like my house..."

Dreams can end in cliffhangers. Sometimes I wake up right before I'm about to eat something delicious.

Sometimes people have dreams about doing things that they would never, ever do in real life, and they wake up feeling disgusted. This is Not a manifestation of their secret desires (*glares at Freud*).

Images are the most memorable parts of dreams. I forget the specific plot points, but I can still picture dozens of liminal spaces my brain has created, even years after I dreamed about it.

Dreams will fade from memory very quickly unless the dream had a strong impression on you, you write details about it down or you tell someone about it before you forget.

If you realize you're dreaming during your dream, sometimes you can control the dream going forward. This is called lucid dreaming. I've done it accidentally a couple times, and it's really hard to "hold on" to the dream and control it. I usually wake up soon after starting. With practice, you can get better at it.

Sometimes a normal/good dream can turn into a nightmare, and vice versa. Most of my dreams aren't really good or bad, they're something in between.

Your subconscious brain is CRAZY intuitive. We can argue over the existence of prophetic dreams (I've heard so many crazy stories), but at the end of the day, your subconscious brain knows things that you don't consciously know. If your character is in love with someone, their subconscious brain will know even if the character doesn't. Relationship problems? Deepest darkest fears and insecurities? Your brain knows. A dream predicted the downfall of my first relationship eight months before it happened, down to the reason why we failed. You can absolutely foreshadow this way. A character might subconsciously know what the consequences of their or other people's actions will be, understand things about the situation they're in, know things about the people they're interacting with, and more, despite their conscious realizations.

There are plenty of ways to make a dream sequence relevant to your story, but don't forget to add in some fun, random details. Character A is secretly in love with Character B? Have Character A dream about Character B confessing feelings to them while in a Vine Nostalgia themed restaurant over a plate of mac-n-cheese. The details are the fun part, and you can get as weird as you want. I once ran into my aunt in a dream, and she was wearing a backpack with a bunch of (fake?) hands sticking out of it, making a fan that rose above her back behind her head like some sort of peacock feather costume piece. I was so freaked out that I woke up. I dare you to get weirder than that.

Not everyone's brain works the same way. I have vivid, random, detailed, memorable dreams on a frequent basis. When I describe them to people they often ask "what were you on?". My roommate only remembers her dreams when they're nightmares. I have some friends who say they don't dream. Other friends have really boring, mundane dreams about their normal lives. Some people have weird dreams but only once in a blue moon. It's a good idea to decide off the bat what kinds of dreams your character has, and how often they remember them.

That's it for now, but I might make a part two if I think of more things to add. Feel free to reblog with your own personal dream expertise!

[carmisse]

Of Fëanáro and his grandchildren

He found it both delightful and strange to watch the scene unfold in front of his person.

He had only recently been brought back to life, pushed out of the halls of Mandos by their master himself. That only turned out to be the easy part, he still had to face his now ex-wife, Nerdanel, as well as his seven children who he was sure would have a lot to say to him.

Although there were also, and may the Valar save him by clemency, Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë.

It turned out to be a long period that he had to face, and yet he was, for the most part, excused. Although he understood if any member of his family refused to speak to him or even to be in the same room with him. However, he was now very selfishly enjoying the moment that was happening.

Erenion was chatting with young Elurin.

The platinum-haired younger twin was learning the art of public speaking and it was the son of Findekano and Maitamo who had offered to teach him if the prince agreed. The king of the Noldor in Middle-earth seemed to have a lot of patience, perhaps inherited from Ñolofinwë's side of the family or also from Nelyo himself, this while Elurín was trying to leave his nervousness behind, he would soon debut as spokesman of the recently constituted house of Fëanáro.

On the other side of the room, Eluréd was polishing his bow made of oak, Lindir was tuning his harp and for a moment he was able to see Makalaurë with Tyelkormo when they had barely left childhood many ages ago. Turcafinwë's protégé hummed the melody happily while Kano's offspring improvised a few sweet notes that caused an enjoyment in tune.

Crossing the threshold of the door, the first of his grandchildren entered with a pile of scrolls in his arms, Tyelperinquar had a smile on his face that he had struggled to recover after having fallen by the hand of Morgoth's stag. He looked jovial and innocent, beaming as he regained his joy, I was really happy for him.

"I'm of the opinion that you should sleep first before starting on your interesting projects."

Erestor's familiar voice manifested itself in the hall. Tyelpe laughed nervously under the gaze of the counselor who had his attention on the documents brought by his older cousin. He was surprised by the closeness of the young men's driving, Erestor seemed to bring Tyelpe back when the latter was closed in his projects, while the blacksmith pushed the younger one to have fun outside with him.

"Are you all right, Haru?”

At his side, Elrond questioned. He readily attended, took his grandson's hand and smiled. He had helped too many members of his family three times condemned, Maitamo and Makalaurë loved him, he himself loved him. The peredhel smiled back, he just held his hand.

"I'm home, that's all."

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Mystery of love

Previously / Next chapter

a/n: couldn’t stay away from these two…

warning: anxiety attacks, smoking, toxic exs.

summary: when two lost souls meet at their mutual friend’s party sparks fly, the question is if whatever they feel can actually bloom into something more? But that’s the mystery of love.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It had gotten better. It was better for a while before it all tumbled down. Noah didn’t know what exactly started it. And even more so his sleepless nights made him feel stupid. He had gotten the hang of controlling his thoughts and now it seemed that everything was for nothing. He woke with a flinch ready to face the odd hours of night only to be met with the rays of sunshine peeping through the blinds. Noah’s heart was hammering, cutting off any other sound. One thing he was sure of, though. He wasn’t in his room. And it wasn’t his drenched sheets that he gripped as he woke. No, it was you. His hands had gripped onto your body.

And now your worried sleepy eyes were looking at him. Noah quickly pushed back. Pulling his body from beneath you. Mind going two hundred miles per hour. “Noah”, your voice pierced the static but he simply shook his head moving to stand up. You watched him moving towards the bathroom ,the doors clicking shut. The bigger part of you, the one that always fixed things, screamed for you to go after him. Make sure he is okay, and do something to help. But you knew how vulnerable breaking down was. How getting smothered only made it worse. So you let him do his thing, trusting him to pull himself out. Even if no one deserved to hurt alone.

When Noah finally slipped out of the bathroom face still damp from the cold water he had drowsed himself in. He was ready to be met with questions but instead, he found you humming as you waited for the water to boil, two cups waiting to be filled in front of you. It made him feel this weird sense of domestic security. It was easy and calm and when you turned to him, a slight smile on your face he felt strangely seen but for the first time not made a spectacle of.

“Camomile and mint”, you mussed, “And waffles are warming up”, “I’ll be in a huge depth to you if you keep this up”, Noah muttered, voice horse from sleep still. His mind pulled him back to the fact that he had slept through the whole night, only in the morning did his brain catch up with him. “Don’t mention it”, you waved it off, “I’m off work today, you got any plans?”, you looked over your shoulder as you buttered the waffles. ���Should go to the studio but I don’t know if I can”, the words slipped out of Noah’s mouth before he could even register them.

“Do you want to come?”, he quickly added, “I know you don’t like…”,’ “If I can read while you do your thing, I’m in”, you cut his rant off, trying to defuse the rising tension in his body. “You would come?”, he asked slightly surprised. “There are too many comes in your sentences for eight am, I will join you if you want the company”, you shrugged, Noah snickered slightly, “I’m trying to manifest future events”, he smirked making you glare at him, “Every time I begin to think you can make it without… eh doesn’t matter”, you shake your head. Security feeling a sense of ease that he had jumped back into a somewhat his usual self.

But that shattered the moment you two sat in the car, you could tell from the way his jaw was set that his mind was already in his studio. And whatever that was waiting for him there was eating at him. “Who does the food shop in the house?”, you pulled the question right out of your ass, needing about anything to distract him. “Ah, well we just do it at random”, Noah shrugged. “And when was the last time?”, you glanced at him, watching him concentrate as he reversed out of his parking spot. “Why don’t we stop by”, you suggested, “We can grab little things, I think Emmy is coming over tonight so you all might want some nibble bits”, it felt slightly too pushy in a way. It was their routine you were messing with it, but for some reason, you were sure that looking at cheese was better than going to the demon that seemed to be Noah’s studio. “Sure, you can lead the way, 'cause I never know what to buy for shit like that”, Noah grunted, making you smile.

He was mindlessly walking next to you, carrying the bag, after you two bickered about that for ten minutes. And while you had called him sexist he simply said that it doesn’t mean that you have to do everything yourself. Now you were happily looking through different crackers. Ones that looked the same to Noah but apparently were extremely different and didn’t go well with everything. And while Noah hated food shopping, it was nice watching you find joy in such a simple task.

That was until you had halted mid-reach, before turning to face him. Your face had gone pale and Noah couldn’t help but frown slightly but before he could ask you what was going on your hands had reached out to him, pushing him backward, “Fuck, fuck, shit”, you muttered beneath your breath.

“Y/n?”, Noah watched as your whole face scrunched up almost in pain at your name being called from behind you. Noah’s eyes darted past your shoulder, at the guy standing there. He was close to both of your age at least that’s how it looked. He was the definition of office plankton. So put together with his white pressed shirt that Noah had to make an effort to not roll his eyes.

“Dan”, you turned to face him, a smile so fake it had to hurt your cheeks. “Grocery store out of all the places, and in a shit cracker section”, Dan mussed stepping closer and making you step back ever so slightly, causing you to press against Noah’s chest. A surge of protectiveness flooded him. It was the way the guy looked at you as if you were nothing but dirty beneath his shoes that made Noah press his palm against your back.

“What a funny coincidence, still doing your morning juice runs I see”, you muttered, trying to keep your head up. Dan chuckled, “Still so hung up on us that you remember my routine, I’m flattered”. On us, all sorts of alarm bells ran out and Noah instantly reached out, putting his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. That was enough to make the asshole pull his gaze from you to Noah instead.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you do”, you mussed, making Noah smirk ever so slightly. Dan hummed bitterly eyes still on Noah, “Enjoying my leftovers, man?” Noah’s fingers tightened around the handle of the bag in his hand, “What the fuck did you just say?”, as he grunted through gritted teeth. Your palm instantly pushed against his chest, “Don’t, it’s not worth it”. But it’s as if you weren’t there cause he still stepped forward. “Warm her up from me before I come for a round two”, Dan chuckled, Noah’s hands shot out before his last breath was even taken but you clasped your wrist around them, stepping between them.

