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#its so much easier when you can take a break and just. not exist or something.
etherealspacejelly · 5 months
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this is your gentle reminder to stop fighting against your adhd and instead structure your life around it
buy a pack of chapsticks and put one in the pocket of all of your coats and jackets because you always forget to bring one and chapped lips is sensory hell
leave important things where you can see them. if they go in a box or a drawer you will forget they exist
put any appointments or deadlines in your phone calendar As Soon As you get them. set a reminder for a week before, a day before, an hour before, as many as you need as often as you need them.
when that little voice in your head says "i dont need to write that down, ill remember it" that is the devil talking!!! write it down anyway!!
plan for down time. have a few hours at the end of every day to just do fun stuff like engage in your hyperfixations. even if you didnt get all of your work done that day, have the rest anyway. you probably spent the whole day beating yourself up for not doing what you Should be doing, so you still need the break.
if you never eat vegetables because its too much effort to chop and cook them, get the frozen or canned shit. it doesnt go off for ages and you just have to microwave it. theres no point buying fresh vegetables if they just keep going off and being left to rot in the bottom of your fridge
if you struggle to decide what to have for dinner every day, take the decision out of it. choose a set of meals and eat those on rotation until you get sick of them, then choose some new ones and do it again.
its not stupid if it works! our brains literally have a chemical deficiency. you are allowed to accommodate yourself. go forth and stop making your life more difficult than it has to be because "this shouldn't be this hard". it is hard, so make it easier.
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pizzapizzadickz · 1 year
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Ah~~~ what to do~~
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kinopio-writes · 2 months
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Hello dearie!!
How are you? I hope you're doing well!
I saw that your asks were open,and your content is really cool and silly,So I decided to leave you a nice ask to enjoy!
Could I have a headcanon platonic! Alastor,Vox and Husk finding a random child next to their dead mother, except that they don't really understand that she's dead and think she's sleeping,so they pity the child and take them in?
The child is really polite and nice,pretty calm,too. Sure,they do child stuff,like running around,being excited,etc,but they still are more calm than others.
They always talk about their mother,how she's the only one left,and how they love her.
Would the characters say the truth? Would they lie?
I just love hurt/comfort and platonic relationships so :3
Anyways,I hope that's not too much,and that you enjoy writing this!
Have a really nice day,don't forget to drink and take breaks!
Stay proud!
-Nina <33
A/N: Thank you for the reminders, heh. Btw, I’m going to have to change the reasons as to why they took you in because I just don’t see characters like Alastor and Vox taking you in because of pity. Sorry about that. The rest is untouched. You’ll still get a bit of that hurt/comfort (mostly from Husk, lol. Both Alastor and Vox are non-existent, but Alastor is somehow better than Vox).
Warnings: Mentions of death
———
Alastor, Husk, and Vox adopting a deceased mom’s child
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Alastor
• Alastor paid no mind to the dead corpse
• it didn’t really look that appetizing anyway
• “How unfortunate.” You heard a weird voice from behind you as a hand was placed on your shoulder. “A child mourning in the demise of its mother. Tragic, really. You have my condolences.”
• “What are you talking about, mister?” You stared up at the mysterious man, watching his eyes flick from your left to right eye while his grin only grew as the seconds went by
• “I think you’ve just found yourself the perfect dwelling,” he abruptly said, letting go of your shoulder to fix his bowtie as he sprung back to life. “Why don’t you come with me?”
• “But what about my mother?”
• “She is in good hands, I can assure you.” He offered his hand to you. “Come along, now. Children shouldn’t dwell long in places like these.”
• and so he took you in to be a patron at his hotel
• I mean, what’s more easier to redeem than a child? (assuming you’re a sinner. I don’t know if it’s canon anymore that only hellborns can reproduce. Look at Cannibal Town’s people)
• he intended to leave you in the rest of the residents’ care while they could only guess what his actual motivation was for taking you in
• but it seemed you ended up favoring him more than the rest
• you’d follow him around like a duckling—a lost puppy—you’re attached to him like a leech
• and you’re so well-behaved, too
• up until he leaves your sight
• he actually leaves the hotel a lot more often now because of that
• he finds you wrecking chaos in the hotel entertaining as hell
• and the fact that the others beg him to come back to calm you down
• I don’t think you would ever know what happened to your mother
• even when you talk about her a lot
• those rambles never really prompt him to say anything
• well, it’s not as if he knew what happened to her
• but, hey, at least he listens!
• maybe it’s because he feels a little nostalgic hearing the way you talk about her…
———
Husk
• Husk was fucking spooked when he found you lying beside your dead mother
• not because of the corpse, but because of the way you were staring at him
• with eyes dull and wide open, just like your mother
• while Husk wouldn’t have given two shits if it was a grown-ass adult, you were a child
• so he took you in
• “But what about my mother?”
• “Shi—I, uh—your momma will tag along soon. Now c’mon. She wouldn’t want you out here alone.”
• since Husk is constantly around the hotel, there were never really instances where you wreaked havoc
• you just silently watch him tend the bar and sometimes talk about your mother
• your talks about how much you love her make him feel pretty guilty for some reason
• but he’d probably tell you when you’re older enough
• only if you were asking him about her though
• he wouldn’t want to have to sit you down and tell you something that sensitive of a topic when you didn’t even ask
• “Why don’t I have a mother?” you would suddenly ask when you turned 18
• today was your birthday. Charlie insisted on having a little party for you just like every year. But you didn’t want one; you wanted to be with Husk for the day
• the man in question sighed
• he knew you were building up the courage to ask all day
• “I’m gonna give it to you straight, kid, I don’t know what exactly happened to her. All I know is that she’s in a better place.”
• “Oh…”
• “Do you…wanna talk about it?” He continued, voice a little unsure, “Not as a bartender…but as a dad.”
• you smiled, grateful. “I think I’ve already said plenty when I was younger. But thanks, Dad.”
• he smiled back
• you two would then sit in silence together, basking in each other’s presence
———
Vox
• so, uh, I’m going to have to completely skip the taking you in part with Vox because I genuinely cannot see him adopting a random child (unless he could gain something, but, like, you’re just a kid)
• so you’ll just get the aftermath of it (hope that’s okay)
• based on the way he handled Val’s tantrum, I think it’s safe to assume that he’s somewhat good with children
• but he’s a pretty busy guy
• he doesn’t have the time to take care of a random child, so he’d make sure to keep an eye on you on his cameras
• but despite that, your existence in the tower warrants his
• as you’re too chaotic whenever he isn’t around
• but only around the other expendable employees
• you’re relatively well-behaved when Velvette and Valentino are with you
• but he doesn’t exactly trust them to take care of you
• they aren’t exactly good with children
• so he tried doing video calls
• you will definitely grow up as an iPad kid
• he’d hear you talk about your mom during those calls
• he’d let you go on and on, but it’s not guaranteed that he’ll listen
• I don’t think he would ever tell you what happened to her (he doesn’t know, anyway)
• he won’t lie, he’d just work around your question
• skillfully
• like, extremely so
• even if you ask him directly, he still manages to dodge the question somehow
• I don’t know what else to say, he’s gonna be a pretty distant father—
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peachsayshi · 1 year
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ EX-BOYFRIEND HCS (feat. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso) 
minors / ageless / blank blogs dni
ˋ°•*⁀➷  tags: angsty, mentions of break ups, mentions of make ups, mentions of commitment issues, I’m keeping all of this kind of vague.  
ˋ°•*⁀➷  notes: decided to finally edit up this post that I wrote xo I hope you enjoy it! feedback/reblogs are always appreciated <3 
wc: 1,204
gojo:
he understood why you ended things with him. he’s not an easy man to love, he doesn’t exist in a world where a life can simply be built. he didn’t fight you on your decision or beg you to change your mind. there is nothing he can offer in return which is why he conceded in letting you go, even though the choice destroyed him beyond comprehension. this is the first time he’s ever felt truly broken and he chooses not to cross paths with you for the sake of his own wellbeing. 
but still, he can never fully erase you from his life. you were his pretty light, the spark of happiness that brought him profound joy. he can’t help but succumb to an opportunity of sneaking back in, even in the smallest of ways. besides, the break up didn’t end with fighting or hateful words, it was amicable - so, why can’t he show any signs of fondness? 
these excuses come with every birthday, holiday or special occasion. you always receive a thoughtful gift wrapped up in a pretty bow. gojo never includes a card, but the way your heart seizes up tells you that it is from him. it lingers in your mind that he still thinks about you, even though you are trying to move on. your heart fights you on every decision you make. you would meet bachelors who would exude perfection but they don’t even come close to the man you once loved. satoru gojo may no longer hold space in your life, but the painful reality is that there’s a void inside you that only he can fill. 
geto: 
the man who stole your heart - there’s an ache in the place where the muscle once resided. he snatched it away without even knowing, and disappeared into the shadows. you don’t hear from him at all, not even a single text or a phone call. the silence is absolutely haunting - he doesn’t know the hurt is the reason why you hate him, but how its also a reminder of just how much you love him. he makes time stand still - and your world stops moving. 
suguru should know better - this way is easier (or so he thinks), he had his reasons (or so he thinks). he spends his days analyzing this decision - dissects it, pries it open and pokes at it in all angles. every conclusion leads to him acknowledging that you deserve far more than what he can give you. but still it becomes his obsession, his source of contention and irritation. it’s not like he hasn’t done this before, but why can’t he snip the last tether that’s tugging at his heart? 
it’s him showing up in the middle of the night, taking in the stunned expression on your face after months of zero contact. he holds you with so much care when he apologizes, begs you to take him back as he whispers sweet words in your ear. you’re not proud of the way you melt right into arms, or how easily you invite him to your bed. you hate that you would let him break your heart a thousand times over, not knowing that he’'ll fight to his last breath just to mend it back together. 
