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#sometimes i wonder!! i actually don't really know what to answer myself

dalliancekay · 1 month

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Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. Mainly as the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop.

Then drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Also, the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3, to I assume, even out the scores. Some people want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he's done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. But he died in the one he bought for the wedding. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating too, by furiously trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people I love, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck. I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, how can I help though, I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

Why else would he be so worried about working on the Arrangement? Was he worried just for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale, yes, we saw that, but do they ever talk about what happened to the angel then? Do we?

That he got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps? Why is he hurt? Why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, there's no pomp around it, he thinks this and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was gone. That he very likely left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. His trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress. He will learn to be more open, with his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. That's HUGE. He's trying. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * A note on grief (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, but asking how I am can only end in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do).

#aziraphale #good omens #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #ineffable divorce #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #aziraphale defense squad #suffering in silence #grief #tw grief #dealing with grief #loss #tw death #kaypost

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alijuan · 17 days

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Ascended Astarion is true unlike Spawn Astarion who pretends to be good for Tav

If i see that opinion again i will explode🫠

It's funny because Astarion will only approves if you persuade him not to perform the ritual.

A lot of people don't understand the concept of grey morality and it shows. Many people justify him but this type of AA fan thinks worse of him than he really is. He needs the ritual not because he's a power-hungry villain, but because he needs safety for himself and his lover. Depending on Tav/Durge's actions, he either stays with the feeling of fear (AA is still afraid deep inside, the game files confirm this) or he fights against it and becomes truly free of Cazador and fear (spawn ending). The dialogue with Durge about not being afraid is wonderful and shows difference between SA and AA.

Astarion: This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can't let our lives be ruled by fear. Or else we never really live. Astarion: I'm not afraid. Not of you, not of your darkness, and not of our future.

The point of the spawn ending is that Tav/Durge saw him as more than just an outward image of a power-hungry killer incapable of becoming a better person. But if you can't see beyond that image, he will think that he has no choice but to continue living in the world that Cazador has built for him. If you think that AA is his best ending because he is evil then you have failed to understand his whole personality.

I feel safe with you. Seen.

Despite of his love of killing (he is a vampire after all), he repeatedly showed compassion and guilt for luring people. Before the ritual, he literally convinced himself that he should kill spawn for power. Astarion rationalises this to protect his psyche, because he’s clearly not the type of guy who can sacrifice thousands of people to the devil and not feel anything about it.

Durge/Tav: This isn’t you, Astarion. Not really. Astarion: It should be.

I really like that the player technically makes the insight check and that there’s an advantage when they're romancing Astarion. Tav/Durge could see through the image Astarion was trying to create. They saw an elf whose fear prevented him from seeing all the possibilities.

Astarion: When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now.

Just as Astarion saw Durge not just as serial killer, but as someone who could defeat Urge and become a better person.

Durge: I am myself at last. You don't need to fear anything from me ever again. Astarion: I knew you had that sweat heart all along. I was alarmed by you sometimes, scandalised even, but somehow by your side, I still only ever saw you.

AA fans also often ignore the fact that the game has good and bad endings in the companion stories. And it's not about morality. All companion quests are literally about how the desired and obvious path leads to a bad ending. And Astarion is no exception. In a good ending, he gets the chance to heal and finally acceptes himself and his vampire nature, in a bad ending, he gives up and regresses as a person.

Spawn Astarion knows what he wants and says it. SA is ready for a relationship and sex. Ascended Astarion can’t answer the question of what he wants, so he acts as a vampire lord should. AA is literally back to the state of the first act and has started manipulating Tav/Durge through sex again (even repeating the same phrases). This is why he doesn’t really want sex (he approves if you choose the no sex option and he definitely dissociated during the sex scene) unlike Spawn Astarion who initiated it.

Spawn Astarion is the same Astarion who enjoys “murder and terror” and you can see that clearly in his “hero” ending (more like “antihero”). And this is the ending without romance, he chose it himself. And the whole idea of him pretending to be good for Tav is actually meaningless without romance.

Ascended Astarion is the same Astarion, but stuck in a black and white world of fear and domination.

SA scene ends with hope music (instrumental version of I want to live) AA scene ends with chains.

And there’s so much more. Larian specifically showed the difference between good and bad endings in the dialogues, scenes after ritual, recent updates and even the interview so people would definitely understand, but they didn't🙃 Some AA fans (especially on youtube and larian forum) are on a new level of delusion.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #Narrative comprehension is dead #durgestarion #astarion x durge #astarion x tav #spawn astarion #ascended astarion #такого непонимания очевидного я не видела даже в геншин фандоме

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daisybianca · 7 months

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pairing: lando norris x femalereader

summary: max was your ex who chose to cheat on you. now he wants you back. too bad you're already someone else's...

warnings: cursing words, possessiveness

(a/n): don't get me wrong, i love max. soneone had to be the bad guy, though.

WHEN SOMEONE KNOCKED on your door at ten in the evening, you didn't expect it to be Max. He was holding flowers in his hand and was completely soaked from the rain.

He looked... well, he was fine.

Just like you remembered him.

Tall, strong, blond hair, dreamy but also empty eyes.

You could see absolutely no emotion in him.

He had been a chapter in your life someday. A really important one, you had to admit. But now you had already turned the page.

Did he even know that?

“(y/n)… um… hi,” he said, his eyes glistening.

Hi? Really?

Fuck no.

You were sure he'd have something better to say to those tall, blond Germans he fucked while you still had a relationship with him.

"I'm so, so sorry." He took a breath. "You're not answering my calls or texts, so I came here so I could speak to you myself."

Wrong choice.

"Please, let me talk to you, baby."

Before you could even take a breath to answer, a voice came from behind you.

"Honey, who are you talking to over there?" Lando opened the door wide enough for Max's face to be revealed. Max's red face.

"What the hell?" Max took a small step back, his expression almost too funny for you to handle. "Lando?"

"Max." Lando stepped ahead, protectively covering your body with his, fully filling Max's view so he couldn't see you hidden beside him.

Neither of the three of you knew what to say at that moment, and you just stared at each other for a few seconds.

"What are you doing here?" Max's question was totally out of context. You could tell he was astonished.

"Livin', actually." Lando responded, his British accent kicking in. "What are you doing here?" His beautiful eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Stopped by to see my girl," Max raised his chin up.

Lando laughed. You almost let a giggle escape as well.

"Well, let me clarify," Lando started, dramatically clearing his voice as if he were to give a speech. "This is my home," he mentioned to the apartment around us. "This is my soon wife-to-be," His hand wrapped around your back possessively. "And these fucking flowers are for the trash can." He said and grabbed the door's handle. "Thank you for stopping by. Also, make sure you shove these up your ass. She's allergic to gardenias, you stupid piece of shit."

Lando closed the door with a loud sound.

A few seconds passed, and he turned to look at you. Before he could say anything, you felt a tickle in your nose and gave up to the sneezing.

You sneezed once.

Twice.

Three times in a row.

Before the fourth one, Lando had already picked you up, locking you in his hands. "Sometimes you make me wonder about your taste in men."

You laughed before sneezing again. "He's not a man."

"Yeah, I know." Lando replied, placing a small peck on your lips. "He's the stupidest boy I know."

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incognitopolls · 23 days

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hi, i sent in a comment back when one (not me) anon said they were unfollowing due to constant cisnormativity and gender essentialism in the polls. you didn't answer my ask back then, or maybe the ask disappeared since tumblr does that sometimes, but i would appreciate it if you would answer this, because i think it would be beneficial for everyone to actually talk about this openly.

i'd just like to ask, knowing that you may edit polls submitted to be more inclusive and clearer, why is the recent poll about preferences for a partner's pubic hair specifically for people with penises? and if there is another poll coming that's the same but for people with vaginas, i'm wondering why it would be necessary for a question like it to be separated like that. personally i don't see how that would make a big, or more importantly an interesting difference in the results. to me all it seems like it's doing is excluding intersex people and supporting this idea of "the two sexes" being fundamentally completely different from each other and someone's genitals playing a big part in defining people's preferences.

i'm not intending this as a hate comment, but as a genuine request for conversation around this subject, as you yourself said to the anon that unfollowed, that you'd like to hear about their side. i know i'm not said anon, but i think we're kind of talking about the same subject here, and recently there's been a lot of polls here separating people via genitals, and it's beginning to make me feel a little uncomfortable, in big part due to it implying that a huge portion of people here see gender and/or sex as a binary, and that people on the opposite ends of that binary are fundamentally different from each other due to their sex/gender.

apologies for the long ask, i just really wanted to avoid misunderstandings so i may have rambled a bit more than necessary.

Hi! Thanks for bringing up your concerns. The way I interpreted that question is that anon was curious whether pubic hair affects the sensation on the penetrating partner‘s penis, or whether pubic hair can be a hindrance– for example, acting as a barrier, or adding friction.

The original question was only aimed at people with penises, and I hadn’t planned on posting any variations for different genitals because (from what I’m assuming about anon’s curiosity) the question is so specific in asking about the sensation and/or logistics for a penis navigating around hair. I don’t think it would be helpful or yield any interesting data to post the same poll for people with other genitals.

In this case, I think my error was in not specifying “does a partner’s pubic hair affect the sensation on your penis during penetration?”. That’s the question I think anon was trying to ask, but unfortunately it was more clear in my and anon’s heads and didn’t come across in writing as clearly as I thought I was saying it.

Also, in response to the sentiment that there have been a lot of genital-related polls lately, there have been about 3 in the past 2 weeks, or about 3%. (7 polls per day; 49 polls per week; 98 polls every two weeks.) I understand if it seems like a lot, but the actual saturation is fairly low. I'm saying this not to dismiss you, but in the hopes of reassuring you that this blog is not shifting to become more heavily focused on separating people's genitals.

I got a number of helpful messages about the previous conversation on dyadism. I didn't respond to them due to some things in my personal life that limited my time, but I read them and have them saved as a reminder to myself when writing up polls so that I can continue to make these polls more inclusive of intersex people– I promise those messages weren’t ignored.

#not polls #nsft

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luveline · 9 months

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hi jade! i really loved ur steve drabble where he comforts reader when she's insecure about her appearance. would you write something similar with eddie? i don't mean to bother, thank u for all your wonderful writing <3

thank you lovely!! fem!reader

Eddie takes your hip into his hand as he passes behind you, the snug bathroom an excuse to touch. You don't mind, really, even as the lip balm you're using jolts down onto your chin.