“Fuck you”, you spat at Dan as he walked backward laughing, eyes stinging with the promise of tears and an insane amount of embarrassment. “You never step in front of me like that, do you hear me”, Noah grunted, turning you around by your upper arm, “I could have fucking hit you”. “Well, I’m not letting you get on tomorrow’s headlines because of me”, you hissed, turned away from him once more as the first tear slipped down your cheek, but you wiped it off as fast as you could.

You heard him sigh before his fingers reached out for you once more, “Come here”, Noah muttered. “Don’t touch me”, you bit back, pulling his hand away but he didn’t let go, “I wasn’t asking”, and within a heartbeat his hand was cupping your cheek as he pulled you closer to his chest. Only then did you realize that you were trembling. Only when you gripped his hoodie did you realize that his heart was beating way slower than yours.

“I’m sorry”, you muttered shaking your head. “The only one who should be sorry is that piece of shit” Noah grunted, his fingers running up and down the back of your neck. “Can we not talk about him or this or… Can we just pretend this didn’t happen?”, as much as Noah wanted to argue about it he owned you one for this morning. You had let him do his thing without prodding and pushing. He should let you do the same but his gut was telling him there was so much more here. So many things that might even put you in danger. The thought alone of you running into that dick alone left a sour taste in his mouth. “Let’s pay up and go”, he muttered, eyes still fixed in front of you as if magically Dan would appear and Noah would have a chance to land that right hook right at his perfect nose.

You were thankful for the silence as you drove to his house. Thankful that he lit your cigarette at the red light because your hands were trembling too much. All you had told him in that 25-minute drive was “I don’t smoke, I just need this now, okay?” He didn’t say anything. His eyes were on the road. He didn’t say anything s he opened your side of the door, motioning for you to go ahead. He didn’t even try to match your fake smile as you greeted the two guys, Jolly and Nicholas, who kindly reintroduced themselves to you. You could see them watching Noah though and they could read his mood. Making the whole small talk ten times more awkward.

You felt concrete heavy as you two finally went down to the basement where the at-home studio was located. Noah pulled his hoodie off with one hand so effortlessly that if you weren’t so deep in your head you were convinced you would have crumpled. “And who’s worried about how much you will wound me”, he threw your own words at you, “It’s because of him isn’t it?”. You knew the questions would come. You were just naive enough to believe that he had forgotten it all. “Don’t dissect, Noah, I don’t need you rummaging through my life”, you grunted, throwing your hands up.

“I’m not asking you for details, it’s a yes or no question, love”, he said clearly still annoyed. You watched him. The guy who just randomly fell into your life. One that made you wish for a different life. “Yeah, mostly”, you admitted with a shrug, “Does this change anything?”. He simply nods, “Does Emmy know how he treats you?”, his words made a shiver run down your back as the very last months of your relationship with Dan play out in your mind.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have pushed”, Noah runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry”. You just shake your head, “I would have the same question if I was in your position so… I get it”, you run your fingers over the leather sofa absentmindedly. “I slept through the night for the first time last night”, Noah muttered, making you snap your head back at him. “I was gonna say that for someone who claims he struggles with sleep, you slept like a baby”, you point out, “What keeps you up most nights?” You know that he threw this out as a lifeline. An equalizer. He got a glimpse of your ugly past now he was handing an ugly piece of his own to you.

“Music is fragile”, he plops onto the sofa, “What if one morning I wake up and everyone has moved on from our music?” You step closer, sitting down next to him, “See, I should tell you that that’s a pretty irrational fear but I understand”, you watch him shrug before he turns to face you, “That’s why I can’t seem to make that call about canceling the tour”. You frown slightly, “People won’t forget you just because you’re taking a break for your health”. He lets out a deep sigh, “Tell that to my brain”, he taps a finger against his temple. “Brain, fans won’t forget about Noah”, you say firmly. For a moment he just watches you before letting out a slight chuckle, “I don’t think my brain heard you”. You raise an eyebrow at him, “Well then”, you muse, cupping his face and leaning closer to him, “No one could forget about you”, you whisper against his air. Noah’s hands instantly reach out, wrapping around your waist as he brings you closer to him. And when you pull back both of your faces are inches apart. You can feel his breath on your face, and can still smell the hints of his cologne. “Noah…”, his name is barely whispered on your lips but it seems to snap him out of his daze, his lips press against your forehead instead, and then he pulls you into his embrace and you find yourself ever so slightly disappointed and wondering how his lips would feel against yours.

••••••••••

@broken0mens

[collinrobinsonsglasses]

Too Soft to Be a Pirate

Izzy Hands X Reader (GN)

Chapter 12 of a series, but I think you could read a lot of these separately and understand what's happening.

Summary: You run into your ex and Izzy has feelings about it. <3 It's the moment you've been waiting for. The rest of this story hasn't been super smutty, so I didn't want to make this chapter over the top. It's definitely a little spicer though with a ton of fluff. This is not based off a specific episode of ofmd.

Warnings: The reader has an anxiety attack just in case that's triggering for people to read about.

Chapter 12: Ex Marks the Spot 

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter}

{Next Chapter}

Your peaceful slumber in your hammock was interrupted by the subtle pressure of Izzy’s hand squeezing your knee, rousing you from the depths of sleep. An initial wave of annoyance washed over you at being woken so early. 

“Five minutes, on the deck,” Izzy’s hushed voice reached your ears, carrying an air of authority. 

“Why?” you groaned, your hand instinctively moving to rub the sleep from your eyes, while you attempted to avoid the man standing in front of you, by further cocooning yourself into your hammock. 

“That’s an order. Stop fucking complaining,” Izzy responded with a gentle yet firm tone. Although you couldn’t see his face anymore, a vivid mental image of the eye roll he was likely indulging in manifested itself in your head. You knew that questioning his request any further was useless. 

Emerging onto the deck, your arrival coincided with the rays of the rising sun, casting a warm glow over the ship. There, in the heart of the deck, Izzy waited holding two gleaming swords. With a fluid motion, he tossed one towards you, the metallic gleam reflecting the soft morning light. 

As the sword landed in your grasp, a subtle disappointment gnawed at you. The realization dawned that this was the cause of your early awakening, and you couldn’t help but glance down at the weapon in your hands, disappointed that this was the reason for the lost moments of sleep. When you met Izzy’s eyes again, you give him a pleading look, a pair of puppy dog eyes silently questioning the rationale behind this unexpected training session. 

“Don’t give me that fucking look,” Izzy retorted, his tone sounding exasperated, yet the swift response betrayed a vulnerability he tried to hide. Your pleading look had a way of working on him, and he struggled to conceal the impact. 

“When was the last time you trained with a sword?” he inquired, regaining his composure. 

“I don’t remember,” you admitted in a hushed tone, fully aware that the answer was sometime before your wrist was fractured. Since then, the blade had been a neglected companion, untouched during the months of recovery. 

“Months,” Izzy scolded, his tone firm. “Stede’s got plans for a raid today, but you won’t be part of it unless you can convince me you still remember how to use a sword.” 

“I do know how to use a sword,” you grumbled quietly, your nose scrunching in annoyance. 

“Then prove it,” Izzy responded, raising an eyebrow in challenge. 

“Why am I the only one up here? Where’s the rest of the crew?” you protested with a whine. “Why just me?” 

Izzy shot you a look, a silent declaration that the debate was over. It was clear - this morning’s training was reserved just for you. In that moment, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the power of Izzy’s gaze; it held sway over you that mirrored the influence your own puppy dog eyes had on him. 

The clash of steel echoed across the ship’s deck as you engaged in a spirited sword fight with Izzy. Despite the lack of recent practice, muscle memory kicked in, and your movements became a dance of controlled aggression. However, it didn’t escape your notice that Izzy was holding back. His strikes were deliberate but measured. He was gauging your abilities without fully unleashing his own. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead. The lesson persisted until Izzy, seemingly satisfied with his assessment, allowed you a moment of rest. 

“You can fight today,” Izzy relented, his tone carrying a hint of concession, “but Fang will still be keeping an eye on you.” You shot him an annoyed glance, silently protesting the need for an extra set of eyes monitoring your every move. 

“Oh, come on,” Izzy teased, a playful grin playing on his lips as he reached to gently lift your chin. “Let me make you a coffee. Stop being a twat.” 

Despite your initial grumpiness, his teasing paired with his warm touch earned a genuine smile from you. You couldn’t help but appreciate Izzy’s concern and the lengths he went to ensure your safety. You followed him below deck towards the promise of coffee. 

The next hour unfolded in the cozy embrace of the ship's galley, where you found yourself seated, leisurely sipping on a cup of coffee while engaged in easy banter with Izzy. The morning sunlight filtered through the small portholes, casting a gentle glow on the wooden interior, creating an intimate setting for the shared moments. Reluctantly, you admitted to yourself that the sacrifice of an early awakening was a small price to pay for these stolen moments with Izzy.

Both of you ascended back to the deck, and you immediately noticed Fang using a spyglass to scan the vast expanse of the open sea. As Izzy took charge, issuing orders to the crew, you gravitated toward Fang, greeting him with a nod. 

“Morning,” Fang sang in his characteristic cheerful tone. “We’re closing in on a ship for the raid. Want to see?” he offered, extending the spyglass toward you. 

With curiosity you took the slender glass, aligning it with the direction Fang had been facing. As the distant ship came into focus, an unexpected wave of unease swept over you. You knew that ship. A sudden drop in your stomach felt almost like a free fall, and for a brief moment, the edges of your vision seemed to be tinged with black. Concerned that you might faint, you hastily passed the spyglass back to Fang, gripping the side of the ship for support. 

Fang, noticing the sudden shift, inquired softly, “Hey, what’s the matter?” His expression transformed from casual cheerfulness to genuine concern as he placed a reassuring hand on your back, ready to offer support. 

A sharp intake of breath accompanied your swift revelation. “That’s my old ship,” you stated quickly, the words leaving your lips like a hurried confession. The realization hit you with a force you hadn’t anticipated. You bent down, letting your head rest against the edge of the wooden ship. 

“I think I need to find somewhere to sit, Fang,” you uttered, your voice barely above a breath. Breathing deeply in an attempt to steady yourself, the taste of your morning coffee felt bitter on your tongue, and the ship beneath your feet felt like unsteady ground. The prospect of confronting the man who had tossed you into the ocean had triggered a visceral reaction. 

“Oh, shit,” Fang murmured, as he comprehended the weight of your words. Without hesitation, he practically scooped you up in his arms. Fang, knew the ghosts of your past, understood the magnitude of the situation almost instantly. 