nanami: 
messy is the only word to describe the break up. somehow it wasn’t even a one sided decision, but a point where neither of you were willing to carry on. the heartbreaking thing is that the two of you didn’t just end a relationship, you ended an entire life together. nanami never went into anything half-assed, and that included what he shared with you. now, he sits in his new apartment, most of his things still packed in boxes, and he can’t bring himself to settle down. you were the only home he’s ever grown to love and he can’t help but think what it was about this particular fight that defined the course of your relationship.
nanami was mature about the aftermath, but his removed behavior made you feel small, made you wonder if he was truly unaffected by the pain of separation. as you divide up your life you ponder if he’s reconsidering the entire decision as well. this whole blow up felt so stupid to you now, a minor blimp in the beautiful story of your love together. you knew he wasn’t good at expressing himself in the moment, but when he finally left the key to your place behind, everything came crashing down at once. 
you both have a hard time referring to each other as exes. you both still speak about one another with such tenderness. your loved ones pushed you both into seeking each other out, but neither of you were willing to disturb the other’s peace. you’ve both done enough damage, caused enough hurt that would last a lifetime. it’s only by chance that you stumble into him at a new coffee shop - like fate itself worked hard to ensure you swung the door open just as he stepped through the threshold, that your bodies collided at the right moment so you can see the missing half of your soul in each other’s eyes. 
choso: 
“can we at least be friends?” - how were you supposed to say no after you had just broken him. this man whose sweet heart radiated nothing but gold even though his eyes were full of sadness. he didn't ask you questions as to why you felt the need to end this, didn’t push your decision even though things were going relatively well. you were so thankful because the extent to which he loved you was petrifiying. you just needed to find yourself for a moment - to catch your breath, and ground your feet after floating on air. 
it’s hard to ignore that choso shared your body and heart. your friendship is so different, and you can’t help but feel like you were tiptoeing around a minefield. he looks at you with immense hope, and that optimism weakens your will. you don’t want to sell him any dreams unless you were sure yourself. so you try your best to keep things platonic - you make sure that you are never alone with him for too long, give other suitors a chance for casual flings, and even go as far as setting choso up on a date. 
you’ve somehow convinced yourself that this is good for you both, until choso asks “do you hate me?” - it hurts seeing him break before your eyes, listening to him question you if you’re doing all this because you don’t want him around you anymore. he tells you that it hurts and you don’t know how to justify any of your actions by using your fear as an excuse. he’s given you no reason to think he won’t cherish your love, and all you can think about is making him smile. waking up tangled between the sheet with him makes you feel sick. your heart races when his arm squeezes around your waist, when his lips brush softly against the back of your neck and you’re burrowing yourself deeper into this hole with no idea how to make it out safely. 
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Stuck in Planning Stage of Writing
Anonymous asked: Do you have any advice on how to get out of the planning stage and more into the doing stage of writing? I’m up to my ears in notes for scenes and fragments of dialogue between characters. I know where I want to go with the story, I’ve even written a handful of scenes when the ideas come to me, but now that I have this lump of thoughts I need to start organizing and placing them all in their rightful spaces. The one thing I truly know is how much I’d love to see this through. Do you have any advice for a girl who’s unwittingly made herself stuck with a puzzle?
[Ask edited for length]
Planning a novel can sometimes be like digging a really deep hole for a specific purpose, then suddenly realizing you've stranded yourself at the bottom of the hole without a ladder. You've spent so much time digging the hole, you'd like nothing more than to get out of the hole and move forward with whatever project required you to dig the hole in the first place. There's just one problem: you can't teleport yourself out of the hole. You have to climb... or, ideally, build yourself a ladder to climb out with whatever materials are available to you.
That's probably where you are right now with your story. The hole you've dug was necessary, and it's good that you dug it, but as much as you'd like to just magically leap out and write your story, you can't do that. You have to build yourself a ladder to climb out of the hole first. So...
My go-to emergency "get out of the planning hole I've dug myself into" ladders are timelines, scene lists, and outlines.
Timelines: Your story may take place over a single day or several centuries, but either way, time flows in your story. All of those notes and fragments of dialogue and partial scenes are moments or events that happen within the time frame of your story. So, plotting those moments and scenes out on a timeline--according to when they need to happen--is about the easiest way to break your story down into its existing pieces and to see what's missing/where.
There are lots of ways you can format a timeline, such as a table, a list, a horizontal timeline, calendar, or a roadmap timeline. My go-to is a basic two-column document where the left column is date/time and the right column is the moment/event. There are also apps and online tools that will help you build a timeline in various formats.
Horizontal Timeline:
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Calendar Timeline:
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Table Timeline:
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More info: Making a Timeline for Your Story Scene Lists: Stories are made up of scenes, so a list of those scenes is another great way to organize the events of your story. You may even find that creating a scene list is easier after making a timeline, because a timeline may help you see where certain moments or events need to be their own scenes and which can be combined together into a single scene. Just like timelines, scene lists can be as simple or complex as you want to make them. Once again, my go-to is a simple two-column document with the left column for the scene number and the right column for the scene summary, preferably just a sentence or two. Ultimately, once I have my rough timeline and scene list done, I usually combine them into one multi-column document along with my story structure beats.
Table Scene List with Beats:
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Complex Scene List/Timeline/Beat Sheet:
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More info: Scene Lists
Outlines: Outlines can be really any format you want them to be, and some people count timelines and scene lists as their outlines. My go-to outline is just an exhaustive beginning to end summary of everything that needs to happen. Sometimes, just working through your story from beginning to end can be the best way to make sense of all those disparate pieces you've been piling up.
More info: Guide: How to Outline a Plot Story Structure: Finally, I want to talk a bit about story structure templates like Save the Cat Writes a Novel!, Larry Brooks story structure, seven point story structure, etc. Story structure templates can be a really great way to make sure you're hitting all the right story beats--almost like a road map through your story. It's just important to know you do not by any means have to stick to any particular story structure exactly. Use it as a guide, take what works, leave what doesn't, and don't panic if your beats don't fall exactly where it says they should. As long as your story is working, that's what matters. Some writers even like to frankenplan their stories using a variety of different structure templates.
More info: Creating a Detailed Story Outline (story structure)
Once you finally have a roadmap for moving forward, whether that's a timeline, scene list, outline, or all of the above, you know you're ready to start writing!
Final note: I just want to add that planning isn't for everyone. Some people are discovery writers who let their stories work themselves out as they go. The above is just meant for people who are planners, who have done a lot of planning, but need to pull that planning together into a cohesive, organized document. And... if you have all of the above and still find yourself unable to start, you might find help in the links below. Happy writing! More help:
Beginning a New Story Figuring Out Where to Start a Story Deciding How to Open Your Book How to Move a Story Forward Trouble Getting Started Have Plot, Can’t Write
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sencubussubs · 3 months
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The 3D is NEUTRAL
Hi lovelies,
I have talked a lot about reacting to the 3D but not this pivotal point! SO if you read this before my other 3D/ Circumstances related posts - good.
What does the 3D being Neutral mean?
The 3D means quite literally nothing. No, not just in the “ignore unwanted circumstances way”, the 3D itself and everything that happens in it is entirely ‘neutral’ it has no actual consequence on or causes from itself (the 3D). Because of this, anything that happens in the 3D only matters if you give value to it - not by interacting with it, but with what meanings you attach to events, people, ‘circumstances’ or whatever else in your inner world. Everything that happens in the 3D is inherently neutral, and what comes out of it is entirely dependent on how you perceive the event and if/how you continue to think about it.
After all it is the law of assumption, your assumptions - dominant thoughts are reflected into the 3D.
This is why it is easier than you might think to change the 3D - by for example ignoring a circumstance - and where the idea of “where your focus lies will manifest” comes from.
How is the 3D neutral if it stems from our Dominant Thoughts?
Yes, the 3D is a reflection of your dominant thoughts - assumptions - however it is only a reflection and an experience. The 3D’s position as a reflection is where its neutrality comes from: if you look in the mirror and don’t like your hair, you don’t blame the reflection, you change self.
Your reflection can not do anything to you to change it - thus it is neutral. The only way you create changes in your reflection is by changing self , perhaps because the reflection makes you feel a certain way, however, as creator you can decide how you let the reflection impact you.
(this is like the simplest way i can describe it)
Anything that happens in the 3D has no impact until you give it meaning. The reason most actions and events in the 3D continue or unfold in certain ways , is because you unconsciously and automatically assign meaning to things you perceive and experience. This is normal, humans are habitual creatures that act and react based on stimuli and repetition. Additionally if you live by assumptions like “everything happens for a reason” you will take 3D events much more seriously, so the 3D will not feel neutral - but it is.
When you take the time to consciously decide if an event, person or circumstance aligns with you as the version of yourself who has your desire, you are able to remove the meaning / impact or, conversely ,emphasize the meaning of it: This is when you’ll typically see the true neutrality of the 3D, because you really do get to pick and choose what stays and goes with no consequences.
Even if the 3D has, let’s say, an ongoing ‘plot’ where your SP doesn’t want a relationship with you, this literally can change in an instant as soon as you change your dominant thoughts.
The 3D is a reflection, it can not and will not argue facts and logic with you to keep a circumstance ongoing. If you look in the mirror and then put on a hat, your reflection is not going to refuse to put on a hat. like it does not have that power! The only way you give the 3d that power is by looking in the mirror and going “oh i don’t have a hat :(“ and then not putting on a hat.
Validating the 3D by letting it impact you is just validating pre-existing dominant thoughts, if they don’t serve you, don’t let them thrive!
The irrelevance of taking action
You can not change your reflection by breaking your mirror
I believe that is a quote from Neville and it explains this principle quite well. Since the 3D is a reflection of your dominant thoughts, you can only really change it with your dominant thoughts again (to change your reflection you do not do anything to the mirror you see it through, you change self). As such nothing you see in the reflection matters, only how you choose to perceive it and there from react to it (internally) does.
This is the choice between: “i don’t have a hat” versus going to put on a hat - just to clarify the hat is a metaphor for changes to your assumptions lol.