"Sorry," he says. He's not murmuring, but his voice has an understated sleepy quality to it that you adore. "Just gonna open the window."

You've finished washing up for the night, steam from the shower clinging to the walls, the shower head dripping with run off. Your bathroom is a rectangle that can barely fit the two of you together, but it's yours, so it's perfect.

Eddie pushes the window out off the latch to let in the mild summer air. The room immediately cools. Satisfied, he takes a big breath and turns to you with a content smile. "You smell good enough to eat," he praises, putting his hand behind your back.

You cap your lip balm and brace yourself on the sink. In the mirror, it's easy to watch him watch you. Your face, lined with unhappiness, and his, so, so devoted it makes you feel poorly.

"What's wrong?" he asks, moving in closer still. His bicep curls behind your back, his wrist hanging over your shoulder. He noses under your ear gently, propping a quick kiss there like he's going to pick it up again. "You look kind of sad."

He says it like it's a tragedy in the making.

Your attempt of a smile melds into a grimace as you direct your gaze down to the empty sink, porcelain shining with water. A tiny dollop of toothpaste clings to the drain. You turn on the hot tap.

Eddie turns it off. "Hey," he murmurs, dragging it out, "tell me."

"I think I'm having one of those days where I feel really ugly," you confess.

"You're just as pretty as you were yesterday. As you are everyday." His face inches closer to yours. He speaks with all the intonation of someone telling a secret, "I'd say you were prettier, actually."

"I don't know. I look weird, sometimes. I think I look one way and then I see myself in the mirror and I look different."

Eddie's hand pets your upper arm, half a hug. "Can I give you a kiss?" he asks.

You sigh and turn toward him, tipping your head back.

He laughs. "Don't seem so reluctant!" he chides, bringing a hand to your cheek. With a gentleness that evidences how deeply he loves you, he strokes your cheek. Like you're fragile as a strand of silk, or precious as carved alabaster.

"You don't think I'm ugly?" you ask. Perhaps desperately.

Eddie meets your eyes. When he closes his, you close yours. "No," he says, pressing a mindless kiss to your lips, the kind he gives when you're both nearly sleeping, or barely awake. It livens, but before it can deepen, he pulls away to continue, "You're not ugly. I think you're the," —pause for a kiss, like he just can't wait— "prettiest girl in the world."

The hand that isn't holding your face meanders across your lower back, fingertips teasing the hem of your t-shirt. He can't not do what he wants to do once he's thought about it, pushing his hand under your shirt to explore your naked back. He pulls you in close, your hips against the sink, his socked foot sliding between yours.

He kisses you slowly, time stretching and condensing at once. It could be five seconds, or it could be thirty. A kiss to say everything you're worried about is simply worry —it's as good an answer as you could want.

Until he breaks away, and he says, "You're fucking stellar, I need you to know that. Head to toe. Can't believe you'd think any different, but what do I know about it? I only spend the large majority of my waking hours wishing I could climb into your skin."

Your laugh catches in your throat. "You ruined it."

"I look at you more than anything else," he says, amending his creepy finish. He turns your face gently, back and forth, his irises a melty shade of brown where they follow your growing smile. "So I'm the expert. You're beautiful, sweetheart. Don't think otherwise."

"Or you'll crawl into my skin?" you tease, spirits lifted.

Eddie wrinkles his nose. "Ew, no. Why would you think that?"

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and laugh into his collar. He hugs you back enthusiastically. "Think there's enough room in there for me?" he whispers. "I wanna know what it's like to be that pretty."

You shake your head. "No, sorry."

"Bummer. Well, let me know if there's ever a vacancy."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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alexsoenomel · 3 months

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The Reveries Of My Mind (Dean Winchester x Reader fluff/smut)

Summary: What happens when you discover you can feel someone's torment and struggles through an unexplainable bond?

"Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine."

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , vanilla sex, dreams about the reader dying --not too graphic , first person fic

Word count: 6.7k

Note: I took my time with this one. I really like it. I've been struggling to write for so long it feels good to be back. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

And a huge thank you to my wonderful beautiful best friend @ambergoddess444 for being the best beta reader <3

I’m gonna kill him.

I heard Sam’s voice echo in my mind as I was eating my pancakes. I looked at Dean who was stuffing his face with eggs and bacon, not really paying attention to Sam’s resting bitch face.

STOP CHEWING SO LOUD FOR THE LOVE OF CHUCK!

I heard him again and almost choked on my milk.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I answered.

Dean just glanced at me and continued eating his breakfast.

It was Sunday and luck was on our side because we couldn't find a case. This would happen once in a blue moon so we were quite content with having a day off. Monsters sometimes sleep.

After breakfast Sam said he was going to go and catch up on some reading while Dean and I were left alone.

“Can I borrow Baby?” I asked, since it was July and summer was in full swing in Kansas. I wanted to forget about my job – about hunting – I wanted to go outside and feel the summer breeze in my hair in his beautiful Impala. I already knew his answer as soon as I saw his brow arch. He was very protective over his Baby; only allowed me to drive once after I begged him for my birthday.

Absolutely not.

“Why?”

I crossed my arms, my lips thinned.

“Why ask when you already gave me your answer?”

Dean raised his eyebrows, eyes widened as we were sitting at the table opposite of each other.

“I keep forgetting you can do that,” he said, looking away from me.

“You keep forgetting about your mental shield,” I told him as I went to the kitchen to get myself some coffee.

I didn't realize Dean was following me until I heard his voice.

“I can't just sit in silence and breathe while I think about nothing.”

“You mean to meditate?” I chuckled.

“Yeah…that.”

I took a sip of hot coffee Sam made after breakfast and turned around to face him.

“You have to strengthen your shield, Dean.”

“There has to be another way,” he said desperately as he poured coffee into his black mug.

“No there isn't, I told you. Everyone has a mental shield, but the reason why I can hear people's thoughts 99% of the time is because their shield is not strong enough. And how do you strengthen your shield? You shut up and meditate. Focus on it and build it.”

Dean wasn't pleased as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Sam meditates, can you still hear his thoughts?”

“I can, because it takes years to actually strengthen the damn shield and he started meditating six months ago.”

He just rolled his eyes as we went back to the library.

“I don't want you in my head,” he stated.

“I cannot help it, dumbass. Can I take the car or not?”

Dean took the keys out of his pocket and dangled them in front of my face. I tried to take them but he refused to give them to me.

Typical.

“I'm driving,” he told me with a smirk.

***

“Where do you want to go?” He asked me as I closed the car door.

“I don't have any particular destination in mind. I just wanted to drive around and listen to music.”

Dean gave me a soft smile before starting the engine. Baby was purring – I could never get tired of that sound; it was smooth and powerful – no wonder he was so protective of her. The car held memories, sacred moments and was filled with stories – good and bad.

“Sounds like a plan,” and with those words we were off.

We were on the main highway, heading to God knows where. Dean, of course being the driver, was controlling the music as well.

Dream On by Aerosmith was playing. I loved that song, but I was in the mood for Van Halen.

Driver picks the music. Shot-

“Shotgun what?” I smirked, glancing at him. I saw he gripped the wheel tighter and licked his lips.

“God, I hate when you do that,” he said. I chuckled.

Front windows were down, summer breeze in my face and hair gently caressing me as Crazy Train started playing. Ozzy was too chaotic for this drive. As much as I loved his songs I wanted something to ease my mind and not encourage my body to produce adrenaline. I dared to change the song.

Don't Fear The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult.

Much better.

“Hey, I was listening to that,” Dean of course complained.

“Well not anymore,” I told him as I showed him a middle finger.

A chuckle left his lips before he spoke.

“Wanna grab a few drinks?”

“Dean I don't wanna get drunk at” – I looked at my phone to check the time – “11am.”

“You don't have to do anything you don’t wanna do. We can buy a few beers and go to our favorite hiding spot. If I get too drunk maybe, maybe I'll let you drive.”

I couldn't believe what I just heard. My heart was racing from excitement. Sam was always the designated driver; Dean would sometimes drive drunk without us noticing. I know that because he admitted that…while we were drinking after a successful hunt.

“Really?” I played skeptical; part of me was. “You're not afraid I'll crash your beloved car?”

“If you do, I'll kill you,” he looked at me and gave me a flat smile.

Fair enough.

“Well okay.”

She won't crash my car.

Well I think she won’t.

I hope she won’t.

I didn't say anything, just stared at the trees blurred on my right side as we passed by; absorbing the warmth and sunshine in my face.

It's My Life By Bon Jovi started playing.

Perfect.

Dean bought a couple of beers and some Slim Jims at the first gas station just before his favorite hiding spot.

The hiding spot was an abandoned house we found a few months ago when we were hunting a vampire nest. It was an old cabin in the middle of nowhere, a few miles away from the main road. After exterminating the nest, we started coming there every once in a while to relax and get away from everything that made us hunters. Sam completely forgot about that place but Dean and I would occasionally go, mainly at night to get away from the bunker’s haunting reminder of the life we were living. There we were just regular folk, drinking and having fun. The house was dusty and old, but dear to us, like a portal to a regular life and what we desperately wanted, but could never have.

As we were approaching the house I couldn’t ignore the strong sense of serenity coming from Dean. His mind was at ease, no racing thoughts, no sorrow he would usually carry within himself – he was happy. I’ve never told him about that; I know he would probably freak out – yell even – so I kept my mouth shut. I would be lying if I said it didn't freak me out as well. Every emotion he would feel, I would feel too and sometimes even twice as strong. It was like a bond of some sort; an invisible string connecting us and letting me see and feel every inch of his mind. I would wake up whenever he couldn’t sleep, I’d laugh whenever he’d laughed and I would get angry whenever he’d get angry…I felt everything and it was driving me insane not being able to talk to him about it, because it was only him I’d felt connected to.

I smiled at him when he turned off the engine, feeling the warmth in his soul. I got out of the car and stretched my legs, inhaling fresh summer air and soaking in the sunshine on my skin.

“Let’s have a picnic,” I suggested, “I don’t wanna go inside. The weather is beautiful.”

“A picnic? Here?” He asked, looking around. Nothing but endless grass fields around us; the highway was peeking through the greenery but we could barely see it anymore.

“You will be fine, princess,” I chuckled, “Besides it’s good to connect with mother nature every once and a while.”

Forest nymph.

He started calling me that when I told him about my love and admiration for nature and my passion for hiking and exploring woods. He told me no sane person loves hiking, but his younger brother understood. Now, occasionally I’d go hiking with Sam.