“The captains will know what to do,” Fang reassured himself, his tone a mix of determination and worry. Swiftly, he whisked you away towards Stede’s cabin, his arms cradling you securely. Bursting into the cabin, Fang wasted no time sitting you down onto the couch that adorned Stede’s quarters. 

“What’s all this then?” Stede huffed, rising from the breakfast table where he and Ed were seated, a look of curiosity etched across his features. 

Fang stepped forward, taking on the responsibility of explaining the situation on your behalf. “The ship we were planning to raid is their old ship,” he revealed. 

Edward reacted swiftly, pushing back his chair with a clatter and abandoning the table without uttering a word. His movements were purposeful as he headed towards Stede’s auxiliary closet, leaving everyone with a sense of anticipation. 

Stede’s gaze shifted between the unfolding scene and the absent Edward. “Well?” he prompted, addressing Fang. “What does that mean?” 

Fang shot you a nervous glance to see if you’d begin to speak but he recognized that you weren’t in the best headspace. “They got pushed off their last ship, by the man they loved, Timothy was his name I think,” Fang explained, then offered a detailed account of the story to Stede, who absorbed the information with a furrowed brow. Meanwhile, Edward remained absent. 

Seated on the couch, you drew your legs up and wrapped your arms around them, trying to shrink. As Fang narrated the story to Stede a million thoughts raced through your head and you couldn’t grasp onto any single one. 

Your gaze followed Edward as he emerged from Stede’s closet, he had shed the distinctive bag-like garment and kitty collar he was wearing before and reverted to his familiar leather attire. Stede’s immediate reaction was an exasperated sigh, “Ed! What are you doing?” 

“I’m gonna go kill that motherfucker,” Ed declared. “That’s what I’m doing.” “Edward, stand down,” Stede commanded firmly, a note of authority in his voice. “We need to ask them what they want. Look at them,” he urged, gesturing toward you. 

Ed’s fierce anger melted into genuine worry as he observed the emotional turmoil reflected in your eyes. Bending down to your level, his tone softened, “Little mouse, what do you want us to do if he’s still on the ship?” The tenderness in his question surprised you. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, uncertainty lacing your words. “What should I do?” 

Stede joined Edward, offering his support as he whispered, “It might be good to talk it through.” Edward shot Stede with a look of concern. “Stede, last time they talked it through, they got pushed overboard. I’m not sure if that’s the best idea,” he replied with firm resolve. 

Stede, eager to find a compromise, suggested, “Maybe we can lock him up in the brig, so they can talk. Would that work?” It was a practical solution, an attempt to create a controlled space for dialogue while minimizing the risk. 

You nodded in agreement, torn between the fear of confronting the past and the apprehension of future regrets if you did nothing. The uncertainty weighed heavily, leaving you caught in the crossfire of conflicting emotions. 

“It’s decided then.” Stede declared with authority. “I guess I need to go fill in the rest of the crew.” While Stede moved to leave his cabin, Edward stood up and pulled Fang aside, exchanging hushed words in a private conversation. Even at a whisper, his words carried to your ears, “Go update Izzy about this, Fang, before Stede announces it to the crew. He’s not going to fucking like this.” Just like Fang, the gravity of the situation was not lost on Edward.

Edward crouched down again, his hand gently finding its place on your arm, which was still tightly wrapped around your legs. “We’ll sort this,” he assured firmly, “Fang is talking to Iz…knowing him, he’ll be in here in a second, so I’m going to leave. I think I’m the last person he’ll want to see here with you.” Ed gave your arm a final reassuring pat before rising and heading towards the door leading onto the deck. 

Alone for the first time, your body granted you the space to release the floodgate of emotions that had been tightly pent up. The idea of confronting the man who had inflicted such profound hurt twisted your stomach into knots, and tears welled up almost instantaneously. Slowly, the silent tears transformed into audible sobs. A profound sense of helplessness enveloped you. All the feelings you believed you had healed from came rushing back, as if you were reliving the initial agony again for the very first time. 

The creaking of the cabin door signaled someone’s entrance, but you resisted the urge to look up. Instead, you kept your head buried in your thighs, legs still tightly curled up in a ball parallel to your chest. Displaying vulnerability was never your strong suit, a trait shared by many in the crew. You sensed someone taking a seat on the couch beside you. Although it wasn’t difficult to guess who it was, a wave of embarrassment kept your head firmly planted on your legs, hesitant to meet his eyes. 

The gentle touch on your head confirmed what you suspected - Izzy had silently joined you in the cabin. His hand, warm and comforting, rested tenderly on your head, while his thumb traced soothing patterns up and down the back of your neck. The simple gesture worked, slowing the rapid pace of your breathing and providing a feeling of solid ground in the flood of emotions that had consumed you. 

Izzy’s touch continued its calming dance until the tension in the air began to lift, and you felt secure enough to lift your head and meet his eyes. As your gaze connected with his, you couldn’t help but wonder what reflection stared back at him - a puffy, red-eyed version of yourself, no doubt. Unfazed, Izzy’s hands moved for your head to gently cup your face, his thumbs now taking on the tender role of wiping away the lingering tears that adorned your cheeks. 

“What do you need?” Izzy whispered, his voice bearing a weight that echoed the pain coursing through you.

“I don’t know,” you responded, your voice quivering. “I don’t know why I’m feeling like this. I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“Stop talking like that,” Izzy retorted gently, but a simmering anger underscored his words. “You are not stupid. The fucking twat who made you feel this way is stupid… Stupid fucking twat.” During Izzy’s response, his hands left your face, curling into tight fists on his legs as if ready to confront the very source of your distress. 

“Izzy, will you stay here with me?” you asked earnestly, a plea laced with vulnerability. “I think that’s what I need.” “Of course,” Izzy responded without hesitation. 

Gently stretching your legs out on the couch, you rested your head on his thigh. His hand found you again - his fingers running through your hair in a soothing rhythm. In the quiet intimacy of the cabin, being with Izzy served as a reminder that things were different than before. The feelings still felt overwhelming, but with Izzy and the rest of the crew you were safe. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Once news arrived that the raid had concluded, Izzy guided you onto the deck, his hand resting firmly on your back until you both were in everyone’s sight. He couldn’t decide if his touches were more for your comfort or his own. The sight of you in pain stirred an anguish within Izzy, and his deepest desire was to mend the hurt in any way possible. Wiping the tears from your face and enveloping you in his arms provided him with a sense of purpose, an action in the face of the unavoidable pain you were experiencing. The burning desire to kill the man who had caused you such distress surged within Izzy, fueled by the possibility that he was likely among the crew of the ship that was just raided. Yet, for your sake, he planned to temper his own impulses. 

The crew had gathered the prisoners from the raid on The Revenge, awaiting the identification of the man their captains had spoken about. Blackbeard separated you from Izzy, pulling you aside and whispering quietly in your ear. Izzy's gaze remained fixed, watching intently as you nervously pointed to one of the captured crew members. Izzy scrutinized the man you had pointed to trying to gauge his presence and assess him. A recollection surfaced in Izzy's mind: Timothy was the name Edward had used when recounting your story to him on The Queen Anne's Revenge. He was around your age, stood tall, his brunette hair seemingly catching the light. His stature, combined with a confident demeanor, grated on Izzy's nerves. Even in the midst of being restrained, Timothy’s presence managed to emit an air of self-assuredness, intensifying the rage that was simmering beneath the surface.

Blackbeard commanded Fang to apprehend the identified man and confine him to the brig. As Fang executed the order, dragging him away, Izzy observed the unfolding scene with a keen eye. Timothy, finally seeing you for the first time, had an expression on his face resembling that of someone who had seen a ghost. As the twat called out your name, Izzy's attention shifted to you. The nuances of your reaction didn't escape him. There was a fleeting wince, a subtle recoiling at the sound of Timothy’s voice calling your name, but you ignored him. 

Fang delivered a swift punch to the man's stomach on the way to the brig, eliciting a yelp of pain. "Fang!" you reprimanded your friend, disapproving of the unnecessary aggression.

"Sorry, he just slipped into my fist," Fang replied with a smug grin. "I don't know what happened."

Izzy couldn't help but smirk at Fang's action, he was relieved the crew shared his protective instincts towards you.

"I knew it!" Roach declared triumphantly to Frenchie once the chaos had settled. 

"Were you two betting on who Timothy was?" you questioned Roach with a curious tone.

As you spoke to your friends, Izzy, feigning disinterest, deliberately kept his focus on other matters around the ship. He positioned himself far enough away, cautious not to draw attention to his listening ears. The eavesdropping distance provided a subtle vantage point from which he could hear the unfolding conversation without making his investment too obvious.

"Yes. Frenchie thought it was that guy," Roach replied, pointing to an elderly sailor who appeared to be about 80 years old.

Izzy felt a pang of worry, concerned that any teasing directed at you in this moment might risk breaking your calm composure. However, his anxiety began to ease as he witnessed a genuine grin spread across your face – the most authentic expression he had seen since the news had broken that morning. The sight brought a welcomed relief, reassuring Izzy that your resilient spirit was still present despite everything you were feeling.

"What the fuck, Frenchie? He's ancient!" you exclaimed, playfully punching him in the arm.

"Ow," Frenchie responded, holding his arm in mock pain. "I thought you were into older guys." He teased, prompting a lighthearted exchange.

Izzy observed as a deep shade of red crept across your features in response to Frenchie's comment, and you briefly glanced around.

Swiftly, you hushed Frenchie, attempting to quell the potentially embarrassing situation. "Stop betting on my love life," you whispered back to the pair of men, your words carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement. 

Curiosity filled Izzy, but he recognized that this wasn't the moment to delve into those thoughts. His immediate concern was ensuring that you made it through the day, and that took precedence over anything else.

Several of the captured crew members, along with their captain, recognized you. Izzy observed as you graciously greeted each of them, offering apologies for the inconvenience. He couldn't understand your kindness, wondering why you would show mercy to those who hadn’t protected you like they should have. The men who recognized you did appear relieved and grateful to see you alive and well. While it didn't come as a shock that you had forged connections with them during your time on their ship, Izzy marveled at your ability to connect with almost anyone.

"Iz," you called out, capturing his attention as you walked up to him, interrupting his thoughts about you. "You can say no, but… would you be there with me when I talk to him?"