Don’t get me wrong, if you have a strong ass - i am talking netherite armour level - self concept, you likely can do whatever you want in the 3D and get what you want - but that also starts from within, with that self concept and denying all the times you took action in the 3D and didn’t get what you wanted. I also don’t like meddling with unfavourable 3D because i don’t want to give the circumstances my validation, time and attention.
This doesn’t mean that every action in the 3D is what i’m talking about, if i am hungry i eat, i am talking specifically about not needing to take action in regard to your desires.
How do we attach meaning to the 3D?
We do this unconsciously like over 95% of the time (i am using this value to give you an idea, this is not a scientifically confirmed statistic lol.) Most of the time this is done due to previous experiences.
example:
Someone messages you saying they don’t want to talk.
Since your associations to good relationships means people want to communicate and enjoy each other’s presence, you create the assumption they don’t like you, or will continue not to want to talk to you.
This is someone who you value highly and are desperate to have a good relationship with so you also find it easier to believe that you messed up to make this happen // that they wouldn’t want to talk to you - because of you.
This then develops an assumption of your relationship with that person that they do not like you and as such the relationship diminishes.
Since we are so used to deriving our understanding of the world from 3D experiences, we automatically apply meaning to new experiences based on old ones. Now just because most of the meaning we have attached to the 3D up until this point has been unconscious using logic and pattern recognition does NOT mean it has to stay that way. Since anything that happens in the 3D is inherently neutral, you don’t have to associate - in your inner world - with anything you don’t like.
Logically being told someone doesn’t want talk to you may follow the neural pathway of “if A (doesn’t want to talk to me) then b (doesn’t value or like me)” of course you can add in all the assumption that that lead up to that like “Event A (does not want to talk to me) was based off of D (assumption that i am not valued or worth being appreciated in relationships) and E (SP is amazing and deserves good relationships)” but like we could keep going like that all day…
However, who gives a fuck about ‘logical thinking’ (nerd ass emoji). On a more serious note, since your inner world (or as neville often put it your imagination) is what the 3D reflects, and you can imagine anything, you have no reason to follow or feed “logical” assumptions that make you feel bad. You do not have to internally validate any 3D circumstance or dominant thought that does not serve you. If you are able to avoid such in the 3D as well, great! if not, it doesn’t matter.
Actions like doing your job to pay your bills while changing your internal beliefs and knowing you have the better fun job internally, does not mean you are validating the belief that you are stuck at the job that sucks, cause 3D action doesn’t matter. Your internal will be reflected and you will be at the fun job in the 3D in no time, as long as you persist and don’t give in.
Only if you actively continue to think that you are stuck there and how much you hate it (and basically deeping your situation) then you are validating those beliefs.
An Important Note about the 3D and Law of Assumption
Just because the 3D is a reflection of your assumptions does not mean it isn’t real. I totally understand why some LoAss followers say it isn’t real, i personally don’t really know how i feel about that but my point is: Don’t just be a dick to people because of the lack of impact the 3D has. If you enjoy being a dick to people you likely have the assumption that they are affected by it - so yes, you are hurting people. REAL PEOPLE.
I get that the law is personal and you can do whatever you want, but if you decide to use any of the Law to hurt people etc honestly just get off of my page, my content isn’t for you. I believe people deserve to know about the law to live good lives, and no ethically good life requires the suffering of others. You have the choice on how to live your life, make the right one.
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msperfect777 · 10 months
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finally, play a new game
⭐️part twelve of the understanding consciousness & non dualism series
hi cuties. this is the last post of the understanding consciousness and non dualism series and i want to say thank you so much for everyone that supported me. im happy that my posts helped ppl understand this concept better. the aim of the series was to break down the topics so that it can be easier to comprehend even though its so simple but the ego makes it seem harder (as you can already assume).
by now you understand that your real and only identity is consciousness / awareness / the observer / the source / imagination and everything is consciousness ("your" phone, "your" mother) which appear as separate and different forms even though its all the same thing, you. nothing is real and everything is imaginary. imagining something is the same as having it in the "physical world" bc there is no "physical world" bc there is no separation bc everything is just consciousness. nothing is real but things exist when you become aware of them (example: these words can never be real but they exist bc you are aware of it). this human body and thoughts/ego is not the real you, real identity. its not real its just appearing as something else. consciousness is the only reality so reality is everywhere bc consciousness is everything. desires arent real bc the moment you become aware of something, it exists instantly, youve experienced it instantly. "desires" are you. you dont create anything, you are everything. forms of consciousness just appear as separate but arent. even the 5 senses arent real and are limited to the power you are (consciousness). as the observer, you observe everything (in the unreal physical and in imagination).
the point of non dualism is to realize your true self (consciousness) and be free from suffering in this "life" that you think is real. remove and be free from all concepts and beliefs and the past. they are not real and never will be. once you understand non dualism, there is no suffering or pain or no issue. you cannot take things seriously bc you know none of this is real in the first place. personally, i think the point of "life" is to realize your true nature and enjoy life and peace with whatever ego desires. if ego desires being a rockstar or having piercings or getting free money, then thats what it is. the point is to experience whatever ego wants to experience.
all this is just a game.
you are the game character (human being), you are the game's plot, you are the producers of the game, the one playing the game, the game console, the game itself, everything. and this game is all imaginary.
be present and enjoy everything bc its all you. ego desires something? be that desire and imagine it.
none of this shit is real so i can and will treat myself how ego wants to be treated in imagination since its no difference if its in imagination or in the "physical" bc both are imagination either way. ego wants to go to the beach? in imagination i will go to the beach and enjoy every second. you see how free it is to imagine whatever knowing that imagination is everything and everywhere? its unlimited. you are unlimited.
how to play a new game:
imagine the "desire"
done. it exists and i experienced it instantly.
the 5 senses are not real as said before and the "physical" is the same as whatever you imagine. if you depend on the unreal "physical world" then you are limiting yourself to the body's unreal senses. what powerful being would limit themselves to an unreal thing?
whatever ego wants, i will be bc thats the game and rules i chose. there is no such thing as something against me or restrictions or oppositions or something that is making it "hard". everything is unreal and is me (consciousness) either way. you dont have power, you are power.
realize you already are whatever ego desires. you are already living in imagination and you always will be. experience whatever it is you want to experience.
© msperfect777
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thewinchestah · 3 months
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"INTERMISSION" - ALASTOR X READER
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Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader
Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, masturbation, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etC
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Part I  | Part 2  | Part 4
A/N: Hello,hello everyone! Again, thank you all so much for the amazing reception to "Good things come for those who wait". I'm truly touched by your words and praise. I never really tought my writing would see the light of day at this point, nor this much love. My biggest thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment.
So, I'm a bit self concious about this piece. "Intermission" is supossed to be a light break from the previous two fics. A breath of fresh, sex smelling air as I write the next long chapter. (It's gonna be nasty). My intent with this fic was to make it kinda chaotic, kinda rushed like Alastor's mind would be as he masturbates himself at the thought of you and what you are doing to him.
I truly hope I can do your hopes and expectations for my writting justice. I really appreciate feedback on this one.
As always, my special thanks goe to my lovely friend @smallershorteranduncut, who always support my ideas. Te amo amiga <3
Taglist: @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir  @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby  @lady-valtieri . If the tags aren't working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.
PART I | PART II
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Alastor considered himself a smart man, a cunning, self-sufficient, resourceful man. So, naturally, the irony of him being locked inside the bathroom, his cock in his hands while he tortures himself with thoughts of you made him frustrated at best, murderous at worst. 
He hates everything about it, he hates to admit that his rut indeed makes him on edge and out of control, he hates to admit that before he met you the ways he dealt with his rut were… undignified. And he hates even more admitting that since he had you at his every whim, to fuck, to breed, to inflict the most depraved ways of torture his rut was becoming a pleasurable thing. All because of you, only because of you.
He had quite literally just fucked you so hard you passed out, his name a scream on your lips, so loud heaven might have heard it. Some part of Alastor wishes that heaven heard it, so they know they made a mistake, so they know they let one of the most sacred things to exist get down here. In hell, with him. Your heavenly body is his to do as he pleases, to break it, desecrate its holiness as he fucks you into submission, granting him a relief so pure, so all consuming that it shouldn’t even be allowed in hell. And they will never correct this mistake.
Some part of Alastor wishes no know never knew about how you always make a mess of yourself for him, how you gladly sprawl yourself open for him, eyes lustful and hopeful that if you let him take it out just a little more on you tonight he will send you over the edge with those two little words: good. girl. 
And what a perfect good girl you were, doe eyes always seeking for his across any room, with adoration, with barely hidden lust, with love. Such a contrast when compared to his eyes, burning red from desire, anger, lack of empathy. Red condescending eyes filled with excitement about what he is going to do to you, what he is making you endure for him.
It doesn’t make it any easier on Alastor’s painfully hard cock that you are sleeping just a door away after a rough fuck, his seed still coating your thighs.
He flicks his wrist up and down his shaft, slowly. 
Just as slow as how his cock stretched your tight cunt, inch by inch when he first took you.  You weren’t nearly as wet as you should be for the first time taking his cock but you darling thing decided to break one of his rules. Your legs desperately spreading in a futile attempt to accommodate him, the delicious fear in your eyes as you realized what you’ve gotten yourself into, completely at his mercy, enduring the pain of being broken by his monster cock. The scream you let out when he buried himself to the hilt inside you, you liked it even when it was hurting, because the pain Alastor inflicted on you was ten times better than any pleasure your silly mortal lovers had ever given you. 
The Radio Demon has a knuckle white grip on his cock now, even with hands as big as his, Alastor is having trouble fully closing his hand around the swollen member, his need to claim, to mark, to breed you strong as ever. Precum leaks for the engorged red tip and a hiss escapes his lips, the feeling of powerlessness consuming him in waves of a maddening, unprecedented carnality. The only thing the mighty demon overlord can do to mimic the divine feeling of your cunt being spreading the glossy drop around his overly sensitive tip, grip his cock even tighter as he strokes himself harder and faster, like a maniac. 
How the mighty have fallen, he thinks to himself, he’s completely cunt struck by you.