I ignored his thought, even though I wanted to tell him we weren’t in a forest, and found a perfect spot next to the house and sat down. He rolled his eyes and joined me.

Dean cracked two bottles and I opened one of my favorite honey BBQ Slim Jims and took a first bite. I loved the smooth texture and a light honey flavor mixed with BBQ aroma in my mouth.

“Cheers!” He said lifting his bottle for a toast.

“Cheers, for not dying!”

He chuckled.

“For not dying!”

One beer…

Two beers later we were both feeling the consequences of our own actions. I was tipsy due to my low alcohol tolerance while Dean seemed sober but was far from it. He had a strange gift – being able to fake sobriety. He had been doing it for years and now seeing him behaving like a drunken fool looked strange and unfamiliar.

He was looking at me; green eyes sparkling under the sun making me wonder if he and I were ever meant for something more. I was in love with the idea of being in love with him but it scared me more than death which I had experienced a couple of times. He was my best friend, my annoying best friend with a heart of gold and a shadow he wanted to remain hidden.

We stayed for hours, soaking in the sunshine and summer heat while reliving old memories and wondering if this life we had was worth it. We soon realized, it was.

“We still get to experience this,” I stated, showing him a butterfly that flew in that moment right in front of me.

“Butterflies?” He wondered, tilting his head a little in confusion.

“Nature, dumbass,” I smiled, “And other small pleasures, music, alcohol, food…and also knowing the world is less shitty because of us.”

He nodded in a silent agreement before hearing him call me forest nymph again. His warm green eyes fixed on me, making me a bit nervous. He didn't say a word.

“What?” I finally asked him.

His right hand went into the pocket of his jeans and he pulled out his car keys.

“You can drive,” he told me and gave me the keys.

***

When we came back home safely, since I didn’t crash his precious car, Sam was still in his room, probably reading and Dean decided to take a nap since naps weren’t a regular occurrence in our household.

I decided to continue the book I started a couple of weeks ago. I missed being able to read books I wanted, and not just ones for research purposes. I could still feel him. He was content. I smiled and opened my book.

An hour into the book and a picture flashed right in front of my eyes. I saw blood, so much blood on the sidewalk. Hairs on my arms rose as another frame appeared: it was a girl lying face down, head bludgeoned. A wave of fear rushed over me as I closed my book, not being able to simply ignore it. I knew exactly what this was – Dean’s nightmares – I knew exactly who this was.

Another flash. His hands, covered in blood. He was trying to wake me up. He was calling my name over and over again like a prayer of despair, but I didn’t wake up; I didn’t move an inch.

Usually I would ignore his nightmares; I was too afraid to say anything, afraid of his reaction and not being able to give him a good explanation, but my silence was killing me. Something told me – maybe it was intuition or my impulsiveness, or both – I had to wake him up.

Quickly I got out of my bed and rushed to his room. His jaw was clenched, his body seemed stiff under the white sheet that covered him just below his chin. I could hear quiet moans coming from him as another picture appeared right in front of me – he was on his knees, holding me tight, eyes bloodshot red and filled with tears…My heart broke in a second before I closed my eyes, trying to make it go away. As I approached him I could see his eyes fluttering rapidly beneath his closed eyelids, his forehead glistening with a faint sheen of sweat…I had to wake him up.

“Dean?” I whispered and sat next to him. A whimper escaped his lips.

“Dean?” I called his name again, this time a little bit louder and with a hand on his cheek. He was warm.

“Dean, wake up!” I could feel his shock as he shot his eyes open, taking a deep breath like he forgot how to breathe, shivers running through him – I could feel them all over my skin.

He took in his familiar surroundings before he looked at me.

“You had a nightmare,” I told him.

“Yeah, a really bad one,” he simply added, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache started to settle as he got up and went to the bathroom to splash himself with cold water. He was only wearing black boxers and it wasn’t like I have never seen him shirtless, it was the fact that every time I did, I had to tell myself not to stare like a Victorian man seeing ankles for the first time.

I swallowed thickly without saying a word.

I have to tell him. I repeated that sentence over and over again. I have to tell him he deserves to know.

When he came back my eyes registered his bulge for a second before looking up. I was praying he didn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, so much for napping,” he lied and started putting on his blue jeans. I knew he was lying, he would always lie and repress his emotions and needs. I knew he was exhausted. Those nightmares had been happening for a week straight; the exhaustion showing on his face in a form of dark circles; the once lively features now appeared subdued; eyes dimmed.

“I saw it,” I utter these three words without much thought.

“What?” He was about to button his red flannel, stopping mid through.

“I saw your nightmare, you have been having the same nightmare for a week now.”

I refused to look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me as he took my words in. I could feel a slight sting in my chest coming from him – shock.

“You can read minds AND see people’s nightmares?”

“Not people’s; yours. It only happens with you, I wake up every time you have a nightmare, I feel every emotion you feel,” – I took a deep breath before I continued; I knew him well enough to know he hated secrets, even though he was a damn hypocrite and had his own – “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out. I cannot control it, trust me I tried, but I can’t. It has been happening for a while and-”

His eyes once trusting shited and now held a hint of disappointment, his jaw clenched. Anger.

Anger and disappointment.

“For how long?” His deep voice echoed in my ears as he cut my frantic explanation short.

I froze. I knew this question was coming. I knew right there that keeping this thing a secret was a mistake. I couldn’t answer it. I couldn’t…

“For how long (Y/N)?” He demanded crossing his arms. I didn’t like the sound of my name when he was angry.

I stood up, barely feeling my legs before I answered: “A year.”

“Does Sam know?” The next question came out less angrily, his voice softer than seconds ago.

“No.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It started as just me feeling whenever you were happy, it was hard to recognise it at first, I thought it was my happiness and then it progressed to other emotions like fear, anger and sadness and after that I started seeing your dreams. I didn’t tell Sam because I wasn’t sure what was happening.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…?” He asked like I hadn’t given him the answer.

“I told you I didn’t want to freak you out. It feels like I’m invading your privacy.”

He scoffed.

“No shit Sherlock!”

His eyes widened before he spoke again: “Wait, so that means you can feel whenever I get horny?”

I chuckled. “No, because being horny isn’t an emotion, Dean. It’s a state.”

“Oh thank God,” he expressed his relief.

“I do feel the sudden rush of endorphins and happy hormones every time you come though,” at this point I had nothing to hide, especially when I could feel his anger subsiding. It wasn’t like him to just ignore something that made him angry, but for whatever reason he was over it. Now he was mortified.

“Oh God!” He said and opened the door of his room. “SAMMY! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE WE HAVE SOME RESEARCH TO DO!”

I swallowed a laugh before he turned around.

“We're gonna get to the bottom of this!”

***

Sam was genuinely surprised when I told him about the bond. He would usually try to find an explanation or guess what it was; this time he was silent. No logical explanation, no guessing, no nothing…

“Well that’s something I have never heard off,” he just told you and went to the library to try and find some books about…

Mind reading?

Bonds?

“I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” he said, looking at the spines of old books on the shelves.

“You’re telling me,” Dean agreed.

“It’s not like I’m a monster with abilities.”

My statement was enough to light a bulb in Sam’s head: “Yes but…” – he went to the second shelf behind you, like he knew what he was looking for – “You’re something else.”

Dean and I looked at each other in confusion before Sam pulled a book from the shelf.

“Indigo children?” I read the covers.

“Huh?” Of course Dean had no idea.

“I mean it makes sense, you said you were always highly empathetic, ever since you were a kid right?”

“Yes,” I nodded as he was flipping the pages trying to find a specific chapter. The book was annotated but it wasn’t his handwriting.

“Also you started reading minds when you were 7?”

“Well kinda.”

“Before that it was like a guessing game, you just knew?”

“Sort of.”

Chapter 54. Abilities.

Indigo children are children who are believed to possess special, unusual, and sometimes supernatural traits or abilities.

“I have been on this Earth for how long and I’ve never connected the dots,” I said, admiring my own stupidity and inability to dig deeper. I was never curious enough to find an explanation for my ability; never cared enough to think about it too deeply; when I started living with Sam and Dean five years ago I told them right away what I could do. They first thought I was Azazel’s long lost special kid, the one that was lucky enough to somehow hide in the shadows back when Azazel was still alive, but that wasn’t the case. My parents were killed by a vampire and I’d never met Azazel; I didn’t even know he existed until they told me. I only knew regular black eyed demons.

“So, you were a gifted kid? That still doesn’t explain your ability to do what you have been doing for a year,” Dean scoffed.

Who names gifted kids indigo kids? Seriously?!

You chuckled.

“Wait, you have been able to do that for a year?” You heard Sam, your eyes still on the book, trying to find something, anything that would indicate the existence of the said bond.

“Yes, why?”

“Go to chapter 55,” he told me. I flipped a few pages until I saw: Chapter 55, Soulmate bonds.

An Indigo child can stumble upon an unprecedented neural synchronization when encountering their soulmate. This synchronization extends beyond telepathic communication, as it involves the transmission and reception of emotional states and dream imagery, resulting in an intimate sharing of thoughts, feelings, and subconscious experiences. Although very rare, it is possible for an Indigo child’s soulmate to be mortal, with no supernatural abilities. If an Indigo child does encounter their soulmate the bond can snap into place usually after 4 or 5 years (one case showed it can also happen after six months).

“I read this book before we met so it never crossed my mind,” I heard Sam say as I was absorbing the information. I’d known him for five years…

Five years…

It made sense.

As I was reading the first chapter out loud Dean’s wave of shock made my heart beat faster as Sam went to the kitchen to get some booze. It was like he read my mind. I have never heard of his bond. As much as I loved the idea of Dean being mine, I knew he came with tons of baggage, untreated alcoholism, and rage so immense it made my stomach turn. I was no better though just with less intensity and alcoholism.

That’s bullshit.

My heart broke hearing these words, but I finally got the courage to look at him, and for the first time his face was unreadable. He was silent. And then he just left.

Sam came back with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and three classes in the other.

“Where’s Dean?”

“He left…to process, I guess,” I said before hearing Dean slamming the front door.

Sam, knowing me too well, didn’t say anything and just poured me a glass of Dean’s fine whiskey. I took a sip feeling a sweet burn down my throat. We were silent for a while, my words buried deep in my mind; struggling to articulate my thoughts as if I had any at that moment.

“How do you feel about all of this?” Sam finally spoke, breaking the pleasant silence.