Izzy replied with a small nod. A wave of relief washed over him, grateful that you had asked him to accompany you. The idea of leaving you alone with that twat might have been impossible for him. If he was being honest, a deep curiosity stirred within him about meeting someone you used to love, paired with an undeniable feeling of jealousy. No, Izzy thought to himself, you shouldn't be alone in there with him. 

Izzy’s keen eyes followed your every move as you paced the length of the ship with an air of nervous energy. For what felt like an eternity, you traversed the deck. Every now and then, when it seemed you were on the verge of descending below deck, you abruptly changed direction, as if caught in a perpetual cycle. 

As you began the cycle anew, Izzy quickly intervened, stepping in to halt your pacing, his grip on your shoulders gentle but firm, reminiscent of past moments. "You don't have to talk to him," Izzy whispered. If it were Izzy's decision, the confrontation would have started and ended with a swift thrust of his blade, but the idea of "talking it through," instilled by Stede Bonnet, wove itself deeply into the fabric of this crew. With the resurgence of the Kraken, Izzy found himself considering that perhaps, against his instincts, Stede might have been right all along.

Your gaze remained fixed on his chest, as if peering through him, likely pondering his remark. “I know,” you sighed, “but I feel like I’ll regret it if I don’t say anything.” Izzy observed the transformation on your face, shifting from distraction to determination, and your eyes met his. “I need this to finally be done.” With those words, you left Izzy’s grasp, making your way below deck. Swiftly, Izzy followed, aware you were likely headed to the prisoner. 

“You’ve got this,” echoed Fang’s encouraging shout from the deck as the two of you descended below. 

Izzy watched the final deep breath you took before entering the area that held the brig. There was a strength in your demeanor, a contrast from the morning, yet Izzy couldn’t shake the concern that lingered about how this conversation might affect you. It remained too unpredictable. 

The brig was a dimly lit, confined space tucked away in the belly of the ship. A series of iron bars formed the cell structure, allowing a glimpse into the confined space. The flickering light of a lantern suspended from a hook on the wall cast uneven shadows. Sparse and functional, the brig had a simple wooden bench fixed to one side. Timothy, seated upon it with his head resting on his hands, looked up at the sound of approaching company. Swiftly rising, he moved towards the bars of his cell, as he uttered your name once again, this time in a mix of shock and recognition. 

“Timothy,” you uttered flatly in response, a stark greeting that revealed little emotion. Despite your stoic demeanor, Izzy knew you well enough to tell that you were still scared. Yet, you persevered, putting on a brave face in front of this fucking twat. 

“You’re alive,” he whispered back, Izzy visibly rolled his eyes at the statement but remained quietly standing further away, wanting to respect your space. 

“I know. That must be a surprise for you,” you replied dryly, your tone devoid of any warmth. 

“I’ve thought about you every day since you fell off the ship, hoping you were alive,” he responded, his words carrying a tone of pleading sincerity. 

“Since I fell?” you asked, your cool composure giving way. 

Izzy studied your face, discerning something he had never witnessed before. Muscles tensed beneath your skin, evident in the way your jaw clenched and your fist tightened at your sides. Your posture shifted, becoming more rigid, as if every muscle in your body was ready for a fight. Izzy, accustomed to your usual composure, couldn’t help but note the unfamiliar contours of your rage, a sight both alarming and mesmerizing. 

“You pushed me,” you spat, each word drawn out with a venomous precision that cut through the air. 

“Pushed you?” Timothy replied with feigned shock. “I was trying to catch you. I tried to get help, but it was too late.” 

Izzy watched as this ponce addressed you with an air of condescension, as if attempting to portray you as clueless and naive, working to convince you that you were misremembering what happened. Izzy clenched his jaw. It took every ounce of self-control not to storm across the room and deliver a punch that would wipe the smugness off this man’s face. 

You maintained silence in response to Timothy’s words, prompting him to continue. “It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re alive. We can sail together again. You and I, just like the old days.” 

“How long did it take for them to leave you? A month? A week?” you responded smugly, a sarcastic curl to your lips that hinted at your disdain. Izzy assumed you were referring to the person he left you for, the one he deemed worth throwing you overboard for. Izzy observed the man in the brig, and the cracks in his composed mask became visible at your comment, anger flashing in his eyes. 

“I left them,” he muttered through clenched teeth, but quickly regained his composure, reverting to the role he was playing. “I missed you too much. It killed me.” 

Izzy watched as your hands wrapped around the cold bars of his cell, leaning in closer to convey your unwavering resolve. “I will never go anywhere with you again,” you whispered, the words reverberating through the confined space. 

“Oh come on,” he pleaded in a hushed tone, arrogance still echoing in every word. “You’re happy here? With a bunch of pirates?” 

Your response was a smug smile and nod, a nonchalant retort that only fueled his growing anger. “I know you still love me,” he insisted, leaning even closer into the bars, narrowing the distance between you. 

“No fucking way,” you responded firmly, the rage still evident in your eyes. 

“Oh I see. You’ve met someone else” he sneered, his fingers snaking through the bars to grab your wrist. “You’ve found someone else to follow around. Who is it?” 

Izzy snapped immediately, his gaze turning fierce as he watched this man lay hands on you. “You will get your fucking hand off them, twat, or I’ll happily cut it off.” Izzy growled, his protective instinct kicking into overdrive. 

The man quickly released your wrist, and Izzy pulled you back from the cell with swift determination. Though it was only a matter of seconds, Izzy knew he’d never allow this fucker to get close to you again. 

Timothy began to laugh, his eyes shifting between the two of you. “Him?” he chided, gesturing towards Izzy. 

Izzy nervously glanced at your face, anticipating a hint of embarrassment or shame.  However, to his surprise, you appeared certain, resolute in the face of the man’s taunts. 

You didn’t retreat back to the cage; instead, you stood taller, asserting your presence next to Izzy. “Yes,” you proclaimed, your voice unwavering, “him.” Izzy observed Timothy glaring at both of you, but you didn’t falter. Instead, you continued speaking with a calm determination. “He is a hundred times better than the man you pretend to be. He’s strong, loyal, and one of the smartest sailors I’ve ever met. I’m safe when I’m with him.” 

Izzy felt, for a second, like he was in a dream. A surreal moment where reality blurred with his deepest desires. For a fleeting moment, he tried to reason with himself, attempting to talk himself out of what he was hearing. You were admitting you still cared for him, and it didn’t seem like a mere performance for the man who had broken your heart, It seemed genuine. The words echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t dismiss the sincerity in your voice. The weight of the admission hung in the air, and for the first time, Timothy found himself without a response. 

Timothy’s silence seemed to embolden you, and you continued your speech with a quiet yet firm resolve, as if the words had been rehearsed in your mind hundreds of times. “When my mother died, you were the only one I had left. You were my family. That’s why I’ve been so blind to what a complete and utter ass you are,” you said, your voice steady. “But I want to thank you because you pushing me off that ship is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I have a real family here now–not only Izzy, but everyone else on this crew.” 

The weight of your gratitude for the new family you had found on The Revenge lingered in the air, and Izzy felt a profound understanding of your words. 

You turned to leave, but Timothy spoke again, venom lacing his words. “You were always pathetic,” he hissed, the bitterness evident in his tone. “Always following me around like a puppy dog. The attention was fun at first, but then it just got boring.” 

“Just give him back to his captain, Iz,” you said flatly, unfazed by his attempt to provoke you. “He’s not worth it,” With that, you left the brig, heading back on deck. 

Now alone, Timothy redirected his comments toward Izzy with a sly tilt of his head. “You’ll get tired of them too one day. You’ll see. When you need your space you can always use my method… just a little push.” 

Izzy, fueled by a surge of anger, grabbed Timothy through the bars, slamming his head against the hard metal of the door. Timothy yelped in pain, but Izzy continued holding him tightly, leaning menacingly toward him. “I’ve met some stupid fucking twats during my lifetime, but you are number fucking one. If it was up to me, you’d be tied to an anchor and dropped to the bottom of the ocean.” Izzy let go of the man with a forceful shove, causing him to fall onto the ground. “They,” Izzy spat, gesturing towards the spot where you had just stood, “are the only reason you’re still alive because every person on this crew would happily gut you otherwise. You lost something precious, and I’m never going to let myself make that mistake.” 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

After leaving the brig, you sought out Stede and informed him of your decision to send Timothy back to his ship. The conversation inside the cell probably wasn’t what Stede had imagined when he suggested you talk it through, yet you felt a sense of relief that it was finally over. Timothy’s true colors had been shown, revealing his manipulative nature that you were grateful to have escaped. 

You made your way to the bow, leaning against the banister — the familiar spot where introspection came easier to you. You contemplated what Izzy might be feeling right now. While expressing your feelings for him hadn’t been part of the plan, you no longer regretted being honest. You were tired of concealing your emotions, but even still, you didn't anticipate a significant change in your dynamic with Izzy. It hadn’t changed anything before. 

Lost in your thoughts, you eventually sensed another presence. Turning around, you found Izzy standing there. Approaching you, Izzy gently lifted the wrist that Timothy had grabbed earlier, the same wrist Izzy had carefully wrapped after your injury many weeks ago. His fingers traced soothing circles, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken pain you endured. Before uttering a word, Izzy scanned your face, his eyes searching for signs of distress. 

“His captain will handle him,” Izzy spoke sternly, “They’ve sailed away.” 

You acknowledged his words with a nod, unsure how to respond, the weight of recent events still lingering in the air. Sensing your unease, Izzy cupped your face with his hands, a gesture that was becoming more familiar but no less comforting. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, his concern evident in the warmth of his eyes. 

“I feel calm now,” you whispered, a smile gracing your lips. “I needed closure, so thank you for being there for me” Izzy’s eyes softened as he listened. 

Izzy’s hands lingered on the sides of your face as his eyes darted back and forth, signaling that he was lost in contemplation. “What’s on your mind, Israel?” you asked, attempting to pull him out of his head. 

“You told him it was me,” Izzy responded uncertainly, referencing your earlier confession of feelings. 

“Yes,” you responded matter-of-factly, looking into his eyes curiously. 

“Why?” Izzy replied. He seemed uncertain in this moment, a stark contrast to the commanding presence he normally displayed on the deck. 

“Because it is you, Izzy,” you replied sweetly, gazing at him with adoration. “It has been for a long time. Long before we ended up on this ship, with this crew.” In that moment, a shift appeared in Izzy’s expression, a trace of longing. It mirrored the same look you had witnessed on the first night you spent time together on the bow of the ship. His eyes lingered on your lips. 