Naturally, he’s gonna make you pay for it. 
Alastor fucks himself fast and hard, trying to pic up the breakneck speed he usually does when he’s burying himself inside your heat, his grip sometimes painful. Exactly how the way he wants to be next time he fucks you.
The raw carnality consuming him is too overbearing, so overbearing he closes his burning red eyes as his brain process the severity of his situation: he found the perfect plaything, a deliciously submissive doe for him to breed until she’s numb with the feeling of his cock thrusting into her, completely filled up by his seed. It made his rut more bearable, it made his rut pleasurable, everytime he needed to scratch that primal need you’re always there, always ready to completely  submit to him, to completely ruin yourself for him. Alastor honestly thought having you always there, as fun as it was to toy with you that way, would make things better. But it actually made it worse. Because now he knows.
Oh fuck, now he knows.
More pre cum spills, running through Alastor’s claws, dripping and staining his pants, making a mess under him. But it’s not enough, because it will never be enough. It’s not your mess coating his cock, running through his claws, it’s not the sinful invitation of your wetness staining his clothes.
Realization hits him like a curse. 
His wrist flicks around his cock with a purpose: to find relief in pain. 
You’re the only thing he wants. You are the only woman he will ever want like that. You are the only one he wants to see the obscene amount of his seed dripping from a perfectly swollen red cunt. You are the only one who could possibly deserve this. Now he knows what it is like to feel, to want someone. To have an irrevocable connection. No one in heaven, hell, and all the other possible realms of creation have the right to even think of you in that way. You are his and that’s final.
Next time he takes you he will make sure you know that. 
Stroking himself erratically now, Alastor pictures you peacefully sleeping next door, luscious body sprawled on the bed like you don’t have a care in the world. He wants the first thing you feel when you open your eyes is fear. Good, you should feel scared. You should be very, very scared of what he is going to do to you. He hopes to relish in fear in your eyes as he enters your tight pussy, stretching your velvet walls apart in ways you’ve never felt before. Being obscenely broken to accommodate the girth of his rut swollen cock.
Fear, because you should be scared. Fear because you aren’t. Fear because as the realization that Alastor needs you terrifies him, the realization that you fucking love the pain of being a submissive slut to the Radio Demon will undo you, in unholy ways.
The scene of your ass on his lap, red with regret from his whipping and a symphony of your soft moans overrides his mind. You were sobbing from those little whips? He’s gonna double that. He’s gonna give you something to truly cry about. He’s gonna see you cum from the pain of being whipped into submission and his voice only. Because it is  what you deserve for making him feel like this. Because it is what you want.
He’s close now, he can tell. He’s gonna cum soon. And it is not going to be inside your pussy. Alastor is enraged about that. 
A clawed hand grips the wall besides him. He strokes himself at a merciless pace. Just as merciless as he is gonna be with you. He knows your body like the palm of the hand that is clawing the wall because of the maddening desire he has for you. He’s gonna lure you so you purposefully make a mistake. Just so you can give him the excuse to punish you into understanding that you are irrevocably his. He’s gonna take all of you as it is his right.
His cock twitches, claws scratch the posh wallpaper all the way down, he spills so much cum, all over his lap, his hand. 
The sight of Alastor’s flustered face, in post orgasmic daze after mercilessly touching himself at the thought of you is something you definitely should see. But he will never let you.
Because now his mind is clear, he knows it and delights in acceptance. You are his, his mate, his love. 
And he’s gonna take his sweet time torturing you into compliance and understanding. With pain, pleasure and all that is Alastor’s nature.
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it-happened-one-fic · 11 days
Text
Genuine With You - Kalim
Author Notes: Someday, I will feel comfortable writing Kalim, but today is not yet that today. In all seriousness though, I wrote this while listening to "Romantic Flight" from the How to Train Your Dragon OST. I really can't quite decide how I feel about this fic, but I sort of thought it was time for me to post it. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!
Type: Gender-neutral/ fluff/ romance
Word Count: 881
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It wasn’t the first time you’d taken Kalim’s hand to join him on a magic carpet ride through the night sky. But something about it felt different this time. 
When your hand had slipped into his warm one and he’d tugged you through your window and onto the surprisingly soft fabric, you’d felt strangely shy. 
Kalim seemed like his normal self, though, if perhaps a little quieter, as he steered the carpet to take you up higher until you were sailing above the clouds and could see the moon in all its pale glory.
You wrapped your arms around yourself in a feeble effort to protect yourself from the cool night air, “Does it ever get old?”
Your eyes were stuck on the moon even as Kalim looked over at you with a surprised expression that soon melted into one of understanding, “Never. It’s just as magical everytime.”
You smiled, oddly comforted by his words. Somehow, being up in the sky with Kalim by your side made everything feel just a little bit simpler. Your problems seemed distant and far away, with even the school itself appearing tiny.
But perhaps distance had a way of putting things into perspective. While NRC often seemed larger than life, it was just a small part of this great, big world.
Amusingly, you never felt closer to anyone than when you were with Kalim, sailing through the sky high over the sleeping campus. There was a strange serenity, and though Kalim was always joyful, his happiness seemed easier and more relaxed when it was just the two of you.
It wasn’t like you thought he put on for others, but he did seem a little more genuine when it was just you and him. After all, it was only when it was just you and Grim around that you’d ever truly heard him voice any sort of complaints.
“It’s funny; you’re easy to be around,” Kalim’s voice interrupted your musings and spoke your thoughts aloud. You turned to look at him with no small amount of surprise, and he had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, “I know it's an odd thing to say…. But I really do feel that way.”
You felt a smile creep onto your face at his words, feeling both touched and relieved that he felt the same way. “It’s not odd; I feel the same way about you.”
Now it was his turn to stare at you with wide, disbelieving eyes that had you letting out a laugh, “Is that really so surprising?”
He let out an almost sheepish chuckle and actually nodded, startling you even as he began to explain, “Yeah, it is. A lot of people seem to think they have to put an act around me because of who I am. Even Jamil….” 
He trailed off, looking down as the smile on his face faded at his friend’s name. You’d known for quite some time that the events of winter break…. Jamil’s overblot was still weighing heavily on Kalim’s mind.
And though you entirely understood why that was the case, it pained you that everything that had happened during that time still bothered him so much. But you had no words to comfort the young man, even though you desperately wanted to. So instead, you decided to distract him by continuing on with your previous vein of thought.
“I’ve never felt that way,” You responded honestly and almost immediately regained Kalim’s attention. He no longer looked as sorrowful as before, and the longer you continued speaking, the happier he looked.
“I’ve always thought you’re one of the most comfortable people to be around at this school. I’ve never felt like I needed to be wary or put on an act around you. I can just… exist.” You glanced back at him, a smile on your face as you awkwardly lifted a shoulder.
“You just strike me as a really genuine guy, and I guess I want to be just as genuine with you as you are with me.”
It was like your words had opened some sort of door for Kalim. His eyes shone with both unshed tears and joy, and the next thing you knew, all the cold air that had been blowing around was blocked by his body as he tugged you into a tight embrace.
Because, despite the fact that Kalim was a carefree boy who seemed to do little work, he was by no means small or weak.
You let out a tiny, half-startled laugh as you wrapped your arms responsively around him and received a tiny squeeze in return as you reciprocated his affection.
“Thank you, Y/n; that means so much to me.” The young man leaned bac and you wished you’d had time to brace yourself for the unadulterated affection that shone in his garnet-colored eyes.
“I feel the same way. It’s easy being with you, and I’m so glad you’re here. Even if you aren’t originally from Twisted Wonderland, you mean the world to me.”
He held your hands in his, maintaining eye contact in a way that felt incredibly meaningful, even though you could never read the myriad of emotions that floated through his gaze, though you did catch a few.
Gratitude, honesty, joy, and pure, unfiltered love.
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tubatwo · 22 days
Note
Soft Taehyun thought..
You had a hard day at work and as soon as you walked into your shared apartment and you saw Taehyun you burst into tears waffling about how hard your day was inbetween sobs and hes just pulled you to him and sat you on his lap as you cry into his neck and hes just rubbing your back and stroking your hair while he whispers “everything is gonna be okay honey…” , “shhh its okay tomorrow will be better..” or like “take the day off tomorrow..” or just asking if he should go get your favourite snacks from the store and you two can cuddle watching your favourite movie
(sorry its long)
oh my god taehyun comfort prompts make me so so soft I would literally do anything to hug him!!! he cares so much about his loved ones and he’s so protective (the way he’s possessive over kai and doesn’t like seeing him cry.. brb gonna lay on the floor and just die)
can I just make this even more heart wrenching and suggest if it was his first time seeing you cry.. obviously crying in front of someone is kinda awkward and your relationship was still somewhat fresh. you weren’t sure how taehyun would react and you also didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. but the day just sucked so badly!!!! no matter how good you were at brushing things off, there were just so many things that you couldn’t ignore :( the only thing you wanted to do was go home and see your boyfriend.
and when you finally see him, you can’t help but let out everything you were holding in. the world was harsh and nasty, but taehyun was everything but that. he was a reminder that love and light still existed.
“b-baby?” he froze for a second before standing up quickly, rushing over to your shaking figure by the door. “are you okay? what happened?” the only thing on his mind at this point is 1. what happened 2. why it happened and 3. whose ass does he have to beat lmao
“i’m s-sorry,” you let out in between hiccups, “t-today was so horrible, i’m really s-sorry.”
“oh honey..” he whispers, softly guiding you to the couch where he then pulls you onto his lap. “why are you apologizing, hm?”
“don’t wanna ruin the mood.. feel stupid for crying.” you confess.
taehyun pulls your head into his neck as you cry harder, feeling frustrated from the day and now for ruining your boyfriend’s mood. little do you know that he’s grateful. he’s grateful that you came to him and you feel safe enough to give him all of you, including your emotions.