A lump formed in my throat as I tried to blink back tears. I cleared my throat and took another sip.

“I think…I’m scared to tell him he already has me wrapped around his finger with or without the stupid bond,” my answer was honest. I was scared – terrified of crossing the boundary; breaking the only rule I had: no long term relationships. Anything more than a friendship with Dean would end catastrophically; I was aware of that and yet I still secretly hoped. I wanted him to want me, I wanted him to look at me and see a safe space; I wanted him so painfully to see me and think: “She’s worth it.”

“Oh he knows, he's just being a dick about it,” Sam’s bluntness surfaced as he drank his glass of whiskey.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not really following him.

He knows?

“You two have something I’ve only experienced once in my life and yet you refuse to acknowledge it.”

My forehead creased as I subtly tilted my head in confusion. Then I heard Sam’s voice in my head as he looked at me with a soft smile on his face.

Jessica…

“Oh…” was all I could say.

“Yeah, he was scared before, now he’s probably terrified. Talk to him when he gets back.”

“So he can reject me? And probably tell me to move out? Even if he feels the same, I know Dean, and he would rather give up alcohol for the rest of his life than talk about his feelings.”

Sam snorted and nodded silently agreeing with me.

“Trust me. He won’t reject you. He’s my brother, I know him a little bit better than you do.”

***

Dean was gone for hours it seemed. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the bond, so I did what any sane hunter would do – I repressed my thoughts with more whiskey and drowned myself in more research with Sam. The more I drank it felt like I became more sober.

I wanted to know more about this soulmate bond. I wanted to know if there was any other way for people to block me from entering their minds besides strengthening the mental shield.

“I’ve never asked you, how did you find out about the shield anyway?” Sam asked me behind his laptop while I was trying to find books about telepathy.

“A witch told me,” I stated behind bookshelves, “When my parents died I let it control me, I couldn’t stand it, I could hear every single person I came in contact with and it was driving me nuts. So, I found a witch, a good one, and she helped me control it and told me about the shield since she was the first person I couldn’t tap into.”

I remember her fondly. Her white crow would sometimes appear, to let me know she was alive and I would visit her every year on her birthday in winter. I would tell the Winchesters I was seeing an old friend; without adding too much detail, since I knew Dean’s hatred of witches far too well.

“Good witches exist?”

“Oh yeah, she’s wonderful.”

There wasn’t any other way for other people to shield their minds from me, sadly.

“Oh but I think I found something,” Sam told me and turned his laptop towards me. I read the short paragraph and looked at him.

“I can do that?”

“You can try.”

***

Dean was still gone by the time we decided to take a break from research. Sam decided to go for a walk before bed while I went to my room to try and contact Dean through the bond. The article Sam found stated it was possible to contact your soulmate if you focused all of your energy on them.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

I laid on my bed and closed my eyes, picturing Dean standing right in front of me. Even in my mind he made me nervous. His aura was so captivating and stoic; you couldn’t forget him even if you tried. His name escaped my lips a few times, eyes still closed, but all I could hear was dead silence.His face still engraved in my mind, I studied his features: his smile lines, beautiful kissable lips, his perfect nose, freckles…

Dean? I called.

(Y/N), what the hell?

He heard me. I could feel my feet going cold as my body went numb. My heart was in my throat.

I’ll explain later! Please come home, I wanna talk to you.

In a second, my mind lost focus as I became more aware of my nervousness and he was gone. I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Crap!” I uttered in frustration and decided to text him.

Please come home.

***

I heard his footsteps thirty minutes later. I was ready for the worst; I was ready for Dean to tell me to leave; I was ready for all of it to end.

I heard him knock seconds later.

“You there?”

“Come in!”

He closed the door behind him. I was in the middle of trying to read my book, emphasis on trying, since the nervousness turned into full blown anxiety and I couldn’t focus on anything but him. I put the book down as he sat on the bed. I was hit with a sudden smell of cigarettes and alcohol in my nostrils. He probably went to a bar.

“How did you do that?” He asked, this time looking me dead in the eyes. His gaze wasn’t soft – I couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated – his eyes bore into mine with such seriousness I’d only seen a handful of times.

“I did some research with Sam. The bond allows us to communicate telepathically.”

“I-I can also do that?”

“If you concentrate hard enough, yeah.”

An astounded chuckle was all I heard. And then:

This is crazy.

I know.

His lips parted slightly once he realized he could hear me. I on the other hand didn’t want him to hear me, but looking at him, seeing the evident worry and fear in his green eyes, I couldn’t control it. It became natural.

“Where were you?” I asked and boldly decided to sit next to him.

“Went to our favorite hiding spot to think. When thinking became too much, I went to a bar and had a couple of drinks.”

“And? What are your thoughts?”

His hand gently found mine, intertwining his fingers with mine. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing at that moment. I could feel my cheeks burning as he pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I feel like ignoring how I feel about you just made everything worse.”

I’m terrified.

I ignored it and focused on his actual voice. “And I feel like this bond slapped me in the face.”

“You and me both,” I smiled.

Sam was right after all. I didn’t know what else to say but all I could think about was pressing my lips against his. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but my body refused to cooperate with my mind.

I didn’t need to kiss him first, because his lips found mine in a matter of seconds. The kiss was gentle, warm; his lips perfectly pressed against mine. I opened my mouth letting him know he could explore it with his tongue and he was happy to do so. A whine escaped my lips when he broke the kiss.

“I heard you,” he smirked.

Please stay with me. My mind yelled.

“I will,” he heard me. Again.

***

Dean went to get ready for bed and so did I. It was already 11pm, Sam was long gone, snoring in his room after a long walk and I went to take a shower.

It will probably happen.

Maybe it won’t?

Maybe we will just cuddle and sleep?

Yeah right.

Why am I so nervous?

I’m nervous because the last time I was in love with someone he left me for a girl named Karen.

In high school.

Crap.

My thoughts were racing as I was washing myself and getting ready to spend the night with him. I put on my shirt and a pair of clean underwear before brushing my teeth. I turned off the lights and went under the covers. Somehow it was always cold in my room, no matter the season. I focused on my soft pillow and how it felt against my cheek as I turned on my side. That lasted maybe two seconds as my mind kept drifting and wondering what was coming next. The thought of him pressed against me made me excited; his lips on my neck, hands on my hips…

I didn’t even realize I was rubbing my thighs together, desperately seeking some form of release. Thank God I was tired, a few moments later I could feel my eyelids getting heavier and my body finally relaxing. I wondered where Dean was as I started drifting and soon enough I got my answer.

He would always take long showers; so I wasn’t surprised when he came 15 minutes later. He found me peacefully drifting between realms of reality and dreams, and with his hands wrapped around me pulled me back to reality – to him. My back pressed against him; we stayed like this, as my patience was running low and I could feel myself getting wet.

He was melting any sense of restraint I had and even with nervousness practically suffocating me, I turned around and snuggled against him, his chin resting on top of my head. He was warm; skin soft as I took a deep breath to breathe in his scent – forest after rain and him.

“Did you know?” I whispered into him.

“Huh? What?” His deep raspy voice so close to ears made me shiver.

“Did you know that I have feelings for you?”

Sam said he did, but I wanted to hear from him.

“I suspected it, but refused to believe it. Until Sam confirmed it.”

“How did Sam know? I’ve never told him.” I said and lifted my head to look at him. It was dark, but I could still see the outlines of his face – he smiled at me.

“He told me you get smiling eyes when we are together. I didn’t really know what he meant until we took down that vampire nest back in Austin. I told you, you were an idiot for trying to take down a whole damn nest by yourself and you kept looking at me with those dove lookin’ eyes.”

I smiled. I remembered that. It was a few months ago and I was indeed an idiot. He and Sam almost died and I had to do something. I was reckless and instead of coming up with a plan I let my machete go wild.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re hot when you’re angry.”

I could feel his smirk before I kissed him, this time cupping his cheek with my hand. He immediately kissed back, pulling me closer to him like that was even possible. This time, one kiss turned into another and another. We both didn't want to pull away; his hands hesitantly started roaming under my shirt, instantaneously sending shivers all over my body. I took his hands, breaking the kiss.

“Touch me. I'm yours,” I whispered before kissing him again, not being able to get enough. I could feel his little smirk against my lips as he tugged on my shirt trying to take it off. I took it off and in seconds he took his. My mind was focused on him and only him as I felt his soft skin under my fingertips.

You're going to be the death of me.

Likewise, sweetheart.

This time I smiled between kisses. I liked that nickname, I couldn’t wait to actually hear it out loud. He wasted no time before he pushed me onto the bed and straddle me; his lips not leaving mine. We were like two addicts; we couldn't stop; we didn't want to stop. He pressed his hips on mine and I could feel him, pressed against my wet center. A soft moan escaped my lips as my fingers tugged on his damp hair. He moved his lips on my neck, while his hand found my center. A light brush was enough to make me moan his name. I was so sensitive, so vulnerable underneath him; he was consuming every reverie of my mind.

I was growing impatient, but he knew that, and now I couldn't hide anything from him anymore. The bond was stronger now, we didn't even have to try to communicate with one another; it was like breathing.

I lowered his boxers as much as I could and wrapped my hand around his hard dick, earning a groan from him. I pumped him a few times, as my impatience became his. He kissed me before standing on his knees and took my panties off. He stopped for a second.

Adoration – I could feel it through the bond. He was making me blush in the dark; my cheeks growing warm.

You're so beautiful.

Before I could answer him, he positioned himself between my legs and slowly entered me, stretching me nice and slow; his lips found mine again as he swallowed my gasp and slowly started to move. My legs wrapped around his hips, wanting more, more and more…

I was about to get drunk and see stars. My hands were around his neck before I cupped his face. He broke the kiss when we both couldn't breathe, biting my shoulder lightly, his pace becoming faster.

My mind only knew his name as I was chanting it over and over again, like a sweet prayer. He nuzzled his head in my neck, kissing it sloppily.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear.

I was in a complete haze, unable to muster anything but his name.

His nose resting on my cheek, he placed a soft kiss only to swallow my moans once more, as we both started to fall apart.

“Dean, I-,” I wasn't able to speak, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach and I could tell, feel, he wasn't going to last much longer.

“I know, baby. I know. I can feel it,” he said and I wasn't sure if he could feel it through the bond or if my body was telling him – or both.

My moans became desperate; with that voice Dean could make me do whatever his little heart desired.