“Israel Hands,” you cooed, the soft utterance of his name drawing his gaze to meet yours once again. With a playful smirk, you continued, “If there’s even a small part of you that wants to kiss me right now, I’m begging you to do it.” 

That was all Izzy needed to hear. His lips eagerly found yours in a passionate collision. His hands cradled your face as if you were the most important thing he had ever held. As the kiss deepened, his strong hands traveled down to your waist, pulling you closer to his body. Simultaneously, your hands found their way around his neck, fingers entwining in the tousled strands of his hair. The world around you seemed to fade as the intensity of the moment heightened, the connection between you and Izzy growing stronger with each passing second. Izzy’s lips departed from yours and embarked on a journey down your neck, prompting a gasp to escape your lips. You kept your eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of his lips caressing your skin. Each tender kiss sent shivers down your spine. 

The resonance of Stede’s voice reverberated across the deck, jolting you both back to the awareness of your surroundings. As you exchanged glances, a giggle escaped your lips. 

Izzy’s smile persisted as he spoke with authority, “My cabin. Five minutes.” He punctuated his words with another lingering kiss on your lips. 

Breathless, you responded, “Yes, sir.” With a steadying moment on the bow, you collected yourself before making your way to the first mate’s cabin, anticipation building for what awaited in the privacy of Izzy’s quarters. 

Fortunately for you both, the crew seemed absorbed in their own activities, paying little attention to your discreet entrance into Izzy’s cabin. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the atmosphere shifted. You stared silently at each other until Izzy pulled you into another passionate kiss. 

The unspoken understanding between you and Izzy lingered in the air as you undressed each other, the layers of clothing falling away like a barrier that had kept your desires at bay. Standing there, exposed and vulnerable, a silent acknowledgement passed between you, the world outside the cabin fading into insignificance. Your fingers traced the contours of Izzy’s chest, your gaze meeting his in a moment of shared vulnerability. 

His hands found their way to your bare arms, a gentle squeeze conveying a question that echoed in his words. “I want this,” he murmured, his touch conveying reassurance. “Is this what you want?”

In response, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer, and his fingers traced down the length of your back. “Yes,” you whispered, the word carrying a weight of longing. “More than anything.”

{Next Chapter}

Taglist: @5tud10-54r4h @locamoka-blog @promptly-mercy @this--is--music @raviolical @lxsm2 @emilynissangtr

[our-destiny]

Day 6 of @creativepromptsforwriting's 30 Days Writing Challenge - Write about a blackout

A/N: These past 5 days I have been going outside my comfort zone, well today I decided to jump back in and write more Soft Dark Bucky :]

Content / Trigger Warnings: Stalking, Murder, implied noncon touching

I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors DNI

30 Days Writing Challenge Masterlist

Word Count: 1228

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

He was always watching. Everywhere you go he was always there keeping an eye on you. Or keeping you safe, as he described it. He left notes sometimes, though they were getting more and more frequent. That's also how you knew you weren't just paranoid; he really was everywhere. It seemed like as long as there were shadows for him to hide in, he would be watching. At first, they weren't as creepy. The first one you found on your desk when you walked into work. By now you had been feeling watched for about a month, but chalked it up to a lack of sleep because of work, but this quickly made you change your mind. The piece of lined paper was folded in half, blank save for some messy handwriting at the top.

I don't trust Michael. You should stop talking to him.

- James

Michael was your co-worker, he seemed pretty nice, you wouldn't call him a close friend but you talked to him occasionally. But you didn't know anybody named James, especially nobody that would leave a note like this. It was probably a prank, some of your co-workers were tricksters they probably saw how tired you were recently and thought you needed some fun in your life. You ignored it, kept speaking to Michael during lunch breaks and kept brushing off that feeling of being watched. That was until a week later you found another note on your desk, the same lined paper, folded in half with the same messy handwriting.

I didn't want to do this but you left me no choice. You should have listened.

- James

That day Michael didn't come to work. Or the next. Or the next. And a few days later they found his body. So maybe that wasn't a prank. And maybe you weren't just being paranoid.

The notes continued sporadically, a few of them were warning you not to get too close to that new friend you made and despite how bad you felt suddenly ghosting people you were too afraid to find out what would happen if you didn't. But most of them were harmless, maybe you would even say they were sweet if they weren't from your stalker. Stuff like, "Remember to drink water, you can't live off of caffeine." or, "That shirt looks nice on you." All from James.

But then they started showing up in your house. And 'James' started referencing things no one should know about you. How your shampoo smells nice, or reminding you to buy more bread before going home because you're running low. Or how that one annoying ex "won't be bothering you anymore." You assume they never found the body since you didn't hear anything about it. He also starting signing off differently, before it was just his name but now he says all sorts of things. "Yours Forever", "Love, James", "You own my heart,". He was talking as if he were your lover, not a deranged stalker with an unhealthy obsession. But that was how it stayed for a while. You'd never be apart from James, he would manifest in the shadows and you could feel his gaze scanning every inch of your body. You didn't know what he wanted but for now he seemed content with just looking, dealing with anyone who got too close for his liking, and leaving you weird notes around your house, lined paper, folded in half with messy handwriting.

As embarrassing as it is to admit, you were becoming slightly scared of the dark. Whenever you looked into shadows you swear you could see something moving in them, James haunting your mind, making you feel like the shadows are watching you. Your new found fear of the dark started becoming a hindrance on your life, making you jump at nothing, scared to walk down a dark hallway.

Which really didn't help when the power went out one night.

The storm was pushing against your windows, the occasional crack of thunder lighting up the sky. He was here, as he always was, watching you from the shadows. You had every light on, but even then he was still just out of sight. That was, until the room was swallowed up by darkness. And your phone was dead. How convenient. You should have charged it in advance, of course the power would go out on a night like this, but you were frozen on the couch the past half hour, waiting in suspense for the moment the power goes out, as opposed to preparing for it. You knew that he would make his move now when the room was pitch black. So you have to make your move first.

You stood up from the couch, ready to make a dash for the door at a moments notice. The wind was still screaming outside, making it hard for you to listen for him, but you heard him anyway. Footsteps. To your left. You turned to face the direction he was, and slowly tried to walk towards the door despite how little you could see. Then the footsteps stopped. Silence. You should have kept going, it was obvious he was in the room but instinctively you stopped, trying to listen for him again. That was a mistake.

He was behind you. You didn't hear him move at all, but that quickly faded to the back of your mind when he put his hands on your hips. When it comes to dangerous situations you always thought you'd fight or run away, you didn't expect to freeze. But you did. James rest his head on your left shoulder, nuzzling into your neck, and when he spoke you could feel his breath just below your ear.

"You scared of the dark sweetheart?" His tone was soft, caring, a bit gravelly, like he hadn't used it in a while, but it sounded warm. Not at all like you expected your stalker to sound.

"Shh, shh, don't worry, m'gonna protect you. No need to be scared, I'm sure it'll come back on in a minute." He started gently swaying the both of you, you guess the action was supposed to be comforting.

"James?" The combined fear of the dark room and your stalker made your voice shaky. God, you felt pathetic, the door is right there, he's not even holding onto you that tight.

"That's right, sweetheart. It's nice to finally touch you, when you're awake at least." James gave a small chuckle at the end, as if it was funny that he was touching you in your sleep.

"But, why?" What did he want with you? Why was he killing off random people for you? Why was he treating you like his lover when he's been stalking you?

"Mmm? Why?" He waited a breath while he thought of an answer. "Because you feel like coming home. After Hydra I didn't know what to do. But you feel like home and I'm not willing to lose that again."

He wraps his arms around your waist, the left one felt colder, pressing against you uncomfortably. He gave you a small squeeze, still rocking side to side with you.

"I'm not gonna lose you. Not gonna let anybody take you from me. You're all mine."

You don't think you're ever going to get over your fear of the dark. Not after this.

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

Support content creators by reblogging, I'd really appreciate it <33

[l0verf0rever]

can we get a like angst/ fluff with jude where they are broken up but both still love eachother and just thought it would be better for them tk break up. then they like both see eachother in Mykonos and have a one night stand but neither want it to be a one night stand and have like a little heart tk heart when they see eachother out the next day. 🫶🏻

𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙪𝙥 | 𝙅𝙪𝙙𝙚 𝘽𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙖𝙢

{ Social Media Au! | Jude Bellingham x Reader }

Angst, Smut, Fluff

Masterlist

Current

3 Months Ago you’re Boyfriend Broke up with you

Stalking each other story and it usually goes to nowhere scared to talk to each other but both still asking how each is doing through friends

Friend arguing about how the girl He’s linked with looks like you haven’t really found anyone wishing at least to be on speaking terms

they advice you to get out there so You can find Someone they brougnt you to Greece to party and get drunk and have ‘great sex’

Greece , Mykonos.

User1: Bro jude fumbled this girl?

Replied User2: Real 🤡 moments

User3: hope they get back together i can feel it

Replied User4: me when im delulu

User1: isn’t He’s ex at mykonos too?

Replied User2: manifest~~~

User2: i miss Y/n and Him

Replied User3: Real

User4:He looks so good

User5: Not him getting too used to pretty women when Y/n Is literally won awards and well respected athlete 😔 gotta keep these guys in check

Replied User6:if she can get broken up with we can too😭😭😔😔🥲

you miss him in a way you two spent time together curled out together in You’re own two worlds during vacations

Remembering the things he said still hurts in a way nowadays stalking each others stories and leading to nowhere hoping he’ll talk to you

Crying you’re self to sleep trying to keep yourself together seeing pictures of him everything felt so confusing questioning yourself why’d you even bother going here just to see him again? Relive the heart ache? Feeling like the foolish one

[Tomorrow came and the morning left it was night you never ever felt ready ]

You felt like no one knew you look at him with Another girl chugging another drink while she has him the bitter taste down you’re throat

you’re friend whispered “hey isn’t he judes teammate? I think you should talk to him he’s been looking at you from the start” you walk to him almost tripping

“are you okay?” He catches you on time he’s charming smile He’s hand on you’re hip enjoying each others company

you smile “ you’re performance was really good its like not tennis at this point” complimenting each others skills “you watch my Matches?” You asked “yeah actually my little sister looks up to you “ he smiled looking at you’re eyes sparkles “i forgot my name was Alexander just call me alex”

Judes eyes could pierce through the skin he felt a sense of jealousy looking across the room cause he miss you missed each others kiss those girls cant give what you had with him cant remake the feelings you both had and sure ass hell Alex can’t

You were at the bar alone alex left and felt someones hand holding you’re wrist dragging you to He’s room “Jude stop what are you doing?” He still doesn’t budge “jude stop “

Leading you in Hes room hes face near yours “you have a girls leave me alone ” He locks the door

“we aren’t even a thing please do this so we can call it even” You do still miss him “fine” He started to making out with you Missed this holding hes hands holding your body He’s hands removing you’re dress leaving you just in you’re bra and panties he ruins you’re make up and making Hickeys on each other and till both of you reach you’re highs

“I love you know that right?” Hes eyes on you as the sun rises “i know i miss you” He carried you bridal style to clean you Fell asleep

woke up to an empty bedroom feeling disappointed that you let him get you easily it hurts to have something everything felt sad without him you see He’s text

“ Meet me at the boat “ Hes devilishy handsome looks as you walked to him felt nervous “i want you i don’t want to be a another night stand i don’t want anyone else just you” its everything you ever wanted happened

User1: WAR IS OVERRR

User2: 🫶🫶🫶

You’re hands on he’s hair both of you blush being at each others arms again for forever and always.