“shhh.. you’re not ruining anything, sweetheart. and you shouldn’t feel stupid. I love you, you know?” your sobs die down as you become mesmerized by your boyfriend’s voice right by your ears, his hands slowly caressing your back. “i’m right here, okay? everything’s okay now.. I got you..”
and that was all you needed. you knew that as long as you had him then you would be okay. everything would be alright. you finally lift your head up to meet his eyes. he chuckles softly at how cute you look, tears and all </333
“my sweet baby..” he coos, using his sleeve to endearingly wipe the tears off your cheeks. “take the day off tomorrow, yeah? you deserve a break.”
and before you could even protest he was already cutting you off. “and take this.” he quickly unlocks his phone and taps a few buttons before handing it to you. you tilt your head in confusion, not fully understanding what he’s asking you.
“your instacart order. add any snacks you want. the only thing you need to worry your pretty little head about tonight are snacks, movies, and cuddles.”
ASKSKDKD ok can you tell i’m getting carried away I just love him so much (´•ω•̥`) and don’t apologize for making it long!!! the more details you guys give the easier it is to imagine the scene in my head
(btw if you were having a hard day and that inspired this ask I hope your day is better!!!)
soft hours open!
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pizzapizzadickz · 1 year
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Ah~~~ what to do~~
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heartfullofleeches · 1 year
Note
delivery person reader always delivering pin from one new owner to another
really weird how this doll keeps getting given away all the time, makes you wond-ah! i have a new delivery due aaa! *forgets about it*
"Y/n, hold up."
Foot hanging on the steel step of your truck, you shift your attention to your superior as they near the back of the vehicle. Parking a trolley as they open the back, they thumb through a list on their phone. Something in you predicts the next chain of events.
"Got a last minute addition to your route. I'll load it in then you can head out."
You could buy a lottery ticket with your luck - if it hadn't been so poor. The box is worn and cardboard taped at various ends, but you knew it, and its contents well. You packed the doll in it when it was returned to the office on its own two feet. Which shipment was that - the third or tenth? While putting a date to that specific instance was hard, what you did remember was that your little friend had been with you for some time. Location to location; following you pass a personal move to a new residence and job placement. You felt bad for the not-so little guy; the doll reaching the ceiling of your office when it wasn't crammed in a box.
"Alright. Let me know when you're done." You wait in the driver seat for your co-worker to finish up. You can see the box getting shoved in the corner out the overhead mirror. They round to your side following the slamming of the back door.
"Before you leave, you left all the updated info for your address in the breakroom like I asked right, right?"
"Yeah. Left it on a posted note under a salt shaker like you asked."
"Cool, just thought it'd be easier since I'm heading out early today, and wanted to get the prize from that raffle sent out soon. See you tommorow."
"See ya." You roll the door shut and start the truck's engine; speeding off to make up for those few seconds you lost. The day goes as smoothly as possible for someone worrying about their inanimate tag along could. Throughout your shift you have to arrange the box around due to movement during the drive. After a while, it just sits in the little nook behind your chair no matter the bump or slide.
Your time together ends the same as your shift. As the last stop on the roster, you march up the darkened driveway up to the front porch. It's a little rough around the edges, but you managed to find equal ground for the box to stand on. Saying goodbye to a piece of mail is the last thing you existed to mark off your list, but it feels right in this situation. You pray its the final one and that its found its loving home, but it's almost a bittersweet farewell.
"Hope things work out for you this time."
You load into your truck and drive off with only the occasional glance in your side view mirror.
-
"What the hell did you order, Y/n?"
Halfway through swallowing, you choke out a reply. "What- do you mean?"
Your coworker shrugs, making a rectangle with their hands to get their point across. "Well, not that I was being nosy, but I saw the note with your address and noticed it matched one I delivered to with this huge ass box.
"That's... concerning on its own, but I haven't ordered anything recently. Doubt something that big is from a raffle. I'll check it out when I get home."
Your break ends shortly after. The conversation with your coworker lingers in your head the remainder of the day. It couldn't be - right? As per usual, your shift is over long after the street lamps turn on. You take your time getting home; preparing yourself for what your instincts told you was there. From door in view - you can see it there.
A torn, cardboard box with various addresses covered by a new label; yours the newest addition. The tape on the seams is bunched up and peeling from lack of adhesive. You calmly enter your house, still unable to face it. Your face lands in a wall of plush.
Welcome home, Y/n.... I had so much fun hanging out with you, but I think we should play a new game now. House is so much more fun.... especially since we can do so much more together now.
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rs-hawk · 4 months
Note
Do you have any writing tips? Even if it’s not necessarily for smut?
I won’t be touching on tips for smut at all on this post but I can make a separate post for it if y’all want.
My Top 10 Writing Tips
Love all your characters. Yes, even your antagonists. Hell, especially your antagonists. Even if they’re evil for the sake of being evil, if you want a 3 dimensional character, you have to acknowledge that they’re more than just evil to someone. Their mother. Their friends. Their dog. You have to think of their motivations, and honestly?-acknowledge that every character you write has a part of you in them. Maybe just your anger, your fear, your trauma, but love them for that, and it’ll shape them and your works in ways you never thought of.
Don’t reread your work too often! It’s hard (so very very hard) but when you have to crank out 2k words a day every day of the month but 2 it gets easier. Lol. Fr though just keep chugging along. You can reread later. You can edit later. Just get it done.
Don’t edit too much while you’re still actively writing. I know that’s hard, I really do, but if you keep rewriting, you’ll never be able to finish. You’ll keep writing a handful of scenes over and over again until you hate it, your book and yourself for “giving up”. You can edit later.
Write for yourself. It doesn’t matter how good of a writer you are, how beautiful or eloquent your style, if you hate it with every fiber of your being, it’ll turn to dust in your hands. I consider writing work, and when people enjoy themselves at work, not only do they do better, but the consumer enjoys it more. Think about it. If you’re at a restaurant and the workers are laughing and smiling with each other and seem genuinely happy, you’re more likely to go back than if they’re miserable, on the verge of tears and seem to hate being there, right? The same is true for your writing. Readers will enjoy it more if they can feel how much you enjoyed creating it.
Don’t just write. Listen to music. Get up and go for a walk. Text/call a friend. Watch a TV show. Pet your cat. Experience something. It helps you write but it also reminds you that hey, you’ve been here like eight hours. Get something to drink. Take a screen break. Go outside.
Be comfortable while you write. I’m not going to lecture you on posture because I’m currently laying down with my legs drawn up under me, my upper body turned and my phone in the air because I’m trying to put enough pressure on my lower back to pop it. Anyway, even if you can’t stay in one position long, switch. Listen to your body. A “proper” posture can end up hurting you if you don’t ever relax or if you’re putting too much pressure on your lower spine. It’s okay to lean. It’s okay to lay down. It’s okay to sit cross-legged. Just not at the expense of your body. Be aware, and don’t forget to get up and stretch!
Take breaks. Eat. Drink. Stretch. Go to the bathroom. Some people need them scheduled, and that’s fine, but also listen to your body. If you need to use the toilet but you don’t have another break scheduled for an hour, just go. Pause your timer or delay your alarm if you want, but take care of yourself.
Don’t be too rigid with your “starting” plot. We know most of us have that one scene or one character in mind we want to write, so we create a plot around them. That’s fine and I love it, but your writing is like a living creature. You might change while writing it. Your characters and ideas might change while writing it. Let them change. Let you change! You can edit later.
Remember it’s not a race. Just because you see some people dropping 3 novels a year, or 5 Tumblr posts every day doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. No one can write what you write. No one can create what you can create. Your work deserves to exist and be judged on its own merit. Not compared to anyone else’s, even if it’s you five years ago who could crank out multiple posts daily. It’s okay.
Don’t expect anything. Start writing because you love it. It makes you happy. It itches that part of your brain that no other hobby does. That no other love does. I’ve been writing for about 15 years now. I don’t know who I am without it. I have tried giving it up, moving past it, doing other things, but I always come back. Nothing else makes me feel the way writing does. I have gone years without writing, but when I start writing again, it’s like a high. I can go for hours, and I have! I have been lucky to be able to monetize my work, but it took 10+ years and was only because I got goofy about werewolves on a PTR app. You can’t go into the arts and expect to make money right away, or ever. You can hope, and do your best, but don’t only do it because you think you’ll make a living. It’s a sad but real fact. Capitalism makes us think we should only do stuff we can make money off of, but that’s a lie. You can AND SHOULD create just to create. Humans are meant to make art, and if writing is your canvas like it is mine, write to create. Fuck capitalism. Your art existing is enough reason to create it.
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girl-next-door-writes · 6 months
Text
One Day At A Time
Characters: Sam Winchester x reader
Summary: Reader is having a rough patch and Sam makes sure they are extra loved and cared for.
Word Count: 1122 words
A/N: @unleashthebees I know you made this request an age ago, but I believe these things happen at the right time, and over the last few weeks I’ve really needed a Sam to help me through. I hope you like it.
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There are some days in your life where the whole practicality of existence seems so much harder than it should. After all, you are simply taking up space in the universe, breathing in and out, plodding along on that mundane treadmill of life alongside the rest of humanity, that should not be difficult. There are definitely days where it is hard to see the good in what you are going through, no matter how rigorously you search for that silver lining. Sometimes positive thoughts and affirmations just aren’t going to cut it. Those are the moments where you need someone to lean on, someone to help carry you through until you regain your strength to deal with the ongoing catastrophe that is life.
Sam knocked on your bedroom door and waited until he heard movement before he carefully turned the handle, popping his head into your room and giving you a goofy grin. A grin which faltered a little when he saw you sat wrapped in your blanket. The smile you flashed him was somehow floating in front of your face, and he could tell there was something off.
“Hey there. Just wanted to see if you fancied breakfast in bed?”
“Sounds good. Thanks.” You nodded and he immediately disappeared to fix breakfast for the both of you.