We came in sync, eyes locked and growing breathless. He couldn't keep my name out of his mouth and I didn't want him to. When he pulled out and laid next to me we were both panting and growing sleepier. I lazily moved closer to him, kissing his shoulder as he immediately wrapped his hand around my torso and pulled me close.

“And you thought we'd just cuddle,” he chuckled.

I raised my head to look at him.

“You heard me?”

“Yeah, we have to figure out how to not hear each other's thoughts all the time.”

“Well…” I started and he just shot me a death glare.

“I ain't meditating.”

I cupped his face, squeezing his cheeks lightly making his lips pout.

“Fine,” I said and gave him a pack on the lips, “we will find another way.”

“Thank you.”

I stayed in his arms until we both fell asleep. He played with my hair and I drew small circles on his chest. He asked me about the research – what I found, what I didn't – asked me about us.

“If it's meant to be it's meant to be,” my eyelids grew heavy as I mumbled the words and drifted to sleep.

Dean kissed my forehead and closed his eyes.

***

I could feel Dean’s hands pulling me closer to him, his fingers digging into my flesh as my ears heard him say my name in a form of whisper. I lazily opened my eyes not knowing if he was awake or not. His fingers dug into my stomach as he repeatedly called me in a frantic tone.

He’s dreaming.

“Dean?” I turned around and even in complete darkness my eyes registered his clenched jaw, while my body felt the stiffness of his.

“Dean?” I repeated again and nuzzled my head under his chin and placed a gentle kiss on his neck. I knew what he was dreaming about – I was dying again and he was trying to save me.

Dean, baby wake up!

I told him through the bond as I stroked his soft hedgehog-like hair. I could sense the fear lingering within him as his eyes shot open, his breathing came in uneven gasps and his chest was rising and falling frantically. I wrapped my hand around his torso and embraced him in a tight hug as the weight of the nightmare still lingered.

“I’m here,” I repeated a couple of times, giving him the reassurance I knew he needed.

“It’s just a dream, Dean.”

His breathing became stable again.

“You died,” eventually he told me. The fear was gone and replaced with sadness – sadness so somber and heavy I only felt once when Charlie died.

“No, I didn’t. I’m here,” I told him and placed his hand on my chest.

“I’m right here,” I said before kissing him. A sigh of relief left his lips.

“I feel like I’m gonna lose it…the same dream over and over.”

He was desperate, so desperate for answers it made my soul ache, but I knew this wasn’t the time.

“I know, and we will figure it out. Sleep baby, I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered before kissing him lovingly. His hand found my cheek as I broke the kiss resting my forehead against his.

“Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine,” I told him as my legs intertwined with his. My hand was on his chest, feeling his heart beating faster. Something was traveling through the bond, something lovely and warm I could only describe it as love. Suddenly I heard it; a whisper traveling through the bond: I love you, before he kissed me again.

I love you too.

Tagged: @lacilou , @littlemadamred , @girls-alias , @captainannatheweirdo , @nancymcl

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hansoeii · 9 months

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Several things: -LOVE your art, it’s amazing! Especially the one with Crowley and Aziraphale under the umbrella - which software do you use? Your art always look SO gorgeous (cheeky quote from GO right there lol) - how did you get so good at drawing?And thank you for encouraging other people to keep drawing and being so kind as I sometimes can’t help but compare my sketches to others and feel silly, but I guess it’s just a learning curve… Thank you so much for bringing your art to the world!😊

Thank you so much!!

I use Clip Studio Paint for drawing and Photoshop for small adjustments!

2. Haha thanks! Honestly...it's the hyperfixations. I managed to improve a lot in just a year because I've been drawing SO much cos there's so many shows and movies I became obsessed with that I wanted to create art for. So by drawing a lot I just naturally improved. For example these two Illustrations are just a year apart:

I actually didn't actively try to improve, it's been a while since I did proper studies (I just don't really have the time for it between freelancing and art school), it just happened.

But I can absoluetly recommend going on YouTube and look for some art tutorials if you actively want to start improving! There's some channels that helped me so much back then:

moderndayjames

Incredible shape language and super insightful tutorials on all kinds of topics! I learned so much from him.

Ahmed Aldoori

So many awesome tutorials on so many different areas of art. Love it.

Marco Bucci

Incredible tutorials on color theory and understanding how color works in general! Learned SO much from him!

Sinix Design

The OG tutorials I began learning from. I watched his videos religiously as a teen. I adore his painterly style and adopted it in some way, haha.

Ethan Becker

This dude sometimes drops these tiny art tips that just completely blow my mind and that I adopt immedietly. He's super entertaining but also such a great teacher.

And I can also recommend checking out this book by James Gurney if you want to get better at colors!

And for anatomy I highly recommend the Morpho books!

But improvement doesn't only come from drawing a lot. A lot of the time I don't draw for a while and just study the world and artists around me and suddenly I improved when I get back to drawing. Don't ever overwork yourself to the point that you don't enjoy what you do anymore. Take breaks and listen to your body!

I learned to try and not compare myself to other artists, which helped a lot. Through conventions and social media I made so many lovely artist friends and realized how we're all struggling in a very similar way. A lot of us don't even really know what we're doing most of the time, haha. But we help each other out, it's such a wonderful community. I think when you're not actively part of the community it tends to feel like other, more successful artists are some kind of art gods that have perfected the craft and never struggle. But believe me, all the artists you admire go through rough times all. the. time. Sometimes what they do feels easy and natural, other times (more often than not) it feels like you have to try and learn how to walk all over again and you start to doubt your abilities. I personally go through that so many times.

So what I'm trying to say is that instead of comparing yourself to the artists you admire, learn from them instead. Ask questions, befriend fellow artists, study the artists you enjoy and just have fun with it!

And finally I thought it would be fun to share some of my horrendous Johnlock fanart from a decade ago for some motivation:

I hope my answer didn't overwhelm you, but I thoight it would be nice to give a more detailed answer!

Have a wonderful day and keep drawing! :)

#ask #my art #art tutorial #art resources #art help #digital art

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mikareo · 5 months

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⌗ SEASONS OF LOVE ₊ ˖ ་. a 呪術廻戦 miniseries

“ ࣭⸰ ★ SERIAL ROMANTIC ; gojo satoru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . episode three ! ꒱ . . . word count; 1.1k ⠀ ⠀ ᯇ lost confessions, missed connections

⊹ ⠀⠀ gojo's halloween costume is ryan gosling's sebastian; though he should've dressed up as a lovesick, idiotic clown.

contains; gojo x fem reader, university (year 2) au, angst, fluff, gojo's a dick, swearing, best friends to lovers, love triangle

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

so much has changed in the past two and a half months that gojo can't even begin to comprehend it all.

firstly, you're practically an entirely new person. how did that happen? rather than him devouring every word in your conversations, you're actually keeping up now; and your funny. you're really funny. he never knew that, and it's definitely a pleasant surprise to discover. you're also so confident. before the school year began, you could be compared to a mouse staring at rat poison— so timid and shy, without any means to argue with him or introduce yourself to his other friends, but now you do both with no signs of nerves or anxiety. it's no wonder that all eyes were on you tonight. with your bright yellow dress and pink lipstick, you looked gorgeous; something out of a hollywood film. luckily for him, as the ryan gosling to your emma stone, no guys dared to approach you with his arm wrapped around your waist for a whole three hours.

he likes this new you. he doesn't understand why, but there's just something about you that ticks his boxes. something that appeared out of nowhere and he can't seem to ignore. why? he's not used to feeling this way and he hates it. he fucking hates it.

"tonight was really fun." there's a soft smile on your face as you're looking through the windshield. he's just pulled up to your dorm building, and the familiar sight appears to be comforting to you. "thanks for bringing me."

he did do that didn't he?

"yeah, no problem." his answer is tame as his thoughts run wild.

it's not uncommon for him to invite you to parties, though he used to force you to accompany him and sit in the corner while he made out with as many girls as he found hot; but tonight was the first time you agreed to come to this particular party. aka the halloween party to top all other lame and sorry excuses for a social gathering. originally, he used to ask you to come because geto was always so busy with schoolwork and studying— making it very clear that you were always his second option— now, he personally asked you without approaching his male best friend first. "sorry about those guys, earlier. they were just messing with me."

you smile. "it's okay, as long is it didn't bother you."

it did bother him, though.

with the relentless remarks from his classmates, gojo hears their words echoing in his ears. so you finally found yourself a real girlfriend! no, he didn't. wow, the great satoru gojo got himself pinned down! as if. of all the girls you could pick, you picked her? i would've wanted loads of others before landing on this one. what the fuck kind of question was that?

he's not exactly ashamed to be seen with you. he knows he doesn't want other men giving you attention, yet at the same time he can't help but want to keep his reputation high. who is gojo satoru without his playboy status? he's just a man. there's nothing too special about him other than his handsome looks, and he can't seem to be able to let go of his ego just yet; no matter how devastated the lovesick look in your eyes is making him feel.

"why're you staring at me?" his voice is shaking with nerves, anxiety pumping through his blood at a rapid pace.

"i just love the way your hair falls over your eyes." oh no. "i get little glimpses of blue every time you breathe."

please. please don't confess.

"sometimes when i look at you, i feel myself floating in some type of way. i don't really know how to describe it, but i've always felt it. it's like i've been in love with you since i first met you. which, to be honest, is definitely true. the reason i haven't considered anyone else on campus is because a part of me is waiting for you to feel the same way— and it's been really hard with all of the other girls you spend time with, but you also give me so much attention that it makes me feel special."

your words are so beautiful. so soft. gojo understands this 'floating' feeling you speak of. he's being lifted away by it. his heads is in the clouds, touching the sky, and wishing on shooting stars that this relationship will work. his heart wants this to work so badly; but his mind disagrees. no. it's not his mind that disagrees...

...it's his narcissism.

"i love you, satoru. i always have."

he wants to love you, too...

...but he can't.

"i think you got the wrong idea." he tries to laugh off your confession, avoiding eye contact so he doesn't need to see your heart breaking in real time. "this was all just a bit of fun tonight, the costume and everything. i didn't know you'd assume i liked you."

he knows he's being an asshole.

"you've taken it all too seriously, really. i didn't think of it like a couple outing or a date. it's just a party."

he knows he should stop and apologize.