THE END.

I Kinda struggled writing this and i don’t think this is my best but and i really like this concept actually and i listen to multiple songs for inspiration and hopefully you guys like it thank you for reading.🫶

[walder-138]

Questions for Annika, Jack, & Oswald:

What's this oc's biggest fear?

What's this oc's mental health state?

What's your favorite thing about this oc?

How does this oc feel about physical affection?

How does this oc get along with people they just met?

VICE!!!!! WHADDUP GIRL!!!! TYSM FOR THE ASK!!!!!

1) What’s this oc’s biggest fear?

Annika: People. Not in a social anxiety typa way (scared of judgement etc), but of what they are capable of. Annika has been exposed to human cruelty from a young age, growing up as a child soldier in a terrorist organization convinced her that every single person around her wanted to hurt her.

Over the years, her fear manifested into hate for humanity. It was never real hate, but ‘hate’ was the only label she could put on it without feeling like a coward. Fear is weak, Anya. Fear is weak. Hate and anger protected her; who wants to pet a rabid dog?

Jack: His scientific ‘research’ being exposed to the public. Jack is incapable of fear or anxiety; he’s a textbook sociopath, but he really doesn’t wanna stop performing his research and experiments (he worked on MK Ultra since he became a doctor) Seeing it flourish due to his involvement has been his greatest achievement, that being taken away from him would tear him apart.

Oz: Losing his daughter, Jenny. I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again; she’s the reason why he got off drugs following Vietnam and stopped being a verbally abusive misogynist to almost every single woman in his life. Oz knows that if he lost her, he’d most likely have a pretty bad relapse and fall back into his old bad habits.

2) What’s this OC’s mental health state?

Annika: Take a wild guess.

Jack: He’s balling honestly 😭 With everything that happened with Bell being a complete success, (assuming Annika isn’t Bell; she detonates the nukes) he basically saw his top project take off. Sure, the dumbasses in the safehouse didn’t listen to him about keeping Bell under that trance or whatever, but he can always start again; make another one.

Bro’s walking on sunshine!

In reality, Jack can’t feel anything. All of his emotions are fabricated. There could be a spark; of hope, or pity, or amusement, or some kinda love, but it’s never enough. He’s almost completely numb. He hates it sometimes, but Jack can’t miss what he’s never had.

Now about the state of his actual brain… uh ask Abbey about that. She fed him the curb

Oz: Shitty. He is constantly haunted by visions from his past. He can barely sleep at night without seeing his men -his sons- dead around him. The heroin, the morphine, and the LSD were the only things keeping him from having to see their mangled bodies scattered every time he blinked. Rehab helped him get over his addiction, but he hated talking to those damn prissy ass shrinks. But now that Jenny’s around, he can’t be high all the damn time, so Oz has to deal with it without any assistance from anyone but his ex.

He’s stressed, and he thinks he can’t do it anymore, but he wakes up every morning and does.

3) What’s your favorite thing about this OC?

Annika: How far her development’s come along. I based her off me when I play video games (I rage a lot 😭) and had to think about how, realistically, someone with an erratic fighting style would come to develop it. Since I die a lot, I figured Annika wouldn’t have any formal military training except by the terrorist organization she was raised in. I really wanted to make her a reflection of my video game playing style, and I’m happy to say that she does. Just with more depth now.

Jack: He’s not far along in his development process, so this will most likely change but so far, it’s how two-faced he is. When you talk to Jack, he genuinely seems like a nice guy that you’d wanna crack a couple cold ones with on a nice, hot day, while all of his ‘patients’ are horrified of him. Dudebro’s the reason Abbey doesn’t like British people 😭

Oz: I’ve got two things. How real he is. I’ll admit; a lot of my ocs are over exaggerated, but at least in my opinion, he’s the most realistic. I’ve made a post going slightly more into depth about this a while back. The other thing is that Oz is somehow my 2nd most morally stable character after all the shit he’s done 😭😭😭

4) What does this OC feel about physical affection?

Annika: She yearns for it. Annika’s never felt the loving touch of any individual that wouldn’t later be used to hurt her. Now, I’m not saying it’s a smart idea to abruptly give her a hug, unless you wanna pull back a bloody stump or you’re her girlfriend, as that scares her, tying back to her fear of people.

Jack: He doesn’t particularly care for it one way or another. Jack might tuck someone’s hair behind their ears if he’s being patronizing, or pat them on the shoulder to reassure them, he doesn’t really get anything from it. He won’t provide any physical contact if it doesn’t benefit him, unless it’s with his partner. Everyone else, even Jack’s own kids, can go to hell.

Oz: Oz is touched starved. At this point, he’d take any form of physical contact from anyone. The problem is, he doesn’t feel like he deserves it, so he recoils from it at every opportunity it’s shown. He says it’s unmanly, but if a woman even patted him on the cheek, bro’s getting a bit excited 🤭

5) How does this OC get along with people they just met?

Annika: Not well. Annika already hates the people she actually knows, introducing her to a person she doesn’t know will ensure hostility. Unless you’re going on a mission with her, she doesn’t want to know anything about you. She doesn’t want to know what you think about the weather. Her life wouldn’t be impacted if you lived or died, and she wants you to know it 😭If she can, Annika would just walk away after the initial greeting.

Jack: He’s the opposite of Annika, at least on the outside. He introduces himself, shakes your hand, and offers to take your coat. Very gentlemanly, especially to women and children. He presents himself as a genuine caring and kind man, giving gifts and offering to listen/help anyone around him. So whenever people (Abbey) accuse him of doing something, everyone tends to be like “Not Jack! He helped me sort through my divorce!” even if they barely know him, cause Jack’s just so damn polite.

Oz: Oz is extremely awkward. Most of the times when he’s meeting someone for the first time he just kinda stands there like🧍‍♂️waiting for his friend to finish talking so he can go watch the Patriots game. He isn’t rude about it though; he’ll smile and wave but he isn’t too good at small talk. Only when he starts to open up more will he start being the asshole we all know and love.

[sol-consort]

hey wait come back - i want to hear more about shitty toxic drell bf… 👂 👂 👂

Toxic drell ex Pt.1

Part Two

Dark content: Toxic relationship, addiction, obsessive behaviour, stalking.

Smut.

The two of you dated for a year and a little while, not continuously, more on and off. It started sweet, a little awkward, but he had his charms. You haven't met a drell before. You were his first human likewise, plus his scales were shinier up-close.

How could you have ever known what it would lead into?

He was lonely before he met you.

Drell emotions are intense, so much more than that of a human; the pain manifests physically at times. A harsh word thrown in a fit of rage was not that different from getting slapped in the face. A simple kiss from their beloved lifts them up to unimaginable heights of elation.

The deeper he fell in love with you, the more he became wrapped around your little finger.

You could change the mood of his entire day if you spoke the right words. You could bring him to early release in bed if you whispered declarations of love into his ear.

Likewise, the more and more you tasted of him—of his delicious venom seeping into your body and altering the very chemistry of your brain—the deeper you craved him.

A veil draped over your head, altering your perception of the world, blurring the line between love and lust, painting each one of them rosy pink.

It's insatiable hunger which you felt each time you didn't have his fingers rubbing against your tongue. The ring and middle finger conjoined courtesy of drell anatomy, feeling like a mouthful as you sucked against them with desperation, unaware of the torture you were inflicting upon this drell to have him only watch, heart twisting around itself as his entire biology begs him to please make love to you.

He's fond of calling it that, make love. You wonder if the human terms for it seemed... crude in comparison. Or did your primal deprivation turn him on even more? Did he feel like a prey under your piercing gaze? Did he anguish each moment you prolonged the foreplay and only teased and pulled at him to satisfy your own ego.

Maybe it was cruel, you didn't mind much. It was hard to mind anything when you felt as light as a feather, when the chemical combination worked itself into your bloodstream and erased the very definition of doubt, shame, and pain from your mind.

You felt like a god.

In previous relationships, you didn't care much for giving oral; it just wasn't your thing. It was pathetic watching your ex boyfriends send you these boomer memes about washing the dishes in exchange for a blowjob, as if they weren't living and eating in the same apartment as yours.

While your preference didn't change much at the start of this new relationship, you slowly noticed a pattern that emerges in the aftermath of sleeping with a drell.

Every seemingly disgusting sexual act suddenly becomes the most enticing act in the world when you add the drell venom into the equation.

And now the mere thought of taking his cock down your throat is mouthwatering, in the literal sense. Saliva collects in your mouth as you imagine licking up and down his cock, vibrant green in colour, cooler to the touch, unbelievably sensitive as he crumbles with every stroke.

You imagine it's the closest thing to how the ichor of ancient gods must have tasted, flavourless in practice, but its potent affects on your body can't be ignored. The fluttering in your chest, the buzzing at the tip of your fingers, the drunk smile forming on your lips.

Indomitable, all-powerful, you've never felt so alive.

It's addicting. You can't help yourself but milk him dry for all he's worth, just to chase this thrill. Feeling his legs trembling below you, fingers anchoring into your hair, his raspy voice asking you to slow down while his hips uncontrollably buck into your mouth.

His very own body betraying him.

It's hard for a human like you to comprehend just what you're doing to him, what seeing his partner this hungry for him does to his brain, how his heart isn't his own anymore.

Humans are prone to exaggerations, to impulsive behaviour, to forsake the future consequences for the present satisfactions.

And humans are at their most depraved when intoxicated and overcome with lust. The shameful animalistic desires we try so hard to bury down, to act civilised and gentle when it comes to our partners, how easily a drell shatters that stained-glass image of us and brings out our deepest most primal instincts.