As he waited for the toast to pop up, Sam thought about what he could do to make things a little easier for you. There had been this cloud of melancholy around you for a few days now, and even though he knew these moods didn’t last forever, he was genuinely concerned. The darkness has a way of seeping into the heart of you, dragging you down into its depths until it can be difficult to see a way out. He wanted you to remember that this pain will pass and that you will be standing there, ready to face whatever came next, but a lecture seemed condescending… and actions always spoke much louder than words.
Upon returning to your room, Sam carefully carried in a tray laden with all your favourite breakfast food. He sat beside you, trying not to notice how you picked at it rather than consumed it, but he did not want to add to your troubles by nagging about you needing to eat. Instead, he simply sat beside you, chewing his own piece of toast and being present in the silence that rested over the two of you.
At one point, Sam worried that perhaps he was chewing too loud, that the toast was crunching with each bite, and he snuck a glance at you. He could see those wheels turning in your mind, as if you were trying to solve a problem. Sam knew full well that problems never break themselves into easy little pieces, that they have sharp, jagged edges that tore at you. Whatever it was you were struggling with, he knew you would share in time, he just had to be patient, and be there for you. His heart fluttered when you absentmindedly leaned against him, as if your body was seeking his comfort, even if your mind was in turmoil.
“I’ve got to head into town in a bit, got some books to check out. You want to join me?” He asked softly, knowing the quaint secondhand bookstore was one of your favourite places.
“Thanks.” You whispered, slightly nodding your head, and Sam allowed himself a mental victory dance because not only had he got you to eat something, but you would also be getting washed, dressed and getting some fresh air. That felt like a win to him.
The ride over to town was quiet. Sam filled the silence where he could, but felt you wanted to sit with your thoughts and didn’t want to intrude. Now, as you both made your way through the stacks, he could see the hint of a smile on your lips, your shoulders relaxing just a little. The uneven floors, the mismatched bookshelves, the elaborate and elusive system for which the books were placed, felt reassuring. This place was a chaotic mess, and yet it worked somehow.
Sam watched you trace your fingertips over the spines of books, your eyes flitting from one title to the next, taking them in without really reading them. He wished that he could tell you that you were like this place. Both you and this shop were filled with a warmth and a wealth of knowledge. Both you and this shop were haphazard on the inside in a way that he did not understand, but he knew made perfect sense. Both you and this shop were where he felt most himself.
There was a large part within him that wanted to wrap you up in his arms and hold all the pieces of you together until you’d figured out a way to glue them. You were the strongest person he knew, definitely strong enough to live this insane life, you just had to face it one day at a time and not let it overwhelm you. If you could only see yourself the way he did, you would know that you had got this, whatever this was.
He watched you silently meander around the store, lost in thought, and lost in the magic of a bookstore, a place which seemed to exist completely outside time. Any book you seemed to linger on, he made a mental note, and when you moved onto the next stack, he picked it out, ready to purchase the whole damned store if it would make you smile, even for a moment.
Upon returning home, he followed you to your room, placing your new stack of books by the side of your bed and switching on the bedside lamp. He watched you settle on the bed and pull the first book from the top of the stack. The melancholy was still there, but it seemed lighter than it had that morning.
Sam disappeared for a while, and when he returned, he had a soft blanket and some candles. Placing the candles around the various pieces of furniture, he lit each one carefully, making the room feel even cozier. Once more, Sam left, and when he reappeared, he had a warm drink and a tray of finger food, knowing you would snack as you read if he left it within reach. Without saying a word, he joined you on the bed and pulled out his own book.
The two of you sat in companionable silence, simply existing together. He felt your head rest against his shoulder, and he smiled to himself. You would make it through this, you just needed to take it one day at a time.
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luckbealincoln · 11 months
Text
Best Kept Secret
chapter ten : lunar interlude : briikase gote'tuur
THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!
pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader
rating : 18+ mdni
word count : 4.1k
summary : reader and the mandalorian celebrate a birthday
warnings, etc. : language, angst, p in v sex, smut
He’s grateful for the break from you, even if brief. 
That’s not to say that he doesn’t enjoy every moment he gets to be in your presence but the more time he spends with you the harder it gets to remember that this isn’t real. 
Lines are starting to blur and he’s been allowing himself too much leniency in this little fantasy of his. He fetches you a glass of water before returning, catching a glimpse of your personal servant leaving the library.
He’s not a fan of Leodall. 
Not for any particular reason, he’s just odd. For a while he considered it to be jealousy, of another man working in such close proximity to you but that shouldn’t bother him to begin with. 
You’re married. 
He’s not allowed to be jealous of anything. 
Leodall doesn’t seem to be a fan of him either so it doesn’t really matter. But he’s always there. Lingering. Which is something to worry about when you’re trying to keep secrets. So when he sees Leodall fleeing the library rather swiftly with a piece of paper tucked into his palm of course he has to do something about it. 
He could be gentler. He should be. But he’s fully going on instinct when he slams Leo against the wall.
“Whatcha got there?” It’s effortless. To switch back on the hunter instincts, his voice turns that familiar low tone as his fingers easily snatch the paper from the Twi’lek. 
The last thing he needs is this guy delivering some kind of message revealing what the two of you have been doing. 
“Sir… that’s just a few things she asked-” 
He’s already stopped listening. Unfolding the parchment he sees your familiar handwriting.
dinner, skipped lunch bring enough for seconds
cake, simple flavor, maybe vanilla NOT TOO SWEET
candles
wine 
What?
It’s just a list, nothing on it raises any red flags so he hands it back to Leo. Without another word he’s opening the doors to the library and handing you the glass. Watching as you sip at it before holding it out to him.
You always think of him. 
All of this would be so much easier if you were less considerate. 
He shakes his head no and waits to see if you’ll bring up the list but you never do. You’re almost a little too nonchalant all things considered as you pick up your book and resume as if nothing just happened. As if you weren’t just begging him for an orgasm. He takes his usual seat on the chair across from you, keeping his visor trained on you. 
He likes watching you read, when you’re actually reading and not pretending. Your face is always so expressive, telling a story of its own as he watches eagerly. Do you know that he’s smiling under the Beskar? He hopes so. 
You look happier now. He likes knowing that he did that, likes knowing that you crave him as much as he craves you. He had woken up with a desire for you and in a pathetic attempt to seduce you, had made an ass of himself with some over the top compliments and kindnesses. Of course you had seen through that, you were too smart not to. 
Why do you have to be so smart? And kind, and beautiful, and just so you? 
He had been an idiot. Trying to convince himself that a taste of you would satiate him, it only made him need you more. It’s somehow a far more wretched fate. Knowing now just how good you can be and knowing that you’ll never truly be his. 
You have made something new of him. 
He has always had a dominant side, no sense denying that, but with you it’s different. Your presence alone has awakened something new. A carnal, animalistic need to consume whatever you are willing to give him. Everytime he touches you he has to fight the urge to call you his own. 
Because you aren’t. 
He spends the rest of the afternoon reminding himself of that fact. Anytime he lets his mind wander towards a fantasy of anything real he recalls that simple fact. You are married. He is “stress relief” to you, something to take care of your needs, nothing else. And maybe that’s okay, he’d rather have a piece of you than none of you. It would only be unbearable if you felt the same way he did. Wanting more. It’s currently only manageable for him because it’s one sided. 
Maybe he can live like this. 
Pining after you. Always offering you romantic gestures, showing you how you should be treated. And you, going to your weekly dinners with that slob you call a husband, and eventually raising a family with him. 
“I’m getting a little tired… could you escort me back to my chambers?” Your voice breaks through his train of thought. You’ve got that smile that you get when you’re scheming as you stand and make a beeline towards the door. He manages a nod as he follows behind you. 
The castle is nice like this, at sunset. Dark, lamp light flickering on the stone walls. And you, the yellow and orange tint of everything reflecting off that dress. There’s something intoxicating about when you wear green. 
He lets himself truly indulge in his daydreams when you wear it. That you do it for him, like you’re his. 
Would you want to go again before he leaves? Is that why you’ve got that grin? Maker he hopes so, it’s only been a few hours but he would happily service you again. You stop in front of your door and turn to him, there’s a glint of something in your eyes that he can’t place. 
“I have a surprise for you. I need you to wait out here.” 
Gods, he doesn’t deserve you. 
“Then here I will wait.” He would do damn near anything for you if it meant you’d keep that smile on your face. He settles his back against the wall as you disappear into your chambers. 
He’s already half hard at the thought of you still covered in his cum under your dress. Maybe you’ll let him fuck you like that, still marked by him in one of the few ways he can mark you. He doesn’t get a lot of time to wonder because you’re opening the door and ushering him in. Nothing seems different other than your outfit, you’re wearing a tightly closed robe. So far a good sign but he still isn’t sure what to expect as he enters the room, pretty sure he knows where this is going. 
“Okay, this is really cheesy and if you don't want to do it we don’t have too.” You’re nervously fidgeting with the edge of your robe as you say it and he’s getting more confused by the second as you walk over to the closet and hold the door open for him. 
Maybe he doesn’t know where this is going.
He only has to take one look inside to figure it out though. 
He stands in the doorway of your closet and the first thing he’s drawn to is the pile blankets and pillows against the back wall. Have you been sleeping here? He doesn’t wonder for long because his visor is now trained on everything else. You’ve set out dinner. Two plates of food and two mugs of wine are laid out on the floor but the dead giveaway to what this is is the cake in the middle of everything with a way too big candle pressed into the middle of it, the faint light of the flame flickering along with the glow from the singular lamp propped up on one of the dressers. He turns to stare at you almost in disbelief. 
People often think that he is silent for the sake of intimidation. And that was true. 
Until he met you.
With you, oftentimes there are just no words. 
Your face is turning red at the lack of a response as he watches you picking at your nails. 
“It’s stupid, I shouldn’t have done all this… but you said you didn’t keep track of your birthdays and I don’t know, it just made me sort of sad because back home my siblings and I used to always make such a big deal out of birthdays so I thought today could be your birthday. And we can sit back to back so you can eat without me seeing you and if you’re worried about your helmet being off I’ve got a lock on my bedroom door and the closet so no one’s gonna walk in and if that isn’t enough we can turn off the lamp and eat in the dark or I can eat in the bedroom and you can eat in the closet or if this is stupid I can pack up the food for you and you can take it with you and-” You’re babbling on and on anxiously trying to fill the silence and he can’t take it anymore as he wraps his arms around you. 