"i don't love you like that. i never have."

finally, he looks over to you. you're staring straight at him with tears struggling not to fall and sniffling softly. if gojo could read minds, he knows that you're at war with yourself; trying to decide whether to give up on him or give him another chance. in an ideal world, he'd deserve another chance. no, scratch that. in an ideal world, he would've accepted your confession. he would've leaned over the armrest and kissed you with all of the passion he's been holding back. you would've smiled while kissing him, fighting to contain giggles of glee, and running your fingers through his hair that you love so much. gojo would've admitted that the other girls were just a distraction so he could ignore his burning feelings for you; and that all this time, he's been scared— too scared of losing you, his best friend, to confess.

but that isn't how this scenario played out.

instead, you're muttering a million apologies and sobbing quietly in the passenger seat of his car, while he looks at you with nothing but pity. gojo satoru doesn't understand how to love. he doesn't understand that in order to love, one needs to set aside their own heart, and make space for another. he's not ready to make that commitment, and it's almost laughably obvious that your friendship is over.

"i'll see you around, satoru." your hand unlocks the door. your feet landing on the pavement as you hop out of the vehicle. your figure fleeting into the shadows of the night...

...his heart fleeting with you.

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prettyboykatsuki · 9 days

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how do you reconcile with writing smut about characters who are canonically minors? i’m not trying to attack you or try to change your mind or anything, so sorry if my question reads that way. i’m just genuinely curious 😭

no worries!! this is asked respectfully so i dont mind answering even tho i usually just delete stuff abt this now

idk really know how to answer your question i have not reiterated many times. but like. i want you to really consider your own way of asking this to me critically. like what would i have to "reconcile" with exactly? them being minors in canon?

for me personally there's nothing to reconcile with. i feel no guilt or shame or remorse about aging up characters. or just like wanting to fuck them. or really anything i write in fiction at all, point blank - should i choose to explore it. like there's not crime i've committed other than being horny about some shit i made up, upon the basis some shit another guy made up.

partially this is bc characters in fictions are concepts. they're objects, thoughts, ideas. no matter how brainrotted i am about them, they don't live in material reality. im not harming them because they don't exist. outside of my phone and computer they are not real. harrowing myself with guilt over something that does not even exist is kind of insane. this applies to everything.

you can feel personal discomfort over aging up for yourself, but the reality is no actual minors are harmed in the process of me writing porn about anime characters. bakugou is lines on paper. i am allowed to cut him out like a barbie doll and play with him however i like. he doesn't get a say in that because he is fake lol.

there's like idk. all sorts of nuance to this and if you are respectfully curious im happy to talk to you about it. but they're just not real. no one is hurt in me writing this. so it doesn't matter to me at all. i would never hurt another person because of what im interested in fictionally, either. i have spent too many years becoming a decent human being to wonder about that

nothing i do in the fictional space is of any relevance to who i am, except for what things might cause genuine harm to another living breathing person. i write a lot of dark content in my smut also but

a lot of my content also while being dark, does not specifically deal with sensitive social issues so no one is hurt in that way either. i have enough confidence in my critical understanding of the world to write what i do understand to my ability. i mostly write about noncon and dubcon and yandere, all of which are personal violations and not social ones (OVERSIMPLIFYING THERE A LOT). i sometimes do write about social taboos of course but not whats outside of my ability

all in all its like. i dont know what i'd feel guilty over. no one is hurt and i have no intent to harm. nothing matters outside of that

#return to sender

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wildemaven · 1 month

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Okay, so I guess this sits in the realm of Confessions.

I'm thinking about leaving tumblr. I'm not sure what I did or didn't do to cause this, but the people I thought of as my friends or at least closest moots hardly interact with me anymore. My posts, my fics, my reblogs, my comments to them... They are around, I see them on my dash, but...

It all sounds so middle school, but it hurts nonetheless, and I'm pretty sure anything that feels like middle school (even actual middle school) can't be good for anyone.

The thing is, I really love everyone, and I don't want to give up. But going around to literally dozens of peoples DMs to ask, "Do you like me?" "Are we still friends?" "Are you mad at me?" Is again a kind of painful kid trauma thing I just can't quite bring myself to do.

I feel like my time here is just sort of over. I started with little expectation, and to my surprise, I found community, felt well liked and valued, and then, it just sort of went away.

There was a time when I was really happy about my place here, and just that makes me so sad.

You don't have to answer or anything. I think it just feels kind of cathartic to write it down where if nothing else someone else will read it.

Anyway... I guess that's it.

Held on to this for a little bit because my heart aches for you and I want to wrap you in the biggest hug 💕 I felt I could have written something so similar, as so many are relating to this right now.

It’s so hard to not feel like you’re feeling when you see people you’ve connected with slowly pull away from you. It hurts even more when they’re still active but actively avoiding you. That fucking hurts deep.

There was a time when this space felt very welcoming and fun. And while I do still have fun, sometimes it doesn’t feel as welcoming— and I know I’m not the only one feeling this.

Cliques branch off, popularity fuels some to feel like they’re too good to interact with others, the vibe isn’t vibing like it use to. And like you mentioned, it can all make you feel like you’re being thrown back in middle schools wondering why you’re not good enough? What did you do to cause this? What’s the point of even being here in this space any longer?

I’m so sorry this has become your reality. I wish it was a simple fix or there was a perfect solution to make things better. I support whatever decision you make, your wellbeing and mental health matter most— just know this community will be a little less bright without you in it!!

You said I didn’t have to post this, but I want others who might be feeling the same to know they’re not alone at all. There’s a lot of us floating around with the same exact thoughts and feeling like we just no longer belong in this space.

You’re more than welcome to jump in my DMs or continue sending anonymous messages to my inbox if that helps you in any way 💕

Coffee Shop Asks

#you’re not alone and I’m here for you!!#sweet sweet anon #asks answered #coffee shop asks

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marleyybluu · 1 year

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hey! could you write an oscar x reader about the reader smoking with oscar for the first time? maybe the reader says something stupid and he clowns her and they’re just being stupid together. ty🫶🏽

Stoned

Oscar x fem!reader

Wc: 2.2k

Warnings: marijuana use, swearing, a bit of self-insert, driving while high (but don't be this stupid irl), stoner phrases. bit of fluff.

A/N: I loved writing this, it was fun I felt like I got to put myself in a story yk. I based some of the behaviours and everything off of what I've experienced. and I wrote this stoned. had to.

“You got a lighter?" You rolled your eyes at the stupid question. He knew you didn't smoke so why would he ask you for a lighter?

You knocked your head to the side, your hand froze in mid-air with the remote resting in your palm as you paused the action of changing the channel just to stare at your boyfriend until he got the message but he was too busy sprinkling his shredded green bits inside the thin paper. He usually smoked backwoods but he was out so RAW papers would have to do today.

He quickly glanced up after noticing the time it was taking for you to answer. He looked to the side and looked back at you. "What?"

"You know I don't smoke."

He shrugged. "You know I do, so you should start carrying extra lighters." Your jaw dropped at his sassy response, you grabbed the pillow from under you and whacked him in the head with it, he sucked his teeth as a little bit of kush fell out of the paper and onto his rolling tray. "Really?" You poked out your bottom lip and batted your lashes. "Sorry baby, my brother probably has one in his room go look."

Oscar put everything back on the tray and placed the tray on the table, he rose from the couch and disappeared to go find what he was looking for. You looked down at the materials that were spread on his well-decorated tray, you look behind you and back at the table, the mischievous voice in your head telling you to just smell it at least.

You reached over and picked up a bud that he hadn't ground yet, assuming he'd save it for later, and held it to your nose you took a deep inhale and were immediately met with an earthy yet sweet and fruity smell-- almost like a dessert. You looked down at it, examining every piece of the bud, it was a mixture of colours such as green, a light brown and a small hint of yellow right where the stem was.

"What are you doing?" Oscar laughed having stood there long enough to see everything. You flinched placing the gram back where it was. "Nothing, just... inquisitive." You smartly answered. He bent his lips inward to hold his smile, he thought it was a bit cute you were curious. He'd been trying to get you to smoke with him but you continuously declined and he wasn't the type to force you to do something you didn't want.

He sat back down in his spot and resumed back to rolling, but once your interest peaked you couldn't let it go. Your head faced the television but your eyes cast to the side watching Oscar carefully wrap up his kush in this thin and almost fragile brown piece of paper, you liked watching him roll-- the way his big fingers suddenly became small and nimble in order to swaddle his precious baby tightly but then came the use of his tongue, leaving a little bit of paper so it could overlap and close everything. His tongue swiped across, getting it wet but not too much, he would gently fold it over, press down on it and done. It was ready to smoke.

"What's it like being high?" You asked. "Uh, it's like you're floating... sometimes you feel your body swaying even though you aren't actually moving. It could also depend on where you are when you're high." He informed. You bit your lip weighing your options, you'd been wonderous about this for a while but didn't know how to go about it, plus you were nervous you'd make an idiot out of yourself the first time.

Oscar noticed the look on your face and smiled. "You want to try it?"

You nodded your head. He looked out the window noticing orange slowly replacing the blue in the sky. "Aight, come on." He said placing the blunt behind his ear and the lighter in his pocket, he stood up and headed to your kitchen grabbing water bottles for the both of you. "Bring your bag too."

"Why?"

He made his way back over to you, bent down and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Because I want you to have a nice experience with this, we're not smoking here. Imma take you to the beach, but we gotta grab food and snacks first because you will get hungry." You squealed, you were lowkey excited about this. You changed into some shorts and a loose top, you grabbed your backpack and stuffed it with the water bottles a blanket and a little speaker just in case.

The two of you left the house and ventured off to find some food. You went to your usual spot and he picked up your usual orders. The drive to the beach didn't take long. Oscar parked in the lot and you guys left with your things. The place was scarce, which was for the greater good, maybe you wouldn't get too paranoid about other people staring at you.

Oscar led you down a little further away from the steps and a bit closer to the water. You spread a blanket on the sand and plopped everything on top of it. The cool breeze tickled your skin producing goosebumps on every surface. You watched as your boyfriend removed the blunt from its cozy spot and dug the lighter out of his pocket.

"You still sure about this?" He asked sparking a light. You nodded eagerly. He placed the tail end between his lips, he cupped his hand over the lighter so the wind wouldn't blow the spark out. Smoke emerged from the little shelter he created, that same earthy sent has become more pungent now that it was burning.

Oscar took the first pull, you noticed the thick cloud essentially disappear into his mouth— he puffed out his cheeks and blew out a thinner puff of smoke. He handed you the weed, you took it between your thumb and index finger as he had it. "You just have to inhale baby."

You nodded, copying his actions you placed it between your lips, you inhaled as much as your lungs could let you and held your breath. Oscar's eyebrows scrunched together. "Ma, you don't have to hold your breath, just inhale."