Ego-driven, tyrannical, possessive.

You can't blame him for getting hooked on feeling like a piece of meat in front of a starving predator, like the star at the centre of your world. Everything you do, every word said in a moment of passion, every act of worship, every oath of devotion you'd thrown his way in a moment of passion, only to easily forget it the next morning when you sober up.

He remembers all of that, not only the word but also a crystal clear picture of how you looked when you said it. Your blown wide pupils, your bruising grip on his thighs, your eyes looking at him like he's the only thing in the world.

Like he's the most important thing in the world.

There is a reason you rarely see human and drell couples, why it seems like these two species can't ever have a relationship that doesn't end in tragedy.

In the short term, they're capable of having a healthy living relationship.

But in the long term, they end up being borderline deadly to each other. Neither of you can help it. It's in your nature as much as it is in his. Unconsciously, you two end up burning one another out.

The constant switch between episodes of elation and despair would fry anyone's brain, let alone an egoistic human and a fragile drell.

Humans dish out white lies all the time, drell take every word to heart and memorise every line.

These moments of sobriety for the both of you become more scarce, it's harder to function in your day to day life without instability craving to melt into his lips at the end of the night, a feeling so strong, it makes everything else pale in comparison.

While his withdrawal manifested physically, feeling like he's lacking half of his body, a piece of his soul gone missing, and now he's left to mourn it. It feels wrong, being away from you for even a moment, longing for to hear his name from your smooth voice again, to have you whisper praises as he cock sinks inside you, whispering how much you love him through the moan and whimpers, driving him insane in the best way possible.

Humans have a purpose, at least, our brains think we do. Certain chemicals—like drell venom—just happened to activate the release of these reward hormones that genuinely make you feel as if you've really made it in life. This is what you were made for.

As for drell, their purpose, poetically enough, is centred around love and being loved. It's the evolutionary aftermath of whatever traits helped them survive a barren desert planet in their ancient days, translating into intense emotions, a photogenic memory, and deep-seated devotion.

So when the two of you find your purpose in each other, your overindulgence drowns out the world outside. You become two flames consuming one another.

You have to let go before it's too late, as beautiful this paradise is, you know it's a mirage at best.

That you're teethering closer to the edge every day, the higher he lifts you up, the more painful the inevitable crash down will become.

Maybe you dealt with different addictions before and didn't want to repeat the cycle, maybe you had a different passion you actually wanted to pursue, or maybe your conscience woke up from the dead and decided to place its foot down.

Whatever it was, this domino effect has been set in motion, and it can't be stopped.

You sit him down, explain your thought process. You ignore how inviting his lips look as you list the signs of withdrawal you've been experiencing. You ignore the urge to dent the scales on his neck as your teeth sink into the tantalising spot.

At one point—as you eventually reach the conclusion that you two aren't healthy for each other in the long term, and must separate or at least take time apart—you swear you hear his heart shattering into a million pieces.

There's no sharp breath, no warning, or anything before the tears come flooding in. He tries to control them, to close his eyes, to wipe at his face, only more and more keep pouring down as his lips tremble, fingers shaking.

He hides his face in shame. It physically hurts to speak, to look at you, even to breathe.

You tore his heart out of his chest, does it matter how gentle your fingers were as they crushed the fragile organ between them?

You give him space, because what else can you do?

What other option have you ever known besides running away.

-

It's been months since you've fully moved out. Officially, you're single, and supposedly, everything is swept under the rug now.

Supposedly.

But he doesn't make it easy.

Each time you come close to quitting him, a text notification lights up your phone, the insatiable craving rearing its head from the dark corners of your mind.

Each time you step over your urges and ignore the text, a call follows after.

The need to feel powerful again gnaws at you, slithers up your throat, and cuts off your air circulation until you acknowledge the lack.

And if you throw your phone across the wall, shattering the screen into a thousand pieces?

Then you might just coincidently bump into someone very familiar while running errands.

Because even if everything else fails, he knows a simple touch is all it would take for the remains of your self-will to crumble. All the walls of restraint you struggled to build and maintain cave in under their own weight the second your brain registers the very familiar chemicals seeping into your skin, in the form of his thumb brushing against your lips.

He isn't a stalker in the usual sense. He's not clingy anymore. If anything, he's extremely detached. At least it's what he appears to be.

Obsessive in a calculated way.

Only showing up when it's the most inconvenient, when you start adjusting to the sober life again.

When he thinks you're close to quitting him, does he come back into your life to shatter everything you've built.

As if he made it his life purpose to get his revenge on you.

He doesn't try to be persuasive. He doesn't pressure you, neither coaxes you nor attempts to mask his true intentions for even a second.

Simply because he doesn't need to.

All he needs is plausible deniability, so you can never make a proper case against him with those pesky C-sec officers.

You're the one who has low-impulse control, you're the one who pulls him by the collar to crash your lips into his, you're the one who drags him back home and throws him onto your bed.

While he used to be a most attentive and loving partner, that was before. Now, he merely lays there, letting you have your way.

A passive participation in what this so-called "love making"

A once love-struck expression now replaced with cold eyes and tightly shut lips, as if he's enduring pain just to inflict what he deemed as a rightful punishment onto you for breaking his heart.

As if part of him still loves you deep down, under all the facade and need to deliver you retribution.

It manifests physically, the burning pain of what remains of his love for you ripping his insides into shreds.

While he never thought of himself as a masochist before, as time went on, the more sweet this torture grew.

He doesn't grip your hips as you ride him like he used to.

He doesn't feverishly litter bites across your neck with desperation as your insides squeeze him.

He doesn't even finish half the time, bored eyes watching you make a mess after another atop him, greedily chasing after your ninth orgasmic high despite your trembling legs.

He does his best to play the role of the uninterested participant, to make you feel even more shitty in the aftermath, to make tomorrow's hangover extra excruciating.

To wash his hands off of your blood and place the full blame on you.

Maybe some wires between pain and pleasure did cross in his brain, after all. And who's fault is that but yours? That's what he tells himself, what he uses to justify these unexplained feelings, this sliver of denial he clings to so he may still hold himself to a higher moral ground than you could ever claim to.

Even as you have him on the floor, pliant and obedient between your spread knees. Your nails dig into his scales hard enough to dent as you push his mouth deeper against your aching core, the cold eyes looking up at you almost send shivers down your spine wasn't it for the heat of his mouth engulfing your most sensitive areas whole.

You're fully dependent on his monthly visits.

Unable to go forward and move on, unable to go backwards and mend things, stuck in place, pinned down by his scaly hands, that's exactly what he wants.

It's not fair.

It was never fair how fast humans move on, how fast you got over him in just two months, and already started going out.

While he was still nursing his broken heart, you were already in the arms of another in a club, already had someone else lining up, already forgot with your pathetic human memory while his brain was cursed to replay all the sweet memories of you during every waking moment of his day.

It was completely unfair.

You shouldn't forget; he won't let you.

If he's forced to remember, so will you. He will remind you time after time after time until your body can't forget him, until your brain chemistry is altered beyond repair.

This is your righteous punishment, human.

[prismonautic]

IVALIEM - SPELL TO REVEAL TRUTH IN DREAMS

NOTATIONS BEFORE USE.

read the document in its entirety and make a decision if you want any spiritual information to be discovered in your sleep / astral travels.

once you have chosen to have truths revealed to you in your dream, repeat the incantation - “ivaliem” (ee-val-ee-ehm) before you go to sleep. when you repeat this incantation, you agree to having the astral energies surrounding you read + translated into symbolism that your conscious mind will understand within your dreams. your dreams are a window to the astrals, and what’s happening astrally is bound to happen in your physical reality. instead of being blindsided by stealthy attacks, get some intel with this spell and stop them in their tracks.

ivaliem is a one-word-spell. when you activate it via chanting it intentionally (whether it be inside your head or out loud), all of the commands i’ve embedded into “ivaliem” will be embedded into your subconscious, manifesting into your reality. i like to call my one word spells “.exes,” since they’re comparable to executable programs that your computer (your subconscious) will open and run in your reality.

this clarity spell is good for people seeking confirmation regarding people/environments/energies that they’ve been feeling suspicious about lately. the dream that follows after casting this clarity spell will be the confirmation message of your inquiry.

the spell is designed to get the energy signature of who you’re dealing with EVEN if they intentionally cloak themselves energetically + give you a clear and direct link to them and their workings against you. this makes it easier for you to accurately target them in your shielding/protection/return to sender rituals.

from experience, i’ve learned that the more that this one word spell is repeated, the stronger its energy becomes in your life. if you really want to have one-word-spells pack a punch, repeat it more than 20 times. i’ve found 10 to be the bare minimum to get some effects from the spell.

if you want the spell to be stronger, affirm it in your head until you completely fall asleep — AVOID THIS IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH VERY VIVID DREAMS, ESPECIALLY WITH HEAVIER TOPICS!

IF YOU ARE INJURED IN A DREAM / HAVE DESTROYED VALUABLES IN YOUR DREAM / EAT ANYTHING IN YOUR DREAM: make sure to establish protection against this person and prioritize healing any damage you’ve experienced from this person’s works.

the symbolism below is what ivaliem will show you if applicable entities are connected to you astrally (e.g best friend talking shit? ivaliem will show them with black lipstick on in your dreams — and whatever else happens in the dream is additional context on top of that symbolism).

the list of correspondences below will be updated periodically. for those who want to regularly use ivaliem in your protection spell routines, it’s a good idea to check back here for updates every once in a while :)

———————————————————————

☆ a person with black lipstick / a black mask over their mouth / a black mask covering their entire face.

black lipstick indicates that the person is spreading gossip against you in the dark, and it’s strong enough to affect anything revolving around your energy. if it’s black lipstick, it’s rooted in pure prejudice, malice, and/or envy that makes them act out against you. it’s a THEM issue, and you haven’t done anything to justify anything they’ve done to you so far.

if you’re getting a person in black lipstick as opposed to a black mask, you’ve already had some doubts regarding their position in your life. this dream is also telling you that you need to trust your intuition regarding how people feel about you in life — if you have a bad feeling about someone and something is telling you to distance from them, DO IT! it will later be revealed to you why you felt that in the first place. listen the first time in order to avoid finding out the hard way.

when you perceive an opponent in your dream realm who has black lipstick, the best course of action == a transmutation, return to sender, and truth spell bundled together to

A) stop the gossip and its effects in its tracks

B) remove any damage inflicted upon you towards the caster

C) have your name cleared of any slander if applicable to your situation.

a black mask around the mouth indicates that someone you wouldn’t expect to go against you is speaking against/looking down on your goals in silence.

for a lot of you, this is a long-term relationship in your life — whether it be a partner, colleague, friend, or family that you believed would support you no matter what. if this applies to you, it’s likely that you’re being blinded to the true character of this person by all the history you have with them.

just because someone has been around you for a long time, DOESN’T mean that they have your best interests in mind. just because someone has been in proximity for you for a long time, DOESN’T mean that they have the quality characteristics they need to even deserve being connected to you.

this correspondence will be most common for people who have big dreams that people would naturally cast doubt on / project their limiting beliefs onto you.

for those who get a person with a black mouth mask, you might wake up from this dream feeling betrayed and in disbelief, and possibly even guilty — you might end up in denial about their status in your life too. questioning their character is a wake-up call.

the best course of action for a person who has a black mouth mask in your dream:

A) a return to sender spell that transmutes all the negativity that they sent towards you in the dark into a situation that exposes their true feelings and intentions for you.