“Thank you.” He can feel the sigh of relief you let out as you return the embrace. 
It’s the weirdest thing but he can’t remember ever hugging someone. 
Maybe his parents, a long, long time ago. It’s new. He doesn’t want to let you go because he knows that this has drastically changed the dynamic he thought he was building with you. 
You did all this. 
For him.
And he’s so fucked. 
Because this is more than you using him for stress relief. This breaks rules. Rules that you had insisted upon. Maker, he never even cared about the rules. 
He would break every rule if you’d let him. Treat you the way you deserve to be treated, he would show you what a marriage is supposed to be. You’d never have to use him for stress relief because he’d keep you satisfied and happy. Truly happy. He’d even take off the helmet for you. Someday, after making you his and himself yours. He’d kiss you, as much and as often as you’d let him. He would have kissed you that first night you let him touch you if you hadn’t specifically made a point that he couldn’t. He’d give you children if that’s what you wanted. He’d spend every night with you, making sure that you’re never without him, he would let everyone know you were his. Not running off to some pleasure house and humiliating you like that pig of a husband of yours. And he wouldn’t have to change a thing to break that last rule. 
He broke it the first time you spoke to him.
He knows that now. 
He has broken it everyday since because he has loved you as long as he has known you and he had resigned himself to that life. A life where he got brief glimpses of you. You would be everything to him and to you he would just be a protector. 
But then you did this. 
For him.
With this one act of affection you’ve changed everything. 
You’ve ruined everything. 
Because he can’t act like this is just sex for you anymore. You wouldn’t do all this. Not if it was just sex.
He doesn’t want to let go. 
Because in a harrowing turn of events he knows that you have shifted his short lived plans to love you from afar for as long as you’d let him. 
But he isn’t perfect after all. He is just a man. That’s what he tells himself as he takes your hand and pulls you into the closet, closing the door behind the two of you and sitting. 
Back to back.
“I promise not to look.” You sound so happy. Pleased with yourself that this is working out. 
“I know you won’t.” It’s true. He has never felt trust that someone won’t try and look until you and without hesitation he clicks loose the airlock and sets his helmet to the side. 
It’s maybe the most intimate thing he’s done with a person as the two of you eat in silence. He eats quickly, feeling the familiar creeping anxiety that comes from being without his helmet for long periods of time. 
Once he goes to lift it to return it to its rightful place he hears you make a sound of protest. 
“Wait! You have to blow out the candle first and make a wish.” He watches as she slides it towards him. It’s simple, white frosting with a few berries on top of it, the large candle dripping a bit of wax onto the center as he leans down and blows it out before locking his helmet back on. “What did you wish for?” He can feel you leaning back against him as you ask. 
He wishes you hadn’t done this. 
“I can’t tell you. It’s supposed to be a secret.” He’s grateful to be back in the safety of his helmet because the modulator hides the way his voice trembles ever so slightly.
“Okay. Is it okay if I turn around? It’s time for your presents.” 
He should leave.
He should leave and get on the next ship off of this planet but he can’t even do that because he doesn’t trust anyone to protect you from your husband. 
He’s trapped here on this planet just as much as you are.
He should end this right now at the very least. 
But he’s not a good man. And he’s selfish. So why not revel in the dream that you are one last time. 
“You can turn around.” He feels your weight shift as he says it, at the same time he turns to face you. He isn’t sure what to expect but it definitely isn’t what you’re doing. 
You’re holding out one of the plastic lilies you had bought at the market. 
“I didn’t have time to get you anything because I only decided it was your birthday a few hours ago. But I thought you could use this to decorate your cabin, and have a little reminder of me there.” 
This is fucking brutal. 
“Thank you princess.” It rolls off of his tongue so easily that he often forgets he shouldn’t be using it until he’s reminded that it’s a title, not an endearment. He takes it from you before tucking it into a loop on his belt. 
“And of course that isn’t your only present.” You're raising your eyebrows suggestively as you untie your robe, sitting up on your knees you toss it aside and reveal a pretty little green satin set. He isn’t sure what to call it. It’s definitely too racy to be considered pajamas but it’s also rather classy. 
You’re perfect.
And he is a bad man, who should not touch you right now. He should tell you that he can’t do this anymore. That he will solely be here to protect you from now on. It’s what will be best for both of you.
That’s what he tells himself.
But he knows the truth.
He’s weak. 
And you’re perfect. 
“I bought this at the markets… I wanted to surprise you. I planned on saving them for a special occasion but honestly what’s more special than a birthday?” 
He could live a thousand lifetimes and he would never be a good enough man to deserve you.
You are everything good he has ever known all put into one deadly temptation wrapped in a pretty green bow. 
He takes in a deep, shaky breath as he stares at you. The warm glow of the lamp makes you look positively divine. More inviting than anything else ever has been. 
Think about what this means. 
This becomes a thousand times harder if it’s more than just sex to you. And a thousand times more dangerous. If you were to be discovered, Maker only knows what they’d do to you. He knows what would happen to him. They’d make an example out of him, that’s the kind of man Kodo is. But you, he has already seen how unhappy your husband makes you, he can only imagine the torment he would put you through if he discovered what was happening here. 
He needs to do something about this because it’s becoming more complicated by the second but he can’t focus because right now you’re staring at him with that fire he adores in your eyes and you’re wearing that just for him. 
He leans forward to pull you into his lap, still sitting on the floor of the closet. Letting his hands just roam your body for a few moments, watching in awe at how you stare into the visor. 
Like you see him through it, like you know exactly where his eyes are behind the steel. 
Just like everything else tonight, it’s different when he touches you. 
He doesn’t tease because as much as he refuses to think about it. He knows deep beneath the layers of steel, and flesh, and bone, that he might not get a chance to see you like this again. He understands exactly what he needs to do. That for the both of you he needs to put a stop to this short lived love affair because he won’t be able to live with the brand new form of suffering you have introduced. 
Loving him back. 
Maybe you don’t love him today, or tomorrow, or maybe not even for years. But he has a deep and profound understanding of the fact that you will. 
And he can’t live with that. 
And not even for the reason he should. He should want to end it to spare your feelings, to prevent you from getting hurt over something that could never be. No, his reasons are so much more selfish. He simply couldn’t handle it. Knowing that you love him back would ruin him entirely. He couldn’t live with the fact that you wanted him just as badly and as deeply as he wanted you. 
It would fucking kill him. He’s certain of it. To know that’s how you feel and still not have you. 
So he’ll end things. 
But not now. 
Not tonight when you’ve given him this . 
Because he’s selfish and weak. 
And you’re you. 
So he’ll give you every part of him right now. As much as you’re willing to take. 
He can see it in your eyes. That you know that something has changed, but he can’t handle seeing that crease between your brows, not tonight. So he brings his hand between your legs, pulling your undergarments off gently and setting them aside before plunging his fingers into you, devouring the way your body reacts to him, the way your chest heaves and your back arches.. 
He doesn’t speak this time because he doesn’t want to interrupt you in his memories of this. The way he can feel you tense even through the thick material of his gloves as his thumb finds your clit. 
He doesn’t taunt you. 
He does exactly what he knows you want as he curls his fingers, as he drives you towards an orgasm without you having to ask for it because he wants to see it. He wants it branded into his memory. 
It doesn’t take long and pretty quickly you’re trembling in his lap, your hands bracing themselves on his shoulder plates. He keeps his eyes on your face. Positively enamored by the way you bite your lip as you mumble the word “Mando” over and over again. Your eyes look like they’re closed in concentration as he feels you tighten around him and watches as you let your forehead rest on his armor, your mouth opening in a small “O” shape. 
He lifts you up slightly to set you onto what he assumes to be your makeshift bed. He wants to ask about it. There’s a million things he wants to ask you about because he wants to know you better than anyone else ever has. He wants to be the only person who gets to know you.
But he’s already being selfish enough so he doesn’t. Instead he busies himself with making you feel as good as possible as he keeps one hand always splayed on your inner thigh, rubbing lazy circles onto your clit with his thumb as you keen softly, his other hand pulling himself out of his trousers as he wastes no time lining himself up at your welcoming hole. You’re always so ready for him. Your cunt weeps for him as he pushes himself into you slowly, working himself down to the base. 
He knows you know it’s different.
You’re too smart for your own good. He clocks the look of confusion in your eyes immediately when his hands entwined with yours instead of gripping your waist. When he started tenderly moving inside you instead of his usual play for total domination. Your legs wrap themselves around him as he watches your eyes roll back slightly when he snaps his hips forward again. You grind down against him, your legs locking him against you as you try and get a bit of friction against your clit from the curls at the base of his shaft. 
And he lets you.
He doesn’t tease. 
He just watches you with bated breath as you stay like that. Impaled on his cock, chasing your own pleasure. He feels like you were made for him, sex had never in his life felt like this, you took him so perfectly. And then you say those words that make his head spin.
“C-can I cum?” He’d give you anything you asked for at this moment as he nods. He’s fascinated by you as you use him, it only takes a few more moments of watching you grind against him before he feels that familiar squeeze, your hands grip his as you unravel before him. He drinks you in with his eyes before he starts moving his hips again, slowly. 
“Can you give me one more sarad’ika?” He ever so slightly picked up the pace as he watched your chest bounce with each thrust. 
You muddled his brain. Half the time he was with you he couldn’t even remember what language he was speaking. You gave him a meek little nod and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. 
To tear his helmet off.
Abandon his creed.
And kiss you.
But he’s broken enough rules tonight. 
So instead he settles on resting his helmet against your shoulder as he slams himself into you. Letting out a low throaty groan as he watches your hands wriggle free of his and go between your legs to touch yourself. 
He will never deserve this. 
He reminds himself of that with every thrust and with every beautiful moan you let out. He buries the steel of his helmet in your neck as he mumbles to himself.