It was tickling your throat and not in a good way. You let out a loud and hoarse cough, you sounded like someone who'd been smoking cigarettes for thirty years. Oscar patted your back while you banged your palm against your chest. "Shit!" Cough. "What the fuck!"

"Drink some water." His voice was shaky trying his best to hold down his laugh. You handed back the blunt and reached into the bag for your water. "You wanna try again?" You put your finger up as you chugged the h2o. Once you felt like you were fine you responded with a yes.

Oscar took his time to explain what he meant by inhale, that to just smoke and blow was a waste of weed and you wouldn't get high off of that technique. Once you understood you took another swing at it. Pull, inhale, blow. You did it just like that and a quick flash of pride ran over Oscar's face. "Nice." He nudged, you handed it back to him and he took it between his fingers.

"So, when does it hit?" You asked. He chuckled. "Trust me, you'll know." And until then the both of you kept puffing and passing, enjoying the view of the water, the small waves running up to kiss the sand. You sighed contently, your body completely relaxed and loose. So relaxed you didn't feel the need to use your own strength to hold it up anymore so you decided to lay down on the blanket.

Oscar chuckled. "You good?" You nodded with a smile as wide as the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Your lids felt so heavy... so tired. You struggled to keep them up, you looked over at Oscar who had been holding the last of the blunt in your direction for a while. The both of you are too stoned to mutter a word.

Your hand felt wonky and distorted as you accepted it. As you smoked Oscar dug through the bag for the other water bottle and the speaker. "You want me to play or you?"

"You." You answered way too lazy to even touch your phone though it was right next to you. Your eyes were laser-focused on the sky, you felt like you could see every detail of the clouds. So light and fluffy, colliding with one another and you wish you could touch them. Maybe you could.

Your arm extended to the sky, your hand gripping and releasing constantly you felt like you were touching them— they felt like cotton candy. Your daydream was interrupted by Oscar lightly smacking your hand down. "What are you doing?"

"I'm touching the clouds bitch."

"No, you're not." A brief moment of reality settled in and you were back on the ground, back on earth just watching those misshapen things float by in the orange sky. You looked down at the blunt and back over at Oscar. Both held a gaze until you two busted out laughing. "You are so fried." He chuckled. "Holy shit am I? Wow."

This feeling was different. You didn't feel like you, you felt like a passenger just enjoying the view and vibes while someone else drove. Your sense heightened, you could hear every flap of a bird's wing, every whoosh of the water. You could hear your own heating in your eardrum. "Are you high?" You asked taking one more drag before passing it back. "Finish it." He challenged, you shrugged and placed the butt end back between your lips.

"I smoke a lot so it's not gonna hit me like it's hitting you. I'll smoke again soon."

You nodded. You closed your eyes just taking this all in. The last puff of marijuana had left your throat while you smushed the end in the sand. Oscar was already working on his spliff because he didn't feel like smoking another big one. "I like flamingos," You randomly burst out. "They're so pink and pretty." Oscar snorted and shook his head. "I thought your favourite animals were penguins."

"I love penguins." You giggled like an airhead. Oscar quickly finished his spliff and dusted off whatever was on his pants, he tucked behind his ear before moving closer and laying next to you. "How do you know so much about me?" You pouted feeling sentimental for some reason, and a sudden rush of overpouring love took over. He leaned down gently plopping his lips on yours, you could taste his neediness on your lips-- your tongues passing by, occasionally colliding. Why were you so hot all of a sudden?

He pulled away and you pathetically whimpered for more. "Because I only study what I love." He wooed. You pinched his chin and rolled your eyes. "Well, I love you too."

"Good."

You sat up watching the sky become darker and darker, you looked out to the water and smiled. "I wanna live by the beach."

Oscar glanced over at you with awe in his eyes. "Long as it's close to the restaurant I don't mind." You blushed at the fact he saw you in his future. The sound of the lighter flickering caught her attention. "Trynna go again?"

You eagerly nodded. You let him take the first few hits while you bit into your burger tasting flavours you'd never experienced in your life, you hummed in satisfaction as you stuffed your mouth with the salty fries it came with. It tasted better when you were in this state. Oscar offered the last little bit and you gladly took it.

His eyes matched yours, lids low with glossed-over red eyes. He looked so cute like that, that's why you liked being around him when he was high. "You good?" You asked, he nodded reaching for his own burger now. "I love food." He said. Your eyes disappeared as you smiled. You switched between smoking at eating until the spliff was done, you flicked it onto the sand and returned to the rest of your fries.

The night sky had come in, it reflected off of the clear water, tides slowly dying down. You two had lay there not saying a word, just enjoying each other's company-- you didn't know if it was the weed dying out but you were suddenly tired, all you wanted to do was sleep. Had a few close calls too until Oscar nudged you. "How did your first time getting high go?" He asked. You kissed his chest and said. "Mmm, we should do this more often."

"Yeah?" He replied with a bit of excitement in his voice. "Yeah. Thanks for letting me try it." Oscar planted a kiss on your head. "Anytime, baby."

"I'm as high as giraffe titties right now." You slurred. Oscar belly-laughed, all the things you were saying were just cute and hilarious to him. "Maybe we should take you home. Sleep this off." You groaned but agreed, you two packed up everything and Oscar held onto you as you stumbled behind him, your feet completely forgetting their job. He dropped you in the passenger's seat and buckled you in before heading to the driver's side. He rolled down the windows for some cool air, started the car and pulled out of the lot.

The ride home was silent, other than the low music playing through the speakers. You were zoned out beyond belief as you leaned your head against the car. You had given up the fight, the drug was winning and you were floating off to sleep. Oscar looked over after hearing a few little snores, he laughed shaking his head. He'd never forget the day that his goodie-two-shoes ass girlfriend finally smoked some weed.

if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

peace and love.

tags: @skyesthebomb

#oscar diaz #fem!!reader #spooky #spooky x reader #spooky x fem!!reader #oscar diaz x fem!reader #oscar diaz x reader #spooky fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfic #on my block #on my block fanfiction #poc reader

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semthescientist · 7 months

Text

so this is a part two to my lil entry and here i merely wanna talk about what actually clicked for me and how everything has changed since then. part one is right here (:

as i said before, it was until september of 2023 when i was on around the fifth or fourth day of my cruise did things begin to dawn on me. if you're familiar with 4d-barbie, (i believe her name is Ada), she has a google drive filled with book resources and some of them are already annotated (which came in clutch). well, actually before the cruise i had began reading the book One Truth, One Law: I Am, I Create by Erin Werley and i resonated with things so heavily. i kept reading bits and pieces of the book but also was determined to be present and just enjoy my cruise. as i read, i became so interested in the way Erin would have full blown conversations with I AM. especially the part where Erin told her husband and then was afraid if he'd judge her but I AM simply told her to relax and let it do the talking--and that's what happened!

so i'm sitting there and i'm like "yo! how cool is this!" and of course, it's explained how to do this yourself--how to really tune in and trust your own wonderful intuition. i wanted to do it because i didn't want to reread Erin's(I AM) answers to questions to form my own answers. i had my own specific questions and no one else could answer them for me besides me. so i put the book down and i asked my own question and trusted that the answer would come to me whenever; even if he didn't come now, it was bound to.

and i had fear...i feared if it would actually happen or not. sometimes i'd be tempted to look things up or keep rereading every answer given by I AM in Erin's book. i would kind of just do self-talk when that happened, i don't know how i got through that to be honest. i can't seem to remember. but what i do remember is the little deposits that would drop into my head randomly. i was lathering up in the shower and was like, "why would i hate my persona?" [persona, ego, Vanessa--all the same, i just like the word persona better!] and i kept going with that line of thinking, asking myself a series of questions like: wait...why do i think there's something wrong with her?

isn't the persona how i'd experience a multitude of things? things that don't necessarily exist to I AM?

and i realized i was onto something because i felt so expanded. like my heart began filling up...my chest began fluttering. i know you've felt that feeling before and that feeling always comes when you're listening to yourSelf. there wasn't much else i did after i realized this because a new way of thinking just took over me. i had so much love for everything...i mean literally everything. i started to question everything i read from others.

again, something a lot of realized masters would say is "you suffer because you think you are this body" and while that's true...it just didn't feel right in my soul. none of it felt right--at least not something to remember all of the time. i didn't feel like it had any sort of longevity and the only reason i felt that way was because it didn't feel loving enough. i really wanted to know what was so bad about taking this persona into consideration...what was so wrong about loving her and holding her hand? why did i have to become aware of what she was thinking/feeling and suddenly say "oh but that isn't Me! let her cry and whine, she isn't Me."

i go into depth about this here. it's just a diary entry so the beginning i had a different outlook on my persona than i do now, hence the different header titles.

the bottom line is i had no reason nor right to hate my persona. after all, she found Me again--she found her True Self so that has to count for something. i simply started to look at the world differently and realized that it was never about fighting anything. we all know there is no "out there" and all there is is consciousness but how many have you actually put that to the test? have you stopped fighting shadows? fighting the seeming opposite circumstances? if you know there's only the will of God (which is you), why do you keep fighting everything else? have you stopped fighting your persona's fear, Vanessa's doubts--belittling her because she can't believe in herself...not yet at least?

i quickly gathered that if i love Myself, then i would have to trust Myself. i know someone probably has the fear of going "out there" and falling asleep again--losing faith or going back to believing in the world. but that could never happen. why? because of trust. You have to trust yourSelf enough to know only your will is imposed. and what builds trust? action.

personally speaking, there was a circumstance that i'd been ignoring for the longest in the name of manifestation. but lately, i've realized that whatever can happen "out there" and not only do i not have to form an opinion on it but i can watch how it crumbles when i stand ten toes down in trusting myself. i can trust Myself so much to stand tall in what i prefer and watch as Self carries me up and over the seemingly opposed...and then i glance back and they were nothing but cardboard cutouts. like that scene in coraline where she walked away and the world started crumbling--'twas only because it never existed too.

i don't fight anymore because i know My will is only ever imposed. i know that when something dares to throw a punch, it won't connect because it has already disintegrated. and most of all, i know that i can care about whatever the hell i want. hey, if you don't care about being a realized master than cool--find something that makes your heart sing and you can't help but burst from the seams when you think of it. for me, it was shifting. (do not come for me about the terminology, human mode rn so i gotta put a label). i found that shit to be so cool and to be honest, it's helped me discover my sexuality too which is a bonus. but none of this could've ever happened if i didn't start operating out of love for my persona.