B) once this exposing situation manifests, you will know how to go about this connection. however you go about it, make sure that you are prioritizing having genuine MUTUAL connections in your life that respect you for who will stick with you with REAL love through thick and thin. you need to surround yourself with more integral people.

C) until that situation manifests, be watchful towards that person’s character, not just how they operate around you. just because they do things for you don’t mean they someone of upstanding character. look for where their authenticity lies, and if they’re someone who really stands on their values, or just goes to people based no how much someone’s presence benefits them. are they here for you through the thick and thin, or do they disappear the moment things start to get hard?

when you’re working against someone with a black face mask that covers their entire face, it’s a severe and intentional version of having a black mask cover their mouth.

this person knows their negative feelings towards you and still intentionally acting on their malice towards you. THIS IS NOT YOUR ALLY. they’re only seeking to get something out of you then discard/betray you. this dream will be more common for the people who are very giving, even to the point of being over-giving and stretching yourself thin for others — often for the sake of approval.

the best course of action for a fully masked person:

A) cast a general banishing of people who are actively working against you and your goals / leeching off of your energy for their own selfish purposes.

B) after the banishing, look at who falls away from your life. note that it’s a good thing they’ve fallen away, because their presence would end up being damaging to your path in the future.

C) whatever voids they have left in your current life after being banished, fill the voids by planting the seed of attracting more integral and authentic people into your community.

NOTE: your social circles will experience a heavy purge if there’s a lot of people just using you and keeping you around for the sake of convenience. walk into the dark fearlessly - you’ll come out of it a newly healed person.

—

☆ UPCOMING SYMBOLISM THAT WILL BE ADDED TO IVALIEM’S IDENTIFICATION DATABASE:

• someone spreading a disease to you that affects your appearance / sense of sight, hearing, and balance

• an ambush against your home

• you getting put in prison

stay tuned!

if you have any questions, please message me.

if you like this work, access my other works through my linktree!

linktr.ee/prismonautic

last updated: 2/5/2024

[sinfulauthorwrites]

Dream Machine - A Mettaton x Reader Fic

As you lie awake in bed, only able to focus on your worries, your boyfriend Mettaton offers encouragement and help.

So, not so fun fact: while I had this idea rattling around my head for a while, I only got down to writing it while I was in the psych ward 🙃 Though, writing fic by hand in a journal without autocorrect or Grammarly made me feel like one of the OG Star Trek slash shippers in the 60s, which was a really fun feeling! Aside from word choice and a few extra sentences, the typed version remains relatively unchanged from the handwritten one, though I may still share the pics of my journal on Tumblr or Twitter! Also, the title comes from the Steam Powered Giraffe song of the same name!

Rating: General Audiences

Ship: Mettaton EX x GN!Reader

Word Count: 891

Applicable Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader Has Anxiety (the anxiety isn't specified, it's more open-ended for the reader to project onto), Self-Worth Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Meditation, Sleep, Crying, Fluff, Established Relationship, Pet Names, POV Second Person, Not Beta Read

You lie awake in bed next to your android boyfriend. He was already powered into sleep mode for the night, as his LED eye displays were dimmed and his tail-like charging cord plugged into the nearby wall. You look at him for a moment before turning to the pink canopy of the bed above you, starting at the shadows in the fabric formed by the lights from outside your shared penthouse apartment. The darkness warped, presenting visual manifestations of the problems keeping you from sleep. 

Yes, you knew Mettaton had his worries, but as the Underground’s biggest star now on the surface, he had much more significant concerns compared to yours. Tour dates, filming, recording sessions, the list goes on. Yours are small compared to his. Insignificant. Human. You feel your stress tug your eyelids open, preventing your “beauty rest,” as your boyfriend lovingly called it. As you shift once more and pull the satin sheets closer to you, you hear a familiar boot-up sound and fans whirring to life. Oh shit. Your tossing and turning set off Mettaton’s motion detection, a vestigial feature not yet removed since his purpose was changed.

“D-darling, is something the matter?” The robot’s voice glitches momentarily, his now-illuminated pink eyes looking at you with concern.

“Y-yeah! I must’ve rolled over too far,” you nervously chuckle. “I didn’t mean to wake you, babe. Get some rest, as neither of us wants you low on battery tomorrow.”

Mettaton purses his lips, not taking no for an answer. “Darling, look at me.” His tone sharpens when you curl up tighter with your back facing him. “Look. At. Me.” With a resigned sigh, you turn to face him. “Oh, beautiful,” he sighs, cupping your cheek with his gloved hand, his thumb circling below the dark bags and worry lines underneath your eyes. “How much sleep have you been getting lately?”

You mumble your response, prompting your boyfriend to look at you sternly. “Usually only two hours a night, especially when you’re not here,” you fess up.

You can see the guilt hit your boyfriend, causing you to quickly run your hand through his synthetic hair and reassure him. “It’s not because of you, I promise!”

“But why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Despite being the biggest celebrity of the century, Mettaton still immensely cares for you. You’re his star, his world, his everything. Seeing you suffer makes his SOUL feel like shattering.

You inhale deeply. “I-” you quickly correct yourself. “It just feels all so unimportant compared to you. I mean, you’ve got so much amazing stuff going on right now. And with me, it’s just…” You hesitate momentarily, unsure if you want to continue, until you see Mettaton nod with understanding and compassion. Soon, your words flow out of you, every insecurity and doubt leaving your lips. Tears begin to fall from your eyes, leaving small damp spots on the pillowcase you rested on. Mettaton extends his arm in back of him to pass you a tissue box, the lotion-infused tissues a welcome relief for your sore eyes.

“Did that help you feel better, sweetheart?” You nod, and Mettaton presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good. Now, I want you to listen to me very closely.” You nod, and the robot cups your cheeks once more. “You will never, ever be inconsequential to me, darling. You mean so much, not just to me but to everyone around you! Don’t ever feel like you don’t matter, or whatever you’re going through doesn’t matter, either. I care, we care.” He kisses you on the lips this time. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you murmur back, held tight in his embrace.

After a few moments, Mettaton lets go. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now, darling?”

You let out another breathy, anxious chuckle. “Probably not, to be honest. It’s alright, though. I’ll make it up tomorrow during the day.”

“There has to be something we can do, sweetheart.” Mettaton’s pupils shift from his usual hearts into turning gears before changing to a lightbulb emoticon. “Hey! It’s not technically released yet, but Blooky and Alphys were working on music to benefit monsters and humans!” He shoots you one of his signature grins. “Co-produced by yours truly, of course!” Mettaton finds the demo CD in the nightstand drawer, preparing to play it from his speakers. “How would you like to be our first test subject?” His eyes sparkle with encouragement, and you just can’t say no to him. 

The robot pats the bed, motioning for you to lie down. He loads the CD into one of the slots built into his EX form, his other hand drifting down to hold yours. The ambient tones soon lull you into a reverie, with the faint sounds of rushing water mixed into the track. It’s an obvious callback to the family of ghostly cousins’ original abode, but it soothes your mind as your anxieties flow away. As you close your eyes, you feel the sensation of the water surrounding you, floating through space and time and easing your body and mind. Mettaton’s hand is a tether to the physical world, keeping you grounded as your mind drifts away peacefully. Although they were once wide and bloodshot, your eyes become heavy and worn as you finally sail away into a restful sleep.

Liked this and want more? Check out my AO3 here!

[lovebvni]

How should i shift??? Im sorry this is such a basic question but i took a break from shifting and just started again and i ist can’t remember how i used to shift before💀🫡also i dont wanna do any meyhods cause I feel like it kinds of limits me..so if i just visualize about my dr while also saying affirmations that im shifting to my dr and whatver, then i would be able to shift right..? Also how do you shift?

Alsooo Nowadays im getting doubts like i can shift but what if what i scripted doesnt exactly happen and sm else like it happens that i wouldnt like😭😭 howww doo i overcomee thiss

it’s not a basic question!! i totally get what you mean by this.

i take a lot of breaks too, and they can be long. sometimes i decide js not to make an attempt, others i js decide to manifest, others i just say fuck it and go to sleep or do nothing all day.

my best advice would be jump into the deep end and do something random. just decide “hey, i’m shifting tonight.” don’t do a method, just think of all the things you’re gonna do when you get to ur dr.

is it the weekend? plan out tomorrow!! i do that in a lot of realities to help me go to sleep. start with the date, set up your schedule. what are you gonna eat when you wake up? who are you gonna see? are you going to the gym?

honestly just make up shit as you go — that’s what i do! that’s my whole method. the only consistent thing i do is say “i’m going to wake up in the middle of the night, sit up, affirm, and go back to sleep and wake up in my wr.

it’s been going pretty fuckin well if you ask me, and if u wanna try it i would recommend it HEAVILY! but that’s how i shift!

doubts are a different story for everyone, how i overcome them may not work for you like the did for me.

but what i did was acknowledging them, accepting them, and letting them go. i specifically did this through dreamwork with the help of nile! so i don’t really know how to explain it well. (she’s smarter than me!)

but basically we would set the intention (by affirming a LOT) that we wouldn’t have these doubts, that they don’t align with us, and that they will no longer do anything to us because we’re splitting paths. think of it like an ex, you’re not going down the same path so leave them. they don’t want what you want and they’re making the relationship toxic.

now this can be hard, because you can still (unfortunately) identify with these doubts, but know beneath them is the real you.

i hope this helps you, anon!