“Ner kar’taylir darasuum.”
Your free hand is resting on the back of his helmet and he can feel how close you are, he knows he isn’t going to last much longer so he pulls back so you can hear him clearer.
“Cum for me sarad. Please.” He knows he probably sounds a little too desperate but it works because you do, in an instant your head is leaning back and you pull his head against your chest as he barely slips out of you in time to finish on your swollen clit. 
He lays there longer than he should but you’re warm and inviting and he knows tomorrow will be different. So why not give you everything tonight. He wraps his arms around you in another embrace as you yawn into his shoulder. 
“Happy birthday Mando.” He so fiercely wishes you could see the soft smile that he only has for you. 
“Thank you cyar’ika.” He gently pulls himself off of you and finds a cloth to wipe you down with before re-dressing you. Laying you back down in the pile of blankets he swipes a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he sits up.
“Are you leaving?” For the love of gods. Your voice sounds so small at this moment he almost stays. 
Almost. 
“Yes princess. No sleepovers, remember?” You nod sadly as he traces your jaw with his knuckle. This shouldn’t be so hard. It’s not like he’s never going to see you again. He just isn’t going to see you like this. 
Tomorrow he will be your bodyguard. Nothing else. 
Because you deserve better than this. 
Better than him. 
So he stands and he turns off the lamp as he carefully steps over the remaining birthday supplies before opening the closet door, taking in one last sight of you, faintly illuminated by the lights in the main room.
“Don’t forget your flower…” You mumble it as he watches your eyes flutter open to stare at him. 
He pats the notch on his belt that it’s in.
“How could I?”
133 notes · View notes
f1writingbyme · 8 months
Text
The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together)
IT'S FINALLY HERE!
My God, this took me forever
My first ever longer work of fiction. It took me months to finish it, but I'm so extremely PROUD of what I created and I hope you will enjoy it!
I want to give a very special shoutout to Mona (@lestappenforever) who has been my ROCK and an absolute ANGEL whilst I was writing. Mona, thank you for listening to my rambling, reading every single thing I sent to you, for your thoughts and input and not to forget, the betaing! I love you so, so, so much, words can't describe how much I appreciate you! ❤️
You can read it here.
Summary: The fire in his apartment is only the beginning of a long list of misfortunes that await Max. Fortunately, he has Charles by his side to help him through it. That is until Charles is the one that gets targeted.
PLEASE NOTE THAT THE CATS DO NOT EXIST IN THIS FIC. I REPEAT: THE CATS DO NOT EXIST! Please don't hate me.
Enjoy the first bit here.
The party is in full swing. Leave it to Lando to plan a well attended party during summer break where normally everybody would disappear to another country to not see any of the other drivers, having seen plenty enough of them during the race season. Charles knows, because normally he would have fucked off to some country where he could lie on the beach and drink cocktails for most of the day, spending time with his brothers and mother, and maybe some other family too, before having to turn back to full concentration again. 
But for some reason, most of the drivers were here and Charles realizes he is actually truly enjoying himself. He’s on the couch next to Pierre, listening to some kind of story George is slurring at them, having had just two too many drinks by now. Charles knows he should have stopped him when he gets up to get another refill, leaving both Pierre and him on a cliffhanger, but he isn’t particularly bothered with George’s alcohol intake. He’s a grown man who knows what he’s doing - or at least most of the time. He can deal with his own hangover tomorrow. That is not Charles’ job. 
He takes the break from George’s rambling as an opportunity to glance across the room. Every driver he gets along with on the grid is present, along with some friends of Lando he already knows, but the majority of the crowd is unknown to him. The only thing he knows is that some of the female friends present are more interested in all the drivers surrounding them than in their actual friends. If you could even call them friends. 
Charles’ attention is drawn to the corner on his right. Max, Daniel, Martin Garrix — Martijn, Charles corrects himself mentally — are stood in a some resemblance of a triangle so that they can all face each other, listening to Martijn telling a story. Charles sees that Daniel is fully invested, eyes wide, a large smile on his face as he nods along. Max, on the other hand, is also listening, but every few minutes or so, he’s distracted by his phone, frowning at the screen, before rejecting the call. He then presses some things on his screen and to Charles it seems like he’s blocking the number. Unfortunately, he has had to do that himself one too many times. 
Max’s attention is back to Martijn, taking a big sip of his gin and tonic. A bit of the drink runs down his chin. and Max uses the back of his hand to wipe it away. Charles’ eyes are glued to it, the movement of the big hand wiping away the little drop of the alcoholic drink before it makes its way down his neck. His strong, muscled neck. Charles wishes the drop had made its way down, just so he could–
“Tu regardes,” Pierre’s voice breathes in his ear. (“You’re staring.”)
It startles Charles, spilling half of his own drink over his hand and on his trousers. He feels the blush creep up his face, painting his cheeks a dark shade of red. He rips his eyes away from Max and his group, because they have all turned to face the two men on the couch after hearing Charles’ rather loud gasping and spluttering. The spluttering ends in a coughing fit, and tears gather in Charles’ eyes as he desperately gasps for air.
“He’s fine,” he hears Pierre say as he pats his back. 
Through his watery eyes he sees that Pierre is talking to Max, who looks at Charles in concern, but smiles after Pierre’s words and turns back to Martijn, who restarts his story again, not paying attention to a slowly suffocating Charles Leclerc. 
“Calamar, tu dois vraiment te contenir,” Pierre says once Charles has caught up with his breathing. (“Calamar, you really need to contain yourself.”)
“Je n'ai rien fait,” Charles wheezes. (“I didn’t do anything.”)
“Oui, continuez à vous le dire,” Pierre snorts and then, when Charles frowns at him, he adds, “Vous étiez pratiquement en train de baver en le regardant.” (“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You were practically drooling whilst staring at him.”)
“Je n'étais pas.” (“I was not.”)
“Tu l'étais.” (“You so were.”)
“Tais-toi,” Charles mumbles, finishing whatever is left of his drink. (“Shut up.”)
Pierre sighs deeply. He turns to face his friend, bringing his head closer to Charles’ to have a little bit more privacy in a crowded room full of strangers. "Tu n'as pas à prendre de décision maintenant, mais s'il te plaît, Charles, soit tu lui parles, soit tu l'oublies. Arrête de te faire du mal à cause de lui. S'il te plaît." (“You don’t have to make a decision right now, but please, Charles, either talk to him or forget about him. Stop beating yourself up about him. Please.”)
Charles wants to reply to that, he really wants to, but he simply can’t. It’s not as easy as Pierre makes it sound. He can’t just forget about Max, but he also can’t just go and talk to him about the stupid little crush he has on the Dutchman, either. Or, as Pierre likes to say, ‘just tell him you are head-over-heels in love with him’. Charles neither confirms nor denies that he used a bit too much force behind his punch on his best friend’s arm after he said that.  
Just as Charles is ready to vocalize the answer he has formed in his head, he’s interrupted by Max’s ringtone yet again that evening. How many calls has he already received, Charles thinks, and he realizes this must have been the sixth time within the last hour he has heard the phone ringing. He expects Max to yet again decline the call and block whoever is calling him, but he sees him frown at his screen before excusing himself to Daniel and Martijn. Charles watches him as he makes his way to the somewhat quieter kitchen area, answering the call. He sees that Max is trying to speak to the person on the other side, but every time he tries to get a word out, he stops again, probably being interrupted by the person on the other end of the phone, gesturing wildly with the hand that isn’t holding the phone, pacing back and forth in the kitchen area.
Curiosity getting the best of him, Charles excuses himself to Pierre under the pretense of getting a refill as he makes his way over to the kitchen where Max is. He knows that Pierre thinks he is finally going to declare his undying love for the Dutchman, judging by the smirk on his face. Charles rolls his eyes. Of course he’ not going to tell Max how he feels. If he ever decides to tell him how he feels, he will definitely pick a much quieter location to do said thing, away from the prying eyes of female strangers and crowded rooms. 
Charles sets his glass down on the counter and opens the fridge, listening in on Max’s heated conversation. That’s what he expects it to be; heated. He expects to hear him angry, but what he definitely doesn’t expect is to hear Max trying to speak French – a very heavily accented French. 
“Je ne, uh, parle — shit — pas français…”
Charles raises an eyebrow, head still buried in the fridge, obviously taking way too long to make it believable that he’s only there to get a refill. 
“Mrs. Corvetto, I don’t speak French… Je ne parle pas français!”
Charles can’t take it any longer. Max starts to get frustrated, he can hear it in the tone of his voice. He closes the fridge and turns to the Dutchman. He raises his hand to wave at Max, grabbing his attention. Pointing to the phone, he asks, “Need any help?”
Max lets out a sigh, lowering the phone from his ear to hand it over to Charles. “Thank fuck. It’s my neighbor. Normally she speaks English, but she’s freaking out and I don’t know why. She never calls me, only when there’s an emergency.”
“Mrs. Corvetto, you said?” Charles asks as he takes the phone, already hearing the frantic voice of Max’s neighbor coming through the device and he hasn’t even put it anywhere close to his ear. When Max nods, he brings the phone up, making sure not to bring it too close to his ear, before he kind of shouts, “Madame Corvetto?”
He doesn’t get a direct reply from the woman, but what he does hear makes his blood run cold. He freezes on the spot, arm with the phone lifted in the air, hovering somewhere near his head. Charles just stares at Max as Mrs. Corvetto continues to shout over the phone in rapid French. 
“Oh, God, what is it?” Max groans. “It’s Mr. Corvetto, right? I knew it. I’m telling you, never move into an apartment next to elderly people. It’s just– Why does she call me? What the hell can I do? Doesn’t she need to call an ambulance or something? Or, I don’t know, her family, or–”
“Max.” Charles interrupts Max’s ranting. He ends the phone call, cutting off Mrs. Corvetto’s panicked yelling with a simple press of his thumb. He stares at the blue-eyed man in front of him. “Your apartment is on fire.”
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