just think of it, everything you desperately want you'd need a persona to experience anyway. you can take this and make some shit shake, and really define what you want or no labels at all. you can fully be I AM and have zero needs or you can be I AM with a persona, or you can just be a persona! there's people who look to an outside god but their god is rooted in so much love!

like you know a lot more than you're giving yourself credit for and only if you'd be so determined to listen to yourSelf the way you've listened to others, then shit would really start clicking. everything is perfect in its likeness and it is because I AM is all-encompassing that everything is possible--even the things we think are "bad". i promise, every question you'd ever have there's an answer for it and it's within you. you can find what matters most to you--you'll know. it's a feeling of pure confidence that cannot be described, you'll move without thinking and take chances and do whatever else and it'll feel like you're under a trance. That is You. there is no other...fall in love with Yourself and your human form too because it's nothing but a vehicle to bring you back to Self. your persona's fears and doubts are nothing but an opportunity to rely on Yourself...to trust Yourself and i speak of the infinite You.

lol i'm sorry if this seems all over the place, i was just saying what was heavy on my heart. i've been feeling a lot of love for everything lately and i want somebody else to feel that too. i know this will reach the person who's looking for it. so because of that: hi hi! you've done well, my love.

also, one last thing. there were a couple of people who helped me come to this realization and i wanted to say thank you! heavenlythea here on tumblr, iam_love.co on instagram, and Betinho Massaro for his book Super Accelerated Living (dude's mad funny, like i legit would smile reading it) oh and Ada! she came in clutch with the resources and annotating! and really everyone else for simply existing. know that you are perfect because you exist and the only reason you can't shake Self is because You (the real you) knows you'll be just fine.

love you all!

#non dualism #spirituality #nonduality #loassumption #neville goddard #law of consciousness #realization #success story #love you all #quantum jumping #reality shifting #4dbarbie

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keshetchai · 3 months

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Greetings Friend,

I hope you can help me

How did you go about learning Hebrew? As in what resources, classes, books etc. did you use to get a handle on the language?

I really struggle with languages, so I was hoping you had some advice or tips.

As a bit of background, I am currently a conversion student, going on almost 2.5 years now. I have long since completed the formal learning requirement with my synagogue (conservative) and according to my rabbis, I am free to attend the Beit Din and Mikvah whenever I so choose.

I know my neshama is Jewish, I know this is who I am/supposed to be. I know because of some unusual childhood experiences, and then when I started converting most aspects of the learning and practices came so naturally (granted nowhere near an orthodox level of observance, which isn’t necessarily the goal at this time, but certainly not something I am opposed to perusing) except for the languages.

As previously stated my rabbis say it is okay but something is holding me back from taking that final plunge (lol), and I believe it’s the language.

I still bench in English, and find it really stressful to attend services because I can barely muddle my way around the liturgy, or songs during a Shabbat dinner.

Of course this is just a personal hang up, and absolutely no criticism or shame on anyone else who converted without knowing/knowing very little of the language. Just, for some reason it just doesn’t feel right. I cannot bring myself to say I am actually a member of this wonderful, beautiful tribe before I have overcome this hurdle.

So… any advice?

A few answers for you, the first is most important:

Very Early On in my studying, one of the two rabbis at my synagogue wasn't leading and so she sat in the back, and I decided to sit next to her because i was still finding my footing in the basic service.

And at one point, it may have been for mi hamocha, the cantor starts with a NEW tune I don't know, and I'm still relying on the transliteration entirely and was still trying to memorize the FIRST tune.

And my rabbi leans over and whispers to me: "I have never heard this tune before in my life either."

And the anxiety broke, then. I didn't know this version for the song already and I was lost. But the rabbi sitting next to me also didn't know this tune.

Being Jewish is about always learning something new, even if you are encountering the same thing you've seen or done before dozens or hundreds of times. THAT is being Jewish. Rereading the same book every year and the same passages over and over, but still being a little lost or even finding something you never knew before?

That is being a Jew.

Jews may open a siddur and know what they'll find there, but we do not open it and expect to know everything about how that material is used or applied. And we don't feel a guarantee that life will not teach us something new today, or that someone's minhag won't be totally different from ours. Jews may know the Torah, they may even choose to memorize the mitzvot by heart, but we don't expect this memorization will ensure we never have a halakhic question in life!

So you see, the big scary fact is this: you might become a fluent reader of prayer book Hebrew, you might someday daven entirely in Hebrew, or even graduate rabbinical school, but still sometimes be thrown into being a stranger to something, even something you thought you knew.

But when you identify this and then embrace it, it becomes less scary and part of your Jewish identity. Being perfectly settled, fixed in your knowledge or your thinking or your skills — it honestly doesn't feel terribly Jewish to me.

And for many people born as Jews this can manifest as a type of reflexive embarrassment or self-consciousness for failing at jewishness somehow or having less knowledge for one reason or another. It can make folks defensive or ashamed or feel frustrated for the disconnect. I'm here to tell you that as converts we get the chance to illustrate joyfully that no Jew knows everything Jewish, and that is the experience of being Jewish. The biggest thing holding any of us back from learning the things we don't know is

a) being afraid to seem not Jewish enough or

b) being afraid to not know something

I have excellent news for your (and my) anxiety:

A) almost all Jews worry about how Jewish they seem in some fashion or another so that's normal and,

B) since only hashem knows everything, our job is to not know everything, but to be willing to learn anything. Also we're better in numbers! Two heads are better than one and a minyan is better than that! Everyone doesn't know something, but none of us are alone as Jews. Which is why we become Jewish in community, and not alone. Because someone else might know what we don't!

Get it?

Step #1: you have to jump feet first into not already knowing something perfectly and start knowing less but learning more.

If you are reading the English words and English translations to daven, this means you need to stop. This was your training wheel. And you are not finding your own balance relying on it.

If your siddur has transliterations of the hebrew, bring a little index card next time and cover up the English as you daven for a start. I familiarized myself with the Hebrew because I was saying everything in Hebrew out loud every single time. Once you know the shema by heart more or less (for example), all you have to do is learn the alphabet to prompt your memory to progress further in your Hebrew learning.

That's how kids learn any language. We speak before reading as children. So speak and chant and sing in Hebrew. Whisper the Hebrew. As you get more comfortable, learning to read Hebrew will be an exercise you can even do during the middle of shabbat.

Because you know what the prayer says, and you just need to match the words you see to the sounds you know.

Step #2: know the aleph bet before you attempt reading comprehension of all words.

Things that I used to learn the aleph bet:

Hebrew scripts (the app by drops)

Write it! Hebrew app

Victoria Hanna's The Aleph Bet Song (Hosha'na) because uh she sings the aleph bet and pronounces it

Behrman House Books: Hineni: prayerbook Hebrew for adults; aleph isn't tough! For adults. The kids stuff is good too, I'm not ashamed to say I own "time to read Hebrew!" 1&2

(The Hebrew by inbal on Amazon looks new but good possibly?)

If you want a siddur set up specifically to practice matching transliteration and Hebrew aleph bet, I recommend Chayim Alevsky's My Siddur (choose the minhag variant you use! I bought the Sephardic/Israeli as I don't use ashkie pronunciations.

There will be slight differences of you're used to liberal inclusion of say, the matriarchs, but in general this is a solid practice book for anyone. Transliteration is given word by word, with full word blocks reading in the same direction as Hebrew. At the bottom of the page certain (possibly newer to the learner) words will be defined.

It also now has an app which looks like this:

So you see this is pairing the reading direction of Hebrew words with the sounds spelled out in English to strengthen your Hebrew. If you try to read the transliteration in the English direction word by word, you'll be reading it backwards and starting with v'kayahm, instead of "modeh" (or "modah" feminine). Further even if you're starting correctly with modeh, the English word is still left to right over the Hebrew right to left. so this forces you to be attentive to the Hebrew itself and slow down word by word!

The layout in the print versions means you can cover up the transliteration to test your learning of certain words, and only check if you forget.

I still am not perfect at everything and I truthfully attentively practice Chinese far more than Hebrew reading, but this is what helped me.

Good luck!

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 14 days

Note

AITA for not telling my mom about my heart surgery?

I already know this is going to be a bit long winded so sorry in advance, there's just a lot that I feel is relevant here.

I (21 M) had a heart surgery about a month ago now. It was cardiac ablation, and for anyone wondering, it went just fine and I'm already fully recovered and walking around like normal. I had known about it for weeks prior and of course had been calling my dad and keeping him updated about all this. However, I hesitated to tell my mom, and ultimately never brought it up to her. I still haven't.

For a bit of backstory, my parents split when I was 16 because, to be blunt, my mother was being abusive in just about every avenue. She was mean and cruel and sometimes violent. I don't want to get into all the details because I don't think it's really necessary, but know it was bad. After she finally left I went no-contact with her, as did my dad and older sibling. This seemed to really upset her and she repeatedly tried to reach out to me, sent me expensive gifts, etc. After a while I made it clear to her that the only way I would ever even consider speaking to her again would be if she went to therapy and sorted her shit out, then gave me a real apology for her behavior, and even then she'd be lucky if I spoke to her afterwards.

And, being perfectly fair to her, she did it. She went to therapy, she did the work, and from what I've seen she has really put in the effort to change. She wants to keep me in her life and once I made it clear I wouldn't budge, she got her ass up and did it. She even gave me an apology I wasn't expecting, where she admitted that she only stayed with my father because she was afraid of being a single mother, and she took that resentment out on me and my sibling for most of our lives. Over time, I've maintained contact with her and we have a relationship now. Not sure how great it is, but we have one. She takes me out to lunch sometimes and I actually answer when she calls me.

Back to the topic of my heart, I've always had palpitations here and there, usually three times a week. I thought it was normal. Then after a pretty scary morning that landed me in the ER and lots of testing, the doctors decided surgery was the best option for me. I called my dad, like I said, but I just couldn't bring myself to tell my mother. And it wasn't out of fear or anxiety or not wanting to worry her. I just... didn't want to.

My dad said she had a right to know as my parent, if I was keeping contact with her. I spoke with my therapist about it, and while he didn't outright say I shouldn't tell her, it felt very much like he was leaning that direction. In the end, I never said anything to her, and she's still unaware it even happened.

It's been weighing on my conscience a bit. I had no reason to not tell her. There was nothing stopping me from being up front and honest with her. So I wonder, am I an asshole for not telling her?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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